Freely translated from a letter of the Rebbe addressed to "all campers in summer camps, everywhere," written three months before the Yom Kippur War.
Tammuz 5733
I hope and pray that you are making the fullest use of the present summer days to gain new strength and strengthen your health - both the health of the body and the health of the soul, which are closely linked together. And since the health of the soul is bound up with the Torah, which is "our very life and the length of our days," and with its mitzvot, "by which the Jew lives," you are surely doing your utmost in regard to Torah study and the observance of the mitzvot; in which case you may be certain for the fulfillment of the promise - "Try hard, and you will succeed."
I wish to emphasize one point in particular, in connection with the forthcoming "Three Weeks." You are, no doubt, familiar with the events and significance of these days. The point is this:
I want you to consider carefully the special merit which Jewish children have, a privilege which affects our entire Jewish people, to which King David refers in the following words: "Out of the mouths of babes and infants You have ordained strength - oz...to still the enemy and avenger" - including also the enemy that has caused the "Three Weeks" and still seeks vengeance to this day. In other words, the way to vanquish and silence the enemy is through the study of the Torah, called "strength" (oz), by the mouths of young children. Indeed, so great is their power, that our Sages of blessed memory declare: "The whole world exists only by virtue of the breath of little Jewish children, whose breath is pure and free of sin," referring to children who have not yet reached the age of responsibility for wrongdoing, that is, boys and girls of pre-Bar/Bat Mitzva age.
In this connection it is necessary to bear in mind the words of our Prophet Isaiah (in the first chapter): "Zion will be redeemed through justice (mishpat) and her returnees through righteousness (tzedaka)." "Mishpat," here, means that through the study of the Torah and the observance of its mitzvot, especially the mitzva of tzedaka, the Redemption is brought closer. And tzedaka - in the light of what has been said in the beginning of this letter - includes both tzedaka for the body and tzedaka for the soul. Tzedaka for the body is, simply, giving tzedaka to a poor man, or putting money in a tzedaka box. Tzedaka for the soul is done by helping one's classmates and friends spiritually - that is, to encourage them in matters of Torah and mitzvot, through showing them a living example of how Jewish boys and girls should conduct themselves, and also by talking to them about these things.
Since it is my strong wish, and also great pleasure, to be your partner in this tzedaka activity, I have sent out instructions to give each and every one of you a token amount of money in the currency of your country, which is to be my participation in the said tzedaka campaign.
May G-d bless each and every one of you and grant you success in all the above, especially in your Torah learning and practice of tzedaka, in a steadily growing measure, so that even when you return home from camp and throughout the next school-year (may it be a good one for all of us) you will - with renewed vigor and in good health, in body as well as in soul - go from strength to strength in your study of Torah with diligence and devotion, and that your studies be translated into deeds - in the practice of mitzvot with beauty; and all this should be carried out with joy and gladness of heart.
And may we all very soon, together with all our Jewish brethren, merit the fulfillment of the prophecy that these days of the Three Weeks be transformed from sadness into gladness and joy.
With the true and complete Redemption through our righteous Moshiach, "who will reign from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth...and all the earth will be filled with G-d's Glory."
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Monday, July 06, 2009
Spiritual Gems from the parsha
Let the L-rd, the G-d of all living souls, appoint a man over the congregation (Num. 27:16)
Rashi explains that Moses was asking G-d to appoint a leader who would be able to understand each person according to that person's needs. Moses referred to G-d as the "G-d of all living souls." This was to underline that the leader should be one who loves all Jews in an equal and fair manner, regardless of their fear of G-d, or position.
(Kedushat Levi)
And the Children of Korach did not die (Num. 26:11)
They did not die, and in every generation Korach's "inheritors" - those who rebel against the Moses of that generation - are alive and well, continuing in his path.
(Sefer HaSichot)
The land shall be divided by lot (Num. 26:55)
In the land of Israel there are different kinds of areas: mountains, valleys, fields, orchards, etc. When one received his share in the mountains and another in a valley, or one received cornfields and another orchards, this division of the physical land of Israel reflected each one's individual relationship to the spiritual land of Israel. This means that everyone has something unique that relates specifically to him or her in his spiritual service.
(Likutei Sichot)
Rashi explains that Moses was asking G-d to appoint a leader who would be able to understand each person according to that person's needs. Moses referred to G-d as the "G-d of all living souls." This was to underline that the leader should be one who loves all Jews in an equal and fair manner, regardless of their fear of G-d, or position.
(Kedushat Levi)
And the Children of Korach did not die (Num. 26:11)
They did not die, and in every generation Korach's "inheritors" - those who rebel against the Moses of that generation - are alive and well, continuing in his path.
(Sefer HaSichot)
The land shall be divided by lot (Num. 26:55)
In the land of Israel there are different kinds of areas: mountains, valleys, fields, orchards, etc. When one received his share in the mountains and another in a valley, or one received cornfields and another orchards, this division of the physical land of Israel reflected each one's individual relationship to the spiritual land of Israel. This means that everyone has something unique that relates specifically to him or her in his spiritual service.
(Likutei Sichot)
Home Sweet Home
You've been away at camp for the whole summer, or in college out-of-town for a few years. Or maybe you're married with children of your own.Yet, you still reminisce about the home in which you grew up. You remember many of the antics you and your siblings or friends did there. You can point out the exact spot where you laid to rest your pet goldfish, turtle, or bird. You can even detect a faint scent of your family's favorite dinner as you walk through the kitchen.Even if your family doesn't live in the house anymore, "just for old times' sake" you go back, or think of going back, for a visit. "This is where I used to live when I was your age," you tell your child who's sitting in the back seat of the car.
"Home is where the heart is," so the adage goes. "My heart is in the east, though I am in the west," writes Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi, famous Jewish poet, scholar, and philosopher of the twelfth century.
Why was the rabbi pining for the east? In many parts of the world, due east is Jerusalem the holy city and the site of the first and second Holy Temples.
Go to the "Western Wall" in Jerusalem and you'll see where the Jewish heart really is. Known simply as "The Wall," "koisel," or "kotel" (Ashkenazic and Sefardic pronunciations of the Hebrew word for "wall"), Jews from the entire spectrum of life visit it when they come to Israel.
Even if Israel isn't at the top of your list of vacation plans for right now, when you do get to Israel, you will eventually go to the Wall. And more likely than not, you'll stand there with tears in your eyes, maybe even tucking a little note into the cracks and crevices of the ancient stones.
You will be standing there together with Jews who pray three times daily for Moshiach and the rebuilding of the Holy Temple. You will be standing with newly arrived immigrants, Israeli soldiers, chasidim, kibbutzniks and visitors from around the world. You might not even know that this wall is the last remnant of the Second Holy Temple, or for that matter, that there was a first Holy Temple, both of which were burnt to the ground on the Ninth of Av. But you will be there. Because your heart and your soul know that this is your home. And a homecoming is always sweet.
Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe said, "Though our bodies were sent into exile, our souls never were." The fire of the Jewish soul is eternal. It burns brighter and stronger than any physical fire that destroyed our Holy Temples. The soul is like a torch that leads the Jew, through the seemingly unending darkness, over the highest mountains and into the lowest valleys, through mazes of twisting roads and streets, until it finds its way home.
During the current three week period of mourning for the destruction of the Holy Temples, go home - to your soul. Find the flame and fan it, together with friends and family. The "welcome mat" of the soul are good deeds, sincere prayer, exploring Jewish knowledge. Come in!
"Home is where the heart is," so the adage goes. "My heart is in the east, though I am in the west," writes Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi, famous Jewish poet, scholar, and philosopher of the twelfth century.
Why was the rabbi pining for the east? In many parts of the world, due east is Jerusalem the holy city and the site of the first and second Holy Temples.
Go to the "Western Wall" in Jerusalem and you'll see where the Jewish heart really is. Known simply as "The Wall," "koisel," or "kotel" (Ashkenazic and Sefardic pronunciations of the Hebrew word for "wall"), Jews from the entire spectrum of life visit it when they come to Israel.
Even if Israel isn't at the top of your list of vacation plans for right now, when you do get to Israel, you will eventually go to the Wall. And more likely than not, you'll stand there with tears in your eyes, maybe even tucking a little note into the cracks and crevices of the ancient stones.
You will be standing there together with Jews who pray three times daily for Moshiach and the rebuilding of the Holy Temple. You will be standing with newly arrived immigrants, Israeli soldiers, chasidim, kibbutzniks and visitors from around the world. You might not even know that this wall is the last remnant of the Second Holy Temple, or for that matter, that there was a first Holy Temple, both of which were burnt to the ground on the Ninth of Av. But you will be there. Because your heart and your soul know that this is your home. And a homecoming is always sweet.
Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe said, "Though our bodies were sent into exile, our souls never were." The fire of the Jewish soul is eternal. It burns brighter and stronger than any physical fire that destroyed our Holy Temples. The soul is like a torch that leads the Jew, through the seemingly unending darkness, over the highest mountains and into the lowest valleys, through mazes of twisting roads and streets, until it finds its way home.
During the current three week period of mourning for the destruction of the Holy Temples, go home - to your soul. Find the flame and fan it, together with friends and family. The "welcome mat" of the soul are good deeds, sincere prayer, exploring Jewish knowledge. Come in!
This week's Torah reading, Pinchas,
This week's Torah reading, Pinchas, contains a passage that sheds unique insight on the nature of Moses' leadership qualities. G-d tells Moses that the time has come for him to pass away. Moses' response is not to ask anything for himself or for his children. Instead, he asks G-d: "G-d, L-rd of spirits, appoint a man over the assembly." At the moment of truth, he shows no self concern. His attention is focused solely on the welfare of his people.This is the fundamental quality that distinguishes a Jewish leader. In general, leadership involves identifying with ideals and principles that transcend one's own self. If all a person is selling is his own self, others will not identify with him so easily; for they are concerned with their own selves. Why should they nullify themselves before the other person?
Yes, they can be forced to accept authority or they can be bribed. But then, the person's authority will be dependent on the strength of the stick or the flavor of the carrot. The people will have no inner connection to him.
What will inspire a person to willingly accept the authority of another? A purpose which both the leader and the follower recognize as greater than his self. When the leader espouses and identifies with an ideal that gives his life greater meaning and direction, he will be able to share this ideal with people at large. For every person is ultimately looking for something more in life than the fulfillment of his personal desires.
A Jewish leader, a Moses, transcends himself to a greater degree. First of all, he is not concerned with his own personal objectives - even as an afterthought. Many leaders, though concerned with a purpose beyond themselves, are still looking for their own payoff. They bear in mind their own honor, wealth, or self-interest. A Moses is not looking for that.
But most of all, the purpose with which a worldly leader identifies is still somewhat intertwined with his own self, for ultimately, what is a leader looking for? To make the world a better place for all the people living here. Although he is concerned for others besides himself, his ultimate goal is how to make his own life better. He merely has the vision to appreciate that his own life cannot be consummately good until the lives of others are also improved.
A Moses, by contrast, is concerned with G-d's purpose, not man's. He wants to make the world a dwelling for Him, not merely a pleasant abode for mankind. Certainly, when G-d's dwelling is completed, it will also be very comfortable for man to live in, but that is not his purpose. He is concerned with G-d's objective, and the identification with that goal takes him beyond his personal self entirely and makes him the ultimate paradigm of leadership.
From Keeping in Touch by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger, adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, published by Sichos In English
Yes, they can be forced to accept authority or they can be bribed. But then, the person's authority will be dependent on the strength of the stick or the flavor of the carrot. The people will have no inner connection to him.
What will inspire a person to willingly accept the authority of another? A purpose which both the leader and the follower recognize as greater than his self. When the leader espouses and identifies with an ideal that gives his life greater meaning and direction, he will be able to share this ideal with people at large. For every person is ultimately looking for something more in life than the fulfillment of his personal desires.
A Jewish leader, a Moses, transcends himself to a greater degree. First of all, he is not concerned with his own personal objectives - even as an afterthought. Many leaders, though concerned with a purpose beyond themselves, are still looking for their own payoff. They bear in mind their own honor, wealth, or self-interest. A Moses is not looking for that.
But most of all, the purpose with which a worldly leader identifies is still somewhat intertwined with his own self, for ultimately, what is a leader looking for? To make the world a better place for all the people living here. Although he is concerned for others besides himself, his ultimate goal is how to make his own life better. He merely has the vision to appreciate that his own life cannot be consummately good until the lives of others are also improved.
A Moses, by contrast, is concerned with G-d's purpose, not man's. He wants to make the world a dwelling for Him, not merely a pleasant abode for mankind. Certainly, when G-d's dwelling is completed, it will also be very comfortable for man to live in, but that is not his purpose. He is concerned with G-d's objective, and the identification with that goal takes him beyond his personal self entirely and makes him the ultimate paradigm of leadership.
From Keeping in Touch by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger, adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, published by Sichos In English
Why do we dip bread into salt before eating it?
All of the sacrifices were salted before they were offered on the altar of the Holy Temple. The table at which we eat is likened to an altar and we are reminded of this through dipping our bread in salt. Salt also reminds us that the poor should be guests at our table; Lot's wife, who was turned into a pillar of salt, repre-sented the epitome of Sodom's wickedness and inhospitality.
Woman Warrior
Not much is known about the lives of Machlah, Noah, Chaglah, Milkah and Tirtzah. But at a defining moment in the history of Israel, these five sisters, daughters of Tzelafchad the son of Chefer, profoundly influenced the Jew's approach to the world in which he lives.
Tzelafchad was of the generation born in Egyptian slavery, liberated by the Exodus, and granted the Land of Canaan as Israel's eternal heritage. Although that generation did not merit to take possession of the land themselves, when their children crossed the Jordan River to conquer it they did so as their fathers' heirs. Each family received its share in the land in accordance with its apportionment among the 600,000 members of the generation of the Exodus.
Tzelafchad had five daughters but no sons. The laws of inheritance as they were initially given in the Torah, which recognized only male heirs, made no provision for his share to be claimed by his descendants. Machlah, Noah, Chaglah, Milkah and Tirtzah refused to reconcile themselves to this, and approached Moses with the petition: "Why should our father's name be eliminated from his family, because he has no son? Grant us an estate amongst [the heirs of] our father's brothers."[1]
Moses presented their argument to G-d, who responded: "The daughters of Tzelafchad speak rightly. Give ... their father's estate to them."[2] G-d then instructed Moses to include the following clause in the Torah's laws of inheritance: If a man dies and he has no son, you shall pass his estate on to his daughter.[3]
Two Generations
The Exodus and the conquest of the Land-the two events which framed the 40 years in which we were forged as a people-represent the two primary endeavors of life. "Going out of Egypt" represents the liberation of the soul from all that confines and inhibits[4] its true self and will; "conquering and settling the Land of Canaan" represents the conquest of the material world and its development as a "home for G-d"-as an environment receptive to and expressive of the goodness and perfection of its Creator.
The generation of the Exodus succeeded in the first endeavor but failed in the second. They extricated themselves from the pagan culture and slave mentality in which they were immersed, refining their souls to the point of worthiness to receive the Truth of Truths directly from G-d at Sinai. But they spurned the task of "conquering and settling the land," loath to abandon their spiritual hermitage in the desert in order to grapple with the materiality of the world and labor to transform "The Land of Canaan" into "The Holy Land." So it was decreed that they would live out their lives in the desert, leaving it to their children to settle the land in their stead.[5]
On the individual level, each of us faces these two tasks throughout our lives: the endeavor to liberate and actualize our soul's spiritual potential, and the challenge to make our material life and environment a holy and G-dly place. We each must struggle to make the transition from a childhood and youth devoted to self-development and self perfection to a life of productive involvement with the outside world.
A Different Conquest
But people are different from one another. In the words of the Talmud, "Just as their faces are different, so are their characters different."[6] There are bold characters and meek characters, aggressive natures and passive dispositions. There are those of us who revel in a challenge, and those who are all but devoid of the warrior instinct and the zeal for confrontation.
Therein lies the deeper significance of the laws of inheritance as commanded by G-d in response to the petition by the daughters of Tzelafchad. "If a man ... has no son" - if a person ascertains in his or her self a lack of "male" aggressiveness and combativeness -he might deduce from this that he has no role to play in the "conquest of the land." Such a person might be inclined to devote all his energies to the refinement of his inner self, and leave the task of sanctifying an unholy world to those with "sons."
Says the Torah: conquering and settling the land is not an exclusively male endeavor. Each of Israel's souls has a "portion in the land" - a corner of the material world it is empowered to possess, civilize and sanctify. Indeed, this is a task which often calls for aggressiveness and confrontation; but there is also a "feminine" way to transform the materiality of our lives into a "Holy Land."
"If a man ... has no son, you shall pass his estate on to his daughter." The very fact that a person is by nature disinclined toward the aggressiveness of the "male warrior" indicates that he has been granted the capacity to transform his surroundings via his "daughter" - by employing the passive, compassionate, non-confrontational side of his soul.
This is the law of life revealed by the daughters of Tzelafchad: Not all conquests are achieved by overpowering one's adversary. At times, receptiveness and empathy are far more effective in overcoming the hostility of the "enemy" and transforming its very nature. The absence of a "male heir" in the soul may in fact indicate the presence of a "feminine" self no less capable of claiming the soul's portion in the world and transforming it into a "home for G-d."
Based on the Rebbe's talks on Tammuz 13, 5715 (July 3, 1955) and on other occasions
Life in the Regular
My korban, My bread for My fire, My sweet savor, you shall observe to offer Me in its appointed time... two [offerings] each day, a regular offering...
Numbers 28:2-3
The human being is attracted to the unusual. One might argue that it is the routine things in life - the regular intake and expulsion of breath, our daily meals, our home life, our jobs - that are most crucial to our existence, while the "special" things are of lesser import. One might so argue - but to little avail. Our nature dictates that the occassonality of an event makes it "an occasion," while an event's regular occurrence drains it of interest and significance.
Hence the Torah delegates various aspects of our relationship with G-d to moadim, or "appointed times." We are enjoined to sustain a perpetual awareness of the Creator,[7] yet one day a week is designated as the particular time in which "to remember ... that the world has a Creator"[8] and to "establish in our hearts the belief in the creation of the world by G-d in six days."[9] We are commanded to "Remember the day that you went out of Egypt, all the days of your life,"[10] yet the once-a-year festival of Passover is appointed as the occasion to dwell upon and internalize the gift of freedom. And so it is with the other moadim of the Jewish calendar: if these are to be "special" days whose message and import makes a lasting impression upon our souls, they must be occasional days, departures from the routine of our lives.
Our sages go so far as to say: "One who recites Hallel every day, commits blasphemy."[11] Hallel is a prayer of praise and thanks to G-d for the miracles He performs for us, which is recited on festivals and other designated days. But are we not enjoined to thank G-d "for the miracles You perform for us every day"[12]? Why reserve Hallel for the days which commemorate the Exodus from Egypt or the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days? Is not every heartbeat no less a miracle, and no less evocative of recognition and gratitude?
But to recite Hallel every day is akin to not reciting it at all. Certainly, our "routine" lives must be imbued with an awareness of our indebtedness to our Creator-to this end the Jew prays three times a day, morning, afternoon and evening. The entire point of Hallel is that, in addition to our daily prayers, we devote certain occasions to a "special" appreciation of G-d's miracles - a specialty which would inevitably be diluted if the recitation of Hallel were to be made a daily routine.
Beyond Nature
In this and numerous other ways, the Torah tells us to employ our inborn characteristics and inclinations in the quest for a holier and more G-dly life. But the Torah also calls for more. G-d desires more from us than the optimal exploitation of human nature - He desires that we also transcend our natural selves in our relationship with Him.
The Torah provides us with "routines" (such as the daily prayers) designed to make our relationship with G-d an integral part of our daily lives, as well as "appointed times" to lend it prominence and distinction. At the same time, however, it also urges us to transcend these categorizations, to impart a sense of specialty and occasion also to the "regular" rhythms of life.
This is reflected in the manner in which the Torah introduces the laws of the daily korbanot (animal and meal offerings) brought in the Holy Temple. The communal korbanot fall into two general categories: the "regular" offerings (temidim) brought each day; and the "additional" offerings (mussafim) brought on special occasions - Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, the festivals, etc. The same "regular offerings" were brought each day; the "additional offerings" varied in accordance with the occasion, reflecting the nature and characteristics of their appointed times.
As a rule, the Torah uses the term moed ("appointed time") to refer to those special days of the calendar imbued by the Creator of time with unique spiritual resources and potentials (the tranquility of Shabbat, the freedom of Passover, the joy of Sukkot, etc.).[13] However, in introducing the laws of the daily offerings, the Torah states: "My korban, My fire-offering, My sweet savor, you shall observe to offer Me in its appointed time."[14] Rashi, in his commentary to this verse, notes this unusual application of the term moed, and remarks: "The 'appointed time' of the perpetual offerings is every day."
The korbanot, representing man's endeavor to refine and elevate his natural self and bring himself close to G-d, constitute one of the "three pillars" of creation[15] (today, lacking a Holy Temple, prayer fills the role of the korbanot). In this context, the Torah is alluding to the need to go beyond the habits and instincts of the natural self in our relationship with G-d. Our nature dictates that the "occasions" in our lives are touched with a special vitality and enthusiasm, and we exploit this trait in our seasonal celebrations of the various aspects of our relationship with G-d; but we should also endeavor to make "every day an appointed time" - to evoke in ourselves a sense of wonder and specialty in the most routine aspects of our daily existence.
Indeed, the very concept of "monotony" and "ordinariness" is an illusion resulting from our inability to see beyond the limitations of human nature. In truth, distinction is not a factor of a thing's difference from other things, but an inherent quality of the thing itself. In truth, every moment of life is a distinct creation of G-d, embodying a unique, special and indispensable potential which cannot be duplicated by any other moment.
Based on the Rebbe's talks on Shabbat Pinchas 5744 (1984) and on other occasions[16]
[1] Numbers 27:4.
[2] . Ibid. v. 7.
[3] Ibid. v. 8.
[4] Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for "Egypt," means "confines" and "limitations" (see Freedom, WIR, vol. IX, no. 17).
[5] See Holy Land, WIR (vol. X, no. 38).
[6] Midrash Tanchuma, Pinchas 10.
[7] Knowledge of G-d is one of the six "perpetual commandments" binding upon the Jew at all times (Foreword ("Iggeret") to Sefer HaChinuch).
[8] Nachmanides on Exodus 20:8.
[9] Sefer HaChinuch, Positive Commandment 31.
[10] Deuteronomy 16:3.
[11] Talmud, Shabbat 118b.
[12] From the thrice-daily Amidah prayer.
[13] See Appointments in Time, WIR, vol. IX, no. 33.
[14] Numbers 28:2.
[15] Ethics of the Fathers 1:2. See Kuzari II:26; Siddur Im D'ach, p. 33b-c.
[16] Likkutei Sichot, vol. XXVIII, p.190, et al.
