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Haftaras Bechukosai

May 16, 2012
In this week’s haftarah it is written (Yirmiyah 17:11): “Like a partridge summoning chicks it did not bear, so is one who amasses wealth unjustly; in the middle of his life it will leave him, and at his end he will turn into a spoiled man.” The Maggid explains this verse as follows. A partridge that broods over chicks not its own will not gain from its efforts, for ultimately the birds it is raising will leave it. Similarly, Yirmiyahu says, it is a waste of effort to try to gain wealth through theft, deceit, and other unjust means, for such ill-gotten gains will ultimately be lost. A person might think this does not matter, for he can enjoy the wealth while he has it. Yirmiyahu therefore adds that the man who has amassed wealth unjustly will turn into a spoiled man.
The Maggid brings out the idea with an analogy. It is the nature of a river, as it flows across a stretch of land, to pick up all kinds of refuse: stones, carcasses, various foul creatures, and so on. On occasion it will dump such refuse near a city or on a good plot of land, thereby causing spoilage. Yet, if the river runs through the same area constantly, the spoilage it causes will ultimately be rectified, for after dumping a pile of refuse in a certain spot, it will eventually pick the refuse up again and carry it somewhere else. It is different, however, when the river temporarily overruns its regular channels, dumps a great pile of refuse on a distant plot, and then returns to its normal course. In this case, the spoilage will be permanent, for no team of men will be able to clear away the refuse.
The parallel is as follows. It is the nature of wealth to cause a person to develop bad tendencies. It can divert him from studying Torah and performing mitzvos. And it can cause him to turn brazen and use the power of his wealth to pursue his every whim. Indeed, wealth has produced many moral casualties. Yet, just as wealth can cause a person great spiritual harm, it also can bring a person great spiritual benefit: A wealthy person can atone for his sins by using his wealth for charity, acts of kindness, building synagogues and houses of study, marrying off orphans, and so on. It is known that charity is more powerful than any Temple offering. Thus, Daniel told Nevuchadnetzar (Daniel 4:24): “Redeem your sin through charity, and your iniquities through compassion for the poor.”
But a person can achieve spiritual gains from his wealth only when he is able to retain it. He can then use his wealth to rectify his misdeeds. It is different, though, when a person acquires wealth unjustly. In this case, Yirmiyahu says, the person loses his wealth in midlife. And then he is left only with the spiritual damage his wealth brought him: evil-hearted tendencies, debased thinking, and corrupt behavior. He cannot rectify the damage through righteous giving, for all his wealth is gone. This fate is what Yirmiyahu refers to when he says that a person who amasses wealth unjustly will turn into a spoiled man: He will be irreversibly habituated to evil.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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On Giving

May 9, 2012
In last week’s piece, we discussed a situation where a relatively small amount of help can produce a tremendous benefit. This week we discuss another such situation. Parashas Behar, the Torah portion read this week in Eretz Yisrael, contains a section devoted to caring for the poor. The piece below is from the Maggid’s commentary on this section, in Ohel Yaakov, Parashas Behar.
The Midrash states (Vayikra Rabbah 34:1, end):
R. Pinchas said in the name of R. Reuvein: “When someone gives a perutah coin to a pauper, does Hashem repay him with perutos? Behold, with a perutah a person gives a pauper his life! How so? For example, if a loaf of bread costs ten perutos and the pauper has only nine, when someone comes and gives him a perutah, he is able to buy the bread, and when he eats it, he is revived. Accordingly, the Hashem says to the giver, ‘You, too, when your soul is pressing to leave your body, I will repay you.’”
The Maggid comments that Hashem’s promise to the giver seems baffling. Why does Hashem give him a blessing that is linked to a curse? Why does Hashem tell him to wait until he is on the verge of death, and then He will repay him?
The Maggid then goes on to describe how, with a deeper look, we can marvel at the way Hashem’s promise to the giver reflects eminent kindness and justice. The giver gave the pauper a single perutah. This small donation enabled the pauper to buy a loaf of bread. So Hashem credits the giver as if he had given the pauper the whole loaf. Moreover, since the bread revived the pauper, Hashem credits the giver as if he had given him added life. But, now, let us examine the situation more deeply. Exactly how much added life did the giver give the pauper by enabling him to buy the bread? How long did this bread sustain the pauper? Eight hours, maybe ten. So, at most, the giver deserves to get back ten hours of added life. But Hashem, in His great wisdom, arranges affairs so that the added ten hours have a tremendous impact.
