Posts in Category: Divrei Torah

Chukat

On June 27, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Bamidbar

Parshat Chukat records the tragic story of Mei Meriva. Moshe’s sister, Miriam, dies, and with her passing, Bnei Yisrael’s miraculous water supply (a well which sustained them in Miriam’s merit) vanishes. The nation complains for water; Hashem instructs Moshe what to do; Moshe deviates slightly, and he is severely punished. 

Until this point, whenever Bnei Yisrael complained, they were answered in one of two ways: Either Hashem granted their wish, or they were punished. Here, Hashem asks Moshe and Aharon to gather the people and speak to a rock. Instead Moshe hits the rock (twice) and Hashem rebukes Moshe and Aharon for this reaction, and for not having faith in Him. Rashi on the spot says that were it not for this misstep by Moshe, he would have been able to enter the land of Israel. Instead, Moshe is punished, and denied entry into the Land.

The Netziv has a very interesting explanation for the “crime” and punishment involved in this episode of Mei Meriva.
In the Netziv’s hakdama to Sefer Bamidbar, he writes that the main theme in Bamidbar is the transition from Bnei Yisrael’s supernatural relationship with G-d, to a relationship more grounded in the natural order. From the time Moshe confronted Paroh in Egypt, until the 40th year in the desert, Bnei Yisrael witnessed and were sustained by the most incredible miracles ever performed. To use the Netziv’s poetic words, Bnei Yisrael went from walking “b’midat tiferet” in the desert, until the 40th year when it began to change into a more natural interaction with Hashem – “bderech heteva b’sitrei hashgachat malchut shamayim.”

As Bnei Yisrael made their way toward Eretz Yisrael, their relationship would start to change. The desert became a training ground for the new reality that awaited them in their own land – a life more in line with a natural existence.

The Netziv sees Moshe’s misstep within this broader context of Sefer Bamidbar: Moshe was the ultimate agent of and conduit to Hashem. With the passing of Miriam and the disappearance of their supernatural water source, Bnei Yisrael stood poised to learn a pivotal lesson. Moshe – Moshe Rabbeinu – was supposed to teach that lesson. He was directed to teach the nation that their physical survival – something as basic as drinkable water – would hinge on more than one-sided, overt miracles. In a situation of distress and crisis, they would need to rely on the belief in their hearts and the power of words on their lips.
 
Moshe received specific instructions – to take the staff with which all of the miracles until this point had been performed, but not use it. Hold the symbol of the supernatural, but do not use it. Instead, begin to teach the People the power of speech and the power of prayer. Show them that as individuals and as a collective nation, they have the ability to have a natural relationship with Hashem through teffila. The Netziv says, that Hashem’s method of punishment, of not allowing Moshe entry to the Land, was a midah k’negged midah – because Moshe didn’t use the opportunity he was given to teach Bnei Yisrael about how farmers, removed from the Dor HaMidbar, would one day have to react when faced with drought in Eretz Yisrael (i.e. through belief and prayer), Moshe demonstrated that he was not the proper leader for the nation in Eretz Yisrael.
 
In Sefer Devarim (32:51) Hashem describes the actions that Moshe took in Parshat Chukat:
עַל אֲשֶׁר מְעַלְתֶּם בִּי בְּתוֹךְ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּמֵי-מְרִיבַת קָדֵשׁ מִדְבַּר-צִן עַל אֲשֶׁר לֹא קִדַּשְׁתֶּם אוֹתִי בְּתוֹךְ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל

(1) “ma’altem bi” = you trespassed against Me”; and (b) “asher lo kidashtem Oti” = you did not sanctify Me.

By hitting the rock, Moshe “misappropriated” the miracle of water being brought forth. The purpose of the episode was to teach the people to pray and inculcate a deeper feeling of emunah in Hashem during trying times. Instead, Moshe “trespassed” the miracle – using it for an unintended purpose – and gave the impression that it was his own, great prophetic stature that produced the desired results. Moshe misappropriated the emunah of the nation.
 
Indeed, we are supposed to find that proper mixture of investment of time and human effort, on the one hand, with belief and dependence on Hashem, on the other. We put our heads down and work as hard as we can, yet still remain cognizant that we must lift our heads to the heavens and pray for rain, and pray that Hashem will steer our efforts toward success.
 
The Land of Israel is not like Egypt. There are no overflowing rivers to sustain life. All of its water – its life-source – comes from above: Devarim (11:10-12):

“For the land, which you enter to possess, is not as the land of Egypt, from where you came out…But the land, which you are going over to possess, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinks water from the rain of the skies; A land which Hashem your G-d cares for; the eyes of Hashem your God are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year.”

We are a nation that believes in human effort coupled with Divine oversight, in a land that demands both.
Tragically, the greatest eved Hashem of all time missed just one opportunity to teach emunah in the way Hashem had prescribed, and he paid the ultimate price.
 
We no longer have a Moshe, or a miracle-performing staff. Prophets and staffs will not provide us sustenance, protect us from our enemies, win our battles, or “bring back our boys”. If only…
But the efforts of Chayalei Tzahal, and the outpouring of prayers from Jews all over the world for the safe return of Yaakov Naftali ben Rachel Devora, Gilad Michael ben Bat-Galim. and Eyal ben Iris Teshurah, is how we are meant to respond in periods of hardship.

The lesson meant to be taught to Bnei Yisrael in the desert, was the beginning of what has been taught throughout the generations to this day – that through our hard work, resilient effort, unwavering emunah and heartfelt prayer, we will achieve our goals and bring the ultimate Redemption.

 

Korach

On June 20, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Bamidbar

[based on Rav Shimon Schwab ztl, and a dvar written by Rabbi Moshe Taub]

Rav Schwab ztl, in Ma’ayan Beis Hashoeva, based on an idea of Rav Yisrael Salanter ztl, has a fascinating insight into the psychology of Korach.