Tzelafchad was of the generation born in Egyptian slavery, liberated by the Exodus, and granted the Land of Canaan as Israel's eternal heritage. Although that generation did not merit to take possession of the land themselves, when their children crossed the Jordan River to conquer it they did so as their fathers' heirs. Each family received its share in the land in accordance with its apportionment among the 600,000 members of the generation of the Exodus.
Tzelafchad had five daughters but no sons. The laws of inheritance as they were initially given in the Torah, which recognized only male heirs, made no provision for his share to be claimed by his descendants. Machlah, Noah, Chaglah, Milkah and Tirtzah refused to reconcile themselves to this, and approached Moses with the petition: "Why should our father's name be eliminated from his family, because he has no son? Grant us an estate amongst [the heirs of] our father's brothers."[1]
Moses presented their argument to G-d, who responded: "The daughters of Tzelafchad speak rightly. Give ... their father's estate to them."[2] G-d then instructed Moses to include the following clause in the Torah's laws of inheritance: If a man dies and he has no son, you shall pass his estate on to his daughter.[3]
Two Generations
The Exodus and the conquest of the Land-the two events which framed the 40 years in which we were forged as a people-represent the two primary endeavors of life. "Going out of Egypt" represents the liberation of the soul from all that confines and inhibits[4] its true self and will; "conquering and settling the Land of Canaan" represents the conquest of the material world and its development as a "home for G-d"-as an environment receptive to and expressive of the goodness and perfection of its Creator.
The generation of the Exodus succeeded in the first endeavor but failed in the second. They extricated themselves from the pagan culture and slave mentality in which they were immersed, refining their souls to the point of worthiness to receive the Truth of Truths directly from G-d at Sinai. But they spurned the task of "conquering and settling the land," loath to abandon their spiritual hermitage in the desert in order to grapple with the materiality of the world and labor to transform "The Land of Canaan" into "The Holy Land." So it was decreed that they would live out their lives in the desert, leaving it to their children to settle the land in their stead.[5]
On the individual level, each of us faces these two tasks throughout our lives: the endeavor to liberate and actualize our soul's spiritual potential, and the challenge to make our material life and environment a holy and G-dly place. We each must struggle to make the transition from a childhood and youth devoted to self-development and self perfection to a life of productive involvement with the outside world.
A Different Conquest
But people are different from one another. In the words of the Talmud, "Just as their faces are different, so are their characters different."[6] There are bold characters and meek characters, aggressive natures and passive dispositions. There are those of us who revel in a challenge, and those who are all but devoid of the warrior instinct and the zeal for confrontation.
Therein lies the deeper significance of the laws of inheritance as commanded by G-d in response to the petition by the daughters of Tzelafchad. "If a man ... has no son" - if a person ascertains in his or her self a lack of "male" aggressiveness and combativeness -he might deduce from this that he has no role to play in the "conquest of the land." Such a person might be inclined to devote all his energies to the refinement of his inner self, and leave the task of sanctifying an unholy world to those with "sons."
Says the Torah: conquering and settling the land is not an exclusively male endeavor. Each of Israel's souls has a "portion in the land" - a corner of the material world it is empowered to possess, civilize and sanctify. Indeed, this is a task which often calls for aggressiveness and confrontation; but there is also a "feminine" way to transform the materiality of our lives into a "Holy Land."
"If a man ... has no son, you shall pass his estate on to his daughter." The very fact that a person is by nature disinclined toward the aggressiveness of the "male warrior" indicates that he has been granted the capacity to transform his surroundings via his "daughter" - by employing the passive, compassionate, non-confrontational side of his soul.
This is the law of life revealed by the daughters of Tzelafchad: Not all conquests are achieved by overpowering one's adversary. At times, receptiveness and empathy are far more effective in overcoming the hostility of the "enemy" and transforming its very nature. The absence of a "male heir" in the soul may in fact indicate the presence of a "feminine" self no less capable of claiming the soul's portion in the world and transforming it into a "home for G-d."
Based on the Rebbe's talks on Tammuz 13, 5715 (July 3, 1955) and on other occasions
Life in the Regular
My korban, My bread for My fire, My sweet savor, you shall observe to offer Me in its appointed time... two [offerings] each day, a regular offering...
Numbers 28:2-3
The human being is attracted to the unusual. One might argue that it is the routine things in life - the regular intake and expulsion of breath, our daily meals, our home life, our jobs - that are most crucial to our existence, while the "special" things are of lesser import. One might so argue - but to little avail. Our nature dictates that the occassonality of an event makes it "an occasion," while an event's regular occurrence drains it of interest and significance.
Hence the Torah delegates various aspects of our relationship with G-d to moadim, or "appointed times." We are enjoined to sustain a perpetual awareness of the Creator,[7] yet one day a week is designated as the particular time in which "to remember ... that the world has a Creator"[8] and to "establish in our hearts the belief in the creation of the world by G-d in six days."[9] We are commanded to "Remember the day that you went out of Egypt, all the days of your life,"[10] yet the once-a-year festival of Passover is appointed as the occasion to dwell upon and internalize the gift of freedom. And so it is with the other moadim of the Jewish calendar: if these are to be "special" days whose message and import makes a lasting impression upon our souls, they must be occasional days, departures from the routine of our lives.
Our sages go so far as to say: "One who recites Hallel every day, commits blasphemy."[11] Hallel is a prayer of praise and thanks to G-d for the miracles He performs for us, which is recited on festivals and other designated days. But are we not enjoined to thank G-d "for the miracles You perform for us every day"[12]? Why reserve Hallel for the days which commemorate the Exodus from Egypt or the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days? Is not every heartbeat no less a miracle, and no less evocative of recognition and gratitude?
But to recite Hallel every day is akin to not reciting it at all. Certainly, our "routine" lives must be imbued with an awareness of our indebtedness to our Creator-to this end the Jew prays three times a day, morning, afternoon and evening. The entire point of Hallel is that, in addition to our daily prayers, we devote certain occasions to a "special" appreciation of G-d's miracles - a specialty which would inevitably be diluted if the recitation of Hallel were to be made a daily routine.
Beyond Nature
In this and numerous other ways, the Torah tells us to employ our inborn characteristics and inclinations in the quest for a holier and more G-dly life. But the Torah also calls for more. G-d desires more from us than the optimal exploitation of human nature - He desires that we also transcend our natural selves in our relationship with Him.
The Torah provides us with "routines" (such as the daily prayers) designed to make our relationship with G-d an integral part of our daily lives, as well as "appointed times" to lend it prominence and distinction. At the same time, however, it also urges us to transcend these categorizations, to impart a sense of specialty and occasion also to the "regular" rhythms of life.
This is reflected in the manner in which the Torah introduces the laws of the daily korbanot (animal and meal offerings) brought in the Holy Temple. The communal korbanot fall into two general categories: the "regular" offerings (temidim) brought each day; and the "additional" offerings (mussafim) brought on special occasions - Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, the festivals, etc. The same "regular offerings" were brought each day; the "additional offerings" varied in accordance with the occasion, reflecting the nature and characteristics of their appointed times.
As a rule, the Torah uses the term moed ("appointed time") to refer to those special days of the calendar imbued by the Creator of time with unique spiritual resources and potentials (the tranquility of Shabbat, the freedom of Passover, the joy of Sukkot, etc.).[13] However, in introducing the laws of the daily offerings, the Torah states: "My korban, My fire-offering, My sweet savor, you shall observe to offer Me in its appointed time."[14] Rashi, in his commentary to this verse, notes this unusual application of the term moed, and remarks: "The 'appointed time' of the perpetual offerings is every day."
The korbanot, representing man's endeavor to refine and elevate his natural self and bring himself close to G-d, constitute one of the "three pillars" of creation[15] (today, lacking a Holy Temple, prayer fills the role of the korbanot). In this context, the Torah is alluding to the need to go beyond the habits and instincts of the natural self in our relationship with G-d. Our nature dictates that the "occasions" in our lives are touched with a special vitality and enthusiasm, and we exploit this trait in our seasonal celebrations of the various aspects of our relationship with G-d; but we should also endeavor to make "every day an appointed time" - to evoke in ourselves a sense of wonder and specialty in the most routine aspects of our daily existence.
Indeed, the very concept of "monotony" and "ordinariness" is an illusion resulting from our inability to see beyond the limitations of human nature. In truth, distinction is not a factor of a thing's difference from other things, but an inherent quality of the thing itself. In truth, every moment of life is a distinct creation of G-d, embodying a unique, special and indispensable potential which cannot be duplicated by any other moment.
Based on the Rebbe's talks on Shabbat Pinchas 5744 (1984) and on other occasions[16]
[1] Numbers 27:4.
[2] . Ibid. v. 7.
[3] Ibid. v. 8.
[4] Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for "Egypt," means "confines" and "limitations" (see Freedom, WIR, vol. IX, no. 17).
[5] See Holy Land, WIR (vol. X, no. 38).
[6] Midrash Tanchuma, Pinchas 10.
[7] Knowledge of G-d is one of the six "perpetual commandments" binding upon the Jew at all times (Foreword ("Iggeret") to Sefer HaChinuch).
[8] Nachmanides on Exodus 20:8.
[9] Sefer HaChinuch, Positive Commandment 31.
[10] Deuteronomy 16:3.
[11] Talmud, Shabbat 118b.
[12] From the thrice-daily Amidah prayer.
[13] See Appointments in Time, WIR, vol. IX, no. 33.
[14] Numbers 28:2.
[15] Ethics of the Fathers 1:2. See Kuzari II:26; Siddur Im D'ach, p. 33b-c.
[16] Likkutei Sichot, vol. XXVIII, p.190, et al.
Question of the Week:
This question is from my daughter (aged 7 years).
"Why would a supposedly good, just, loving G-d allow so much suffering in the world?" (I started answering and realised I was not talking on her level. Can you help?)
Answer:
You are a bright seven year old. There are many things that you can understand, but your baby brother would not understand. For example, does your baby brother ever get a rash? I'm sure he does. So what happens when a baby has a rash? Mum applies cream to ease it. The poor little baby screams as his tender skin is stung by the ointment. But mum keeps going, ignoring the screams. As hard as it is for her to inflict pain on her baby, she does it, because she knows that it is for his good. Imagine it would be possible to ask the baby how he feels about the situation. He would probably say, "I am being brutally tortured by the very person who is supposed to love me and care for me the most! My own mother has no mercy. She ignores my cries. Why is this happening?" And there would be no answer anyone could offer. There is no way in the world we could explain to a baby that no, it is not torture, it is healing. Yes it is painful, but it is only being done in order to prevent pain and make you better. A baby simply can't understand anything beyond the pain he is experiencing. We are all like that baby. In front of G-d, even the wisest and smartest person is like an infant. We look at the world and we see the suffering and we ask why. And no one can give us a satisfying answer. We can't understand, all we can do is cry from the pain. G-d is moved by our cries, it pains Him to see our pain. He understands us. We don't understand Him. The gap between our minds and G-d's is even wider than the gap between a baby's mind and an adult's. The baby will one day reach adulthood, and he too will come to understand the ways of his parents. But we will never reach G-d. We cannot begin to understand G-d's ways. But the baby still loves his mum, even though he doesn't understand her actions. So too we need not understand G-d to love Him. Somehow, all the suffering in the world is a healing, and every painful experience is there to teach and to fix. Why does it have to be this way? G-d knows. We don't. Mum knows what she's doing. So does G-d.
Good Shabbos, Rabbi Moss
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Question of the Week:
Dear Rabbi,
I have a question that I hope you can help me with.
I was born and raised Catholic but left it as a teenager, and since I married a Jewish man I have adopted many Jewish customs. My husband is from an observant family but no longer identifies with the Jewish community. I hope this gives you some background. Now for my question:We purchased a new dog last week from our local breeder. I would like to name the dog "Israel". My husband strongly objects on the grounds that his great-grandfather was a rabbi, and his name was Israel. He has compared this to him wanting to name the dog John Paul (the previous pope's name was John Paul – he passed away recently). I told him that it wouldn't bother me.
My point is that my husband is not religious and is estranged from his family. He has been for more than 15 years now so I can't see why he objects to the name so much.
Giving our dog a Jewish name is so important to me.
Do you have any advice for me?
Thank you and look forward to your reply. I'm sure you get these questions all the time.
Angela
Answer:
Dear Angela,
Jewishness is a strange phenomena. It is very hard for others to understand a Jew's connection to their identity. A Jew may be estranged from his religion for many years, but never does he lose his Jewish spark. The harshest insult is to suggest to an unaffiliated Jew that he is no longer Jewish. It isn't true, and he knows it.
There may be all kinds of reasons why your husband left Judaism, but he will never leave his Jewishness. Below the layers of hurt, anger, resentment or doubt, there is a powerful Jewish heart beating. He may have experienced a bad family life, but his family will always be his family. In a similar way, the Jewish people will always be his people, an extended family. In some ways, our bond with the Jewish people is even deeper than a family bond. It is the essence of our being.
You have good intentions in wanting to give a Jewish name to your dog. But be aware that you are touching the feelings that lie at the deepest core of your husband's soul, a part of him you may never be able to understand. You feel that you are honouring Judaism by naming the dog "Israel"; he feels it is a disgrace to his Jewish heritage. For you, the issue is labeling a dog. For him, it is a far more pressing issue: it is labeling his own soul.
Your husband can't call the dog Israel, because that's his name. There is a tag around your husband's soul, that he will never remove, and it says, "Israel".
All the best,
Rabbi Moss
I have a question that I hope you can help me with.
I was born and raised Catholic but left it as a teenager, and since I married a Jewish man I have adopted many Jewish customs. My husband is from an observant family but no longer identifies with the Jewish community. I hope this gives you some background. Now for my question:We purchased a new dog last week from our local breeder. I would like to name the dog "Israel". My husband strongly objects on the grounds that his great-grandfather was a rabbi, and his name was Israel. He has compared this to him wanting to name the dog John Paul (the previous pope's name was John Paul – he passed away recently). I told him that it wouldn't bother me.
My point is that my husband is not religious and is estranged from his family. He has been for more than 15 years now so I can't see why he objects to the name so much.
Giving our dog a Jewish name is so important to me.
Do you have any advice for me?
Thank you and look forward to your reply. I'm sure you get these questions all the time.
Angela
Answer:
Dear Angela,
Jewishness is a strange phenomena. It is very hard for others to understand a Jew's connection to their identity. A Jew may be estranged from his religion for many years, but never does he lose his Jewish spark. The harshest insult is to suggest to an unaffiliated Jew that he is no longer Jewish. It isn't true, and he knows it.
There may be all kinds of reasons why your husband left Judaism, but he will never leave his Jewishness. Below the layers of hurt, anger, resentment or doubt, there is a powerful Jewish heart beating. He may have experienced a bad family life, but his family will always be his family. In a similar way, the Jewish people will always be his people, an extended family. In some ways, our bond with the Jewish people is even deeper than a family bond. It is the essence of our being.
You have good intentions in wanting to give a Jewish name to your dog. But be aware that you are touching the feelings that lie at the deepest core of your husband's soul, a part of him you may never be able to understand. You feel that you are honouring Judaism by naming the dog "Israel"; he feels it is a disgrace to his Jewish heritage. For you, the issue is labeling a dog. For him, it is a far more pressing issue: it is labeling his own soul.
Your husband can't call the dog Israel, because that's his name. There is a tag around your husband's soul, that he will never remove, and it says, "Israel".
All the best,
Rabbi Moss
The Heifer and the Calf
A maid’s child once dirtied the royal palace. Said the king: “Let his mother come and clean up her child’s filth.” By the same token, G-d says: “Let the [red] heifer atone for the deed of the [golden] calf.”
Midrash Tanchuma, Chukat 8
The Torah defines “life” as attachment to G-d.[1] Thus, the righteous are considered to be alive even after their physical demise, while “transgressors [of the divine will], even in their lifetimes, are considered to be dead.”[2] A life disconnected from its source is a pseudo-life, a life devoid of its essence and raison d’être.
This explains the connection between the “red heifer,” which is the divinely-prescribed antidote to the ritual impurity caused by contact with death, and the sin of the golden calf.
Immediately upon his creation, Adam, the first man, acknowledged his commitment to G-d as the essence of his vitality.[3] But on that very day, a breach appeared in the link between creature and Creator. Man transgressed the divine will (by eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge); as a result, the phenomenon of death became part of the human experience.
Twenty-six generations later, death was vanquished once more. G-d descended upon Mount Sinai, restoring His original, intimate bond with His creation[4]; man committed himself unequivocally to the fulfillment of the divine will,[5] restoring his original, absolute connection to his source of life and liberating him from the clutches of the angel of death. [6]
But this time, too, the unadulterated flow of vitality from heaven to earth was short-lived. Forty days after the people of Israel stood at Sinai, they transgressed the divine decree “You shall have no other gods before Me”[7] by worshipping a calf of gold. The pestilence of death, introduced into the world by Adam’s sin and banished at Sinai, was re-introduced by the sin of the Golden Calf.[8]
Three Degrees of Relation
As the ultimate symptom of man’s disconnection from G-d, death is the “father of all fathers of impurity.”[9] Torah law delineates several of forms of ritual impurity, but the most severe is that generated by a dead body.[10] While other forms of impurity are conducted by touching or moving the impure object, the impurity of death is unique in that it is conducted also via a “canopy”: if a person so much as finds himself for the briefest of moments under one roof with a dead body, he is rendered ritually impure until the ashes of the Red Heifer are sprinkled upon him.[11]
Chassidic teaching speaks of three general degrees of relation: internal, immediately encompassing, and distantly encompassing (penimi, makif hakarov and makif harachok). One example are the three basic material needs of man: food, clothing and shelter. Food is “internal,” entering into the body and becoming part of its very substance. Clothing is an “immediate encompasser,” enveloping the body from without but in direct relation to it (a larger person needs larger clothes while a smaller person requires smaller clothes). A home is “distantly encompassing” of the person, surrounding him in a way that bears no direct relation to him.
In the human psyche, these correspond to the intellect, will and desire. The intellect is the “food” of the soul: rational truths are ingested and digested by the person and incorporated by him as part of his mindset and thought-process. More “encompassing” is the will, which is essentially supra-rational, and thus “beyond” the person, imposing itself upon his internal self from without. Nevertheless, the will is an “immediate encompasser,” fitting the rational self like a garment fits a body (thus, a person will give rational explanations why he wants something; these “reasons” are not the true cause of his will, but the very fact that it can be explained means that the will is not completely removed from the rational self).[12] The “distant encompasser” is desire,[13] which is completely supra-rational and inexplicable, bearing no visible relation to the internal composition of the soul.[14]
Paradoxically, the more “distant” a thing is, the more integral it is to the person’s self-definition. Thus, a person’s sense of self is reflected more in his clothing than in what he eats, and his home is more integral to his identity than his clothes.[15] A person will sacrifice more for what he wants than for what he understands, and his supra-rational “desires” touch him even more deeply and are even more essential to him. In truth, however, this is no paradox: because the more “encompassing” elements of a person’s life are rooted so deeply in his essence, they are too profound to be assimilated by the finite faculties of his conscious self.
Therein lies the significance of the fact that the impurity spawned by death is conducted via a “canopy,” pervading the building which houses it and contaminating everything under its roof. Other impurities affect only the “internal” aspect of the person, or, at most, the “immediately encompassing” areas of his being; correspondingly, they are conducted by direct or second-hand contact. It is a mark of the primacy of the impurity of death that it infiltrates also the “distantly encompassing” aspect of the person, and correspondingly extends itself also via a “distant encompasser”—the house or “canopy” that shelters him.
The Antidote
To purify one who has been contaminated by contact with death, the Torah commands that a red heifer be slaughtered and burned, and its ashes mixed with “living water”—water from a spring issuing from the earth. These “waters of purification” are then sprinkled on the contaminated person on the third and seventh day of a seven-day purification period.
For if death is the symptom of disconnection from G-d, the mitzvah, or divine commandment, is the means by which we achieve connection and union with Him. And the law of the red heifer is the archetypal mitzvah—the commandment that embodies all 613 commandments of the Torah.
The law of the red heifer is a chok—an utterly supra-rational divine decree. It prompted King Solomon, the “wisest of men,”[16] to say: “All these [Torah laws] I have comprehended. But the chapter of the red heifer—though I have examined it, questioned it, and delved into it—‘I[17] thought to be wise to it, but it eludes me.’”[18] The Midrash relates that when G-d taught this law to Moses, the receiver of the Torah was incredulous. “Master of the Universe!” he cried out. “This is a purification?” To which G-d replied: “Moses, it is a chok, a decree that I have decreed, and no creature can fully comprehend My decrees.”[19]
Yet the Torah introduces the law of the red heifer with the statement, “This is the decree of the Torah,”[20] implying that it is the prototype for all the Torah’s commandments. For in essence, every mitzvah—including such ultra-rational mitzvot as “Do not kill” and “Honor your father and your mother”—is a supra-rational decree of G-d. The various reasons and explanations that can be given for many a mitzvah are but a surface rationality that conceals its supra-rational depths.
But the law of the red heifer is more than an exemplar of the supra-rationality of the mitzvot. The details and particulars of this mitzvah embody the various forms and functions that the mitzvah assumes, making it a microcosm of the 613 commandments of the Torah.
The law of the red heifer is replete with contradictory themes and provisions. The ashes of the red heifer remove the most severe of all impurities; yet those involved in its preparation (those who slaughter the heifer, burn it, and collect its ashes) become ritually impure themselves.[21] The heifer itself is a paradox of the lowly and the lofty: it must be completely red—a color which has negative connotations in Torah and Torah law[22]; the Torah commands that it be slaughtered outside the holy city of Jerusalem (in contrast with other korbanot, which must be slaughtered in the courtyard of the Holy Temple)[23]; on the other hand, it must be “perfect, without blemish”[24]; it is slaughtered within the sight of the Holy Temple and its blood is sprinkled “toward the Holy of Holies”[25]; it is prepared by a kohen—according to one opinion, by the Kohen Gadol (High Priest), wearing the “white clothes” reserved for the Yom Kippur service in the Holy of Holies.[26] And the purifying mixture of ashes and water is a combination of two contradictory forces: fire, which represents the power of ascent, and water, which embodies the quality of “settling down” and saturation.
For this is the paradox of the mitzvah, by which G-d enjoins us to descend into the physical world in order to sanctify it, and at the same time remain aloof of its materiality and profanity. In general, this is the function of the two categories of mitzvot: the 365 “prohibitions,” by which we sanctify ourselves by spurning the corporeality of the physical state, and the 248 “positive commandments,” by which we interact with and develop the physical world as a vessel for G-dliness. In particular, each individual mitzvah is both a “positive” and “prohibitive” act: an act of rejection and acceptance, of transcendence and involvement, an amalgam of ascending fire and descending water. A mitzvah is man living a physical life, accepting the physical state as his means of connection with G-d, and at the same time remaining a spiritual being, refusing to allow the physical state to define his life and dictate his priorities.