The matter is as follows. Consider a person who is gravely ill. The family typically will ask the doctor what the prognosis is. And, based on his knowledge of the dynamics of the disease in question and the patient’s general condition, the doctor may answer: “If he makes it through the night, he will pull through and recover.” In such a case, if the family could only somehow buy ten hours of life, surely they would give everything they have for these hours, for after their loved one survives the ten hour period, he may well live on for many more years. Now, suppose this patient once gave a pauper a perutah and thereby enabled him to buy a loaf of bread and survive another ten hours. By this act, he earned himself an added ten hours of life. And Hashem, in His kindness, holds this reward in store for him until just the right moment. He pays him the added ten hours at a time when his soul is pressing to leave his body, so that these added hours make the difference between immediate death and long life.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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On Yom Kippur

May 3, 2012
This week’s Torah reading is Emor in Eretz Yisrael and Acharei Mos – Kedoshim elsewhere. Both readings have a connection with Yom Kippur: Acharei Mos describes the Yom Kippur Temple service, while Emor, in presenting the yearly festival cycle, includes a section on Yom Kippur. Accordingly, this week I present a selection from one of the Maggid’s essays on Yom Kippur (taken from Ohel Yaakov, parashas Emor).
It is written (Tehillim 57:3): “I shall call upon God, Most High – to the God who concludes matters for me.” The Midrash expounds (Bereishis Rabbah 98:1, paraphrased): “‘I shall call upon God, Most High’ – on Rosh Hashanah. ‘To the God who concludes matters me’ – through the lots between the goats on Yom Kippur [arranging for the lot marked ‘for Hashem’ to be the one that appears in the Kohen Gadol’s right hand, as an omen for good].” The Maggid explains this Midrash through a parable.
A poor man had a son who made a good impression on a rich man. The rich man decided to make a match between his daughter and the poor man’s son. The rich man offered a large dowry and a regular stipend for the couple’s living expenses. He imposed only one condition: that the groom have a proper suit to wear at the wedding. The poor man was in a quandary, for he was so short of money that he could not afford a good suit. He was sorely pained that such a small hindrance was keeping him from such a great fortune. Clearly, if someone would give the poor man a suit for his son, he would be doing him a favor worth a thousand times more than the amount he spent.
The parallel is as follows. The period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is one during which a Jew can acquire a large measure of holiness. He need only fulfill the Torah’s charge (Vayikra 16:30): “Make yourselves pure before Hashem.” That is, he need only prepare his heart, through sincere repentance and regret over his past misdeeds, to receive the infusion of holiness that Hashem is ready to convey to him. If a person is unable to take this elementary preliminary step, he loses the opportunity for a great gain. Therefore, on Rosh Hashanah we stand up and declare: “I shall call upon God, Most High – to the God who concludes matters for me.” We plead with Hashem to help us make the necessary start, so that He can then conclude the matter on Yom Kippur and grant us the wondrous spiritual treasure that He has in store for us.
The Maggid compares our situation during the Ten Days of Repentance to the Midrash’s description of David HaMelech’s plight after the incident with Bas-Sheva. The Midrash states (Yalkut Shimoni, Nach 764):
What was David’s plight like? We can portray it with a parable. A person with a wound on his arm went to a doctor, and the doctor told him: “I cannot treat you. The wound is extensive, and you don’t have the money to cover the cost.” The person replied: “Please, do me a favor and have mercy on me. I beg of you, take all the money I have and cover the rest of the cost from your own resources.” In this vein, David pleaded (Tehillim 51:2-3): “Show me favor, O God, in accordance with Your kindness; in Your abundant compassion erase my sins. Abundantly cleanse me of my iniquity, and purify me of my transgressions.”
David was telling Hashem: “I have made a start at cleansing myself, but I need You to finish the job.”
The final Mishnah in meseches Yoma, the tractate that deals with Yom Kippur, states: “Said R. Akiva, ‘Fortunate are you, O Yisrael. Before whom do you become purified, and who purifies you? Your Father in Heaven.’” The Maggid explains the double language in this teaching as follows. There are two key differences between a human doctor and Hashem, the Supreme Healer. First, no human doctor can heal every illness. Rather, doctors specialize in certain areas – some are eye specialists, some are heart specialists, and so on. Hashem, however, can cure every malady; in Tehillim 103:3, David HaMelech, speaking to his own soul, describes Hashem as “the Healer of all your illnesses.” Second, a human doctor demands payment for the treatment he provides, to the point where a human doctor will sometimes say, as in the parable in the Midrash above, “I cannot treat you. The wound is extensive, and you don’t have the money to cover the cost.” Hashem, however, seeks only words of contrition, as it is written (Hoshea 14:3): “Take with you words, and return to Hashem.” The double language in R. Akiva’s teaching corresponds to the above two aspects of Hashem’s care. To whom do we go to be purified? To Hashem, the Supreme Healer, who is capable of curing every malady. And who purifies us? Hashem, our loving Father, who is ready to help us as soon as we call out to Him.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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On Speech

April 26, 2012
This week’s Torah reading is Acharei Mos – Kedoshim in Eretz Yisrael and Tazria – Metzora elsewhere. Both readings relate to the sin of evil speech (loshon hara). In parashas Kedoshim, the Torah commands us to refrain from evil speech, saying (Vayikra 19:16): “You shall not be a talebearer among your people.” Tazria – Metzora deals with the affliction of tzaraas, of which one of the causes is loshon hara (Arachin 15b). Accordingly, this week I present a digest of the closing two chapters of the Maggid’s Sefer HaMiddos, which deal with the topic of guarding one’s speech (shemiras ha-lashon).