The Gemara in Sanhedrin tells us that Korach actually started out as a very righteous man; during Cheit Ha’eigel, when Moshe said “Mi LaHashem Eilai”, Korach followed him. What then, made Korach falter to such a tragic degree?

Furthermore, there exists a textual question about the timing of Korach’s complaint – if the section about Korach’s rebellion appears in its correct chronological order (as the Ramban maintains), why did it take so long for Korach to protest? Shouldn’t he have expressed is discontent with Moshe at the appointment of the princes in the opening of Bamidbar or when Aaron was first chosen as the Kohen Gadol?

In seeking to answer these questions, Rav Schwab turns to Gemara Sukkah 52a. There, the Gemara teaches that in the era of Mashiach, Hashem will slaughter the Yetzer Hara. Before doing so, inhabitants of the world will have the opportunity, for the first time, to actually see with their eyes this force with which they have tangled throughout their lives. The righteous will see a force of such might and size that they will proclaim “who can climb such a mountain!” The wicked, by contrast, will see the Yetzer Hara as something as small as a single hair.
This seems like the exact opposite of what we would have expected…The righteous, who have managed to overcome their evil inclination should be the ones to see the Yetzer Hara as a defeated entity, or a single hair. The wicked, who could not muster the strength (or interest) to defeat this foe, should be the ones to proclaim what a huge “mountain” they could not summit!

He explains that most people who fail in their existential religious struggles do not set out to be wicked; rather they strive to ignore the evil that exists. Additionally, the Yetzer Hara is focused on the external character of such a person, intent on getting the wicked individual to perform improper actions. The desire is put in front of the person, and he/she falls into the trap with very little thought involved. In the event they realize it was wrong, then there may be some remorse, but another improper action is sure to spring up again, because this person lacks the interest/strength to oppose it. This evil, having never been contended with is seen by them as trivial; like the addict who has yet to even try to quit, who confidently proclaims their ability to stop when they so desire. It is thus understandable why the Yetzer Hara appears small and insignificant in their eyes. If you never march onto the battlefield, then you have no knowledge of the identity and no concept of the strength of your enemy; you simply sit back, and it conquers you.

On the other hand, the righteous contend with their vices and desires, acknowledging how strong they can be and fighting them nevertheless. By a righteous person, instead of targeting mere actions, the Yetzer Hara tries to dig at his/her core. It tries to sully and erode the essence of a person motivations behind his/her actions. The righteous person is behaving properly, but the Yetzer Hara tries to poison those intentions. For example, a person might be learning lots of torah or giving massive amounts of charity, but perhaps he is doing so only to garner kavod from his peers, instead of performance l’sheim shamayim. People who contend with such a force – a force so strong that it can even infiltrate righteous deeds – see the Yetzer Hara as large and looming. 

In the time of Mashiach, each person will see the Yetzer Hara the way in which it was regarded during his/her lifetime.

Korach began as a tzaddik, but a unique and dangerously self-assured one. His Torah study and spiritual growth was used subconsciously as a decoy against his own conscience. Instead of dealing with his jealousy and desire for power, he chose to ignore them, covering them up with acts of virtue. His good deeds were a habitual self-distraction that both fooled how others perceived him, and how he perceived himself.

It was only now, after the Cheit HaMeraglim, when Moshe’s approval ratings were at an all-time low, that there was a possibility of a coup d’état. Suddenly, Korach felt a stirring within; a desire that he had repressed for some time (since the beginning of Bamidbar), had now clawed its way back to the fore, having festered into a fiercer and more powerful entity.
Korach stood before a mountain that he could not climb.
(Perhaps that is one reason why his punishment was to get swallowed by the earth, almost like an inverted mountain (?).)

(I also saw an idea that may explain the choice Chazal made for the portion we read as this week’s Haftorah, taken from Shmuel I, in which Bnei Yisrael ask for a king. Despite the fact that a Jewish king is a concept which appears in the Torah, Bnei Yisrael’s asking for a one was viewed, at least partially, as a failing. Why? Perhaps because of our motivations behind the request. Asking for a king was fine, but convincing ourselves that this was for religious reasons was the error. We should have been conscious of our true motivations – which was that we wanted to be like other nations – and not have convinced ourselves it was to achieve greater religious inspiration.)

If I understood Rav Schwab correctly, I think this concept can be best summarized, that when we acknowledge and contend with our own human frailty, we actually move closer toward achieving G-dliness. 

Perhaps the first steps in growing and trying to perfect ourselves are (a) wanting to do so, and (b) being cognizant of what is innate and being honest about our true desires and shortcomings – facing our Yetzer Hara head on. When challenges are discernible, they become exponentially easier to overcome.

Shlach

On June 17, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Bamidbar

Bamidbar 15:38
דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם וְעָשׂוּ לָהֶם צִיצִת עַל כַּנְפֵי בִגְדֵיהֶם לְדֹרֹתָם וְנָתְנוּ עַל צִיצִת הַכָּנָף פְּתִיל תְּכֵלֶת

Each corner of our garment should include a thread of techeiles.
Chazal teach us that this thread serves as an inspirational reminder. The color of techeiles resembles the color of the sea floor, the color of the sea floor is similar to the color of shamayim, and the color of the shamayim is similar to the color of Hashem’s throne of glory – the Kisei HaKavod. By gazing at the techeiles thread we begin a process that ends in being reminded of Hashem’s throne of glory.
 
Rashi in Bava Metzia 61b, notes that there are two ways to produce the color/appearance of techeiles. The halachically correct way is to extract the dye from a sea creature called the Chilazon. According to Menachos 44a, this Chilazon is a rare sea creature that appears on land only once in 70 years. Because the Chilazon emerges so infrequently, the dye produced from the Chilazon is less accessible and very expensive.
The halachically invalid way of producing the desired color is through an extract of the indigo plant. Since the indigo plant is commonly found, the dye produced from it is relatively inexpensive. The Gemara warns that Hashem will punish anyone who hangs wool dyed with the extract of the indigo on his garment claiming that he possesses techeiles.