How does one act upon the physical world without being absorbed by it? How does one ensure that one’s “water” element is not muddied by its descent? The answer lies in the Torah’s stipulation that the water mixed with the ashes of the red heifer must be “living water”—“water that has seeped through the veins of the earth... and is thus refined and rarefied.”[27]
“Earth” represents humility and self-abnegation (as in the prayer “May my soul be as dust to all”[28]). When a person’s involvement with the material is filtered via the earth of self-abnegation to G-d (i.e., the absence of all motives and aspirations save the fulfillment of His will), his water is “living water,” uncontaminable by the negative encumbrances of material life. Mixed with the fire of spiritual striving, it cleanses the world of the stain of death, of its separateness and disconnection from G-d, and restores the primordial harmony between Creator and creation.
Based on an entry in the Rebbe’s journal dated “Chukat, 5700 [1940], Vichy”[29]
[1]. Deuteronomy 4:4; ibid., 30:20; et al.
[2]. Talmud, Berachot 18a-b. Cf. Isaiah 59:2: “Your sins separate between you and your G-d”; Tanya, Iggeret HaTeshuvah, ch. 5.
[3]. “When Adam stood up on his feet, he saw that all creatures feared him and followed him as servants do their master. He then said to them: ‘You and I both, come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before G-d our maker’” (Zohar, part I, 221b).
[4]. Cf. Midrash Rabbah, Shir HaShirim 5:1: “I came to My home—to the place where My primary presence was at first... [for] Adam’s sin caused the divine presence to depart [from the physical world] ... and then Moses came and brought it down to the earth.”
[5]. Exodus 19:8, 24:3 and 24:7.
[6]. Talmud, Shabbat 146a; Midrash Rabbah, Shemot 41:9.
[7]. Second of the Ten Commandments proclaimed at Sinai, Exodus 20:3.
[8]. Zohar, part I, 52b. See Tanya, ch. 36; Igrot Kodesh, vol. V, p. 310, note 6 and sources cited there.
[9]. See Encyclopedia Talmudit, vol. I, p. 50 (s.v. avi avot hatumah), and sources cited there.
[10]. Maimonides’ introduction to his Commentary on the Mishnah; cf. Midrash Rabbah, Kohelet 8:5.
[11]. Numbers 19:14.
[12]. There are, of course, wants and desires that stem not from the supra-rational self but from wholly rational motives and reasonings. These belong to the “internal” element of the psyche. “Will” (ratzon), in this context, is a term that applies exclusively to those aspirations that stem from the person’s supra-rational self—things that a person wants for no “reason” other than the fact that he wants them—and are only subsequently related to by the rational self, which often attributes rational reasons to them.
[13]. In English, the words “will” and “desire” are often interchangeable. Here, they are used as translations of the Hebrew terms ratzon and oneg. Chassidic teaching includes many and various definitions of ratzon and oneg, and discusses many sub-categories and definitions within each of them. A full discussion is beyond the scope of this essay. For the sake of our discussion, we will suffice with the simple distinction between “will,” which is rational in the sense that a person can explain it, and “desire,” which defies all attempts to make sense of it. In other words, “will” and “desire” are both encompassing faculties in that they derive from a place in the soul that is not accessible by reason, and thus cannot be “internalized” by the person; “will,” however, is “close” enough to reason to be relatable to by the rational self as an “immediate encompasser.”
[14]. Man’s relationship with G-d also includes internal, immediately encompassing, and distantly encompassing elements. Torah study is the “internal” component of the relationship: the human mind assimilates the divine wisdom, making it part of its own composition. The mitzvot are the “encompassing” element: essentially supra-rational, man fulfills them in obedience to the divine will, “imposing” upon himself a behavior that is beyond his understanding. Nevertheless, virtually all mitzvot relate to the rational self: many can be rationally explained (though their rationality is not the “reason” for their observance); many are endowed with a symbolism that we can analyze and relate to rationally; and even the most logic-defying of mitzvot can be “understood” in terms of the logical necessity that man submit to the divine will. But then there are those elements of our relationship with G-d that belong to the realm of “distant encompassers”—elements that are so far removed from our rational selves that we cannot relate to them in any way, or even be aware of their existence. A case in point is the mitzvah of shikchah (“forgetting” a bundle of grain in the field for the poor—Deuteronomy 24:19), which can only be fulfilled against a person’s conscious will.
[15]. Hence the adage, “A man without a home is not a man” (Talmud, Yevamot 63a; and Tosafot there).
[16]. I Kings 5:11.
[17]. Ecclesiastes 7:23.
[18]. Midrash Rabbah, Bamidbar 19:3.
[19]. Midrash Rabbah, Kohelet 8:5.
[20]. Numbers 19:2.
[21]. Ibid., vv. 7-10; Talmud, Parah 4:4.
[22]. Genesis 25:30 (see Reshimot #12, p. 19); Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 178:1.
[23]. Numbers 19:3.
[24]. Ibid. v. 2.
[25]. Ibid. v. 4; Talmud, Parah 3:9 and 4:2.
[26]. Talmud, ibid. 4:1.
[27]. Likkutei Torah, Chukat 62b.
[28]. End of Amidah prayer; Talmud, Berachot 17a.
[29]. Reshimot #49.
By Simon Jacobson
Midrash Tanchuma, Chukat 8
The Torah defines “life” as attachment to G-d.[1] Thus, the righteous are considered to be alive even after their physical demise, while “transgressors [of the divine will], even in their lifetimes, are considered to be dead.”[2] A life disconnected from its source is a pseudo-life, a life devoid of its essence and raison d’être.
This explains the connection between the “red heifer,” which is the divinely-prescribed antidote to the ritual impurity caused by contact with death, and the sin of the golden calf.
Immediately upon his creation, Adam, the first man, acknowledged his commitment to G-d as the essence of his vitality.[3] But on that very day, a breach appeared in the link between creature and Creator. Man transgressed the divine will (by eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge); as a result, the phenomenon of death became part of the human experience.
Twenty-six generations later, death was vanquished once more. G-d descended upon Mount Sinai, restoring His original, intimate bond with His creation[4]; man committed himself unequivocally to the fulfillment of the divine will,[5] restoring his original, absolute connection to his source of life and liberating him from the clutches of the angel of death. [6]
But this time, too, the unadulterated flow of vitality from heaven to earth was short-lived. Forty days after the people of Israel stood at Sinai, they transgressed the divine decree “You shall have no other gods before Me”[7] by worshipping a calf of gold. The pestilence of death, introduced into the world by Adam’s sin and banished at Sinai, was re-introduced by the sin of the Golden Calf.[8]
Three Degrees of Relation
As the ultimate symptom of man’s disconnection from G-d, death is the “father of all fathers of impurity.”[9] Torah law delineates several of forms of ritual impurity, but the most severe is that generated by a dead body.[10] While other forms of impurity are conducted by touching or moving the impure object, the impurity of death is unique in that it is conducted also via a “canopy”: if a person so much as finds himself for the briefest of moments under one roof with a dead body, he is rendered ritually impure until the ashes of the Red Heifer are sprinkled upon him.[11]
Chassidic teaching speaks of three general degrees of relation: internal, immediately encompassing, and distantly encompassing (penimi, makif hakarov and makif harachok). One example are the three basic material needs of man: food, clothing and shelter. Food is “internal,” entering into the body and becoming part of its very substance. Clothing is an “immediate encompasser,” enveloping the body from without but in direct relation to it (a larger person needs larger clothes while a smaller person requires smaller clothes). A home is “distantly encompassing” of the person, surrounding him in a way that bears no direct relation to him.
In the human psyche, these correspond to the intellect, will and desire. The intellect is the “food” of the soul: rational truths are ingested and digested by the person and incorporated by him as part of his mindset and thought-process. More “encompassing” is the will, which is essentially supra-rational, and thus “beyond” the person, imposing itself upon his internal self from without. Nevertheless, the will is an “immediate encompasser,” fitting the rational self like a garment fits a body (thus, a person will give rational explanations why he wants something; these “reasons” are not the true cause of his will, but the very fact that it can be explained means that the will is not completely removed from the rational self).[12] The “distant encompasser” is desire,[13] which is completely supra-rational and inexplicable, bearing no visible relation to the internal composition of the soul.[14]
Paradoxically, the more “distant” a thing is, the more integral it is to the person’s self-definition. Thus, a person’s sense of self is reflected more in his clothing than in what he eats, and his home is more integral to his identity than his clothes.[15] A person will sacrifice more for what he wants than for what he understands, and his supra-rational “desires” touch him even more deeply and are even more essential to him. In truth, however, this is no paradox: because the more “encompassing” elements of a person’s life are rooted so deeply in his essence, they are too profound to be assimilated by the finite faculties of his conscious self.
Therein lies the significance of the fact that the impurity spawned by death is conducted via a “canopy,” pervading the building which houses it and contaminating everything under its roof. Other impurities affect only the “internal” aspect of the person, or, at most, the “immediately encompassing” areas of his being; correspondingly, they are conducted by direct or second-hand contact. It is a mark of the primacy of the impurity of death that it infiltrates also the “distantly encompassing” aspect of the person, and correspondingly extends itself also via a “distant encompasser”—the house or “canopy” that shelters him.
The Antidote
To purify one who has been contaminated by contact with death, the Torah commands that a red heifer be slaughtered and burned, and its ashes mixed with “living water”—water from a spring issuing from the earth. These “waters of purification” are then sprinkled on the contaminated person on the third and seventh day of a seven-day purification period.
For if death is the symptom of disconnection from G-d, the mitzvah, or divine commandment, is the means by which we achieve connection and union with Him. And the law of the red heifer is the archetypal mitzvah—the commandment that embodies all 613 commandments of the Torah.
The law of the red heifer is a chok—an utterly supra-rational divine decree. It prompted King Solomon, the “wisest of men,”[16] to say: “All these [Torah laws] I have comprehended. But the chapter of the red heifer—though I have examined it, questioned it, and delved into it—‘I[17] thought to be wise to it, but it eludes me.’”[18] The Midrash relates that when G-d taught this law to Moses, the receiver of the Torah was incredulous. “Master of the Universe!” he cried out. “This is a purification?” To which G-d replied: “Moses, it is a chok, a decree that I have decreed, and no creature can fully comprehend My decrees.”[19]
Yet the Torah introduces the law of the red heifer with the statement, “This is the decree of the Torah,”[20] implying that it is the prototype for all the Torah’s commandments. For in essence, every mitzvah—including such ultra-rational mitzvot as “Do not kill” and “Honor your father and your mother”—is a supra-rational decree of G-d. The various reasons and explanations that can be given for many a mitzvah are but a surface rationality that conceals its supra-rational depths.
But the law of the red heifer is more than an exemplar of the supra-rationality of the mitzvot. The details and particulars of this mitzvah embody the various forms and functions that the mitzvah assumes, making it a microcosm of the 613 commandments of the Torah.
The law of the red heifer is replete with contradictory themes and provisions. The ashes of the red heifer remove the most severe of all impurities; yet those involved in its preparation (those who slaughter the heifer, burn it, and collect its ashes) become ritually impure themselves.[21] The heifer itself is a paradox of the lowly and the lofty: it must be completely red—a color which has negative connotations in Torah and Torah law[22]; the Torah commands that it be slaughtered outside the holy city of Jerusalem (in contrast with other korbanot, which must be slaughtered in the courtyard of the Holy Temple)[23]; on the other hand, it must be “perfect, without blemish”[24]; it is slaughtered within the sight of the Holy Temple and its blood is sprinkled “toward the Holy of Holies”[25]; it is prepared by a kohen—according to one opinion, by the Kohen Gadol (High Priest), wearing the “white clothes” reserved for the Yom Kippur service in the Holy of Holies.[26] And the purifying mixture of ashes and water is a combination of two contradictory forces: fire, which represents the power of ascent, and water, which embodies the quality of “settling down” and saturation.
For this is the paradox of the mitzvah, by which G-d enjoins us to descend into the physical world in order to sanctify it, and at the same time remain aloof of its materiality and profanity. In general, this is the function of the two categories of mitzvot: the 365 “prohibitions,” by which we sanctify ourselves by spurning the corporeality of the physical state, and the 248 “positive commandments,” by which we interact with and develop the physical world as a vessel for G-dliness. In particular, each individual mitzvah is both a “positive” and “prohibitive” act: an act of rejection and acceptance, of transcendence and involvement, an amalgam of ascending fire and descending water. A mitzvah is man living a physical life, accepting the physical state as his means of connection with G-d, and at the same time remaining a spiritual being, refusing to allow the physical state to define his life and dictate his priorities.
How does one act upon the physical world without being absorbed by it? How does one ensure that one’s “water” element is not muddied by its descent? The answer lies in the Torah’s stipulation that the water mixed with the ashes of the red heifer must be “living water”—“water that has seeped through the veins of the earth... and is thus refined and rarefied.”[27]
“Earth” represents humility and self-abnegation (as in the prayer “May my soul be as dust to all”[28]). When a person’s involvement with the material is filtered via the earth of self-abnegation to G-d (i.e., the absence of all motives and aspirations save the fulfillment of His will), his water is “living water,” uncontaminable by the negative encumbrances of material life. Mixed with the fire of spiritual striving, it cleanses the world of the stain of death, of its separateness and disconnection from G-d, and restores the primordial harmony between Creator and creation.
Based on an entry in the Rebbe’s journal dated “Chukat, 5700 [1940], Vichy”[29]
[1]. Deuteronomy 4:4; ibid., 30:20; et al.
[2]. Talmud, Berachot 18a-b. Cf. Isaiah 59:2: “Your sins separate between you and your G-d”; Tanya, Iggeret HaTeshuvah, ch. 5.
[3]. “When Adam stood up on his feet, he saw that all creatures feared him and followed him as servants do their master. He then said to them: ‘You and I both, come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before G-d our maker’” (Zohar, part I, 221b).
[4]. Cf. Midrash Rabbah, Shir HaShirim 5:1: “I came to My home—to the place where My primary presence was at first... [for] Adam’s sin caused the divine presence to depart [from the physical world] ... and then Moses came and brought it down to the earth.”
[5]. Exodus 19:8, 24:3 and 24:7.
[6]. Talmud, Shabbat 146a; Midrash Rabbah, Shemot 41:9.
[7]. Second of the Ten Commandments proclaimed at Sinai, Exodus 20:3.
[8]. Zohar, part I, 52b. See Tanya, ch. 36; Igrot Kodesh, vol. V, p. 310, note 6 and sources cited there.
[9]. See Encyclopedia Talmudit, vol. I, p. 50 (s.v. avi avot hatumah), and sources cited there.
[10]. Maimonides’ introduction to his Commentary on the Mishnah; cf. Midrash Rabbah, Kohelet 8:5.
[11]. Numbers 19:14.
[12]. There are, of course, wants and desires that stem not from the supra-rational self but from wholly rational motives and reasonings. These belong to the “internal” element of the psyche. “Will” (ratzon), in this context, is a term that applies exclusively to those aspirations that stem from the person’s supra-rational self—things that a person wants for no “reason” other than the fact that he wants them—and are only subsequently related to by the rational self, which often attributes rational reasons to them.
[13]. In English, the words “will” and “desire” are often interchangeable. Here, they are used as translations of the Hebrew terms ratzon and oneg. Chassidic teaching includes many and various definitions of ratzon and oneg, and discusses many sub-categories and definitions within each of them. A full discussion is beyond the scope of this essay. For the sake of our discussion, we will suffice with the simple distinction between “will,” which is rational in the sense that a person can explain it, and “desire,” which defies all attempts to make sense of it. In other words, “will” and “desire” are both encompassing faculties in that they derive from a place in the soul that is not accessible by reason, and thus cannot be “internalized” by the person; “will,” however, is “close” enough to reason to be relatable to by the rational self as an “immediate encompasser.”
[14]. Man’s relationship with G-d also includes internal, immediately encompassing, and distantly encompassing elements. Torah study is the “internal” component of the relationship: the human mind assimilates the divine wisdom, making it part of its own composition. The mitzvot are the “encompassing” element: essentially supra-rational, man fulfills them in obedience to the divine will, “imposing” upon himself a behavior that is beyond his understanding. Nevertheless, virtually all mitzvot relate to the rational self: many can be rationally explained (though their rationality is not the “reason” for their observance); many are endowed with a symbolism that we can analyze and relate to rationally; and even the most logic-defying of mitzvot can be “understood” in terms of the logical necessity that man submit to the divine will. But then there are those elements of our relationship with G-d that belong to the realm of “distant encompassers”—elements that are so far removed from our rational selves that we cannot relate to them in any way, or even be aware of their existence. A case in point is the mitzvah of shikchah (“forgetting” a bundle of grain in the field for the poor—Deuteronomy 24:19), which can only be fulfilled against a person’s conscious will.
[15]. Hence the adage, “A man without a home is not a man” (Talmud, Yevamot 63a; and Tosafot there).
[16]. I Kings 5:11.
[17]. Ecclesiastes 7:23.
[18]. Midrash Rabbah, Bamidbar 19:3.
[19]. Midrash Rabbah, Kohelet 8:5.
[20]. Numbers 19:2.
[21]. Ibid., vv. 7-10; Talmud, Parah 4:4.
[22]. Genesis 25:30 (see Reshimot #12, p. 19); Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 178:1.
[23]. Numbers 19:3.
[24]. Ibid. v. 2.
[25]. Ibid. v. 4; Talmud, Parah 3:9 and 4:2.
[26]. Talmud, ibid. 4:1.
[27]. Likkutei Torah, Chukat 62b.
[28]. End of Amidah prayer; Talmud, Berachot 17a.
[29]. Reshimot #49.
By Simon Jacobson
Spiritual Gems from the parsha
And [Moses] said to them, "Hear now, you rebels, must we bring you forth water out of this rock?" (Num. 20:10)
Calling the Jewish people "rebels" was considered a very grave sin for a person on Moses' spiritual level. For when Jews are in trouble, the proper thing to do is help rather than chastise them.
(Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev)
Lo, it is a people that shall live alone, and among the nations shall not be reckoned (Num. 23:9)
When the Jewish people are "alone," separate and distinguished from the gentiles, their existence is secure and they are respected by the nations. If, however, they begin to assimilate and copy their non-Jewish neighbors, they "shall not be reckoned" - they lose their importance and high esteem.
(Divrei Eliezer)
He has not beheld any wrong in Jacob...the L-rd his G-d is with him (Num. 23:21)
When the word "Jacob" is used for the Jewish people, it alludes to the inner struggle of the G-dly soul against the animal soul. Yet, even on this level, the Torah states that the Jew is without wrong. Where does the Jew derive the strength to prevail? From his unique Jewish soul, of which it states, "the L-rd his G-d is with him." The Jewish soul, a "veritable part of G-d Above," is endowed with the power to transform even the animal soul into holiness.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Calling the Jewish people "rebels" was considered a very grave sin for a person on Moses' spiritual level. For when Jews are in trouble, the proper thing to do is help rather than chastise them.
(Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev)
Lo, it is a people that shall live alone, and among the nations shall not be reckoned (Num. 23:9)
When the Jewish people are "alone," separate and distinguished from the gentiles, their existence is secure and they are respected by the nations. If, however, they begin to assimilate and copy their non-Jewish neighbors, they "shall not be reckoned" - they lose their importance and high esteem.
(Divrei Eliezer)
He has not beheld any wrong in Jacob...the L-rd his G-d is with him (Num. 23:21)
When the word "Jacob" is used for the Jewish people, it alludes to the inner struggle of the G-dly soul against the animal soul. Yet, even on this level, the Torah states that the Jew is without wrong. Where does the Jew derive the strength to prevail? From his unique Jewish soul, of which it states, "the L-rd his G-d is with him." The Jewish soul, a "veritable part of G-d Above," is endowed with the power to transform even the animal soul into holiness.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Celebrate Your New House or Help a Friend Celebrate
It is a Jewish custom to hold a festive meal and rejoice at a "dedication of the house," i.e., to hold a housewarming. "Inviting friends to one's new home to celebrate at a gathering at which Torah thoughts and Chasidic teachings are expounded, will be beneficial both materially and spiritually. (From a letter of the Lubavitcher Rebbe)
In memory of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and the other kedoshim of Mumbai
In memory of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and the other kedoshim of Mumbai
I was gratified to read in your letter about the favorable impact of Lubavitch in South Africa
8th of Tammuz, 5738 [1978]
This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter of the 13th of June, on behalf of yourself as chairman of the committee.
I was gratified to read in your letter about the favorable impact of Lubavitch in South Africa, and in your city and congregation in particular. I trust that this good influence finds the fullest expression in actual deeds, namely in promoting matters of Yiddishkeit [Judaism], Torah and mitzvos [commandments], in your community, in accordance with the saying of our Sages that, "The essential thing is the deed." And in matters of Torah and mitzvos, even one good deed is very important, since "one mitzvah leads to another mitzvah."
Even more important it is where Jewish education is concerned, especially as I note that your shul [synagogue] is situated on a campus of, and used by, a Jewish Day School of approximately 1,000 children, and where your congregation has been blessed with many families, adults and children - may their number grow. For, as I have had occasion to emphasize this many times, every beneficial influence on a child is like the benefits and care given to a young seedling, which multiplies in due course many times over, when the seedling becomes a full-grown fruit-bearing tree.
As we are approaching the auspicious anniversary of the liberation of my father-in-law of saintly memory on the 12th-13th of Tammuz, I trust that you know the history and significance of this date. The main point of it is that he has shown what a Jew can achieve when he is absolutely determined to live up to his commitment to Torah and mitzvos regardless of the circumstances. And there is no need to spell out what these circumstances were under the Communist regime 50 years ago.
And although who can compare to his stature, nevertheless having accomplished what he did, he has made it easier for all those who would follow in his footsteps. Certainly those of us who are privileged to live in incomparably happier circumstances, where one does not have to endanger his life, G-d forbid, to observe the Torah and mitzvos, and whatever difficulties there may be are for the most part imaginary and can certainly be overcome, so that in the final analysis it is mainly a matter of one's own will and determination.
This makes it the duty and privilege of every one of us to do all one can, by example and precept, to spread Yiddishkeit, Torah and mitzvos, in one's surroundings, and it is certain that every such effort is bound to be blessed by G-d with hatzlacha [success].
P.S. With regard to your writing about your desire to visit me with a group from your congregation, I regret that for the present "yechidus" [a private audience with the Rebbe] has been suspended for reasons beyond my control. I trust, however, that before long it will be resumed and it will then certainly be a pleasure to meet with you personally.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
7th of Tammuz, 5735 [1975]
I was pleased to receive a report through the visitors from London about your activities and the work of the various committees.
On the basis of your achievements in the past, one can surely be confident that these will stimulate you to even greater accomplishments in the future, in accor-dance with the saying of our Sages, "He who has 100, desires 200, and having achieved 200, desires (not only a similar increase, but) 400." And if such is the case in material things, how much greater should be one's spiritual aspirations.