The main function of the tongue is to serve Hashem through Torah study and prayer. Now, when a person offers a gift of homage to a nobleman, he must make sure the gift is fitting: that the gift item itself is respectable, and that it is conveyed in a respectable vessel. Similarly, when a person offers Hashem a prayer, he must make sure that he does so with proper devotion and humility, and that the mouth that conveys his prayer is pure – not sullied by sins of speech such as vulgarity, deceit, and lashon hara. Our Sages condemn is the strongest terms those who engage in lashon hara. In Arachin 15b, the Gemara teaches that one who speaks loshon hara is like one who denies that Hashem is the master of the world. And in Vayikra Rabbah 16:6, the Midrash teaches that speaking lashon hara is tantamount to violating the entire five books of the Torah. The Maggid expounds on why the sin of lashon hara is so grave. He notes three key characteristics of speech: its importance, its rapid and free flow, and its delicateness.
Speech is of prime importance in that it is one of the two key features that distinguish man from the animals. The faculty of thought is man’s internal distinguishing feature, while the faculty of speech is his external distinguishing feature. The faculty of thought was given to man solely to enable him to recognize his Creator, to love, fear, and trust in Him, to absorb His teachings, and to carry out His will. Similarly, the faculty of speech was given to man as a sacred vessel for praising Hashem and thanking Him for all His kindnesses, the greatest of which is His giving us the privilege of serving Him. As noted above, the tongue is the instrument through which we carry out the sacred duties of Torah study and prayer. Even without an explicit command in the Torah against improper speech, we could recognize by reason alone that an instrument designed for such exalted duties should not be profaned through lowly uses. Thus, the Gemara states (Yoma 19b): “One who talks idly transgresses a positive commandment, as it is written (Devarim 6:7), ‘And you shall speak in them [words of Torah].’” The reason this is so is not simply because one who talks idly is squandering an opportunity for Torah study, for the same could be said of one who keeps silent. Rather, the transgression arises from employing the tongue, which is meant for Torah study, for an improper use.
Regarding the rapid and free flow of speech, we can note that, although a person has the power to keep silent, once he starts talking he must guard his tongue with extreme care; unless he exercises the utmost vigilance, he almost surely will slide into improper speech. In this vein, Shlomo HaMelech declares (Mishlei 10:19): “In a multitude of words there will be no lack of sin.” Accordingly, at the end of the Amidah prayer, we entreat: “My God, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking deceit.” It is so easy to commit sins of speech that we plead to Hashem to help us avoid them.
The delicateness of speech is like that of a special knife designed for precision work. If the knife is used indiscriminately, it grows blunt and less effective for its intended use. The same is so of speech, which is the instrument we use for the lofty spiritual pursuits of Torah study and prayer. Regarding devout Jews, David HaMelech writes (Tehillim 149:6): “Exaltations of God are in their throats, [like] a double-edged sword in their hands.” Our prayers are the sword with which we battle our enemies. Our mouths have a wondrous power to tear down the barriers that separate us from Hashem and generate beneficial effects in the upper worlds. But if we use our faculty of speech indiscriminately, it grows blunt and less effective. We must therefore guard our mouths carefully. We should strive to minimize the use of our mouths for mundane matters. Indeed, R. Shimon bar Yochai said that if he had been at Mount Sinai, he would have asked for two mouths, one for Torah study and prayer and one for mundane speech (Yerushalmi, Berachos, ch. 1, halachah 2). Surely we should do our utmost to avoid idle chatter, coarse talk, and loshon hara.
Improper speech not only diminishes a person’s subsequent capacity for Torah learning, but even displaces the Torah learning that he previously accumulated. Thus the Sages teach (Shir HaShirim Rabbah on Shir HaShirim  1:3): “Every frivolous word that a person speaks displaces from him correspondingly a word of Torah that he previously learned.” This principle sheds added light on the teaching we mentioned earlier, that a person who speaks idly transgresses the commandment “and you shall speak in them” – we can say that idle talk, in displacing a person’s learning, nullifies his previous fulfillment of this commandment.