Rav Aharon Lewin ztl, asks the following question:
If chazal teach us that the reason we have a thread of techeiles is so that we gaze at its color and be inspired to remember Hashem’s throne, what difference does it make as to the origin of this color? As long as we have the correct color, it will remind us of Hashem’s throne. The end result from either approach is the same!

The answer, of course, is that there are 2 ways to produce the color of techeiles: the hard way and the easy way.
The hard way involves waiting up to 70 years for the chilazon to appear, and carefully extracting a rare dye. The easy way is to obtain the color from a commonly found vegetable plant.
When we perform a mitzvah commanded to us by Hashem, it is as if we are appearing before the throne of Hashem and presenting Him with a gift. When one performs a mitzvah without any thought or preparation, simply to check a box, it is as if he took a shortcut to appear before Hashem; he has come before Hashem with indigo. However, when one dedicates the time and invests the necessary preparation to perform a mitzvah fully and correctly, it is if he took a long, arduous road to come before Hashem; he has come before Hashem with techeiles.

When we look at the techeiles we are reminded not just of our destination to Hashem’s throne but of the journey as well. Just as one waits with great anticipation for 70 years for the chilazon to appear and appreciates its great value, likewise we are reminded that we must approach the performance of mitzvos with anticipation and appreciate what it means to have an opportunity to perform a mitzvah, and in its proper fashion.

The difference between techeiles and indigo teaches us that it is not only the destination that counts but the journey as well. 

—–

A quick idea on Yehoshua’s name change: The midrash says that when Hashem changed Sarai’s name to Sarah, He allocated the displaced yud for Yehoshua’s name, from Hoshea. Rav Nison Alpert notes that Sarah paved a very important path for Yehoshua. Sarah had the unequivocal belief that Eretz Yisrael – in its entirety – belongs to the children of Avraham and Yitzchak. In Breishis 21:10 she says:
גָּרֵשׁ הָאָמָה הַזֹּאת וְאֶת-בְּנָהּ כִּי לֹא יִירַשׁ בֶּן-הָאָמָה הַזֹּאת עִם-בְּנִי עִם-יִצְחָק 

Sarah was saying that Yishmael, the son of Haggar, has no share in the inheritance of her son Yitzchak. Yishmael, nor any descendant of his has a portion in Eretz Yisrael. With great passion, Sarah conveyed this message to Avraham, and Hashem backed it up by saying:
כֹּל אֲשֶׁר תֹּאמַר אֵלֶיךָ שָׂרָה שְׁמַע בְּקֹלָהּ 

Yehoshua, who was chosen by Hashem to lead Bnei Yisrael into Eretz Yisrael and conquer the land, receives part of his name from Sarah, precisely because of her conviction on this matter. Equipped with a “piece” of Sarah, so to speak, Yehoshua boldly leads Bnei Yisrael into the Promised Land, conquering every corner of the land. B’ezras Hashem, hopefully the day when all of Eretz Yisrael is peacefully in our hands, is rapidly approaching.

 

,

B’haalotcha

On June 6, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Bamidbar

[based on a dvar torah written by R’ David Silverberg]

Parshat B’haalotcha contains several unfortunate incidents that occurred after Bnei Yisrael left Har Sinai:
In Perek 11 the Torah recounts the incident of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava, where Bnei Yisrael complained about the mahn and demanded meat, and were subsequently punished.
Next, in Perek 12, Miriam and Aharon speak improperly about their brother, Moshe, and they are punished with tzara’at.

Rashi explains that these two stories are juxtaposed because one led to the other; Miriam only learned of her brother’s divorce as a result of the events of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava. (In response to the nation’s demand for meat, Hashem instructed Moshe to appoint 70 elders to assist him. During the formal designation of these leaders outside the camp, two other men – Eldad and Meidad – began prophesying within the camp. Tzipora, Moshe’s wife, observed the prophecy and expressed her concern that Eldad and Meidad may divorce their wives as Moshe had divorced her. Miriam overheard Tzipora’s comments, and it was then that she spoke with Aharon about Moshe’s divorce.)

Rabbenu Bechayei, however, suggests a connection between the two incidents, not necessarily because one led to the other, but rather due to their resemblance. Both incidents involved “hotza’at diba” — negative speech about something or someone special. In the episode of Kivrot Ha-Ta’ava, Bnei Yisrael spoke disdainfully of the mahn, claiming that they were better off with their diet in Egypt. Rather than appreciating the extraordinary miracle of the mahn, which fell each morning from the heavens and sustained every member of the nation, the people complained about it. Similarly, Miriam, rather than speaking admiringly and reverently about her brother, found something negative to express. Just as Bnei Yisrael complained about the miraculous food Hahem provided them, Miriam likewise complained about her brother, the greatest prophet that ever lived.

Rabbenu Bechayei adds that the next narrative – the sin of the spies, in Parshat Shlach – continues (or perhaps culminates) this theme of hotza’at diba. (The Torah specifically refers to the spies’ reports as “dibat ha’aretz” in 13:32 and 14:37)  The spies chose to focus their attention specifically on the challenges they viewed with settling Eretz Yisrael, rather than on the Land’s remarkable qualities and innate kedusha. The story of the Mergalim thus continues the topic of looking negatively upon the great gifts given to us by Hashem. 
In all three episodes, a person or a group of people sinned by finding fault in a great person (Moshe), place (Land of Israel) or thing (the mahn).

These three complaints perhaps reflect three broader areas where this mistake of hotza’at diba is often made. 
1. Kivrot Ha-ta’ava — Material discontent and dissatisfaction with financial conditions: The mahn represents a gift from Hashem, which is how were are supposed to view everything we have, and whatever that lot may be, we are supposed to be satisfied and grateful.