At this time, in proximity to the 12-13th of Tammuz, the anniversary of the geulah [redemption] of my father-in-law of saintly memory, the history and significance of which you all surely know, I trust that each and all of you will be inspired by these auspicious days.
One of the main points is that this anniversary demonstrates how much a single Jew can accomplish in matters of Torah and mitzvos, even under the most adverse circumstances. And although none of us can compare to him, we should remember that after he had blazed the trail and shown the way, he has made it easier for every Jew to follow in his footsteps. It should, of course, also be borne in mind that none of us have to face any such difficulties and dangers as he had to face day after day. There is surely no need to elaborate on the obvious.
May G-d grant that you should always have good news to report.
This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter of the 13th of June, on behalf of yourself as chairman of the committee.
I was gratified to read in your letter about the favorable impact of Lubavitch in South Africa, and in your city and congregation in particular. I trust that this good influence finds the fullest expression in actual deeds, namely in promoting matters of Yiddishkeit [Judaism], Torah and mitzvos [commandments], in your community, in accordance with the saying of our Sages that, "The essential thing is the deed." And in matters of Torah and mitzvos, even one good deed is very important, since "one mitzvah leads to another mitzvah."
Even more important it is where Jewish education is concerned, especially as I note that your shul [synagogue] is situated on a campus of, and used by, a Jewish Day School of approximately 1,000 children, and where your congregation has been blessed with many families, adults and children - may their number grow. For, as I have had occasion to emphasize this many times, every beneficial influence on a child is like the benefits and care given to a young seedling, which multiplies in due course many times over, when the seedling becomes a full-grown fruit-bearing tree.
As we are approaching the auspicious anniversary of the liberation of my father-in-law of saintly memory on the 12th-13th of Tammuz, I trust that you know the history and significance of this date. The main point of it is that he has shown what a Jew can achieve when he is absolutely determined to live up to his commitment to Torah and mitzvos regardless of the circumstances. And there is no need to spell out what these circumstances were under the Communist regime 50 years ago.
And although who can compare to his stature, nevertheless having accomplished what he did, he has made it easier for all those who would follow in his footsteps. Certainly those of us who are privileged to live in incomparably happier circumstances, where one does not have to endanger his life, G-d forbid, to observe the Torah and mitzvos, and whatever difficulties there may be are for the most part imaginary and can certainly be overcome, so that in the final analysis it is mainly a matter of one's own will and determination.
This makes it the duty and privilege of every one of us to do all one can, by example and precept, to spread Yiddishkeit, Torah and mitzvos, in one's surroundings, and it is certain that every such effort is bound to be blessed by G-d with hatzlacha [success].
P.S. With regard to your writing about your desire to visit me with a group from your congregation, I regret that for the present "yechidus" [a private audience with the Rebbe] has been suspended for reasons beyond my control. I trust, however, that before long it will be resumed and it will then certainly be a pleasure to meet with you personally.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
7th of Tammuz, 5735 [1975]
I was pleased to receive a report through the visitors from London about your activities and the work of the various committees.
On the basis of your achievements in the past, one can surely be confident that these will stimulate you to even greater accomplishments in the future, in accor-dance with the saying of our Sages, "He who has 100, desires 200, and having achieved 200, desires (not only a similar increase, but) 400." And if such is the case in material things, how much greater should be one's spiritual aspirations.
At this time, in proximity to the 12-13th of Tammuz, the anniversary of the geulah [redemption] of my father-in-law of saintly memory, the history and significance of which you all surely know, I trust that each and all of you will be inspired by these auspicious days.
One of the main points is that this anniversary demonstrates how much a single Jew can accomplish in matters of Torah and mitzvos, even under the most adverse circumstances. And although none of us can compare to him, we should remember that after he had blazed the trail and shown the way, he has made it easier for every Jew to follow in his footsteps. It should, of course, also be borne in mind that none of us have to face any such difficulties and dangers as he had to face day after day. There is surely no need to elaborate on the obvious.
May G-d grant that you should always have good news to report.
The first of this week's two Torah portions, Chukat,
The first of this week's two Torah portions, Chukat, describes the Jewish people's impatience with their long journey through the desert. Despite the manna from heaven, the fresh water from Miriam s well and the Clouds of Glory which protected them wherever they went, they were dissatisfied.Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? they complained.
Because of their ingratitude, G-d sent a plague of fiery serpents to punish them. The serpent, to whom all food has the same taste, became the vehicle for punishment against those who complained that the manna, which acquired any taste the individual desired, was insufficient. The fiery snakes, so called because their poisonous venom burns like fire, bit the people, and many died.
Chastised, the Jews came to Moses and admitted that they had sinned. They begged him to pray to G-d to remove the terrible plague from their midst. G-d's answer to Moses' prayer was the following: Make for yourself a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole... everyone that is bitten - when he sees it - he shall live. Moses followed G-d's command and fashioned a serpent out of copper (nechoshet in Hebrew, from the same root word as serpent nachash), and set it high upon a pole where it could be easily seen. The Torah tells us that when an afflicted person looked up at the serpent, he was healed and did not die.
Rashi, the great Torah commentator, explains that merely looking at the copper serpent was not enough. A person had to look up in the spiritual sense as well, accepting the yoke of heaven and subjugating his heart to G-d above. Only then would the bitten person be restored to health.
The serpent itself, symbolic of the primordial serpent in the Garden of Eden, responsible for bringing evil into the world, alludes to this concept of transforming the negative into the positive. The bitten person had to subjugate his whole heart, the evil as well as the good inclination, and dedicate his entire being to the service of G-d.
Another example of this concept, the transformation of evil into a positive force for good, is also found in the beginning of the Torah portion. The ashes of the red heifer, although making unclean whoever prepared them, brought purity to the sinner on whom they were sprinkled.
This is the goal of every Jew - to utilize both of our inclinations in the service of G-d and serve Him with a whole heart.
Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
Because of their ingratitude, G-d sent a plague of fiery serpents to punish them. The serpent, to whom all food has the same taste, became the vehicle for punishment against those who complained that the manna, which acquired any taste the individual desired, was insufficient. The fiery snakes, so called because their poisonous venom burns like fire, bit the people, and many died.
Chastised, the Jews came to Moses and admitted that they had sinned. They begged him to pray to G-d to remove the terrible plague from their midst. G-d's answer to Moses' prayer was the following: Make for yourself a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole... everyone that is bitten - when he sees it - he shall live. Moses followed G-d's command and fashioned a serpent out of copper (nechoshet in Hebrew, from the same root word as serpent nachash), and set it high upon a pole where it could be easily seen. The Torah tells us that when an afflicted person looked up at the serpent, he was healed and did not die.
Rashi, the great Torah commentator, explains that merely looking at the copper serpent was not enough. A person had to look up in the spiritual sense as well, accepting the yoke of heaven and subjugating his heart to G-d above. Only then would the bitten person be restored to health.
The serpent itself, symbolic of the primordial serpent in the Garden of Eden, responsible for bringing evil into the world, alludes to this concept of transforming the negative into the positive. The bitten person had to subjugate his whole heart, the evil as well as the good inclination, and dedicate his entire being to the service of G-d.
Another example of this concept, the transformation of evil into a positive force for good, is also found in the beginning of the Torah portion. The ashes of the red heifer, although making unclean whoever prepared them, brought purity to the sinner on whom they were sprinkled.
This is the goal of every Jew - to utilize both of our inclinations in the service of G-d and serve Him with a whole heart.
Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
Prayer for America
In 1940, the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn, was miraculously saved from the Nazis and arrived on the safe shores of the United States. Soon after the Rebbe's arrival, he revealed that his mission in the United States was to transform it into a place of Torah.There were those who attempted to inform the Rebbe that, "This is, after all, America; it is not like the 'old home.' " To these people, the Rebbe replied, "America is no different; with regard to Torah study and observance of its commandments, America is no exception!"
In the months after the Previous Rebbe came to the United States, he composed a "Prayer for the Welfare of the Nation."
The idea of praying for the government has a Biblical source, in the book of Jeremiah: "Seek the welfare of the country where I have sent you into exile; pray to the L-rd for it, for your welfare depends on its welfare."
In the Mishna, Rabbi Chanina the deputy High Priest said, "Pray for the welfare of the government, for without the fear of it, man would swallow his fellow alive." (Ethics of the Fathers 3:2)
Throughout the ages, Jews have always prayed privately and communally for the welfare of the government and the leaders of the government of the countries in which we find ourselves. Today is no different.
Take a moment to recite this prayer, and to share it with a friend. We do not know which person's mitzva (commandment) will be the one to tip the scale of justice and bring redemption to the entire world, but it could just be yours or mine! Let's give it a try:
"Our G-d and G-d of our fathers, great, mighty and revered. G-d, we beseech You, in Your abundant mercy restore the world unto its true basis, under the guidance of kings and rulers who shall reign with justice and righteousness, without discrimination between nation and nation, race and race.
"We beseech You, O merciful and gracious G-d, guide our illustrious President whom You have chosen leader of these United States. Strengthen and encourage him and his honorable ministers and counselors of state and the honorable representatives of the citizens in both houses of Congress. Bless their efforts to save this land and the neighboring lands from war and destruction, and wherever they turn in the cause of humanity and in behalf of this land and for the benefit of Your people Israel, send the angels of blessing and success to welcome them, and cause war and its calamities to be ended and an era of peace and justice with its blessings to begin even in their and our days. Amen."
In the months after the Previous Rebbe came to the United States, he composed a "Prayer for the Welfare of the Nation."
The idea of praying for the government has a Biblical source, in the book of Jeremiah: "Seek the welfare of the country where I have sent you into exile; pray to the L-rd for it, for your welfare depends on its welfare."
In the Mishna, Rabbi Chanina the deputy High Priest said, "Pray for the welfare of the government, for without the fear of it, man would swallow his fellow alive." (Ethics of the Fathers 3:2)
Throughout the ages, Jews have always prayed privately and communally for the welfare of the government and the leaders of the government of the countries in which we find ourselves. Today is no different.
Take a moment to recite this prayer, and to share it with a friend. We do not know which person's mitzva (commandment) will be the one to tip the scale of justice and bring redemption to the entire world, but it could just be yours or mine! Let's give it a try:
"Our G-d and G-d of our fathers, great, mighty and revered. G-d, we beseech You, in Your abundant mercy restore the world unto its true basis, under the guidance of kings and rulers who shall reign with justice and righteousness, without discrimination between nation and nation, race and race.
"We beseech You, O merciful and gracious G-d, guide our illustrious President whom You have chosen leader of these United States. Strengthen and encourage him and his honorable ministers and counselors of state and the honorable representatives of the citizens in both houses of Congress. Bless their efforts to save this land and the neighboring lands from war and destruction, and wherever they turn in the cause of humanity and in behalf of this land and for the benefit of Your people Israel, send the angels of blessing and success to welcome them, and cause war and its calamities to be ended and an era of peace and justice with its blessings to begin even in their and our days. Amen."
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Gap
Korach, whose ill-fated challenge to Moses and Aaron's leadership is recounted in the 16th chapter of Numbers, has come to represent the very concept of conflict and discord. Thus the Talmud states: "Whoever engages in divisiveness transgresses a prohibition of the Torah, as it is written (Numbers 17:5): 'And he shall not be like Korach and his company'"[1] - when the Torah wishes to warn against the agitation of dispute and disunity, it does so by instructing, "Don't be like Korach..."
The Talmud relates that the great sage Rabbi Meir would deduce a person's nature from his name;[2] the same applies, say the Kabbalists, to every creature, object and phenomenon. For the letters of the alef-bet are the building blocks of creation,[3] meaning that the letters that make up a thing's name in the Holy Tongue define the "shape" and character of its soul - of the divine life - force which grants it existence and vitality.[4]
The same is true of the name "Korach." The three Hebrew letters that spell this word delineate the contours of conflicy - the various ways in which the harmony of G-d's creation might be distorted and corrupted.
The Shape of Reality
If the soul of each individual creation is encoded in the letters which comprise its name, the inner form of the created reality as a whole is that of the letter hei. Our sages deduce this from the verse, "These are the chronicles of the heavens and the earth when they were created"[5] - the Hebrew word behibaraam, "when they were created," can also be read as be-hei beraam, "with a hei, He created them," to imply that "G-d created the world with the letter hei.''[6]
The Hebrew letter hei is comprised of three lines: an upper, horizontal line which forms the "roof" of the letter; and two vertical lines, one to the right and the other to the left, which form its walls or "legs." The right leg is connected to the right end of the "roof" and extends downward to the bottom of the written line. The left leg extends along the left side of the hei, but is not connected to the roof, leaving a small gap between the upper and left lines.
The letter Hei
The three lines of the hei represent three dimensions or realms of our reality: thought, speech and action. The upper line represents the world of thought; the right leg, the world of speech; and the left leg, the world of action.
We all nurture in our minds a vision of an ideal world - a world as defined by our purest instincts and our knowledge of the potential for goodness and perfection invested in it by its Creator. This is the "thought" dimension of reality, represented by the hei's upper line. "Speech," the endeavor to articulate this vision to ourselves and to our fellow human beings, is the right "leg" of the hei. By studying, teaching and communicating the ideals contained in the world of "thought," we create a world of words which draws the lofty but abstract upper line of the hei downward into the more tactual dimension of "speech."
The left leg of the hei is the world of "action." This is the realm of our interaction with the physical world to mold it and transform it in accordance with the vision we hold in our minds. Like "speech," action is a downward extension from the realm of thought, a drawing down of its ideals into a more concrete reality. There is, however, a significant difference between speech and action, illustrated by the difference between the hei's right and left legs.
In the realm of speech, we can forge a reality that is a direct extension of the reality we inhabit in the realm of thought. We can express an idea as we understand it; we can communicate a vision as we see it and convey a belief as we believe it. But when we seek to apply our ideals to the world of action, we encounter a "gap" - an inherent inconsistency between the ideal and the real. We act upon the physical world, we change it and transform it, but sooner or later we encounter resistance: an insurmountable barrier, an irresolvable conflict, an unbridgeable breech between our inner truth and an obstinate external reality.
The gap between thought and action is an intrinsic part of the created reality. This is what our sages are telling us when they say that G-d created the word in the form of a hei: that this gap is real. It is not an illusion; it is not a subjective projection of one's personal deficiencies or lack of determination; rather, it was put in place by the Creator of the world, who desired that the breach between thought and action should be a real and inescapable feature of our existence. For it is this dichotomy, this tension between the ideal and the real, which lends challenge, significance and fulfillment - and ultimately, true harmony - to our lives.[7]
The Realist
The three letters that comprise the name "Korach" - kuf, reish, chet - are similar in form to the letter hei. The kuf is a hei whose left leg extends below the written line; the reish is a hei that lacks a left leg altogether; and the chet is a hei without the "gap" - a hei whose left leg is joined to its roof.
Korach (from right to left): kuf, reish, chet
On the face of it, these are more "harmonious" letters: the dissonance between thought and speech on the one hand, and deed on the other, is resolved, or at least allowed to take its natural course. In truth, however, the very opposite is the case: these letters spell "Korach," the very essence of conflict and disharmony. For each of these letters is a distortion of the hei - a corruption of the manner in which the Creator desires that we perceive and deal with His creation.
The first distorted perception is that of the ultra-realist. This is a person who not only recognizes the gap between thought and action, but also accepts it. To this person, the world is a kuf - a world whose left flank is not only disconnected from its other two lines but also drops below the area delineated by them.
In a world described by the letter kuf, a different set of standards governs the world of action than those which govern the realms of thought and speech. "Certainly, I have my ideals," argues this approach to life. "I have my inner truth; I know what's right and what's wrong. This is the world I inhabit in my thoughts; these are the ideals I discuss with and advocate to others; these are the truths which I teach my children. But I'm not so naive as to believe that these truths can be applied, without compromise and equivocation, to the world of action. What is right as an abstract or verbalized ideal simply won't work in the reality of a material and materialistic world. Can I negotiate a business deal with the same integrity I demand from myself when I address G-d in my prayers? Should I assess my physical needs and wants by the same criteria I apply to my spiritual aspirations? These are two different domains, and an unbridgeable gap separates the two. I would never compromise my convictions, but the way we think and speak about our world will always be of a higher standard than the way we act in it."
Two Idealists
At the other extreme from the ultra-realist is the ultra-idealist. This is a person who, if he cannot deal with the actual world as an unbroken continuum of his thoughts and words, prefers not to deal with it at all. Why sully our lives by venturing into an arena which, if it does not corrupt us outright will, at the very least, coarsen our higher sensitivities?
The ultra-idealist's response to the gap between the hei's left leg and its other two lines is to jettison that leg entirely: to shun the world of action and devote all his energies and resources to the worlds of thoughts and words which comprise the higher two strata of creation. The reality he inhabits is in the form of a reish - a two-dimensional world of theory and polemic, devoid of all regard for the state of the physical universe.[8]
The third corruption of the hei is the chet, which represents a more subtle, but no less destructive, form of idealism. Rather than disavowing the left leg of the hei, it disavows the gap, claiming that no true separation exists between the various realms of G-d's creation. The material, says this world-view, is no less sacred than the spiritual; actions are no less pure than words; both "legs" are equally connected with the "upper line" and can equally bring down its ideals into their respective realities.[9]
The problem with this vision of reality is that, lacking a proper awareness of the true state of the world of action, one is far too easily satisfied. While the reish thinks that thoughts and words can take the place of actions, the chet deludes himself that his thoughts and words are actions, or that a few vague, symbolic deeds suffice to transform the world into a harmonious actualization of its highest potentials.
Tension
True harmony in life can be achieved only in recognizing, confronting and grappling with the intrinsic dissonance between thought and action. If we succumb to the gap, we end up with a kuf - a physical world that has slipped below the line[10] and gone awry from the principles upon which it is founded. If we escape the gap by renouncing all the lies beyond it, we end up with a reish - a world lacking its most "real" and important dimension.[11] If we ignore or make light of the gap, we end up with a chet - a fool's paradise in which nothing has been changed and nothing has been achieved save in one's own imagination. Because they fail to deal with the world as it has been forged by its Creator, each of the three "Korach" approaches ultimately break down into chaos and conflict.
On the other hand, the hei perspective on life is the formula for true and enduring harmony. The hei approach defines the world of action as disconnected from the worlds of thought and speech but nevertheless confined to the boundaries delineated by them. In other words, the gap between the ideal and the real exists, but this does not mean that we cannot profoundly transform the physical world with our actions and bring it "in line" with the ideals which we contemplate and propagate.
The gap is a source of dissonance and tension, but this is a constructive tension which drives the aspirations, challenges and achievements of life. For it is our knowledge of our imperfections which fuels our striving to improve ourselves and our world. It is our sensitivity to the distance between what we are and what we ought to be which makes us aware and productive partners in the divine endeavor of Creation.
Based on the Rebbe's talks on Shabbat Korach 5724 (1964), 5727 (1967) and 5748 (1988)[12]
[1] Talmud, Sanhedrin 110a.
[2] Talmud, Yoma 83b; thus the naming of a child by its parents constitutes a "minor prophecy," for at that moment they are granted a vision of their child's soul and inner character (Shaar HaGilgulim, hakdamah 23).
[3] As related in the first chapter of Genesis, the world was created through divine speech: "G-d said, 'Let there be light!' and there was light"; "G-d said, 'Let the earth sprout forth vegetation...' and it was so"; and so on.
[4] See Tanya, part II, ch. 1; Igrot Kodesh, vol. I, pp 288-290 and sources cited there.
[5] Genesis 2:3.
[6] Talmud, Menachot 49b.
[7] The bottom, open side of the hei represents the vacuum of evil, the "sin which lurks at the opening" (Genesis 4:7). Thus, the world of Moshiach, when G-d will "annihilate death forever" and "banish the spirit of impurity from the world" is represented by the letter "final mem," whose form is that of a closed square (as alluded to in the verse, "For the increase of the realm and for peace without end" (Isaiah 9:6), in which the letter mem uncharacteristically appears in its closed form the middle of a word). In this future world of divine perfection, the gap between spirit and matter will be closed and the negative "fourth side" will be transformed into a positive force
[8] This was the error of the spies sent by Moses to scout the Holy Land, who refused to leave their spiritual life in the desert for a material existence of life on the land (see Holy Land WIR vol X #39).
[9] This perspective is reflected in Korach's contest of the kehunah (priesthood-i.e., the ideas that the spiritual is loftier than the material) and his argument that "The entire congregation is holy, for G-d is in their midst; why do you [i.e., Moses and Aaron, the spiritual leaders of Israel] raise yourselves above the congregation of G-d?" (Numbers 16:3; see our essays "Divisiveness, Division and Distinction," in Beyond the Letter of the Law (VHH 1995), pp. 286-295, and "High and Low," The Inside Story (VHH 1997), pp. 230-241).
[10] I.e., into the realm of evil-see note 8 above.
[11] "This is what man is all about, this is the purpose of his creation and of the creation of all worlds, supernal and ephemeral-to make for G-d a dwelling in the lowly realms (i.e., the world of physical action)"- Tanya, ch. 33.
[12] Likkutei Sichot, vol. VIII, pp. 102-113; Sefer HaSichot 5748, vol. II, pp. 502-503.
By Simon Jacobson
The Talmud relates that the great sage Rabbi Meir would deduce a person's nature from his name;[2] the same applies, say the Kabbalists, to every creature, object and phenomenon. For the letters of the alef-bet are the building blocks of creation,[3] meaning that the letters that make up a thing's name in the Holy Tongue define the "shape" and character of its soul - of the divine life - force which grants it existence and vitality.[4]
The same is true of the name "Korach." The three Hebrew letters that spell this word delineate the contours of conflicy - the various ways in which the harmony of G-d's creation might be distorted and corrupted.
The Shape of Reality
If the soul of each individual creation is encoded in the letters which comprise its name, the inner form of the created reality as a whole is that of the letter hei. Our sages deduce this from the verse, "These are the chronicles of the heavens and the earth when they were created"[5] - the Hebrew word behibaraam, "when they were created," can also be read as be-hei beraam, "with a hei, He created them," to imply that "G-d created the world with the letter hei.''[6]
The Hebrew letter hei is comprised of three lines: an upper, horizontal line which forms the "roof" of the letter; and two vertical lines, one to the right and the other to the left, which form its walls or "legs." The right leg is connected to the right end of the "roof" and extends downward to the bottom of the written line. The left leg extends along the left side of the hei, but is not connected to the roof, leaving a small gap between the upper and left lines.
The letter Hei
The three lines of the hei represent three dimensions or realms of our reality: thought, speech and action. The upper line represents the world of thought; the right leg, the world of speech; and the left leg, the world of action.