In this vein, Shlomo HaMelech teaches (Mishlei 5:1-2): “My son, listen to my wisdom and incline your ear to my understanding teachings. To keep hold of wise strategies and let you lips guard knowledge.” One who restrains his mouth from idle talk keeps hold of his wisdom, while one who speaks indiscriminately lets his wisdom leave him. We must therefore keep close watch on what we say. May Hashem help us do so, and thereby enable us to behold the light of His Torah.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Haftaras Machar Chodesh

April 19, 2012
This Shabbos is erev Rosh Chodesh, and we therefore read the special “machar chodesh” haftarah. The haftarah begins (Shmuel Alef 20:18-22):
And Yonasan said to him [David]: “Tomorrow is the New Moon, and you will be asked about, for your place will be empty. Stay [in the field] for three days, and then go far down and go to … the marker stone. I will shoot three arrows toward that direction, as if I were shooting at a target (l’shalach li l’matarah). Behold, I will then send the lad, [saying]: ‘Go find the arrows.’ If I say to the lad, ‘Behold, the arrows are this side of you,” then you take the arrows and come, for all is well with you. But if I say this to the young man – ‘Behold, the arrows are beyond you’ – then go, for Hashem has sent you away [my father (Shaul) seeks to kill you].”
On the third day, Yonasan shoots the arrows and tells his attendant: “Behold, the arrows are beyond you.” Yonasan and David then have a parting meeting before David flees. For years I wondered why Yonasan used the signal of the arrows rather than simply telling David how he should proceed, given that the two of them were ultimately going to meet. The Maggid offers two answers to this question. Both involve homiletical readings of the phrase l’shalach li l’matarah.
The first answer is that Yonasan, due to his great righteousness and his sensitivity regarding evil speech, sought to avoid saying outright that Shaul was planning to kill David. He therefore used the signal of the arrows in lieu of a verbal report. He deliberately used three arrows, to hint that evil speech harms three people: the speaker, the listener, and the one who is being spoken about. And we can read the phrase l’shalach li l’matarah as expressing Yonasan’s hope that, just as a target acts as a barrier, the signal of the arrows should serve him as a shield, protecting him from liability for evil speech.
The second answer is that Yonasan used the mechanism of the arrows to elicit from Hashem a sign as to whether or not He had decreed that David should have to flee. A threat from Shaul would not be conclusive, for it is Hashem’s word, and not the word of any man, that determines how events will unfold. Here we can read the phrase l’shalach li l’matarah as expressing Yonasan’s hope that the arrows would aid him in achieving his goal of learning what Hashem had decreed regarding David [the word matarah can be rendered either as target or as goal]. This answer is in line how Rashi comments on Yonasan’s instructions to David. Yonasan says: “If I say to the lad, ‘Behold, the arrows are this side of you,” then you take the arrows and come, for all is well with you.” Rashi comments: “You need not fear. All is well with you. The Holy One Blessed Be He wishes for you to stay here without fear, even though my father expressed evil plans.” Yonasan continues: “But if I say this to the young man – ‘Behold, the arrows are beyond you’ – then go, for Hashem has sent you away.” Rashi comments: “The Holy One Blessed Be He wants you to flee and escape.” Now, had Yonasan meant the arrows as simply a device for conveying a message to David, surely he would tailor his message to match Shaul’s sentiments: If Shaul had expressed evil plans, Yonasan would tell his attendant that the arrows were beyond him, and if not, he would tell him that the arrows were further in. But since Yonasan indicated that the sign of the arrows might run counter to what Shaul had said, we can see that Yonasan was using the arrows not as a mere communication device, but as a means of determining how Hashem wanted David to proceed.
The above explanation fits well with the sequence of events when Yonasan shot the arrows. Yonasan told his attendant that he should run to bring the arrows. Obviously if the attendant started running at the same time as Yonasan shot the arrows, there would be no way that the attendant would get beyond the arrows, for no man can run faster than an arrow flies. Yonasan therefore first told his attendant to run, and afterward he shot the arrows (ibid. 20:36). That is, Yonasan gave the attendant got a head start on the arrows, thereby creating the possibility that he might get beyond where the arrows landed. In this way, Yonasan set up a mechanism for Hashem to indicate what He wanted David to do.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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On the Aftermath of Exile

April 10, 2012
Parashas Shemini recounts the events of the day the Mishkan (Tabernacle) was inaugurated. Correspondingly, one of the Midrashim on parashas Shemini discusses the era of the third Beis HaMikdash (Holy Temple) in the end of days, which is also the topic of the haftarah for the eighth day of Pesach outside of Eretz Yisrael. The Midrash, as the Maggid explains it, also sheds light on the aftermath of the Exodus from Egypt. The Midrash reads as follows (Vayikra Rabbah 11:2):
“With all forms of wisdom she built her house” (Mishlei 9:1) – this refers to the [third] Beis HaMikdash …. “She hewed out its seven pillars” (ibid., end) – these are the seven years of Gog. … All these seven years, the handles of swords, spears, and knives will be used for firewood. As it is written (Yechezkel 39:9): “Then the inhabitants of the cities of Yisrael will go out and kindle fires and fuel them with weapons, with shields and bucklers, with bows and with arrows, with clubs and with spears – they will fuel fires with them for seven years.” These seven years are the preliminary feast of the righteous before the future era, as indicated by the saying: “Those who dine at the pre-wedding feast will dine at the wedding feast.”