2. Miriam and Aharon’s lashon hara — Inclination to comment on the behavior or shortcoming of others: It’s always easier to evaluate someone else instead of ourselves. If we look hard enough, we can find fault in anyone – even Moshe Rabbenu. Our goal should not be to point out the negatives in other people, rather to focus our attention instead on admirable qualities.

3. Meraglim — Focusing on the challenges and complexities of Jewish destiny, rather than its opportunities: The spies had the privilege of being the first ones to go into Eretz Yisrael, and instead of relishing the opportunity of planning how to settle the Land, they focused on the difficult challenges that this privilege entailed. The catastrophe of Cheit Ha-Meragelim reminds us to keep our attention focused on the great opportunity we are given as Hashem’s chosen nation, and to approach the challenges that go along with this lofty stature with enthusiasm and confidence, rather than excuses and complaints.

All three instances demonstrate the dangers of negativism. A negative, fault-finding outlook prevents us from feeling satisfied with our material blessings (Kivrot Ha-Ta’ava), damages our relationships with family and friends (Miriam and Aharon), and discourages us from actively pursuing the spiritual goals and national duties that are demanded of Hashem’s special nation (Chet Ha-Meragelim). 
If, instead, we are able focus on the positive qualities about everything and everyone around us, then we can more readily find happiness, fulfillment and pride in our daily lives and our service of Hashem.

 

Nasso

On June 6, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Bamidbar
Bamidbar 5:9-10
ט  וְכָל-תְּרוּמָה לְכָל-קָדְשֵׁי בְנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל אֲשֶׁר-יַקְרִיבוּ לַכֹּהֵן–לוֹ יִהְיֶה. 9 And every heave-offering of all the holy things of the children of Israel, which they present unto the priest, shall be his.
י  וְאִישׁ אֶת-קֳדָשָׁיו לוֹ יִהְיוּ אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר יִתֵּן לַכֹּהֵן לוֹ יִהְיֶה. 10 And every man’s hallowed things shall be his: whatsoever any man giveth the priest, it shall be his.
Rashi explains on passuk that the “terumah” being referred to are Bikkurim – the first fruits of the harvest of the Seven Species, which must be given to the Kohen.
Rav Moshe Feinstein ztl points out, that from the Kohen’s perspective, it’s irrelevant whether the fruits he receives are the first of the harvest, or otherwise. The special significance of these fruits is appreciated only by the owner, who toiled by planting the tree, nurturing it, and ultimately watching it produce fruits. To the Kohen, one pomegranate is the same as another pomegranate.
Nevetheless, the Torah requires the owner to specifically give the first fruits to the Kohen, and even if other fruits are given – and the Kohen suffers no loss – it is still considered stealing. The lesson, is that the essence of stealing is not just about harming another person; it is the misappropriation of an item which is not rightfully yours. Only that which Hashem has rightfully bestowed upon us may be utilized and enjoyed.

Bikkurim are of course a major part of Shavuot, since Shavuot was the first day that one could bring Bikkurim to the Beit HaMikdash.
I would like to try to connect the lessons of Bikkurim and stealing, to some ideas, found in Rav Nebenzahl’s sefer, on the topic of why we read Megillat Ruth on Shavuot:
One reason is that just as we took upon ourselves all of Torah and mitzvot at Har Sinai, so too Ruth took upon herself ol malchut shamayim when she converted.
Another reason is that Ruth exemplified giving of herself entirely, both to her mother-in-law, Naomi, and to Hashem. In order to fulfill the expectation of being a “mamlechet kohanim v’goy kadosh” we have to go ‘all-in’. Serving Hashem, often means sacrificing our time, inclinations and desires. Along these lines of sacrificing of ourselves, Ruth the Moabite departs from the ways of her Moab ancestors, and becomes a shining example of the middah of chessed. The nation of Moav (along with Amon), who refused to offer bread and water to Bnei Yisrael in the desert, and as a result is never allowed entry to Klal Yisrael (see Devarim 23:4-5), represents the utter lack of chessed. With Ruth’s amazing demonstration of chessed, she is the tikkun of Moav. As Boaz says (Ruth 3:10):
הֵיטַבְתְּ חַסְדֵּךְ הָאַחֲרוֹן מִן הָרִאשׁוֹן

I would like to humbly suggest, that based on the definition of stealing, above from Bikkurim, it seems that chessed and stealing are polar opposites of one another (not only because one is nice and one is not nice). Stealing is gaining pleasure from something that isn’t yours, which belongs to someone else; Chessed is taking what IS rightfully yours and voluntarily giving it to someone else. One is taking something you don’t own, and the other is giving something you do own.

Ruth gave of herself to her grieving mother-in-law (chessed), and Ruth gave of herself to find Hashem (kabalas ol malchus shamayim) — both important lessons for zman matan torateinu.

Finally, another aspect of becoming a mamlechet kohanim v’goy kadosh, is cleaving to role models who exemplify righteousness and proper values, which brings us to another Moab ancestor: Lot was the incestuous grandfather of Moav (the guy), and an ancestor of Ruth. Lot left the tent of Avraham Avinu to live in the most grotesque city of its time, in Sedom. He left the greatest role model of chessed to chase wealth (see B’reishit 13:10, describing Sedom’s saturated fields) and to be with the licentious people of Sedom. Ruth, by contrast, was royalty – a descendant of Eglon and Balak. She left luxury so that she could cleave to Naomi, because she realized that being with Naomi and learning from her was (a) the right thing to do, and (b) far more valuable than material wealth.

By clinging to special individuals with character traits befitting a mamlechet kohanim, we equip ourselves to strive for righteousness, and ensure that those values get passed to the next generation.