We all nurture in our minds a vision of an ideal world - a world as defined by our purest instincts and our knowledge of the potential for goodness and perfection invested in it by its Creator. This is the "thought" dimension of reality, represented by the hei's upper line. "Speech," the endeavor to articulate this vision to ourselves and to our fellow human beings, is the right "leg" of the hei. By studying, teaching and communicating the ideals contained in the world of "thought," we create a world of words which draws the lofty but abstract upper line of the hei downward into the more tactual dimension of "speech."
The left leg of the hei is the world of "action." This is the realm of our interaction with the physical world to mold it and transform it in accordance with the vision we hold in our minds. Like "speech," action is a downward extension from the realm of thought, a drawing down of its ideals into a more concrete reality. There is, however, a significant difference between speech and action, illustrated by the difference between the hei's right and left legs.
In the realm of speech, we can forge a reality that is a direct extension of the reality we inhabit in the realm of thought. We can express an idea as we understand it; we can communicate a vision as we see it and convey a belief as we believe it. But when we seek to apply our ideals to the world of action, we encounter a "gap" - an inherent inconsistency between the ideal and the real. We act upon the physical world, we change it and transform it, but sooner or later we encounter resistance: an insurmountable barrier, an irresolvable conflict, an unbridgeable breech between our inner truth and an obstinate external reality.
The gap between thought and action is an intrinsic part of the created reality. This is what our sages are telling us when they say that G-d created the word in the form of a hei: that this gap is real. It is not an illusion; it is not a subjective projection of one's personal deficiencies or lack of determination; rather, it was put in place by the Creator of the world, who desired that the breach between thought and action should be a real and inescapable feature of our existence. For it is this dichotomy, this tension between the ideal and the real, which lends challenge, significance and fulfillment - and ultimately, true harmony - to our lives.[7]
The Realist
The three letters that comprise the name "Korach" - kuf, reish, chet - are similar in form to the letter hei. The kuf is a hei whose left leg extends below the written line; the reish is a hei that lacks a left leg altogether; and the chet is a hei without the "gap" - a hei whose left leg is joined to its roof.
Korach (from right to left): kuf, reish, chet
On the face of it, these are more "harmonious" letters: the dissonance between thought and speech on the one hand, and deed on the other, is resolved, or at least allowed to take its natural course. In truth, however, the very opposite is the case: these letters spell "Korach," the very essence of conflict and disharmony. For each of these letters is a distortion of the hei - a corruption of the manner in which the Creator desires that we perceive and deal with His creation.
The first distorted perception is that of the ultra-realist. This is a person who not only recognizes the gap between thought and action, but also accepts it. To this person, the world is a kuf - a world whose left flank is not only disconnected from its other two lines but also drops below the area delineated by them.
In a world described by the letter kuf, a different set of standards governs the world of action than those which govern the realms of thought and speech. "Certainly, I have my ideals," argues this approach to life. "I have my inner truth; I know what's right and what's wrong. This is the world I inhabit in my thoughts; these are the ideals I discuss with and advocate to others; these are the truths which I teach my children. But I'm not so naive as to believe that these truths can be applied, without compromise and equivocation, to the world of action. What is right as an abstract or verbalized ideal simply won't work in the reality of a material and materialistic world. Can I negotiate a business deal with the same integrity I demand from myself when I address G-d in my prayers? Should I assess my physical needs and wants by the same criteria I apply to my spiritual aspirations? These are two different domains, and an unbridgeable gap separates the two. I would never compromise my convictions, but the way we think and speak about our world will always be of a higher standard than the way we act in it."
Two Idealists
At the other extreme from the ultra-realist is the ultra-idealist. This is a person who, if he cannot deal with the actual world as an unbroken continuum of his thoughts and words, prefers not to deal with it at all. Why sully our lives by venturing into an arena which, if it does not corrupt us outright will, at the very least, coarsen our higher sensitivities?
The ultra-idealist's response to the gap between the hei's left leg and its other two lines is to jettison that leg entirely: to shun the world of action and devote all his energies and resources to the worlds of thoughts and words which comprise the higher two strata of creation. The reality he inhabits is in the form of a reish - a two-dimensional world of theory and polemic, devoid of all regard for the state of the physical universe.[8]
The third corruption of the hei is the chet, which represents a more subtle, but no less destructive, form of idealism. Rather than disavowing the left leg of the hei, it disavows the gap, claiming that no true separation exists between the various realms of G-d's creation. The material, says this world-view, is no less sacred than the spiritual; actions are no less pure than words; both "legs" are equally connected with the "upper line" and can equally bring down its ideals into their respective realities.[9]
The problem with this vision of reality is that, lacking a proper awareness of the true state of the world of action, one is far too easily satisfied. While the reish thinks that thoughts and words can take the place of actions, the chet deludes himself that his thoughts and words are actions, or that a few vague, symbolic deeds suffice to transform the world into a harmonious actualization of its highest potentials.
Tension
True harmony in life can be achieved only in recognizing, confronting and grappling with the intrinsic dissonance between thought and action. If we succumb to the gap, we end up with a kuf - a physical world that has slipped below the line[10] and gone awry from the principles upon which it is founded. If we escape the gap by renouncing all the lies beyond it, we end up with a reish - a world lacking its most "real" and important dimension.[11] If we ignore or make light of the gap, we end up with a chet - a fool's paradise in which nothing has been changed and nothing has been achieved save in one's own imagination. Because they fail to deal with the world as it has been forged by its Creator, each of the three "Korach" approaches ultimately break down into chaos and conflict.
On the other hand, the hei perspective on life is the formula for true and enduring harmony. The hei approach defines the world of action as disconnected from the worlds of thought and speech but nevertheless confined to the boundaries delineated by them. In other words, the gap between the ideal and the real exists, but this does not mean that we cannot profoundly transform the physical world with our actions and bring it "in line" with the ideals which we contemplate and propagate.
The gap is a source of dissonance and tension, but this is a constructive tension which drives the aspirations, challenges and achievements of life. For it is our knowledge of our imperfections which fuels our striving to improve ourselves and our world. It is our sensitivity to the distance between what we are and what we ought to be which makes us aware and productive partners in the divine endeavor of Creation.
Based on the Rebbe's talks on Shabbat Korach 5724 (1964), 5727 (1967) and 5748 (1988)[12]
[1] Talmud, Sanhedrin 110a.
[2] Talmud, Yoma 83b; thus the naming of a child by its parents constitutes a "minor prophecy," for at that moment they are granted a vision of their child's soul and inner character (Shaar HaGilgulim, hakdamah 23).
[3] As related in the first chapter of Genesis, the world was created through divine speech: "G-d said, 'Let there be light!' and there was light"; "G-d said, 'Let the earth sprout forth vegetation...' and it was so"; and so on.
[4] See Tanya, part II, ch. 1; Igrot Kodesh, vol. I, pp 288-290 and sources cited there.
[5] Genesis 2:3.
[6] Talmud, Menachot 49b.
[7] The bottom, open side of the hei represents the vacuum of evil, the "sin which lurks at the opening" (Genesis 4:7). Thus, the world of Moshiach, when G-d will "annihilate death forever" and "banish the spirit of impurity from the world" is represented by the letter "final mem," whose form is that of a closed square (as alluded to in the verse, "For the increase of the realm and for peace without end" (Isaiah 9:6), in which the letter mem uncharacteristically appears in its closed form the middle of a word). In this future world of divine perfection, the gap between spirit and matter will be closed and the negative "fourth side" will be transformed into a positive force
[8] This was the error of the spies sent by Moses to scout the Holy Land, who refused to leave their spiritual life in the desert for a material existence of life on the land (see Holy Land WIR vol X #39).
[9] This perspective is reflected in Korach's contest of the kehunah (priesthood-i.e., the ideas that the spiritual is loftier than the material) and his argument that "The entire congregation is holy, for G-d is in their midst; why do you [i.e., Moses and Aaron, the spiritual leaders of Israel] raise yourselves above the congregation of G-d?" (Numbers 16:3; see our essays "Divisiveness, Division and Distinction," in Beyond the Letter of the Law (VHH 1995), pp. 286-295, and "High and Low," The Inside Story (VHH 1997), pp. 230-241).
[10] I.e., into the realm of evil-see note 8 above.
[11] "This is what man is all about, this is the purpose of his creation and of the creation of all worlds, supernal and ephemeral-to make for G-d a dwelling in the lowly realms (i.e., the world of physical action)"- Tanya, ch. 33.
[12] Likkutei Sichot, vol. VIII, pp. 102-113; Sefer HaSichot 5748, vol. II, pp. 502-503.
By Simon Jacobson
Spiritual Gems from the parsha
Will you assume to make yourself also ruler over us (Num. 16:13)
Because Moses was in the position of Nasi, leader of the entire Jewish people, he had to comport himself in a certain manner so that his words would be accepted. And yet, as the Torah testifies, his innermost nature was extremely humble. This is in contrast to a person who outwardly bows and scrapes the dust to prove his humility, yet inwardly feels arrogant and superior.
(Rabbi Moshe of Kovrin)
The censers of these sinners against their own lives (Num. 16:38)
Even worse than those who encourage conflict are people who drag matters of the spirit into controversy. They falsely clothe their arguments in spiritual terms while claiming to be on the side of holiness and sanctity.
(Ayala Shlucha)
That he fare not as Korach and his company (Num. 17:5)
The Torah mentions not only Korach as an individual but everyone who took part in the rebellion with him. From this we learn that not only those who engage in controversy for personal reasons will eventually be punished but all who foment disagreement, even if there is no personal benefit involved.
(Meishiv Davar)
And you shall give there of the heave-offering of the L-rd to Aaron the Priest (Num. 18:28)
If, as we read in the Torah, Aaron the Priest passed away in the desert before entering the Land of Israel, how would the Jews be able to fulfill this commandment? Rather, this is an allusion to a time after the Resurrection of the Dead, when Aaron will again be alive and able to receive his due.
Because Moses was in the position of Nasi, leader of the entire Jewish people, he had to comport himself in a certain manner so that his words would be accepted. And yet, as the Torah testifies, his innermost nature was extremely humble. This is in contrast to a person who outwardly bows and scrapes the dust to prove his humility, yet inwardly feels arrogant and superior.
(Rabbi Moshe of Kovrin)
The censers of these sinners against their own lives (Num. 16:38)
Even worse than those who encourage conflict are people who drag matters of the spirit into controversy. They falsely clothe their arguments in spiritual terms while claiming to be on the side of holiness and sanctity.
(Ayala Shlucha)
That he fare not as Korach and his company (Num. 17:5)
The Torah mentions not only Korach as an individual but everyone who took part in the rebellion with him. From this we learn that not only those who engage in controversy for personal reasons will eventually be punished but all who foment disagreement, even if there is no personal benefit involved.
(Meishiv Davar)
And you shall give there of the heave-offering of the L-rd to Aaron the Priest (Num. 18:28)
If, as we read in the Torah, Aaron the Priest passed away in the desert before entering the Land of Israel, how would the Jews be able to fulfill this commandment? Rather, this is an allusion to a time after the Resurrection of the Dead, when Aaron will again be alive and able to receive his due.
Increase Torah Study and Charity
Increase Torah Study and Charity"We find that the Jews are frequently conceived of in two groups: students of Torah and businessmen who are involved in the performance of good deeds. The divisions between these categories must be nullified. The businessmen must take time from their work to study Torah, and the students of Torah must increase their charitable gifts, giving freely and generously. By breaking down the barriers that divide us, we can foster unity among the Jewish people." (The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
In memory of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and the other kedoshim of Mumbai
In memory of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and the other kedoshim of Mumbai
Mental problems
Freely translated and adapted
25 Sivan, 5717 (1957)
In reply to your letter with the attached pidyon nefesh (entreaty)- which will be read at a propitious time at the holy resting place of my father-in-law, the Rebbe, of blessed memory - in which you write that you are at a total loss as to how you should act with regard to your child:
There is the known, astute advice of our Sages, of blessed memory, that there are three with whom one should conduct himself with a "right hand that draws close - a child ...."
In your current situation, you should seek the advice of a mental health doctor, since oftentimes - and possibly most times - the conduct that you describe in your letter is a result of mental strain and the like. Quite often a doctor can be quite successful in alleviating the matter.
In any event, in light of what you described to me, [it seems that] banishing your son from the house can lead to an even further deterioration of the situation and not be beneficial at all, as can readily be understood.
May G-d will it that you soon be able to convey glad tidings to me with regard to the above.
It is self-evident and patently obvious that the more you and your family increase your observance of Torah and mitzvos (commandments), the more this will increase G-d's blessings in general and the fulfillment of your specific requests in particular.
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21 Shevat, 5714 (1954)
You write about the young man [and his mental problems]:
You should seek the advice of medical specialists who focus on this area, for to our great misfortune the events that transpired with this young man have become all too common during the past few years.
Consequently, the doctors in this field already know how to deal with it, what medications to give, and also how one should conduct him or herself with such individuals after they return home.
One of the most important things is that he should not have spare time [with nothing to do], but should be occupied with matters that do not require intense concentration. It would also be beneficial for him to do some physical labor, at least part time.
This individual should also have his bitachon [faith] in G-d strengthened and should endeavor as much as possible to completely cease thinking about his past. ...
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12 Adar, 5718 [1958]
I received your letter in which you write about the [mental] problem of your daughter, Rivkah.
Judging by your description of her condition, it is somewhat surprising to me that she sees the doctor only once a month. However, I assume that you are in closer contact with him.
As for the question of making the trip to New York with your daughter to see me, I do not think it is advisable at this time, for it is impossible to foresee what effect this round trip might have on your daughter.
However, what I do consider advisable - and it is possible to arrange this without too much difficulty - is that your daughter have a change of environment for a couple of weeks. This would have a beneficial effect on her, inasmuch as she would not be in contact with the people in whose presence she feels so sensitive, etc.
Needless to say, every additional effort on the part of all the members of the family in matters of Torah and mitzvos would bring additional blessings to the whole family and particularly to your daughter, who is most in need of them.
From Healthy in Body, Mind and Spirit, Vol III, compiled by Rabbi Sholom B. Wineberg, published by Sichos in English
25 Sivan, 5717 (1957)
In reply to your letter with the attached pidyon nefesh (entreaty)- which will be read at a propitious time at the holy resting place of my father-in-law, the Rebbe, of blessed memory - in which you write that you are at a total loss as to how you should act with regard to your child:
There is the known, astute advice of our Sages, of blessed memory, that there are three with whom one should conduct himself with a "right hand that draws close - a child ...."
In your current situation, you should seek the advice of a mental health doctor, since oftentimes - and possibly most times - the conduct that you describe in your letter is a result of mental strain and the like. Quite often a doctor can be quite successful in alleviating the matter.
In any event, in light of what you described to me, [it seems that] banishing your son from the house can lead to an even further deterioration of the situation and not be beneficial at all, as can readily be understood.
May G-d will it that you soon be able to convey glad tidings to me with regard to the above.
It is self-evident and patently obvious that the more you and your family increase your observance of Torah and mitzvos (commandments), the more this will increase G-d's blessings in general and the fulfillment of your specific requests in particular.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
21 Shevat, 5714 (1954)
You write about the young man [and his mental problems]:
You should seek the advice of medical specialists who focus on this area, for to our great misfortune the events that transpired with this young man have become all too common during the past few years.
Consequently, the doctors in this field already know how to deal with it, what medications to give, and also how one should conduct him or herself with such individuals after they return home.
One of the most important things is that he should not have spare time [with nothing to do], but should be occupied with matters that do not require intense concentration. It would also be beneficial for him to do some physical labor, at least part time.
This individual should also have his bitachon [faith] in G-d strengthened and should endeavor as much as possible to completely cease thinking about his past. ...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
12 Adar, 5718 [1958]
I received your letter in which you write about the [mental] problem of your daughter, Rivkah.
Judging by your description of her condition, it is somewhat surprising to me that she sees the doctor only once a month. However, I assume that you are in closer contact with him.
As for the question of making the trip to New York with your daughter to see me, I do not think it is advisable at this time, for it is impossible to foresee what effect this round trip might have on your daughter.
However, what I do consider advisable - and it is possible to arrange this without too much difficulty - is that your daughter have a change of environment for a couple of weeks. This would have a beneficial effect on her, inasmuch as she would not be in contact with the people in whose presence she feels so sensitive, etc.
Needless to say, every additional effort on the part of all the members of the family in matters of Torah and mitzvos would bring additional blessings to the whole family and particularly to your daughter, who is most in need of them.
From Healthy in Body, Mind and Spirit, Vol III, compiled by Rabbi Sholom B. Wineberg, published by Sichos in English
Question of the Week:
I recently attended a Chassidic wedding. It was a very different experience. One thing I had never seen before is that the bride wears a veil at the Chuppah that is so thick she can't see anything at all, and no one can see any of her face. What is the reason behind this?
Answer:
There's an old stereotype when it comes to marriage. Men marry women for their looks. Women marry men for their money. There are of course many exceptions to this rule. But there is some truth to it too. Men fall for beauty. The fact that there are plenty of pretty girls with rotten character does nothing to stop the male quest for a beauty queen. And so, many wonderful girls are overlooked simply because they do not fit into today's narrow and superficial definition of beauty. Meanwhile, women say they want a man who is financially stable, which is often just a euphemism for a rich guy. Somehow she thinks that if he has a seven digit bank balance he will know how to look after her. As if buying expensive jewellery and luxurious holidays is the only way to show her he really cares. And the really nice guys who are not such high flyers are often left behind. Of course we need to be attracted to our spouse. And of course we all need money to survive. But these are not the most essential ingredients for a happy marriage. Too often people fall for the outer version of what they truly seek. Rather than physical beauty, what we are really looking for is inner beauty and a sweet heart. It is not wealth we seek, what we really want is a steadfast and dependable source of support. It is only when we see beyond the superficial and meet a real person that we have a chance of finding and keeping our soulmate.
This is the message behind the thick veil. When the groom veils his bride, he is telling her, "I am not marrying you for your pretty face. I am marring you for the beautiful person you are. So I can marry you with your face covered. Your beauty shines from within." And the bride being veiled is telling him, "This veil will prevent me from seeing what type of wedding ring you place on my finger. I don't care. I will accept whatever ring you give, because along with it I get you. It is you I want to marry, not your money or the jewellery you buy me." A rich guy can lose his money, a pretty girl her looks. But inner beauty and spiritual wealth are ours forever. A marriage based on such eternal values will conquer just about anything.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss
Answer:
There's an old stereotype when it comes to marriage. Men marry women for their looks. Women marry men for their money. There are of course many exceptions to this rule. But there is some truth to it too. Men fall for beauty. The fact that there are plenty of pretty girls with rotten character does nothing to stop the male quest for a beauty queen. And so, many wonderful girls are overlooked simply because they do not fit into today's narrow and superficial definition of beauty. Meanwhile, women say they want a man who is financially stable, which is often just a euphemism for a rich guy. Somehow she thinks that if he has a seven digit bank balance he will know how to look after her. As if buying expensive jewellery and luxurious holidays is the only way to show her he really cares. And the really nice guys who are not such high flyers are often left behind. Of course we need to be attracted to our spouse. And of course we all need money to survive. But these are not the most essential ingredients for a happy marriage. Too often people fall for the outer version of what they truly seek. Rather than physical beauty, what we are really looking for is inner beauty and a sweet heart. It is not wealth we seek, what we really want is a steadfast and dependable source of support. It is only when we see beyond the superficial and meet a real person that we have a chance of finding and keeping our soulmate.
This is the message behind the thick veil. When the groom veils his bride, he is telling her, "I am not marrying you for your pretty face. I am marring you for the beautiful person you are. So I can marry you with your face covered. Your beauty shines from within." And the bride being veiled is telling him, "This veil will prevent me from seeing what type of wedding ring you place on my finger. I don't care. I will accept whatever ring you give, because along with it I get you. It is you I want to marry, not your money or the jewellery you buy me." A rich guy can lose his money, a pretty girl her looks. But inner beauty and spiritual wealth are ours forever. A marriage based on such eternal values will conquer just about anything.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss
The story related in this week's Torah portion, Korach,
The story related in this week's Torah portion, Korach, contains a lesson for each and every Jew."And it came to pass, that on the next day Moses came...and behold, the staff of Aaron...had budded...and bloomed blossoms...and yielded almonds." This was one of the signs by which G-d demonstrated that He had chosen Aaron for the priesthood (from whom all priests [kohanim] are descended). But what is the special significance of almonds vis-à-vis the priesthood?
Of all the fruits that exist in the world, almonds are the earliest to mature. The interval between the appearance of blossoms on the tree and the time when the nuts have ripened and are ready to eat is the shortest of any variety of fruit.
The Alter Rebbe (Rabbi Shneur Zalman, founder of Chabad Chasidism) explained that almonds are symbolic of the kohanim, who bless the Jewish people with the Priestly Blessing. In the same way that the almond is quick in maturing, so too is the blessing of the kohanim fulfilled in a swift manner, and without delay.
It states in the Talmud: "Kohanim are speedy and diligent." Kohanim are likened to almonds, for not only do they fulfill their priestly duties but they do so with speed and alacrity.
When G-d revealed His holy Torah, He told each and every Jewish man and woman: "And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests." Every Jew is likened to a kohen, and must therefore derive a lesson from the priestly service:
The Holy One, Blessed Be He, entrusts each and every Jew with a Divine mission in life: to observe Torah and mitzvot in the physical world, and to pass this knowledge on to the next generation, by providing his children with a Torah-true education. How are we to fulfill this assignment? In the same manner as "almonds," i.e., with diligence and alacrity, never missing an opportunity to do an additional mitzva (commandment). A Jew should never put off till later a mitzva he can do right now. Rather, he should run to fulfill his mission in carrying out the Divine will.
Furthermore, when we act with alacrity, G-d promises that the fruits our good deeds produce will be swift in coming. Just like the almond, we will not have to wait a long time to see their results.
Adapted from Volume 4 of Likutei Sichot
Of all the fruits that exist in the world, almonds are the earliest to mature. The interval between the appearance of blossoms on the tree and the time when the nuts have ripened and are ready to eat is the shortest of any variety of fruit.
The Alter Rebbe (Rabbi Shneur Zalman, founder of Chabad Chasidism) explained that almonds are symbolic of the kohanim, who bless the Jewish people with the Priestly Blessing. In the same way that the almond is quick in maturing, so too is the blessing of the kohanim fulfilled in a swift manner, and without delay.
It states in the Talmud: "Kohanim are speedy and diligent." Kohanim are likened to almonds, for not only do they fulfill their priestly duties but they do so with speed and alacrity.
When G-d revealed His holy Torah, He told each and every Jewish man and woman: "And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests." Every Jew is likened to a kohen, and must therefore derive a lesson from the priestly service:
The Holy One, Blessed Be He, entrusts each and every Jew with a Divine mission in life: to observe Torah and mitzvot in the physical world, and to pass this knowledge on to the next generation, by providing his children with a Torah-true education. How are we to fulfill this assignment? In the same manner as "almonds," i.e., with diligence and alacrity, never missing an opportunity to do an additional mitzva (commandment). A Jew should never put off till later a mitzva he can do right now. Rather, he should run to fulfill his mission in carrying out the Divine will.