The Maggid explains this Midrash as follows. When we were in Egypt, we lived in a state of deprivation. We did not receive the standard measure of bounty that Hashem usually allots. Hashem made up for this deficit later, when we entered the Land of Israel. Just before we entered the land, Hashem told us that He would grant us “large and goodly cities that you did not build, houses filled with all sorts of good that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, and vineyards and olive-trees that you did not plant,” and He cautioned us to take care that these blessings not lead us to forget Him (Devarim 6:10-12). The word of caution was vitally necessary here, since the blessing was an unconditional grant that Hashem was conveying irrespective of how we would behave. Hashem was giving us an abundance of bounty which we did not have to work for at all or earn in any way, and which had no strings attached, as restitution for the bounty He withheld from us during our stay in Egypt. Similarly, at the time of the final redemption, Hashem will convey to us all the bounty He withheld from us during our time in exile. The Midrash above relates to this payment of restitution.
The Maggid brings out the point with an analogy. Suppose a traveler buys various food items at an inn. He can then ask the innkeeper to let him use a stove and some pots, and the innkeeper will surely oblige. But if he buys food from one inn and then goes to the inn next door and asks the innkeeper there for the use of a stove and some pots, the innkeeper will baldly turn him away, saying: “Go to where you bought this food, and use their stove and pots.” The parallel is as follows. At each given point in time, Hashem provides food to the world, and makes available the means for cooking the food, such as, for example, trees of the forest that can be used for firewood. Now, at the time of the final redemption, Hashem will give us extra bounty, as restitution for bounty He withheld from us previously. It stands to reason that the fuel for cooking the extra food not come from the trees standing at that time, but rather from wood that is available from before, and, indeed, thus the Midrash teaches. The seven years of Gog constitute the preliminary stage of payment of the reward stored away for the righteous, and during these seven years the firewood will come from wood already at hand – the handles of swords, spears, and knives.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Pesach – Shir HaShirim

April 2, 2012
During Pesach, we read Shir HaShirim, the song that portrays the bond between Hashem and the Jewish People. Verse 3:6 describes the nations of the world observing the Jewish People in the wilderness, on their way from Egypt to the Land of Israel, and exclaiming: “Who is this rising up from the wilderness like a column of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, and with all the compounds of the perfume merchant?” The Midrash elaborates (Yalkut Shimoni, Torah 890):
When the People of Israel were in the wilderness, they were enveloped with clouds of glory and a pillar of fire. The nations of the world exclaimed in shock: “Who are these [people], whose every move is accompanied by fire? ‘Who is this rising up from the wilderness like a column of smoke?’” The Holy One Blessed Be He replied: “‘[They are] perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, [and with all the compounds of the perfume merchant].’ They have firm posts on which to support themselves – they have the merit of their forefathers.” [The Midrash goes on to link the myrrh, the frankincense, and the perfume merchant’s compounds to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, respectively.]
The Maggid explains this Midrash using an analogy to different types of business ventures. A conservative venture yields a low return, but presents little risk of major loss. A bold venture can yield fabulous gain but also presents serious risk of major loss. Most people do not have the wherewithal to engage in high-stakes ventures. But such a venture is feasible for a rich man whose father is also rich. If the venture succeeds, he will make a great fortune. And if the venture fails, and he loses everything, he can go back home to his rich father.
Now, as indicated in last week’s piece, the Jewish People’s acceptance of the Torah was like embarking on a high-stakes venture. The Maggid elaborates on this theme in his commentary on the Midrash above. By accepting the Torah, the Jewish People formed a bond with Hashem and committed themselves to fulfilling 613 commandments. These commandments gave them the potential to soar to the heavens. Indeed, even before receiving these commandments, the Jewish People rose in stature simply by promising to accept them, with the words “we shall do and we shall listen” (Shemos 24:7). Hashem wrought miracles for them in Egypt and at the Sea of Reeds because He knew that they were headed toward accepting the Torah. Likewise, Hashem granted them clouds of glory, a miraculous well, and manna before they accepted the Torah, because He knew they were going to accept it. And when they did, they rose in stature even more.
But this loftiness came with a risk. As Shlomo HaMelech put it (Koheles 1:18): “With increased wisdom comes increased turmoil.” And we see that Hashem meted out strict justice to the Jewish People for very slight transgressions, such as complaining (see Bamidbar Chapter 11) and the like. This strictness was due to the closeness to Hashem that they had achieved. Indeed, it is written that Hashem’s “environs are very stormy” (Tehillim 50:3), and our Sages infer from this statement that Hashem is exacting with the righteous to a hairsbreadth (Bava Kamma 50a, based on the similarity between the word nisarah, meaning “stormy” and the word saarah, meaning “hair”). In several instances, Hashem poured out His wrath against the Jewish People with a vigor unheard of among other nations.