In sum, Bikkurim teaches the importance of appropriating ownership properly; Ruth teaches the importance of chessed, sacrificing ourselves and our material possessions to benefit others, and the middos necessary to be worthy of receiving the Torah.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach

Bamidbar

On May 23, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Bamidbar

[based in part on ideas found on Yeshivat Har Etzion’s VBM]

The second perek of Bamidbar discusses, at length, the encampment of Bnei Yisrael in the desert, specifically the familial and tribal flags.

Bamidbar 2:2:
אִישׁ עַל-דִּגְלוֹ בְאֹתֹת לְבֵית אֲבֹתָם יַחֲנוּ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל מִנֶּגֶד סָבִיב לְאֹהֶל-מוֹעֵד יַחֲנוּ

What is this section on Bnei Yisrael’s encampment all about, and what is its significance?

To help answer, we must skip ahead a few weeks to Parshat Balak, in which Bilaam utters the famous passage of “mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov”. 
The passages leading up to this praise of Bnei Yisrael give us the context for the praise, and relate directly to Parshat Bamidbar. A closer look:
1. The section leads off by telling us that the “spirit of Hashem was upon Bilaam” (ותהי עליו רוח א-לה-ים), so already we know that Bilaam is going to make a profound statement.
2. Secondly, in contrast to the previous times when Bilaam only saw part of the Israelite encampment, Bilaam now sees the entire nation.
3. Furthermore, the Torah tells us that he saw this encampment against the backdrop of the desert: “… and he set his face to the desert. And Bilaam lifted his eyes and saw Israel dwelling by their tribes”(24:1-2).

What is the significance of each?

Points 1 & 2: The introduction, describing Bilaam’s cognitive state,  tells us that this is not an external, superficial observing of the nation, but rather a perception of a certain quality exemplified by the nation of Israel: he sees them camping “by their tribes.” This description refers to the order and organization of Bnei Yisrael’s encampment. Once Bilaam sees the impressive organization of the Israelite camp — compartmentalized by their tribes, each individual connected with his family and his clan — the exuberant blessing bursts forth: “How good are your tents, Yaakov, your dwelling places, Israel” (24:5).

Point 3: The desert represents a world without boundaries and order; it is untamed, lacking societal norms, a place where wild animals roam free. Here, in the midst of the boundlessness of the desert, Bilaam witnesses a remarkable sight: 600,000 soldiers, along with the elderly, women and children, journeying by families and by tribes. It is specifically against the backdrop of the desert that the splendor of the camp of Israel stands out: a nation that creates banners and tribes, that maintains clans and tents of families.Even in an environment with blurred boundaries; even from the perspective of Bilaam – who was commissioned by Amon and Moav, whose genealogy goes back to the story of Lot sleeping with his daughters, where the fundamental definitions of lineage are themselves blurred (through Lot’s daughters’ incestuous plot) – the camp of Bnei Yisrael is based upon a solid foundation of “good tents.”

Bnei Yisrael rallies around the Torah (at the center of the entire encampment), and the strong relationships within each individual tent and grouping, so that in the wild, untamed desert, no one gets left behind, and every child knows the importance of family. Most importantly, their behavior is not governed by, and does not mirror, their unruly surroundings. Just because they are in a place devoid of rule and order, doesn’t mean they conduct themselves in that way.

A final, related thought: It is within Sefer Bamidbar and in the desert that Bnei Yisrael goes through their toughest challenges. Over and over they anger Hashem and Moshe (mit’onnenim, meraglim, Korach,Mei Meriva, etc.), but it is out of difficult experiences and harsh lessons, that they (really, the children of the Dor HaMidbar) can become the nation to inhabit the land of Israel. The midbar serves as a training ground for this young nation.

So among the many reasons why the entire sefer is called “Bamidbar”, are perhaps to teach that:
1. Sometimes being in a difficult situation or environment allows us to shine the brightest and make tremendous kiddushei Hashem. Our world today is somewhat of a treacherous desert, and our challenge is to ensure that our beliefs and behavior are not altered to fit our surroundings, so that we can maintain the regal and disciplined tents of Yaakov; and
2. Tangling with adversity is necessary, because it builds character and prepares us for the road ahead.

B’chukotai

On May 19, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Vayikra

(Link to something written last year, if anyone is interested: http://gallery.mailchimp.com/d321af6b315dab43e32ca6843/files/c7f4f4a0-9c91-4732-88c1-2f4041d6c5cf.pdf )

The book we will be completing this Shabbat IYH, is referred to in English as “Leviticus” – fittingly so, since the majority of the book is dedicated to the service of the Kohanim (descendants of Levi). The Hebrew name, however is “Vayikra” – which certainly is the first word of the book – but what does Hashem’s “call[ing]” have to do with the book as a whole?

The word “Vayikra” appears in a Sefer Torah with its last letter – an Aleph – written much smaller than the rest of the letters, and virtually every other in a Sefer Torah. The standard-size letters spell out the word vayikar, meaning, “he encountered, he chanced upon.” Unlike vayikra, which refers to a purposeful calling or summoning, vayikar suggests an accidental meeting.
Chazal explain that this peculiar font change highlights the difference between the call to Moshe (an endearing, complete, clear communication), and Hashem’s appearance to the pagan prophet Bilaam (a casual, incomplete encounter).

Fast-forward to the end of Sefer Vayikra, to this week’s parsha of B’chukotai. In Perek 26, we read the frightening passages of the Tochacha, which details the terrible fate that will befall the Jewish people if we fail to observe the mitzvot and forsake our covenant with Hashem.