Furthermore, when we act with alacrity, G-d promises that the fruits our good deeds produce will be swift in coming. Just like the almond, we will not have to wait a long time to see their results.
Adapted from Volume 4 of Likutei Sichot
99 Is Not 100
We all notice how stores price a lot of items just below a dollar. A bag of chips is ninety-nine cents. A jar of mayonnaise is $2.99. The head of lettuce? 79¢, not an even 80¢. You even see it on large ticket items, like cars - $19,999 - not $20,000. That extra penny or dollar sure makes a difference!There's a name for this practice. It's called "just under pricing." It's a psychological tactic, or a marketing trick, to make something seem cheaper than it actually is. Gas stations even price gas at a tenth of a cent - $2.199 - as opposed to simply $2.19 or just $2.20 and be done with it.
As silly as the practice seems, it works. Many people believe that the "penny saved" is more than a "penny earned" and they're getting a great deal.
"Just under pricing" might work as a marketing ploy or sales tactic, and we might feel smug about "rounding up," but in some things we need to be very precise, to know the difference between 99 and 100. After all, have you ever heard of an athlete giving a 99% effort?
When it comes to medication, for instance, or the prescription for our glasses - we want the measurement to be exact. 1% may mean our eyes are out of focus, or the dosage is not quite effective.
When it comes to other matters we want "just weights and measures," as well.
And the Torah recognizes the need for precision. Rabbi Gamliel, in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), expresses it most succinctly: "Do not tithe by guesswork." When it comes to giving tzedaka (charity), don't rely on "just under pricing" and round up. This insight may be even more important now, in these hard economic times, when "just under pricing" and "rounding up" may seem so tempting.
In other things, too, we should avoid the "just under pricing" approach. The start or end of Shabbat - a little "just under pricing" could lead to lighting candles after sunset, thus desecrating the very Sabbath that the candles come to honor. A "just under pricing" on a fast-day, like Yom Kippur or Tisha B'Av, could lead to eating before one is permitted to break the fast. Similarly, this approach could allow one to think that it's permissible to buy a food product if the ingredients seem to check out 100% and "just" the kosher symbol is missing.
Even in Torah study, we have to be careful not to "round up," to shorten our study sessions or think that 99 is a 100. Interestingly, the rabbis stated that a donkey (taxi) driver who charges $1 for 10 miles can charge $2 for 11 miles, because it's beyond the usual. So, too, learning something 101 times - once more than the norm - is categorically different than learning it 100.
The same is true a step down. Learning something 99 times (metaphorically speaking) is not "just under" learning it 100; it's a difference in kind, not degree. We can't "round up" our learning.
So let's leave the "just under pricing" to the ads and marketeers. For us, when it comes to Jewish observance and learning, let's be "precise about the price" - knowing 99 is not 100.
As silly as the practice seems, it works. Many people believe that the "penny saved" is more than a "penny earned" and they're getting a great deal.
"Just under pricing" might work as a marketing ploy or sales tactic, and we might feel smug about "rounding up," but in some things we need to be very precise, to know the difference between 99 and 100. After all, have you ever heard of an athlete giving a 99% effort?
When it comes to medication, for instance, or the prescription for our glasses - we want the measurement to be exact. 1% may mean our eyes are out of focus, or the dosage is not quite effective.
When it comes to other matters we want "just weights and measures," as well.
And the Torah recognizes the need for precision. Rabbi Gamliel, in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), expresses it most succinctly: "Do not tithe by guesswork." When it comes to giving tzedaka (charity), don't rely on "just under pricing" and round up. This insight may be even more important now, in these hard economic times, when "just under pricing" and "rounding up" may seem so tempting.
In other things, too, we should avoid the "just under pricing" approach. The start or end of Shabbat - a little "just under pricing" could lead to lighting candles after sunset, thus desecrating the very Sabbath that the candles come to honor. A "just under pricing" on a fast-day, like Yom Kippur or Tisha B'Av, could lead to eating before one is permitted to break the fast. Similarly, this approach could allow one to think that it's permissible to buy a food product if the ingredients seem to check out 100% and "just" the kosher symbol is missing.
Even in Torah study, we have to be careful not to "round up," to shorten our study sessions or think that 99 is a 100. Interestingly, the rabbis stated that a donkey (taxi) driver who charges $1 for 10 miles can charge $2 for 11 miles, because it's beyond the usual. So, too, learning something 101 times - once more than the norm - is categorically different than learning it 100.
The same is true a step down. Learning something 99 times (metaphorically speaking) is not "just under" learning it 100; it's a difference in kind, not degree. We can't "round up" our learning.
So let's leave the "just under pricing" to the ads and marketeers. For us, when it comes to Jewish observance and learning, let's be "precise about the price" - knowing 99 is not 100.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The “Impossible” Dream
by Ari Sollish
And Caleb silenced the people toward Moses...
Numbers 13:30
He cried aloud, saying: ‘Is this all tha
t the son of Amram [Moses] has done to us?’ One who heard him speaking in this way was under the impression that he was about to speak disparagingly of Moses. Since they had hard feelings toward Moses because of the words of the spies, they all became silent to hear his criticism. Said [Caleb], ‘Did he not split the sea for us, bring the Manna down for us, and collect the quails for us’...
Rashi on verse
Have you ever dreamed that one day our world could actually become a better place, only to conclude that such hope is merely a utopian fantasy? The concept of “Global Perfection” is seemingly one that is as unrealistic as it is idealistic. Our world is flawed, brimming with evil, pain, and suffering. Man has reached new heights, walked on the moon, and yet at the same time plumbed the depths of inhumanity to an extent that one would not have believed possible. To fathom a perfect world is to imagine a completely different realm of being, one that is not marred with the natural imperfection of physicality but is rather an angelic abode where celestial beings reside in complete harmony. Our world is so steeped in imperfection that the notion that it, our very existence, could reach a state of utter perfection is one that evokes ridicule. And the idea that we, mere human beings of flesh and blood, can be the catalysts for this utopian state is entirely preposterous!
Yet Judaism teaches that this ultimate state of being is not mere fantasy, but a reality that will soon be experienced in the Messianic Era. In the words of Maimonides: “In that time there will be neither famine nor war, neither hatred nor competition, for good will flow freely, and all delights will be as common as the dust.”[1] Furthermore, Torah teaches us that we are the ones who have been entrusted with this mission; it is the cumulative efforts of mankind throughout the ages that will eventually usher in this revolutionary epoch.[2] How are we, rational human beings who recognize the imperfection of the world and of ourselves, to view this seemingly impossible mission?
The Story
The Jewish people encountered a similar dilemma 3311 years ago.
The exodus from Egypt was little more than a year old. In one stroke, we had become a nation. Fifty days later, with the revelation at Mount Sinai, we were entrusted with G-d’s Divine directive—the Torah. All that we lacked was our own land, and as we stood encamped at Kadesh, on the border of the land of Canaan, this too was about to become a reality. Then, tragedy struck. The Jewish people, surrendering their faith in G-d to doubts of their own military prowess, demanded of Moses, “Let us send men before us so that they shall search out the land for us and bring back word as to which road we should take and into which cities we shall come.”[3] After consulting with G-d, Moses agreed to their request, and twelve spies were duly dispatched, one representative from each of the twelve tribes.
Forty days later, on the eighth day of Av, the spies returned from their mission, native produce in hand, and issued their assessment of the land in the following statement:
“We came to the land to which you sent us, and indeed it flows with milk and honey; this is its fruit. However, the people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very great; we also saw giants there. The Amalekites dwell in the Negev; the Hittites, the Jebusites and the Emorites dwell in the hills, and the Canaanites dwell at the sea and on the banks of the Jordan.”[4]
It was at this point that Caleb (the representative of the tribe of Judah), sensing the impending disaster, passionately proclaimed, “Let us go up and occupy the land, for we are able!” Tragically, his pleas fell on deaf ears, and the people, swayed by the negative rhetoric they had already heard, grew despondent and doubted their ability to enter the new land. “All night the nation wept and bemoaned their fate, crying to Moses and Aaron… ‘Why is G-d bringing us to this land to fall by the sword, and for our wives and children to fall into captivity? It would be best to return to Egypt!’”[5]
Because of their lack of faith and unwillingness to enter the land, the entire generation (with the exception of Caleb and Joshua[6]) was deemed unworthy, destined to fulfill their lives wandering in the desert until, some thirty-eight years later, a new generation was prepared to carry the torch.
The Jewish people, forgetting the miracles and wonders they had so recently experienced at the hand of G-d, had succumbed to their fear of the unknown, melting under the pressure of the challenge they faced in conquering an unknown land.
What was the message that Caleb was conveying, and what relevance does it hold for us in overcoming the challenges that we face today?
The Claim
The human mind is quite remarkable, enabling the stubborn man to rationalize his whims with “logical” explanations. Being shown the fallacy of his argument serves not as a refutation, but provides another opportunity to express creativity and ingenuity. This self-righteous curse can afflict us all, dragging us down by essentially blocking out all objectivity. Nowhere was this destructive cycle more apparent than in the story of this week’s parsha.
Clearly, the spies (apart from Caleb and Joshua) did not wish to enter the Land of Canaan,[7] and so produced three seemingly sound arguments to support their stance:
“The people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very great” The first and most logical accusation was that the mission of conquering the nations of the land was simply too difficult, in a word, unrealistic. Thus, they began their propaganda with scare-tactics—insinuating that the strength of the land and its inhabitants was too awesome to overcome.
“The Amalekites dwell in the Negev” That initial argument, though compelling, was nonetheless not entirely effective for a people whose belief in G-d’s promises is innate,[8] and who, having G-d’s assurance, would have no doubt in their ability to overcome the indigenous population. It was therefore necessary to imply a more dangerous assertion, one that hit closer to home: that we are simply not worthy enough to merit G-d’s miraculous aid in conquering the land.[9] The very fact that the people demanded spies in the first place is proof enough that they lacked complete faith in G-d and their worthiness of His continued miracles. There was even a historical precedent for this: their fierce battle with Amalek was a result of their doubting G-d.[10]
“The Hittites, the Jebusites and the Emorites in the hills, and the Canaanites at the sea and on the banks of the Jordan”
The necessity of this argument stemmed from the weakness of their previous claim, for G-d eventually acquiesced to the peoples’ request,[11] proving that sending spies was not contrary to the Divine Will. The spies therefore countered with their final argument: although we have been promised success in conquering the land, who says that G-d will help us against the nations that we will encounter on our journey prior to reaching the land?[12]
The Rebuttal
As Rashi explains, Caleb responded to the other spies by first citing three miracles that Moses elicited for the Jewish people. By doing so, he intended not merely to demonstrate the possibility of a miracle, but rather to answer their specific challenges point by point:
“You assert that the task of conquering the land is too difficult,” began Caleb. “Do you not remember your fear when you found yourselves trapped between the wide expanse of the sea and the oncoming onslaught of Pharaoh’s army? Have you forgotten the emotion of hopelessness that coursed through your veins at that moment, looking from one adversary to the other, thinking that what had almost become reality was suddenly in jeopardy? And do you remember the feeling of sheer joy at witnessing the salvation that came directly from His all-powerful Hand, as He split the sea for us, allowing our safe passage, while simultaneously drowning our former taskmasters in the water’s murky depths? Do you not remember how quickly that “insurmountable” obstacle vanished?
“You also claim that we are unworthy of G-d’s miracles! How soon you forget your demand for meat, which was miraculously granted with the quails despite the wantonness of your intentions.[13]
“Furthermore,” continued Caleb, “take a look at the Manna that we are given to eat everyday. Although we have not settled in the Holy Land and are merely traversing the desert in preparation of that great step, the Almighty nonetheless showers us with His supernatural blessing! How can you even entertain the idea that G-d would not provide salvation on the road to our future homeland?”[14]
For the first time since their return, the spies, along with the entire nation, remained silent,[15] recognizing the truth in Caleb’s impassioned plea. Tragically, though, the people chose not to repent—for such is the power of stubbornness.
Closer to Home
Now, as then, there is a mission that must be fulfilled, a goal that stands just ahead on the horizon. We, the Jewish people, have been charged to change the world, to perfect it one corner at a time,[16] and this process begins with refining our own character.[17] We can refuse to accept this mission—offering excuses that it is too difficult, that we are too weak, that there are unforeseen challenges that lie in wait along the journey—or we can embrace the challenge, drawing strength from Caleb’s inspiring words which still resonate in our ears, encouraging us to go onward, telling us that success is not just a possibility, but a guaranteed reality. Now, as then, the choice is ultimately ours. However, we have the benefit of hindsight: the ability to draw lessons from our history, making sure we never again repeat the tragic mistakes of the past.
Let us not squander the tremendous opportunity we have been granted. Let us accept the challenge—and triumph.
Based on an address of the Rebbe given Shabbat Parshat Shelach 5726 (1966)[18]
[1] Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings, 12:5.
[2] C.F. Tanya, Likkutei Amarim, beginning of ch. 37.
[3] Deuteronomy 1:22.
[4] Numbers 13:27-29.
[5] Ibid., 14:1-3
[6] Joshua represented the tribe of Ephraim, and was the only spy other than Caleb to maintain faith in their mission. See Ibid. verses 6-9.
[7] For the explanation of their motives according to Chassidic thought, see Holy Land, WIR, vol. X, no. 38.
[8] Talmud, Shabbos 97a; Bamidbar Rabbah 7:5; Midrash Tanchuma, Shemos 23.
[9] This demonstrates how the stubborn mind pulls out all the stops to prove its point, even if it requires putting down the very subject it is trying to defend.
[10] See Exodus 17:7-8: “The people had argued and tested G-d, by asking, ‘is G-d with us or not?’ Amalek came and attacked Israel in Rephidim.” Rashi explains the sequence of verses, that G-d allowed Amalek to attack the Children of Israel precisely because they doubted His presence amongst them.
[11] As G-d tells Moses at the beginning of our parsha, “Send men for yourself to tour the Land of Canaan…”
[12] Although the Jewish People were encamped near the border of Canaan, there were still battles to be fought before they actually entered the land.
[13] See Rashi to Numbers 11:1,4.
[14] The sequence of miracles mentioned here [i.e., first the splitting of the sea, then the miracle of the quails, and finally the giving of the Manna] follows the order necessary to respond to the spies’ arguments. Rashi, however, states the miracles in chronological order, thus the miracle of the Manna precedes the miracle of the quails.
[15] This is in stark contrast with the reaction of the people to Joshua and Caleb’s plea later in the narrative, which not only did not silence them, but also incited them so severely that “the entire nation wished to stone them”—Ibid.14:10.
[16] The concept of refining the material world is analogous to the mission then to transform the “Land of Canaan” into the “Holy Land.”
[17] The Zohar explains that the “seven nations of the land” refer to the seven evil character traits within man that must be sublimated in order for him to reach his true potential.
[18] Likkutei Sichot, vol. VIII, pp. 82-93.
And Caleb silenced the people toward Moses...
Numbers 13:30
He cried aloud, saying: ‘Is this all tha
t the son of Amram [Moses] has done to us?’ One who heard him speaking in this way was under the impression that he was about to speak disparagingly of Moses. Since they had hard feelings toward Moses because of the words of the spies, they all became silent to hear his criticism. Said [Caleb], ‘Did he not split the sea for us, bring the Manna down for us, and collect the quails for us’...
Rashi on verse
Have you ever dreamed that one day our world could actually become a better place, only to conclude that such hope is merely a utopian fantasy? The concept of “Global Perfection” is seemingly one that is as unrealistic as it is idealistic. Our world is flawed, brimming with evil, pain, and suffering. Man has reached new heights, walked on the moon, and yet at the same time plumbed the depths of inhumanity to an extent that one would not have believed possible. To fathom a perfect world is to imagine a completely different realm of being, one that is not marred with the natural imperfection of physicality but is rather an angelic abode where celestial beings reside in complete harmony. Our world is so steeped in imperfection that the notion that it, our very existence, could reach a state of utter perfection is one that evokes ridicule. And the idea that we, mere human beings of flesh and blood, can be the catalysts for this utopian state is entirely preposterous!
Yet Judaism teaches that this ultimate state of being is not mere fantasy, but a reality that will soon be experienced in the Messianic Era. In the words of Maimonides: “In that time there will be neither famine nor war, neither hatred nor competition, for good will flow freely, and all delights will be as common as the dust.”[1] Furthermore, Torah teaches us that we are the ones who have been entrusted with this mission; it is the cumulative efforts of mankind throughout the ages that will eventually usher in this revolutionary epoch.[2] How are we, rational human beings who recognize the imperfection of the world and of ourselves, to view this seemingly impossible mission?
The Story
The Jewish people encountered a similar dilemma 3311 years ago.
The exodus from Egypt was little more than a year old. In one stroke, we had become a nation. Fifty days later, with the revelation at Mount Sinai, we were entrusted with G-d’s Divine directive—the Torah. All that we lacked was our own land, and as we stood encamped at Kadesh, on the border of the land of Canaan, this too was about to become a reality. Then, tragedy struck. The Jewish people, surrendering their faith in G-d to doubts of their own military prowess, demanded of Moses, “Let us send men before us so that they shall search out the land for us and bring back word as to which road we should take and into which cities we shall come.”[3] After consulting with G-d, Moses agreed to their request, and twelve spies were duly dispatched, one representative from each of the twelve tribes.
Forty days later, on the eighth day of Av, the spies returned from their mission, native produce in hand, and issued their assessment of the land in the following statement:
“We came to the land to which you sent us, and indeed it flows with milk and honey; this is its fruit. However, the people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very great; we also saw giants there. The Amalekites dwell in the Negev; the Hittites, the Jebusites and the Emorites dwell in the hills, and the Canaanites dwell at the sea and on the banks of the Jordan.”[4]
It was at this point that Caleb (the representative of the tribe of Judah), sensing the impending disaster, passionately proclaimed, “Let us go up and occupy the land, for we are able!” Tragically, his pleas fell on deaf ears, and the people, swayed by the negative rhetoric they had already heard, grew despondent and doubted their ability to enter the new land. “All night the nation wept and bemoaned their fate, crying to Moses and Aaron… ‘Why is G-d bringing us to this land to fall by the sword, and for our wives and children to fall into captivity? It would be best to return to Egypt!’”[5]
Because of their lack of faith and unwillingness to enter the land, the entire generation (with the exception of Caleb and Joshua[6]) was deemed unworthy, destined to fulfill their lives wandering in the desert until, some thirty-eight years later, a new generation was prepared to carry the torch.
The Jewish people, forgetting the miracles and wonders they had so recently experienced at the hand of G-d, had succumbed to their fear of the unknown, melting under the pressure of the challenge they faced in conquering an unknown land.
What was the message that Caleb was conveying, and what relevance does it hold for us in overcoming the challenges that we face today?
The Claim
The human mind is quite remarkable, enabling the stubborn man to rationalize his whims with “logical” explanations. Being shown the fallacy of his argument serves not as a refutation, but provides another opportunity to express creativity and ingenuity. This self-righteous curse can afflict us all, dragging us down by essentially blocking out all objectivity. Nowhere was this destructive cycle more apparent than in the story of this week’s parsha.
Clearly, the spies (apart from Caleb and Joshua) did not wish to enter the Land of Canaan,[7] and so produced three seemingly sound arguments to support their stance:
“The people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very great” The first and most logical accusation was that the mission of conquering the nations of the land was simply too difficult, in a word, unrealistic. Thus, they began their propaganda with scare-tactics—insinuating that the strength of the land and its inhabitants was too awesome to overcome.
“The Amalekites dwell in the Negev” That initial argument, though compelling, was nonetheless not entirely effective for a people whose belief in G-d’s promises is innate,[8] and who, having G-d’s assurance, would have no doubt in their ability to overcome the indigenous population. It was therefore necessary to imply a more dangerous assertion, one that hit closer to home: that we are simply not worthy enough to merit G-d’s miraculous aid in conquering the land.[9] The very fact that the people demanded spies in the first place is proof enough that they lacked complete faith in G-d and their worthiness of His continued miracles. There was even a historical precedent for this: their fierce battle with Amalek was a result of their doubting G-d.[10]
“The Hittites, the Jebusites and the Emorites in the hills, and the Canaanites at the sea and on the banks of the Jordan”
The necessity of this argument stemmed from the weakness of their previous claim, for G-d eventually acquiesced to the peoples’ request,[11] proving that sending spies was not contrary to the Divine Will. The spies therefore countered with their final argument: although we have been promised success in conquering the land, who says that G-d will help us against the nations that we will encounter on our journey prior to reaching the land?[12]
The Rebuttal
As Rashi explains, Caleb responded to the other spies by first citing three miracles that Moses elicited for the Jewish people. By doing so, he intended not merely to demonstrate the possibility of a miracle, but rather to answer their specific challenges point by point:
“You assert that the task of conquering the land is too difficult,” began Caleb. “Do you not remember your fear when you found yourselves trapped between the wide expanse of the sea and the oncoming onslaught of Pharaoh’s army? Have you forgotten the emotion of hopelessness that coursed through your veins at that moment, looking from one adversary to the other, thinking that what had almost become reality was suddenly in jeopardy? And do you remember the feeling of sheer joy at witnessing the salvation that came directly from His all-powerful Hand, as He split the sea for us, allowing our safe passage, while simultaneously drowning our former taskmasters in the water’s murky depths? Do you not remember how quickly that “insurmountable” obstacle vanished?
“You also claim that we are unworthy of G-d’s miracles! How soon you forget your demand for meat, which was miraculously granted with the quails despite the wantonness of your intentions.[13]
“Furthermore,” continued Caleb, “take a look at the Manna that we are given to eat everyday. Although we have not settled in the Holy Land and are merely traversing the desert in preparation of that great step, the Almighty nonetheless showers us with His supernatural blessing! How can you even entertain the idea that G-d would not provide salvation on the road to our future homeland?”[14]
For the first time since their return, the spies, along with the entire nation, remained silent,[15] recognizing the truth in Caleb’s impassioned plea. Tragically, though, the people chose not to repent—for such is the power of stubbornness.
Closer to Home
Now, as then, there is a mission that must be fulfilled, a goal that stands just ahead on the horizon. We, the Jewish people, have been charged to change the world, to perfect it one corner at a time,[16] and this process begins with refining our own character.[17] We can refuse to accept this mission—offering excuses that it is too difficult, that we are too weak, that there are unforeseen challenges that lie in wait along the journey—or we can embrace the challenge, drawing strength from Caleb’s inspiring words which still resonate in our ears, encouraging us to go onward, telling us that success is not just a possibility, but a guaranteed reality. Now, as then, the choice is ultimately ours. However, we have the benefit of hindsight: the ability to draw lessons from our history, making sure we never again repeat the tragic mistakes of the past.
Let us not squander the tremendous opportunity we have been granted. Let us accept the challenge—and triumph.