When other nations saw the great wrath that the Jews incurred by violating the Torah, they criticized them: “How did they have the nerve to take on a venture with such high stakes?” This is what the Midrash means when it describes the other nations exclaiming: “Who are these people, whose every move is accompanied by fire?” These onlookers were pointing out that, just as the Jewish People had the potential to soar swiftly upward by fulfilling the mitzvos, they had the potential to plummet swiftly downward by neglecting them. The onlookers contended that the Jewish People had no justification for risking themselves by accepting so many commandments. To this, Hashem replied: “Do not be taken aback by the Jewish People’s willingness to accept the Torah, for they have firm posts to support themselves on.”
The Jewish People are just like the investor with a rich father in our analogy, for they are the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. After the sin of the golden calf and after the sin of the spies, the Jewish People suffered a great fall in fortune. Yet they were not wiped out entirely, for they took refuge in the shelter of their forefathers. Indeed, when Moshe pled for the people after the sin of the golden calf, he invoked the merit of the forefathers (Shemos 32:13). This merit enabled them to recover when they fell.
Chag Kasher V’Sameach!
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Tzav

March 30, 2012
The readings for the first three aliyos in week’s parashah present various laws concerning offerings. One section concerns the laws of the korban shelamim (peace-offering). In connection with this section, the Midrash expounds as follows (Tanchuma, Tzav 4):
It is written (Tehillim 85:9): “I indeed shall hear what the Almighty, Hashem, will speak – for He speaks peace to His people and to His devout ones.” Said the nations of the world to Bilaam: “Why did God tell the Jewish People to bring offerings and not say anything about this to us?” Bilaam replied: “The offerings are only to make peace. Those who accepted the Torah need to bring offerings. But you who originally declined the Torah, now you seek to bring offerings?” Those who accepted the Torah bring offerings, as it is written (Tehillim 29:11): “Hashem gives might to His people [with the term “might” alluding to Torah]; Hashem blesses His people with peace.” Hence it is written: “I indeed shall hear ….”
The Maggid explains this Midrash with a parable. A rich merchant had a poor brother to whom he would send a certain sum of money every year. Eventually, though, he stopped sending the money, and his poor brother fell into dire straits and heavy debt. After some years, the merchant traveled to a fair held in the city where his poor brother lived. He went to his brother’s home and told him: “Figure up how much money you need, and I will give it to you.” The poor brother figured up how much money he needed to cover his debts and marry off his daughter, and the merchant gave him the entire sum. He then said to him: “I came to take care of you now, before starting in with my business here. Tomorrow the fair will begin, and I will be occupied with my business. I ask you please to leave me alone during the fair, and not disturb me with more requests for money.” The poor brother’s heart melted like wax before a flame, for he knew that soon he would be strapped for funds again.
The next day the merchant set up his trading booth, where he sold various types of silk patches for mending expensive silk clothes. The poor brother’s wife saw how well her brother-in-law was doing, and she cajoled her husband to ask his brother for more help. The poor brother demurred, saying: “I promised my brother I would not bother him during the fair.” His wife told him to take an indirect approach – he should go to his brother’s booth and look over the merchandise along with the customers there, and while discussing the merchandise with his brother he should mention that he needs some more money. Feeling he had no choice, the poor brother did as his wife said. The merchant caught on to the ruse, and he said to his brother: “Why are you rummaging through these patches? You have no silk clothes to mend, so you have no need for patches like these.”
The parallel is along the lines of a teaching in Bamidbar Rabbah 12:12. The world stands on three legs: charitable kindness, Torah, and service to Hashem through offerings (with prayer substituting for offerings when the Beis HaMikdash is not standing). Initially, man had only a limited set of duties – the seven Noachide laws – and the world operated through charitable kindness. People extended charitable kindness to each other, and Hashem extended charitable kindness to the whole of mankind. After 26 generations, the Jewish People accepted the Torah, taking upon themselves the obligation of fulfilling the 613 mitzvos. At this point, the world was in a shaky state, like a table standing on only two legs. Afterward, the Mishkan was built and the Jewish People began to bring offerings according to a designated system, and then the world became firmly settled.
Why was the world in a shaky state when the Jewish People accepted the Torah? The Maggid explains that the acceptance of the Torah as a set of obligations created the possibility that a Jew could lapse in fulfilling his obligations. The Jews were thus in a precarious position. Offerings provided the remedy, enabling a Jew to atone for a lapse. Hashem gave us the system of offerings as a means of solidifying our relationship with Him, repairing rifts in this relationship when they occur.
The nations that consulted Bilaam thought that offerings served some other function. They therefore asked him why Hashem told the Jewish People to bring offerings but did not tell them to do so. Bilaam explained that the offerings are only to make peace – to compensate for a lapse in carrying out one’s duties. The nations that declined the Torah had no lapses to compensate for, no holes to mend. Hence they had no need to bring offerings. It is for those who accepted the Torah that the system of offerings was designed.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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Parashas Vayikra

March 23, 2012
Sefer Vayikra focuses mainly on offerings. From the Jewish perspective, an offering is not a “gift” we give Hashem to prompt Him to grant us blessing. Hashem does not need gifts. Rather, when a Jew brings an offering, his aim is to express the idea that he is offering himself to Hashem and devoting himself to Him.