The key-word of this section of the Torah is the word keri. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that the word “keri” appears seven times in the Tochacha, surely with some significant message. Two of the usages, by way of example:
וְאִם-בְּזֹאת לֹא תִשְׁמְעוּ לִי וַהֲלַכְתֶּם עִמִּי בְּקֶרִי
וְהָלַכְתִּי עִמָּכֶם, בַּחֲמַת-קֶרִי וְיִסַּרְתִּי אֶתְכֶם אַף-אָנִי שֶׁבַע עַל-חַטֹּאתֵיכֶם
“If in spite of this you still do not listen to Me but continue to be hostile towards Me, then in My anger I will be hostile towards you, and I myself will punish you seven times for your sins.” (26: 27-28)

He translates the word here as “hostile”. There are other suggestions: The Targum reads it as “harden yourselves”, Rashbam as “refuse”, Ibn Ezra as “overconfident”, Rav Saadia as “rebellious”.

The Rambam, however, gives it a completely different interpretation. Rambam understands keri to be related to the word mikreh, meaning “chance”. In his interpretation. the curses are not Divine retribution. Hashem won’t be raining down fire and brimstone. The curse is that Hashem will withdraw his special protection over us, and allow others to relentlessly attack us.
It goes like this: If Am Yisrael believes in Divine providence, they will be blessed by Divine providence. If they see history and existence as mere chance, then indeed they will be left to chance.

We can now see the bridge between the beginning and end of Sefer Vayikra: The difference between mikra and mikreh – between history as G-d’s purposeful call versus history as one random event after another with no underlying purpose or meaning – is, in the Hebrew language, almost imperceptible. The words sound and appear almost identical, with one small difference; the aleph. The letter aleph is almost inaudible, and its appearance in a Sefer Torah at the beginning of Vayikra (the “small aleph“) is almost invisible.

The Torah is telling is that we cannot expect that Hashem’s presence will always be as obvious and revealed as it was by Yetziat Mitzrayim or Matan Torah. For the majority of history, “finding” and sensing Hashem will depend heavily on our own sensitivity and persistence. For those who look, it will be visible; for those who listen, it can be heard. But the key is to actually look and listen. If you choose not to see or hear, then vayikra will become vayikar, and events that unfold will seem like pure chance.

Hashem is telling us in the Tochacha that if you believe that history is chance, then it will become exactly that for you.The fact that the Jewish people have been able to survive and endure (and proliferate) for centuries, despite being such a small, vulnerable, persecuted people, without a sovereign land to call our own – rebuilding after the Holocaust, winning wars for control over (at least parts of) Eretz Yisrael – is a testament to Hashem’s Divine hand in this world. Jewish survival isn’t mere happenstance.

The first word of the central book of the Torah is Vayikra, “And He called”. A central part of being part of Hashem’s nation is to believe that what happens to us as a people is G-d’s call to us – to become “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”
Finally, I think this ties idea ties in with the pivotal, comforting promise at the end of the Tochacha.
וזכרתי את בריתי יעקוב ואף את בריתי יצחק ואף את בריתי אברהם אזכר והארץ אזכר

Hashem promises to remember his covenant with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and then says He will also remember the Land.

If we regard Eretz Yisrael as something special (an important point missed by the Meraglim, as we’ll read in a few weeks), and appreciate what we’ve been given to this point, and yearn for what we still hope to achieve, then we will be answering the call of vayikra, and not missing the point by thinking it’s all mikreh. It can be extremely difficult to believe after an attack, a barrage of missiles, soldiers being killed or captured, chas v’shalom, that it’s all for some purpose and part of Hashem’s plan. But if we stay the course, and are machshiv the land, machshiv the kedoshim who have died for the land, and show our love for the land, then Hashem promises to do the same, and hopefully return us completely to the land with the binyan Beis HaMikdash, b’meheirah b’yameinu.

B’har

On May 12, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Vayikra

[Based on a shiur given by Rav Moshe Taragin]

On the first passuk in Parshat B’har, Rashi quotes the very famous question posed by Toras Kohanim:
Mai inyan Shmitta eitzel Har Sinai?

What special relevance does the mitzva of Shmitta have that it should be specially noted that it was given on Har Sinai?! All the mitzvot were given on Har Sinai, so what is the highlighting of Shmitta coming to teach us?
The Toras Kohanim answers that this parsha of Shmitta becomes the template to demonstrate other mitzvot. The generalities of mitzvot, and the details of mitzvot, were both given at the same time on Har Sinai. For example with Shmittah, the generality exists in Parshat Mishpatim (22:10-11), and Parshat B’har then goes into the details of Shmitta. Both were given at Har Sinai, to show the importance of the macro and micro significance of the mitzvot. Shmitta is the opportunity to teach us this lesson.
But this concept doesn’t really answer why it was Shmitta of all mitzvot that was chosen as the template. The answer given isn’t about any specific aspects of Shmitta, per se, so why Shmitta of all mitzvot?
A few characteristics and lessons learned from Shmitta that may help answer:

1. Loyalty and adherence over time to the specific rules that direct us toward a general idea or goal :

The concept of Shmitta is a very logical one. Unlike a mitzvah such as Parah Aduma, for example, the reasoning of Shmitta is readily perceptible both agriculturally and socially: It makes sense to give nature a year to replenish itself; to rest the land and allow it to restore itself. Similarly, we can understand the general concept of taking a year to allow those less fortunate to gather food from the fields of those with more to give, thereby restoring some equilibrium to the distribution of wealth among the nation.
Specifically because the general goals of Shmitta are so obvious, the technical rules can be vulnerable to being overlooked or altered. Over time, we may want to get around the rules in order to serve the greater agenda. For example, modern, technological advances have changed some of the limitations on land. One could make the argument that we should alter some of the Shmitta laws; maybe not plant in the seventh year, but fertilize or use bio-engineering or other modern methods of land replenishment. Maybe we should work that seventh year so we can give more to poor people, etc.
It is tempting to get caught up in generalities if they logically make sense, and we might be tempted to make that logical agenda easier to achieve by changing the details.
(Another example Rav Taragin discusses is Shabbos. We can understand the concept of taking a day to spend with family, community. Certain sects within Judaism, however, have taken the position that we should alter things on Shabbos to “enhance” our experience; allowing music so we can enhance our experience of services, or permitting driving so more people can come to synagogue, etc.)
Shmitta teaches strict adherence to details, even when times change. That is Har Sinai. Mitzvot come from Hashem and they are enduring and everlasting. As a general rule, (without the proper Rabbinic authority) we cannot shy away from or alter details to serve a larger purpose.