Based on an address of the Rebbe given Shabbat Parshat Shelach 5726 (1966)[18]
[1] Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings, 12:5.
[2] C.F. Tanya, Likkutei Amarim, beginning of ch. 37.
[3] Deuteronomy 1:22.
[4] Numbers 13:27-29.
[5] Ibid., 14:1-3
[6] Joshua represented the tribe of Ephraim, and was the only spy other than Caleb to maintain faith in their mission. See Ibid. verses 6-9.
[7] For the explanation of their motives according to Chassidic thought, see Holy Land, WIR, vol. X, no. 38.
[8] Talmud, Shabbos 97a; Bamidbar Rabbah 7:5; Midrash Tanchuma, Shemos 23.
[9] This demonstrates how the stubborn mind pulls out all the stops to prove its point, even if it requires putting down the very subject it is trying to defend.
[10] See Exodus 17:7-8: “The people had argued and tested G-d, by asking, ‘is G-d with us or not?’ Amalek came and attacked Israel in Rephidim.” Rashi explains the sequence of verses, that G-d allowed Amalek to attack the Children of Israel precisely because they doubted His presence amongst them.
[11] As G-d tells Moses at the beginning of our parsha, “Send men for yourself to tour the Land of Canaan…”
[12] Although the Jewish People were encamped near the border of Canaan, there were still battles to be fought before they actually entered the land.
[13] See Rashi to Numbers 11:1,4.
[14] The sequence of miracles mentioned here [i.e., first the splitting of the sea, then the miracle of the quails, and finally the giving of the Manna] follows the order necessary to respond to the spies’ arguments. Rashi, however, states the miracles in chronological order, thus the miracle of the Manna precedes the miracle of the quails.
[15] This is in stark contrast with the reaction of the people to Joshua and Caleb’s plea later in the narrative, which not only did not silence them, but also incited them so severely that “the entire nation wished to stone them”—Ibid.14:10.
[16] The concept of refining the material world is analogous to the mission then to transform the “Land of Canaan” into the “Holy Land.”
[17] The Zohar explains that the “seven nations of the land” refer to the seven evil character traits within man that must be sublimated in order for him to reach his true potential.
[18] Likkutei Sichot, vol. VIII, pp. 82-93.
Spiritual Gems from the parsha
Speak to the people of Israel, and tell them to make fringes on the corners of their garments...and that they put upon the fringe of the borders a thread of blue (Num. 15:38)
This was done in ancient times; today, however, we do not know how to make this blue dye, and all eight threads of the tzitzit (fringes) are white. Symbolically, blue alludes to fear of G-d and avoiding the negative ("depart from evil"). White alludes to love, and the service of doing good deeds ("and do good"). From this we learn that in our times, the primary thrust of our Divine service must consist of love and positive actions.
(Likutei Sichot)
And it shall be to you for fringes, that you may look upon it, and remember all the commandments of the L-rd (Num. 15:39)
Rabbi Meir explained: The Torah uses the singular "it" rather than the plural "them" because it is referring here to the Divine Presence: "Whoever fulfills the commandment of tzitzit is considered to be greeting G-d's countenance." The "blue thread" resembles the sea, which resembles grass, which resembles the sky, which should remind the wearer of the Throne of Glory.
(Jerusalem Talmud, Brachot)
Making a sign to remind oneself to do something is always helpful and appropriate. A person shouldn't rely on memory alone, regardless of whether the obligation is physical or spiritual.
(Peninei Torah)
That you may remember, and do all My commandments, and be holy to your G-d (Num. 15:40)
Said Rabbi Chanina ben Antignos: Whoever observes the commandment of tzitzit will merit to live in the times about which the Prophet Zechariah said, "In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men from the nations of every language shall take hold of the robe of a Jew, saying, We will go with you; for we have heard that G-d is with you."
(Yalkut Shimoni)
This was done in ancient times; today, however, we do not know how to make this blue dye, and all eight threads of the tzitzit (fringes) are white. Symbolically, blue alludes to fear of G-d and avoiding the negative ("depart from evil"). White alludes to love, and the service of doing good deeds ("and do good"). From this we learn that in our times, the primary thrust of our Divine service must consist of love and positive actions.
(Likutei Sichot)
And it shall be to you for fringes, that you may look upon it, and remember all the commandments of the L-rd (Num. 15:39)
Rabbi Meir explained: The Torah uses the singular "it" rather than the plural "them" because it is referring here to the Divine Presence: "Whoever fulfills the commandment of tzitzit is considered to be greeting G-d's countenance." The "blue thread" resembles the sea, which resembles grass, which resembles the sky, which should remind the wearer of the Throne of Glory.
(Jerusalem Talmud, Brachot)
Making a sign to remind oneself to do something is always helpful and appropriate. A person shouldn't rely on memory alone, regardless of whether the obligation is physical or spiritual.
(Peninei Torah)
That you may remember, and do all My commandments, and be holy to your G-d (Num. 15:40)
Said Rabbi Chanina ben Antignos: Whoever observes the commandment of tzitzit will merit to live in the times about which the Prophet Zechariah said, "In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men from the nations of every language shall take hold of the robe of a Jew, saying, We will go with you; for we have heard that G-d is with you."
(Yalkut Shimoni)
Do a good deed in honor of the Rebbe
"The union of G-d and the Jewish people [which comes after the beginning of the new Jewish month] produces offspring and 'the essential offspring of the righteous are their good deeds.' This adds perfection to the good deeds performed by each and every member of the Jewish people and reveals how the Jews become G-d's partner in the work of creation...And the Jews' consent to accept this partnership causes Him to announce, 'The time for your redemption has arrived.' " (The Rebbe, 28 Sivan, 5751)
In memory of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and the other kedoshim of Mumbai
In memory of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and the other kedoshim of Mumbai
The Rebbe's energy is so instrumental in helping us serve G-d properly, how is it possible that we still have free will?
The following is a unique private audience of the Rebbe that took place in the winter of 1969.Question: The Rebbe's energy is so instrumental in helping us serve G-d properly, how is it possible that we still have free will?
The Rebbe: The Torah says, regarding Moses: "I stand between G-d and the Jewish people," because connecting directly with G-d is a challenge. The Jews pleaded with G-d to place an intermediary between the Jews and G-d. Each generation has its own Moses.
To understand this from a worldly perspective: when a regular person has an appointment to speak with the king, it is such a momentous occasion that in preparation for even a brief audience, the person dons brand new clothes and buys new shoes. He will need to know in advance what to speak about and, more importantly, how to speak to a king.
How does such a person prepare himself? He contacts an official or a lawmaker who is intricately familiar with the laws and customs of speaking to a king, and who will advise him on how to get a message across to a king.
The same applies spiritually: G-d intended for you to get involved in a specific type of business through which you became, thank G-d, very wealthy. Now your avodah (task) is also to give tzedakah (charity). There are times during the year, like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when it is relatively easy for a Jew to communicate directly with G-d. However, reaching G-d on your own on a regular basis is a very difficult task. You go to a tzadik (righteous person), who knows how to speak to G-d, and this tzadik communicates on your behalf.
Regarding your question of free will: A wealthy and respectable person who wants to build a house still needs to find a contractor who will actually do the work, an architect to make the blueprints etc.; he will have to find someone specific for each detail of the house. In building a house it is impossible for one person to do everything.
It is true that there may be some people who are wealthy and they are also contractors themselves and this person can build a house on his own, but only a select few individuals can do all things involved in building a house.
When this wealthy person builds a house, the fact that he relies on various different people, with different professions, doesn't mean that his image as a wealthy and respectful person is diminished. Rather, he needs money to pay other professionals to do the various tasks, and without money, he indeed would not get anywhere.
The same in spirituality: a Jew who is occupied with business and with giving charity still needs a tzadik for help. On his own, a Jew does not have sufficient merits; he therefore needs the tzadik to elevate him closer to G-d.
For example: how do you connect a Jew here in Brooklyn who gives money in order to help free a Jew in Russia? How can a Jew in Russia give someone a part in a mitzvah (commandment)? The same thing regarding a Jew from here who gives money, enabling a Jew in Tel Aviv to don tefillin - how are those two people connected?
The fact that the Jew from here is connected to me and the Jew who is in Russia is also connected to me, and I know how to speak to the Above, I connect both of these Jews together. I am a physical human being like you. It is just that G-d gave me the strength to help out Jew.
Copyright (c) The Avner Institute 2009 www.portraitofaleader.org
The Rebbe: The Torah says, regarding Moses: "I stand between G-d and the Jewish people," because connecting directly with G-d is a challenge. The Jews pleaded with G-d to place an intermediary between the Jews and G-d. Each generation has its own Moses.
To understand this from a worldly perspective: when a regular person has an appointment to speak with the king, it is such a momentous occasion that in preparation for even a brief audience, the person dons brand new clothes and buys new shoes. He will need to know in advance what to speak about and, more importantly, how to speak to a king.
How does such a person prepare himself? He contacts an official or a lawmaker who is intricately familiar with the laws and customs of speaking to a king, and who will advise him on how to get a message across to a king.
The same applies spiritually: G-d intended for you to get involved in a specific type of business through which you became, thank G-d, very wealthy. Now your avodah (task) is also to give tzedakah (charity). There are times during the year, like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when it is relatively easy for a Jew to communicate directly with G-d. However, reaching G-d on your own on a regular basis is a very difficult task. You go to a tzadik (righteous person), who knows how to speak to G-d, and this tzadik communicates on your behalf.
Regarding your question of free will: A wealthy and respectable person who wants to build a house still needs to find a contractor who will actually do the work, an architect to make the blueprints etc.; he will have to find someone specific for each detail of the house. In building a house it is impossible for one person to do everything.
It is true that there may be some people who are wealthy and they are also contractors themselves and this person can build a house on his own, but only a select few individuals can do all things involved in building a house.
When this wealthy person builds a house, the fact that he relies on various different people, with different professions, doesn't mean that his image as a wealthy and respectful person is diminished. Rather, he needs money to pay other professionals to do the various tasks, and without money, he indeed would not get anywhere.
The same in spirituality: a Jew who is occupied with business and with giving charity still needs a tzadik for help. On his own, a Jew does not have sufficient merits; he therefore needs the tzadik to elevate him closer to G-d.
For example: how do you connect a Jew here in Brooklyn who gives money in order to help free a Jew in Russia? How can a Jew in Russia give someone a part in a mitzvah (commandment)? The same thing regarding a Jew from here who gives money, enabling a Jew in Tel Aviv to don tefillin - how are those two people connected?
The fact that the Jew from here is connected to me and the Jew who is in Russia is also connected to me, and I know how to speak to the Above, I connect both of these Jews together. I am a physical human being like you. It is just that G-d gave me the strength to help out Jew.
Copyright (c) The Avner Institute 2009 www.portraitofaleader.org
Question of the Week:
What do you say to someone who does not find Judaism to be fulfilling? He says the drudgery of performing religious duties doesn't do it for him. Could it be that some Jews need to find fulfilment elsewhere?
Answer:
The search for fulfilment is one of the plagues of our generation. Today we seek fulfilment in our careers, await fulfilment in our relationships, and expect fulfilment in our spiritual life. Maybe this is why we are so dissatisfied. Fulfilment is like your favourite pair of nail clippers. When you look for it, you can't find it. Then, when you are not looking, it appears. When you seek fulfilment, it eludes you. But when you go about the business of life and get on with your job, that's when fulfilment appears. Fulfilment is the by-product of living a life with meaning. And true meaning can only come from living a life that serves a purpose that is beyond self. It's not about fulfilling yourself. It's about fulfilling your soul's task in this world. Judaism does not promise to provide a feeling of uninterrupted fulfilment. It does promise to provide clarity of purpose and a well-articulated mission for life. The obligations and duties that Judaism places upon us challenge us to reach beyond self-preoccupation and start to serve our purpose. If you want to find your nail clippers, stop looking for them, and they'll turn up. If you want to find fulfilment, stop seeking it, and it will come. But only when you forget about fulfilling yourself, and start fulfilling your soul's duty.
Good Shabbos,Rabbi Moss
Answer:
The search for fulfilment is one of the plagues of our generation. Today we seek fulfilment in our careers, await fulfilment in our relationships, and expect fulfilment in our spiritual life. Maybe this is why we are so dissatisfied. Fulfilment is like your favourite pair of nail clippers. When you look for it, you can't find it. Then, when you are not looking, it appears. When you seek fulfilment, it eludes you. But when you go about the business of life and get on with your job, that's when fulfilment appears. Fulfilment is the by-product of living a life with meaning. And true meaning can only come from living a life that serves a purpose that is beyond self. It's not about fulfilling yourself. It's about fulfilling your soul's task in this world. Judaism does not promise to provide a feeling of uninterrupted fulfilment. It does promise to provide clarity of purpose and a well-articulated mission for life. The obligations and duties that Judaism places upon us challenge us to reach beyond self-preoccupation and start to serve our purpose. If you want to find your nail clippers, stop looking for them, and they'll turn up. If you want to find fulfilment, stop seeking it, and it will come. But only when you forget about fulfilling yourself, and start fulfilling your soul's duty.
Good Shabbos,Rabbi Moss
As this week's Torah portion of Shelach
In general, the Jewish people's entry into the Land of Israel is symbolic of the Jew's raison d'etre and indeed, his very function in the world. The Jewish soul descends to the physical plane for the purpose of imbuing it with holiness, transforming the material world into an appropriate vessel for G-dliness. Similarly, the objective of the Jews' entry into the Land was to transform it from "the land of Canaan" into "the Land of Israel," a place where holiness and G-dliness would be openly perceptible.As this week's Torah portion of Shelach relates, before the Jews entered the Land, G-d commanded Moses to "Send men, that they may spy the Land of Canaan." Whenever a Jew is about to perform a commandment, the first step must be to carefully consider the task at hand and find the best way to achieve the objective. The Spies were sent to determine the most effective military strategy to conquer Canaan, within the confines of the natural order.
A Jew might think that once G-d has commanded him to perform a mitzva (commandment), he can ignore reality and close his eyes to his surroundings. However, the story of the Twelve Spies teaches that faith in G-d is not enough. A Jew is required to "use his head," to utilize his G-d-given intellect and abilities to determine the very best way to fulfill His wishes. For G-d has created a physical world, with the intention that mitzvot be performed within the natural order.
At the same time, one mustn't go too far in the opposite direction. The Spies' mistake was that they interpreted their fact-finding mission as permission to decide whether the Jews should enter the Land of Israel at all. This, in essence, was their sin: Moses sent them to determine how to achieve their goal, yet they assumed the right to determine if the Jews should do it in the first place. This led them to their conclusion that "We are not able to go up against the people; for they are stronger than us."
This was contrary to G-d's will, and demonstrated a serious lack of faith. For whenever G-d sends an individual on a mission, He simultaneously gives him the power to succeed. G-d demands of a person only "according to his abilities." If it is illogical for a human being to require another to perform an act beyond his capabilities, how much more so does this apply to G-d, the Essence of goodness and kindness.
With this firm foundation in mind, the Torah goes on to caution that "One mustn't rely on miracles." A Jew is obligated to work within the natural order, not above it. Nonetheless, we are assured of Divine assistance whenever we encounter obstacles, so that we too may declare: "Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it."
Adapted from Volume 13 of Likutei Sichot
A Jew might think that once G-d has commanded him to perform a mitzva (commandment), he can ignore reality and close his eyes to his surroundings. However, the story of the Twelve Spies teaches that faith in G-d is not enough. A Jew is required to "use his head," to utilize his G-d-given intellect and abilities to determine the very best way to fulfill His wishes. For G-d has created a physical world, with the intention that mitzvot be performed within the natural order.
At the same time, one mustn't go too far in the opposite direction. The Spies' mistake was that they interpreted their fact-finding mission as permission to decide whether the Jews should enter the Land of Israel at all. This, in essence, was their sin: Moses sent them to determine how to achieve their goal, yet they assumed the right to determine if the Jews should do it in the first place. This led them to their conclusion that "We are not able to go up against the people; for they are stronger than us."
This was contrary to G-d's will, and demonstrated a serious lack of faith. For whenever G-d sends an individual on a mission, He simultaneously gives him the power to succeed. G-d demands of a person only "according to his abilities." If it is illogical for a human being to require another to perform an act beyond his capabilities, how much more so does this apply to G-d, the Essence of goodness and kindness.
With this firm foundation in mind, the Torah goes on to caution that "One mustn't rely on miracles." A Jew is obligated to work within the natural order, not above it. Nonetheless, we are assured of Divine assistance whenever we encounter obstacles, so that we too may declare: "Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it."
Adapted from Volume 13 of Likutei Sichot
Points to Ponder
With the approach of Gimmel Tammuz we present our readers with a few points to ponder.The Rogatchover Gaon ("genius"), Rabbi Yosef Rosen, was one of the most prominent Talmudic scholars of the previous generation.
He was constantly studying Torah, but on Shabbat he often invited the young Talmudic Lubavitcher yeshiva students to be guests in his home and engaged them in conversation.
Once, he asked them if they could define what a "Rebbe" is. They answered that they had learned that "Rebbe" is the initials "Rosh Bnei Yisrael" (Head of the Jewish People.)
The Rogachover fell silent and then gave his own answer; "The truth is that no one can know what a Rebbe is... it is incomprehensible. But one thing for sure: If a Jew, any Jew in the world, is in distress...the Rebbe feels it." (Ohrtmimim.com)
Before the Lubavitcher Rebbe accepted the leadership of Chabad-Lubavitch, he once told another Jew regarding his father-in-law, the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe:
You cannot imagine what a Rebbe really is. Your letter does not have to reach him in order for him to know the question, and you do not actually have to get a letter from him to receive an answer. (shmais.com)
Extending a request to G-d via an intermediary is only problematic if he is indeed a separate entity from the person who submits the request. However, the Tzadik (righteous person) is a Neshama klalit, a general soul that contains the souls of other Jews, just as the head contains the life of the body. Thus, the Tzadik is not a separate entity, but an extension of oneself. Put differently, one's own spiritual self is in fact an extension of the Tzadik. Thus, just as my head can pray for my foot, so can I ask the Tzadik to pray for me.
Therefore, not only does the Tzadik feel my pain, but my pain is the Tzadik's own pain, which he feels even more acutely than I do myself. Conversely, the Tzadik's pain is in fact my pain, even if I do not feel it tangibly.
Thus, the Tzadik is my head regardless of whether I recognize it. However, if I fail to recognize it, or I recognize it on some level but do not devote myself sufficiently to him, and I treat him as a separate entity, then asking him to pray for me is indeed problematic. However, since the person believes in the Tzadik and, at least deep down, wishes that he could be devoted to him, it may be derived from Jewish law that a verbal declaration of his intent is sufficient to reveal his true desire, even if he is yet to bring this true desire to conform with his daily life. His request for a blessing is then not problematic, G-d forbid, but on the contrary, it is desirable. (tzaddikim.blogspot.com based on Torat Menachem-Hitva'aduyot, Vol.2)
One year, on the eve of Simchat Torah when people were passing by the Rebbe to receive his blessings, a young boy said to the Rebbe, "We want Moshiach now!" The Rebbe emphatically exclaimed, "Amen, amen." The boy then asked, "Why hasn't Moshiach come yet?" The Rebbe answered, "Because only you ask this to happen. Your father wants to ask me for a blessing for success in his business. All these people are asking for their livelihood, health and other good things. No one is thinking like you are to ask for a blessing that Moshiach should come. If you try to get everyone to want and ask for Moshiach, just like you, Moshiach will come right now!"
He was constantly studying Torah, but on Shabbat he often invited the young Talmudic Lubavitcher yeshiva students to be guests in his home and engaged them in conversation.
Once, he asked them if they could define what a "Rebbe" is. They answered that they had learned that "Rebbe" is the initials "Rosh Bnei Yisrael" (Head of the Jewish People.)
The Rogachover fell silent and then gave his own answer; "The truth is that no one can know what a Rebbe is... it is incomprehensible. But one thing for sure: If a Jew, any Jew in the world, is in distress...the Rebbe feels it." (Ohrtmimim.com)
Before the Lubavitcher Rebbe accepted the leadership of Chabad-Lubavitch, he once told another Jew regarding his father-in-law, the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe:
You cannot imagine what a Rebbe really is. Your letter does not have to reach him in order for him to know the question, and you do not actually have to get a letter from him to receive an answer. (shmais.com)
Extending a request to G-d via an intermediary is only problematic if he is indeed a separate entity from the person who submits the request. However, the Tzadik (righteous person) is a Neshama klalit, a general soul that contains the souls of other Jews, just as the head contains the life of the body. Thus, the Tzadik is not a separate entity, but an extension of oneself. Put differently, one's own spiritual self is in fact an extension of the Tzadik. Thus, just as my head can pray for my foot, so can I ask the Tzadik to pray for me.
Therefore, not only does the Tzadik feel my pain, but my pain is the Tzadik's own pain, which he feels even more acutely than I do myself. Conversely, the Tzadik's pain is in fact my pain, even if I do not feel it tangibly.
Thus, the Tzadik is my head regardless of whether I recognize it. However, if I fail to recognize it, or I recognize it on some level but do not devote myself sufficiently to him, and I treat him as a separate entity, then asking him to pray for me is indeed problematic. However, since the person believes in the Tzadik and, at least deep down, wishes that he could be devoted to him, it may be derived from Jewish law that a verbal declaration of his intent is sufficient to reveal his true desire, even if he is yet to bring this true desire to conform with his daily life. His request for a blessing is then not problematic, G-d forbid, but on the contrary, it is desirable. (tzaddikim.blogspot.com based on Torat Menachem-Hitva'aduyot, Vol.2)
One year, on the eve of Simchat Torah when people were passing by the Rebbe to receive his blessings, a young boy said to the Rebbe, "We want Moshiach now!" The Rebbe emphatically exclaimed, "Amen, amen." The boy then asked, "Why hasn't Moshiach come yet?" The Rebbe answered, "Because only you ask this to happen. Your father wants to ask me for a blessing for success in his business. All these people are asking for their livelihood, health and other good things. No one is thinking like you are to ask for a blessing that Moshiach should come. If you try to get everyone to want and ask for Moshiach, just like you, Moshiach will come right now!"
Sunday, June 07, 2009
What is the Pidyon HaBen ceremony?
G-d told the Jewish people that their first-born sons must be dedicated to G-dly service. When the Jews sinned with the Golden Calf, G-d commanded that the Levites, who had not sinned, serve instead of the first-born sons. The details of the redemption of the first-born (pidyon haben) is in Num. 18: 15-16. The first-born son of the mother is redeemed on the 31st day after birth. At the Pidyon Haben ceremony, the father gives a Kohain five silver coins in lieu of his son. The son of a kohain or levi, or the son of the daughter of a kohain or levi is not redeemed. A festive meal follows the ceremony. If one was not redeemed as a baby, a man is responsible, after the age of bar mitzva, to redeem himself.