Our Sages note that, in the verses in Chapter 1 of Vayikra that describe an animal offering being placed on the altar, the Torah uses different phrasing in connection with sheep and goats than it does in connection with bulls. When discussing the procedure with a bull, the Torah says: “The Kohen shall cause it all to go up in smoke (v’hiktir) on the altar.” But when discussing the procedure with a sheep or goat, it says: “The Kohen shall bring it all (v’hikriv) and cause it to go up in smoke (v’hiktir) on the altar.” The Midrash remarks (Vayikra Rabbah 2:12): “It is written hikriv in connection with sheep and goats, but not in connection with bulls. This is so that a person should not say to himself: ‘I will go and commit improper acts, and I will then offer a bull, which has a lot of meat. I will bring it to be placed on the altar, and Hashem will have mercy on me and accept my repentance.’” In a previous d’var Torah, we presented a selection from the Maggid’s commentary on this Midrash. The basic theme is that Hashem prefers a less impressive offering brought with humility to a more impressive offering brought with a boastful attitude. We elaborate here with some further portions of the Maggid’s commentary on the Midrash.
In discussing the differences between one righteous person and another, our Sages state (Avos D’Rabbi Nassan 37:9, paraphrased): “When both are eating the same dish, the flavor each tastes is according to his deeds.” For instance, when two people are eating steaks from the same cut of meat, one of them may enjoy his steak more than the other because he put more effort into the preparation. Similarly, when two people perform the same mitzvah, one person’s mitzvah may be more pleasing to Hashem than the other’s because he put more devotion into it. Hashem actually has no need for the mitzvah act itself, just as He has no need for gifts from us. Thus, it is written (Iyov 22:3): “Is the Almighty gratified when you do right? Does He benefit when you perfect your ways?” Rather, what matters to Hashem is the devotion with which the mitzvah is done. In particular, when a person brings a sin-offering, what interests Hashem is not the offering itself, but rather the contrition that accompanies the offering and the commitment to exercise more care in the future. Hashem is pleased by a humble and devoted heart.
In Chanah’s song of thanks to Hashem on the birth of her son Shmuel, she declares (Shmuel Alef 2:7): “Hashem makes poor and makes rich; He brings low and also raises up.” We may ask why Chanah added the word “also” to the second half of this declaration. The Maggid explains the import of this added word as follows. It is Hashem’s practice to feel compassion for the lowly and elevate them, and to feel antipathy toward the lofty and lower them. Because of this Divine practice, a person might find himself constantly oscillating between poverty and wealth. While he is poor, he feels humble, so Hashem elevates him and grants him wealth. And then, while he is rich, he feels haughty, so Hashem lowers him. The cycle can continue indefinitely. The only way a person can break the cycle and stay wealthy is to maintain a dual attitude: He should appreciate and feel glad about his wealth, yet continue to view himself as lowly. Even when wealthy, we depend constantly on Hashem’s compassion, and to receive it, we have to stay humble. We must be lowly while also elevated.
The above discussion is reflected in the following verse (Yeshayah 61:10): “I shall rejoice greatly in Hashem – my soul shall jubilate in my God. For He has clothed me in the raiment of salvation and cloaked me in a robe of charity.” To bring out the connection, the Maggid introduces a parable. A pauper went traveling from city to city collecting alms. After some time, he accumulated a sizeable sum. He thought to buy himself some fine clothes to make himself look more respectable, like other workers do when they make a good sum of money. A friend of his chided him for this plan, saying: “You fool! Don’t consider yourself the same as others. With other workers, wearing fine clothes will not impair their earning ability; they can continue their work just as before. But with you it is very different. Right now, people give to you because they see you wearing rags and pity you. If you start wearing fine clothes, people won’t pity you anymore, and they won’t give you a thing.”
The verse from Yeshayah points to the dual attitude that a person must take, as explained above. The first part of the verse uses the Divine Name Hashem, representing the Attribute of Compassion, while the second part of the verse uses the Divine Name Elokim (God), representing the Attribute of Justice. On the one hand, a person must “rejoice greatly in Hashem,” feeling joy over the blessings the Ribbono Shel Olam gives him through His Attribute of Compassion. On the other hand, he must also “jubilate in Elokim,” maintaining an awareness of Hashem’s Attribute of Justice and along with it a sense of humility. Yeshayah speaks of Hashem’s clothing us in “a raiment of salvation” and cloaking us in “a robe of charity” to hint at how Hashem seeks to imbue us with a proper sense of humility. Just as the pauper’s tattered clothes leads people to pity him and help him, so, too, an attitude of humility leads Hashem to show us compassion and bless us.