2. Challenge of delving into the laws of a mitzvah that arises quickly or infrequently:

Shmitta and Yovel only occur once every 7 and 50 years, respectively. It is much easier to immerse ourselves in the study of other mitzvot, which occur or demand our attention more frequently. Teffilin – which are required 6 out of every 7 days – or Shabbos – which occurs once a week – have a greater likelihood of holding our interest and attention.
The challenge of Shmitta is to get us to delve into the laws of something that isn’t necessarily relevant on a daily or weekly basis. It teaches us that the infrequently-occurring laws are just as important as other, more ubiquitous laws dictated to us at Har Sinai.

3. Challenge of delving into the laws of mitzvot that are not immediately performable/achievable:

The Gemara in Keddushin says that 61 years passed from time Bnei Yisrael learned the laws of Shmitta until the time they observed their first Shmittta year. When Bnei Yisrael learned about Shmitta on Har Sinai, they thought they were immediately going into the land, but unfortunately the Meraglim episode delayed entry by 40 years. Nevertheless, they were still expected to maintain the same level of intensity and interest, not only in generalities of Shmitta concepts, but also on a granular level.

We learn Torah – all parts of it – because it is the word of Hashem, not necessarily to implement immediately. We learn about service in the Beis HaMikdash, for example, even though as of this moment we do not have one. Torah is Torah regardless of its potential for immediate application. It is timeless and eternally critical, simply because it is the word of Hashem.

At Sinai, the Jews received all aspects of Torah, including those they would not utilize right away. Despite lacking immediate practical significance, these laws with deferred application, are a part of one complete Torah that was received at Har Sinai.

Finally, the Brisker Rov (Chiddushei HaGriz) explains that mastering the laws of Shmitta is extremely difficult. Its laws are intricate and, on the surface, boring to the casual reader. Ma’amad Har Sinai, by contrast, was full of excitement. The drama and flair of the receiving of the Torah can garner far more interest and demand for elaboration. The bright lights, the “kolos u’vrakim…v’kol shofar” of Ma’amad Har Sinai should be studied with the same care and excitement as the precision we place on Halachic matters. Although some sections of Torah may sometimes seem like high-level bullet points, and other sections like a detailed tax code, l’havdil, it is one Torah, and the excitement and intensity we put forth, should be uniform throughout our study of the Torah’s component parts.

Emor

On May 3, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Vayikra

[based on ma’amarim by Rav Shimshon Dovid Pincus ztl, in Tiferet Shimshon]

Vayikra Perek 23 in Parshat Emor, discusses the moadim, among them is of course the upcoming holiday of Shavuos.
Why is the holiday called “weeks”? Unlike Pesach and Sukkot, why is Shavuot named for what happens before the holiday?

The Sefer HaChinuch, mitzvah 306 on the Omer, writes that the Jewish people were born for Torah. We were taken out of  Mitzrayim to receive the Torah. To paraphrase, we count the Omer to show our excitement that X many days have passed, and we are that much closer to Matan Torah, and when we are excited we count up.

This last part seems odd — usually when we’re excited we count down. When someone gets engaged, for example, he/she usually counts down the days to the wedding. What is it about Torah and receiving the Torah that makes us count up instead of down?

Rav Pincus explains based on B’reishit 29:20:
וַיַּעֲבֹד יַעֲקֹב בְּרָחֵל שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים וַיִּהְיוּ בְעֵינָיו כְּיָמִים אֲחָדִים בְּאַהֲבָתוֹ אֹתָהּ
And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.

The 7 years that Yaakov had to wait to marry Rachel seemed like they went quickly in his eyes. How can we understand, that waiting 7 long years to marry his beloved Rachel, seemed like it flew by? That’s not how it usually works…

The answer is that each day Yaakov got closer to becoming the person he would need to be, so that he could be a husband to Rachel and progenitor of Am Yisrael. Each day of that 7 (eventual 14) year period, he had a new tefisah.

To further explain, Rav Pincus cites a brilliant mashal from Rav Aharon Kotler ztl:
Imagine that a man is promised he will be given $1 million dollars at the end of 100 days…
Every day until that 100th day will feel like an eternity. And in such a case, a person would wake up every morning counting down until that final day, anxious for that final payday to come. The days themselves, however, are empty; each day is merely an obstacle standing between him and the million dollars.

If, however, a man is given something productive to work on, and every day for 100 days, he is given $10,000, then the days will FLY by. Ultimately, the man receives the same $1 million dollars, but the experiences are drastically different. Why? Because in this second mashal, every day is another chance to work at something, accomplish and gain something in the process. Before he knows it, the man will have $1 million.This, l’havdil, is the purpose of the Omer, and why we count UP, which may seem counterintuitive, given our excitement to get to the end. We’re eager for the end, but we’re not rushing there, because there is so much personal work we need to accomplish before we get there. Each day of the Omer is supposed to be used as a chance to prepare ourselves to receive the Torah on the 50th day; each day is meant to be used for work, preparation and growth. With each count, we are supposed to prepare ourselves to be koneh torah in another way. Whether that means learning more, working on middos to be a bigger kli for Torah, learning Pirkei Avos during the Omer, etc. The days are not obstacles standing in the way of the big Torah payday at the end; each one is a special, integral opportunity to prepare ourselves. Each day is another “$10,000”, and the final result is worth far more than $1 million.