The Gemara in Berachos 34b relates a story in which R. Yochanan ben Zakai’s son fell ill, and R. Yochanan ben Zakai asked R. Chanina ben Dosa to pray for the lad’s recovery. R. Yochanan ben Zakai’s wife asked him why he sought R. Chanina’s prayers rather than relying on his own prayers. He answered: “Because he is like the king’s servant, while I am like the king’s minister.” The expression the Gemara uses for “like” is the double expression domeh k’ – an odd expression, since the prefix k’ would have been enough. The Maggid interprets the double expression as relating to how the person being spoken of viewed himself. R. Yochanan ben Zakai sought R. Chanina ben Dosa’s prayer because he knew that R. Chanina was humbler. Humility plays a critical role in the effectiveness of prayer. As David HaMelech writes (Tehillim 51:19): “A broken and humbled heart, O God, You will not despise.” Similarly, in expounding on Michah’s statement that Hashem pardons iniquity and overlooks transgression “for the remnant of His estate” (Michah 7:18), the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah 17a-b states that Hashem forgives those who regard themselves as “leftovers.” In the same vein, the Torah associates the term hikriv specifically with the one who offers a sheep or goat, and not with the one who offers a bull, to stress the role of humility in drawing close to Hashem and gaining His support.

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Parashas Parah

March 16, 2012
This week, the final Torah reading consists of a special selection describing the parah adumah (red heifer) procedure, where a completely red and unblemished heifer that never bore a yoke is slaughtered and burned, and the ashes are used for purifying people who became defiled through contact with a human corpse. The description of the procedure is introduced with the following preface (Bamidbar 19:2): “This is the statute (chukas) of the Torah, which Hashem has commanded.” The parah adumah procedure is the classic example of a chok – a Torah law whose rationale is hidden from us, and which we must simply accept as a Divine edict. Regarding this procedure, the Midrash describes Hashem declaring (Yalkut Shimoni, Nach 989; cf. Bamidbar Rabbah 19:1): “I have legislated a statute and issued a decree, and you are not permitted to harbor reservations about it.”
In Sefer HaMiddos, Shaar Avodas HaElokim, chapter 1, the Maggid elaborates on this idea. In Vayikra 26:3, Hashem declares that if we follow His statutes, we will thrive. The Maggid says that we should regard all of the mitzvos as statutes to be followed simply because Hashem ordered us to do so, without regard to the beneficial effects that we may see in them. Thus, the Mishnah in Berachos 33b rules that if a prayer leader says “Your mercies extend to the bird’s nest,” we silence him. The reason we do so, according to one opinion in the Gemara, is that the prayer leader’s words suggest that Hashem gave us the mitzvah of shiluach ha-kein (sending away the mother bird before taking her eggs or chicks) out of His compassion for the birds, whereas the mitzvos should be regarded as pure Divine decrees designed to refine those obey them. This is true even of Torah’s civil laws – for example, the Torah prohibits stealing not to protect the would-be victim (Hashem could do this in other ways), but rather to prevent the would-be thief from damaging his soul.
Our subservience to Hashem is most clearly shown when we perform a mitzvah without knowing the reason behind it. When we perform a mitzvah whose reason we understand, it could always be that we are doing so not out of a desire to fulfill Hashem’s word, but rather out of our own affinity for the mitzvah act. But when we perform a mitzvah whose reason is hidden from us, it is clear that we are doing so simply out of a desire to follow Hashem’s directives.
The Maggid teaches further that we must perform all the mitzvos exactly as handed down to us, without subjecting them to our own judgment and taking the liberty to make additions, omissions, or changes. At the end of its account of creation, the Torah declares (Bereishis 1:31): “And God saw all that He had done, and, behold, it was very good.” The Midrash remarks (Yalkut Shimoni, Torah 16; cf. Bereishis Rabbah 9:10): “‘Good’ – this is the angel of life. “‘Very’ – this is the angel of death.” The Maggid interprets this Midrash as saying that any attempt to introduce improvements to the mitzvos is bound to produce a bad result. A person who tries to tinker with the mitzvos is like a craftsman’s toddler son who tries to tinker with his father’s work – some damage is sure to ensue.
In Bamidbar Rabbah 19:8, the Midrash says that the red heifer atones for the sin of the golden calf. In a number of places in his commentaries, the Maggid explains, following the Kuzari, that the calf was not made for idolatrous purposes. Rather, the Jewish People panicked when Moshe did not return from Mount Sinai when they expected, and they rushed to develop an alternative mechanism for connecting with Hashem. The people had engaged in tinkering, introducing a new form of worship that Hashem did not mandate. The remedy for this error was the law of the red heifer – a law that calls for us simply to follow Hashem’s word, without any understanding of the reason behind it.
David Zucker, Site Administrator

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