The holiday is called ‘Shavuos’ to emphasize that you can’t go into Kabbalas HaTorah without serious preparation. The name implies that the type of Yom Tov we will experience on Day 50, will be defined by the weeks leading up to the holiday.
Additionally, the Sefer HaChinuch says that the Shalosh Regalim are k’neged the Shalosh Avos: Pesach with Avraham, Shavuos with Yitzchak, Sukkot with Yaakov. How is Yitzchak connected to Shavuos?
One reason given for the connection between Yitzchak and Shavuos is that the ram’s horn by Akeidas Yitzchak is the predecessor to the shofar heard on Har Sinai during Matan Torah.

If we look at Yitzchak’s role, we can understand the connection on another level: Yitzchak wasn’t the founder of monotheism, nor was he the father of the 12 tribes who really expanded nation. Yitzchak was the transition. He dug the same wells as Avraham. He stayed the course. He  was given an idea and a new way of approaching the world and G-d, that he had to work on and bolster so that he could hand it off to Yaakov.

Shavuos is about 7 weeks of hard work, and building ourselves up. There are no mitzvos hayom; no matza, no Korban Pesach, no Sukkah, no Lulav, etc. No fancy fireworks. Yitzchak is no frills. Yitzchak is all about working, and Shavuos is fittingly paired with him for that reason.

Finally, Rav Pincus ties in the significance of counting 49 days. As we know, Creation was 7 ‘days’. But after Creation, the world was simply a skeleton – an external framework. Nothing had been accomplished in the world other than its physical conception and existence.7 (i.e. Creation) multiplied by itself gives the world a certain depth, and this depth comes only from Torah. The world is not supposed to just be a picture, he explains. It is meant to be infused with action and righteousness, and that is what Torah brought to the world.

In the days leading up to Shavuot, we are supposed to fill ourselves with meaning and purpose. If I may humbly continue this thought – we are not supposed to be content simply “being free” after Pesach. On Pesach we were granted freedom; our bodies were given back to us, so to speak. But that can’t be the end of the story. As the Sefer HaChinuch writes, we were taken out of Mitzrayim for the purpose of receiving the Torah. On Pesach we were re-created, and stood in a similar fashion to Adam HaRishon after Creation, with merely the physical attributes of a human being. Between Pesach and Shavuot we are supposed to fill that vehicle and shape ourselves into something meaningful and worthy of receiving the greatest gift in the world.We are not supposed to just be satisfied, admiring a “picture” of ourselves, rather build ourselves into something substantial.

Sheva shabbatot temmimot t’hiyena (Emor 23:15)
— the idea being that we are supposed to use these days to build ourselves into something complete/shaleim/”tamim”, and be properly prepared to receive the Torah.

Shabbat Shalom, and a meaningful counting of the Omer

Kedoshim

On May 3, 2014 by Ben Casper With 0 Comments - Vayikra
[Based on a shiur given by Rav Shalom Rosner]
Vayikra 19:3 states:
אִישׁ אִמּוֹ וְאָבִיו תִּירָאוּ וְאֶת שַׁבְּתֹתַי תִּשְׁמֹרוּ אֲנִי ה’ אֱ-לֹקיכֶם
You shall fear every man his mother and his father, and you shall keep My Sabbaths: I am Hashem your God.

Rav Yosef Nechemia Kornitzer connects this passuk at the beginning of the the Parsha to the famous Mishna in Avos 3:1. In the Mishna, Akavya ben Mahalal’el states that if we look at 3 things then we will not come to sin: “Know where you came from, where you are going, and in front of whom you will stand in judgment.”

Akavya says (i) we came from a tipa (a drop/nothing), (ii) we are going to the grave and (iii) we will eventually stand before the Melech Malchei HaMelachim.
It is a scary Mishna that really makes us consider our mortality.
But the same 3 questions can be asked, and be looked at in a far more positive light. Sometimes we need to think of the above 3 questions as the Mishna in Avos does, focusing mostly on the lowliness of man (shiflus shel adam), and other times we can try to answer the questions by appreciating our humanity and take chizzuk from it…

So looking at the questions in a more positive light:

Me’ayin ba’ata / From where do you come? From the Avos. Look at our rich heritage (Se’u es rosh kol adas bnei yisrael l’mishpichosam l’veis avosam = read in drush way, the pasuk is saying: Lift yourself by having pride in seeing the family you come from). The first part of the pasuk in Kedoshim is about the mitzvah of Kibud Av Va’Eim, and answers this first question. We come from great parents, and they should be appreciated and respected.

U’le’an ata holech / Where are you going? A Jew is supposed to live a certain way and hopefully earn Olam HaBa. We believe this world is a pruzdor/hallway to the next world.The middle part of the pasuk is about Shabbos. Shabbos is referred to as me’in olam haba – a taste of the World to Come. All week we look forward to Shabbos. The question of ‘where are we going,’ can be answered that every new week we are going into Shabbos, and by doing so we are achieving a piece of Olam haba b’olam hazeh, and will B’ezrat Hashem merit the full Olam HaBa after 120 years. Shabbos must be observed to its fullest, and by keeping Shabbos we: (A) benefit from its incredible sweetness in this world and is a reminder of the sweetness that lies ahead for us in Olam HaBa, and (B) we help ourselves earn that very Olam HaBa.

Lifnei mi atah atid litein din v’cheshbon / Before Whom will you stand in judgment? Ultimately, after 120, we will stand before Hashem. But we are certainly not meant to only encounter Him in death. The best way to be inspired in life is also to think about Hashem and all He has created – this leads toahavas Hashem. If we always have Hashem in front of us then we will be less likely to sin. This is the last part of the passuk – “Ani Hashem elokeichem.” By recognizing Hashem’s hand in our daily lives and trying to forge an ever-deepening relationship, then we will strive to bring him only nachas, and use the life He has given us to its fullest potential.

אִישׁ אִמּוֹ וְאָבִיו תִּירָאוּ וְאֶת שַׁבְּתֹתַי תִּשְׁמֹרוּ אֲנִי ה’ אֱ-לֹקיכֶם