Spiritual Gems from the parsha
This was the form of the menora: hammered work of gold, from its base to its flower it was hammered work; according to the form that the Lord had shown Moses, so did he construct the menora. (Num. 8:4)
"Beaten work of gold," explains Rashi, means that the menora was to be made of a single piece of gold, beaten or pounded with a hammer and other tools, until it assumed the proper shape. Likewise, a person who desires to transform himself into a "menora," to kindle his G-dly spark and be illuminated with the light of Torah, should also do the same to himself - striking away at his negative qualities and working on his character until he, too, assumes the proper form.
(Likutei Torah)
The base of the menora symbolizes the lowest level of Jews; the flowers, those on the highest spiritual plane. The Torah demands that the menora be made out of one piece of gold, just as the Jewish people is but one entity. Every Jew is incomplete by himself, without the rest of the Jewish nation, just as in the human body, the foot needs the head to function no less than the head requires the foot for mobility.
(Likutei Torah)
That there be no plague among the Children of Israel, when the Children of Israel approach the Sanctuary (Num. 8:19)
There are, unfortunately, those who only reach out to G-d after a misfortune has befallen them. Our aim should be, however, to approach G-d not only through suffering and sorrow, but with joy and happiness.
(Imrai Noam)
But the man Moses was very humble, more so than any man upon the face of the earth (Num. 12:3)
Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi explained that Moses felt humble especially in comparison to our generation, the last generation before Moshiach. For, despite the extreme darkness that would reign immediately preceding the Final Redemption, Moses foresaw and was humbled by the self-sacrifice our generation would show to keep the Jewish faith alive even in the most difficult of circumstances.
(Sichat Purim, 5747)
The famous Chasidic rabbi, Reb Baruch, once asked his disciple, Rabbi Baruch Stuchiner, if he had as yet succeeded in locating proper accommodations in the town of Pshischa. The chasid replied that he had not yet found a place to stay. Reb Baruch responded: "One who does not 'take up space" will always be able to find a place wherever he goes."
"Beaten work of gold," explains Rashi, means that the menora was to be made of a single piece of gold, beaten or pounded with a hammer and other tools, until it assumed the proper shape. Likewise, a person who desires to transform himself into a "menora," to kindle his G-dly spark and be illuminated with the light of Torah, should also do the same to himself - striking away at his negative qualities and working on his character until he, too, assumes the proper form.
(Likutei Torah)
The base of the menora symbolizes the lowest level of Jews; the flowers, those on the highest spiritual plane. The Torah demands that the menora be made out of one piece of gold, just as the Jewish people is but one entity. Every Jew is incomplete by himself, without the rest of the Jewish nation, just as in the human body, the foot needs the head to function no less than the head requires the foot for mobility.
(Likutei Torah)
That there be no plague among the Children of Israel, when the Children of Israel approach the Sanctuary (Num. 8:19)
There are, unfortunately, those who only reach out to G-d after a misfortune has befallen them. Our aim should be, however, to approach G-d not only through suffering and sorrow, but with joy and happiness.
(Imrai Noam)
But the man Moses was very humble, more so than any man upon the face of the earth (Num. 12:3)
Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi explained that Moses felt humble especially in comparison to our generation, the last generation before Moshiach. For, despite the extreme darkness that would reign immediately preceding the Final Redemption, Moses foresaw and was humbled by the self-sacrifice our generation would show to keep the Jewish faith alive even in the most difficult of circumstances.
(Sichat Purim, 5747)
The famous Chasidic rabbi, Reb Baruch, once asked his disciple, Rabbi Baruch Stuchiner, if he had as yet succeeded in locating proper accommodations in the town of Pshischa. The chasid replied that he had not yet found a place to stay. Reb Baruch responded: "One who does not 'take up space" will always be able to find a place wherever he goes."
Earning A Living
Translated from letters of the Rebbe... Since in our world all things get better with time, you should not be overly concerned if your first job will be difficult or your salary will not be satisfactory, for this is but the beginning [of your job experience] and "All beginnings are difficult."
Even if you imagine that you are being taken advantage of, as your productivity warrants a better salary, still, bear in mind that this is but the beginning.
In the above matter, the teaching "A person is too close to himself [to be entirely objective]" also applies. You should therefore specifically seek the counsel of your good friends. After explaining to them the details and your reasoning, they will be able to offer you objective advice regarding your job.
Mikdash Melech, Vol. I, p. 236
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You write that for the time being you have not had any job offers:
In light of that which is explained in Kuntres U'Mayon, man must make a receptacle [for obtaining his sustenance].
It is therefore inappropriate to wait for others to offer you a job; you are to go out on your own and actively seek a job, particularly since this [i.e., acquiring a job] is more important to you than to other individuals, i.e., those who may offer you a job.
Igros Kodesh, Vol. XIV, p. 417
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In reply to your question as to what would be the best type of job for you to obtain:
Understandably, you should give priority to the type of job where you can best utilize your talents and knowledge.
Also, seek the counsel of your local good friends, as this will clarify to a greater extent the situation, potential jobs, etc.
Heichal Menachem, Vol. III, p. 179
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
... Regarding matters of earning a living - it should be according to the advice of discerning friends. This is in keeping with the verse, "Salvation lies in much counsel"; which is to say, that the individuals offering advice are to be wise and discerning so that they are capable of providing counsel. And "much counsel" means that there be at least two individuals providing advice, as the minimum of "much" is at least two.
Moreover, they are to be "friends" - individuals who seek your welfare, for which reason they will give your situation proper consideration and offer you sound advice.
Sefer HaSichos 5748, Vol. I, p. 240
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is regretful that you are finding it so difficult to accept the fact that you are having temporary difficulties in finding a job, although - unfortunately - such situations are quite common during present times.
We actually perceive that which is explained in the sacred books, that the more one increases his faith and trust in the Creator of the world, the One who conducts it with individual Divine Providence, the sooner will there come about an improvement in the situation, and the greater will be the improvement. The same is true with regard to your situation.
Igros Kodesh, Vol. XVI, p. 223
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It would seem that once again you are worrying, and central to your worries is the concern about the possibility that, G-d forbid, you will not be able to earn a living.
Understandably, it is quite disconcerting that you should be so concerned; surely that which is stated in Torah in general and in Toras HaChassidus [the teachings of Chasidism] in particular about faith and trust in G-d should suffice for you not to worry.
(As is self-understood, this in no way contradicts the need for making a "receptacle" via natural means, as the verse says, "G-d shall bless you in all that you shall do." However, this must be done in a manner of "By the labor of your hands shall you eat," i.e., that your hands should labor, but not your head and heart.)
This is particularly so with an individual such as yourself, you who have beheld miracles with your own eyes, miracles that transpired with yourself.
Now, all of a sudden you begin to worry if the One who sustains and nourishes everyone, approximately one billion eight hundred million people, will be able to sustain you and your family in an honorable and ample manner.
It would be a misuse of precious time to go on at greater length about something so obvious.
Igros Kodesh, Vol. XII, p. 198
From "Eternal Joy" translated by Rabbi Sholom Ber Wineberg, published by Sichos in English
Even if you imagine that you are being taken advantage of, as your productivity warrants a better salary, still, bear in mind that this is but the beginning.
In the above matter, the teaching "A person is too close to himself [to be entirely objective]" also applies. You should therefore specifically seek the counsel of your good friends. After explaining to them the details and your reasoning, they will be able to offer you objective advice regarding your job.
Mikdash Melech, Vol. I, p. 236
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You write that for the time being you have not had any job offers:
In light of that which is explained in Kuntres U'Mayon, man must make a receptacle [for obtaining his sustenance].
It is therefore inappropriate to wait for others to offer you a job; you are to go out on your own and actively seek a job, particularly since this [i.e., acquiring a job] is more important to you than to other individuals, i.e., those who may offer you a job.
Igros Kodesh, Vol. XIV, p. 417
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In reply to your question as to what would be the best type of job for you to obtain:
Understandably, you should give priority to the type of job where you can best utilize your talents and knowledge.
Also, seek the counsel of your local good friends, as this will clarify to a greater extent the situation, potential jobs, etc.
Heichal Menachem, Vol. III, p. 179
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
... Regarding matters of earning a living - it should be according to the advice of discerning friends. This is in keeping with the verse, "Salvation lies in much counsel"; which is to say, that the individuals offering advice are to be wise and discerning so that they are capable of providing counsel. And "much counsel" means that there be at least two individuals providing advice, as the minimum of "much" is at least two.
Moreover, they are to be "friends" - individuals who seek your welfare, for which reason they will give your situation proper consideration and offer you sound advice.
Sefer HaSichos 5748, Vol. I, p. 240
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is regretful that you are finding it so difficult to accept the fact that you are having temporary difficulties in finding a job, although - unfortunately - such situations are quite common during present times.
We actually perceive that which is explained in the sacred books, that the more one increases his faith and trust in the Creator of the world, the One who conducts it with individual Divine Providence, the sooner will there come about an improvement in the situation, and the greater will be the improvement. The same is true with regard to your situation.
Igros Kodesh, Vol. XVI, p. 223
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It would seem that once again you are worrying, and central to your worries is the concern about the possibility that, G-d forbid, you will not be able to earn a living.
Understandably, it is quite disconcerting that you should be so concerned; surely that which is stated in Torah in general and in Toras HaChassidus [the teachings of Chasidism] in particular about faith and trust in G-d should suffice for you not to worry.
(As is self-understood, this in no way contradicts the need for making a "receptacle" via natural means, as the verse says, "G-d shall bless you in all that you shall do." However, this must be done in a manner of "By the labor of your hands shall you eat," i.e., that your hands should labor, but not your head and heart.)
This is particularly so with an individual such as yourself, you who have beheld miracles with your own eyes, miracles that transpired with yourself.
Now, all of a sudden you begin to worry if the One who sustains and nourishes everyone, approximately one billion eight hundred million people, will be able to sustain you and your family in an honorable and ample manner.
It would be a misuse of precious time to go on at greater length about something so obvious.
Igros Kodesh, Vol. XII, p. 198
From "Eternal Joy" translated by Rabbi Sholom Ber Wineberg, published by Sichos in English
Question of the Week:
I noticed on Friday night at the meal that before you blessed the Challah, you made a small cut in one of the loaves. What is the meaning of this custom?
Answer:
There are two reasons for making a cut in the Challah before the blessing. One reason is technical, the other mystical. The technical reason is that we are supposed to minimise the time gap between making a blessing on food and eating it. So really when eating bread, we should have a slice cut and ready to eat before we make the blessing. But on Shabbos we can't do that, because on Shabbos the bread we bless must be whole, not cut. Shabbos is the day that brought wholeness and completion to creation, and so we honour it by blessing on complete loaves. So we have a conflict. On the one hand we are supposed to cut the bread before the blessing so as not to delay between blessing and eating, but on the other hand we can't cut the bread before the blessing, because then it won't be whole. So we compromise. We don't actually slice the bread, but we make a small cut so as to quicken the slicing but still leave the loaf whole. This is the ideal way to deal with two conflicting forces. Come up with a third option that satisfies both. That's the technical reason. Here's the mystical one. By making a small cut on the bread, we are actually placing G-d's name onto the Challah and inviting the divine presence to join our meal. There are many names of G-d in Hebrew. The holiest of divine names is spelt Yud-Heh-Vav-Heh. It is this name that we form on the Challah. The little cut is in the shape of a Yud, a small line. The five fingers on each of our two hands that hold the Challah are the two Hehs, which is the fifth letter in the Hebrew alphabet. And the Challah itself is in the shape of a Vav, a straight line between the two Hehs. So as we grasp the Challah and make the blessing, we literally invoke G-d's name onto our bread. These two explanations for slivering the Challah - compromising between two conflicting demands, and stamping G-d's name on our food - represent the two most important elements to a Jewish home, harmony and holiness. Harmony means creating balance in our relationships with our fellow, holiness means enhancing our relationship with G-d. The Shabbos meal is the perfect scene to work on both - finding harmony among conflicting viewpoints around the table, and creating holiness by bringing more G-dliness into the conversation. This is the symbolism behind the slicing of the Challah. That little slice is in fact pretty big.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss
Answer:
There are two reasons for making a cut in the Challah before the blessing. One reason is technical, the other mystical. The technical reason is that we are supposed to minimise the time gap between making a blessing on food and eating it. So really when eating bread, we should have a slice cut and ready to eat before we make the blessing. But on Shabbos we can't do that, because on Shabbos the bread we bless must be whole, not cut. Shabbos is the day that brought wholeness and completion to creation, and so we honour it by blessing on complete loaves. So we have a conflict. On the one hand we are supposed to cut the bread before the blessing so as not to delay between blessing and eating, but on the other hand we can't cut the bread before the blessing, because then it won't be whole. So we compromise. We don't actually slice the bread, but we make a small cut so as to quicken the slicing but still leave the loaf whole. This is the ideal way to deal with two conflicting forces. Come up with a third option that satisfies both. That's the technical reason. Here's the mystical one. By making a small cut on the bread, we are actually placing G-d's name onto the Challah and inviting the divine presence to join our meal. There are many names of G-d in Hebrew. The holiest of divine names is spelt Yud-Heh-Vav-Heh. It is this name that we form on the Challah. The little cut is in the shape of a Yud, a small line. The five fingers on each of our two hands that hold the Challah are the two Hehs, which is the fifth letter in the Hebrew alphabet. And the Challah itself is in the shape of a Vav, a straight line between the two Hehs. So as we grasp the Challah and make the blessing, we literally invoke G-d's name onto our bread. These two explanations for slivering the Challah - compromising between two conflicting demands, and stamping G-d's name on our food - represent the two most important elements to a Jewish home, harmony and holiness. Harmony means creating balance in our relationships with our fellow, holiness means enhancing our relationship with G-d. The Shabbos meal is the perfect scene to work on both - finding harmony among conflicting viewpoints around the table, and creating holiness by bringing more G-dliness into the conversation. This is the symbolism behind the slicing of the Challah. That little slice is in fact pretty big.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss
From this week's Torah portion, Beha'alotcha.
In 1943, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneersohn, of blessed memory, issued an urgent call to Chasidim to begin a massive campaign establishing additional religious institutions around the world. Many people could not understand why the Rebbe was initiating such a large-scale operation if, as the Rebbe had stated, we could hear the approaching footsteps of Moshiach. Would not such an undertaking constitute an enormous waste of effort if the Jewish people are to return to Israel with the coming of Moshiach?By way of explanation, the Previous Rebbe referred to a teaching derived from this week's Torah portion, Beha'alotcha.
"At times, the cloud remained from evening till morning; and when the cloud was taken up in the morning, they journeyed forward. .. at the order of G-d they remained in the camp, and at the order of G-d they journeyed forward."
For forty years, the encampments of the Jewish people as they journeyed through the wilderness towards the land of Israel, were of varying duration.
They ranged from a short overnight stay to a nineteen year period in the same location. Yet, at each site, the Sanctuary was erected and offerings were brought.
Why was it necessary to expend such massive effort even for those encampments that were destined to last only a few hours?
Erecting the Sanctuary, just like the journeys themselves, was done solely according to G-d's command.
It therefore matters little whether the Sanctuary stood for many years on the same spot, or whether it was erected for just a few minutes.
The physical object used in the performance of a mitzva is significant solely because such is the will of G-d.
In this case, the mitzva to erect the Sanctuary, for whatever length of time G-d desired, is what imbued the labor involved in its erection with meaning.
The Jewish people, "believers, the children of believers," have faith in the coming of Moshiach and await his arrival each and every day.
Yet this fundamental belief in no way contradicts our efforts to build up and strengthen Jewish life and institutions while we are waiting. G-d wants us to take an active role in imbuing our surroundings with holiness no matter where the exile takes us, for this is His will and an integral part of Divine Plan.
We needn't worry that Moshiach's arrival will interrupt us in the first stages of whatever worthy project we are currently involved in; when Moshiach comes, we will fully understand the significance of all our service throughout the thousands of years of exile, even those that have not yet been completed.
Adapted from a talk of the Rebbe, 19 Kislev, 5717 (1957)
"At times, the cloud remained from evening till morning; and when the cloud was taken up in the morning, they journeyed forward. .. at the order of G-d they remained in the camp, and at the order of G-d they journeyed forward."
For forty years, the encampments of the Jewish people as they journeyed through the wilderness towards the land of Israel, were of varying duration.
They ranged from a short overnight stay to a nineteen year period in the same location. Yet, at each site, the Sanctuary was erected and offerings were brought.
Why was it necessary to expend such massive effort even for those encampments that were destined to last only a few hours?
Erecting the Sanctuary, just like the journeys themselves, was done solely according to G-d's command.
It therefore matters little whether the Sanctuary stood for many years on the same spot, or whether it was erected for just a few minutes.
The physical object used in the performance of a mitzva is significant solely because such is the will of G-d.
In this case, the mitzva to erect the Sanctuary, for whatever length of time G-d desired, is what imbued the labor involved in its erection with meaning.
The Jewish people, "believers, the children of believers," have faith in the coming of Moshiach and await his arrival each and every day.
Yet this fundamental belief in no way contradicts our efforts to build up and strengthen Jewish life and institutions while we are waiting. G-d wants us to take an active role in imbuing our surroundings with holiness no matter where the exile takes us, for this is His will and an integral part of Divine Plan.
We needn't worry that Moshiach's arrival will interrupt us in the first stages of whatever worthy project we are currently involved in; when Moshiach comes, we will fully understand the significance of all our service throughout the thousands of years of exile, even those that have not yet been completed.
Adapted from a talk of the Rebbe, 19 Kislev, 5717 (1957)
Lighting Instructions
Our sages tell us that the Holy Temple in Jerusalem-and its forerunner, the Sanctuary built by Moses in the Sinai Desert-was a physical, three-dimensional model of the spiritual architecture of the soul. The Temple consisted of numerous domains, chambers and "vessels"; each of these corresponding to another element of the inner life of man and illustrating that element's function and purpose.[1]
The menorah, the seven-branched golden candelabra which was kindled each afternoon in the Holy Temple, represents man's potential to "kindle lamps": to generate sources of illumination within his own self, in his fellow man, and in the material resources at his disposal.
The Torah devotes a number of detailed chapters to describing the menorah's construction and the various laws governing its lighting. Each of these details has its corresponding "law" and lesson in the menorah's spiritual significance. By way of example, let us examine a phrase in one of the commentaries on one of these chapters:
The eighth chapter of Numbers opens with G-d's instruction to Aaron: "When you raise the lamps, they should shed their light towards the face of the menorah." In his commentary on this verse, Rashi[2] dwells on the Torah's use of the phrase behaalotecha, "when you raise." Why does the Torah employ this obscure synonym for "kindle"? Rashi explains that the Torah wishes to refer to the flame's nature to gravitate upward and rise, and also to instruct the kohen (priest) who lights the menorah's lamps to hold the fire to the wick until "the flame rises on its own.''
These three words-shalhevet olah me'eileha ("the flame rises on its own")-contain some of the basic lessons to be derived from the menorah.
"The Flame..."
The menorah's lights are usually referred to as its neirot, "lamps." Here, Rashi uses the word shalhevet, "flame." While the term neirot can apply to both lit and unlit lamps, shalhevet means a "live," light-producing flame. Indeed, for many hours of each day, the menorah's lamps were without flames.[3] Each morning, the lamps were cleaned, filled with the purest olive oil, and given new wicks. In this state they stood most of the day, awaiting the flame-bearing kohen who came to kindle them in mid-afternoon.
In those interim hours, the lamp was in its most complete and perfect state: its gold pristine, its wick fresh, and filled to capacity with the finest oil. Nothing of substance was lacking. Indeed, lighting it only sullied its luster, charred its wick and used up its fuel. But in its unlit state, the lamp was dark, its luminary potential locked within. It might have been perfect in itself, but it was of no benefit to that which lay outside of itself.
Man, too, can be a ner without a shalhevet, a lamp without a flame. He might achieve a personal perfection - an ornate vessel, fine-tuned talents and abundant potentials. But the purpose of life is to be a blazing lamp - to ignite one's talents and potentials so that they illuminate one's surroundings.
This is the first lesson of the menorah: that the goal of personal perfection alone will never suffice to satisfy the striving of our soul. Intrinsic to our nature is the quest to be a "flame"-an illumination to our surroundings.
"Rises..."
"The spirit of man gravitates upward."[4] While the space we inhabit possesses three dimensions and six directions, our deepest strivings tend upward. When children compete over who is "bigger," it is their vertical height which they compare. When men and women of all ages speak of their desire for self-betterment, they do so in terms of "climbing the ladder," "reaching upward," and "raising" themselves to "new heights."
Thus King Solomon describes the human soul as a "lamp of G-d."[5] Of the Four Elements (fire, water, air and earth), only fire gravitates upward. Like a flame forever straining at its tether, the human soul is forever pulling upwards, straining at the wick (i.e., the physical body) which binds it aground.[6]
What is the deeper significance of this "vertical" striving? Certain achievements can be described in terms of growth "length" and "breadth." We might expend much effort and toil to extending and broadening our accomplishments - but all on the same plane, all along the lines which define our present reality. The spirit of man, however, thirsts for more. The "lamp of G-d" within us does not allow us to reconcile ourselves to our present reality, whether it is a reality bounded by habit and convention, or even by the most basic dictates of our nature. Intrinsic to the human condition is the quest for transcendence, the striving to "break the mold" in which we are formed and remake ourselves as something more-something "higher" than what we are.
This is the second lesson of the menorah: that life is not only a "flame" but also a flame that "rises." That no matter how extensive our gains in the space we have carved for ourselves in this world may be, we must constantly search for new areas of achievement. Personal perfection is not enough; nor is leadership as a "luminary" in any defined field. Our inner essence as a "lamp of G-d" demands that we perpetually reinvent ourselves, that we constantly strive to break free of our present plane of existence to reach for something "higher."
"On Its Own"
A lamp cannot ignite itself: it requires a fire, an external source of energy to set it aglow. But the objective is that its flame should "rise on its own"-that it be transformed into an independent source of light.
This is the third lesson of the menorah: that when we act as "lamplighters" - whether in the endeavor to ignite our own potentials, to ignite the "lamp" in our fellow man, or to create luminaries out of the materials of our environment-the objective must be to generate a flame which "rises on its own."
In terms of our effort toward self-improvement, this means not to suffice with "resolutions" and behavior changes which must be constantly imposed by force of will. Rather, one should strive for a transformation of one's nature and character, so that the new behavior becomes the natural, instinctive way to act.
In teaching and influencing one's fellow, the objective should be to establish him or her as a self-sufficient luminary in his own right: to assist in developing his talents and abilities so that his lamp independently glows and, in turn, kindles the potential in others.
The same is true concerning our effect on the physical world. When we utilize the materials and resources of our world toward good and G-dly ends, we imbue them with sanctity and G-dliness.[7] Here, too, a physical object can be made not only into a passive vessel of light, but into a "lamp" that is an independent source of illumination.
For example, instead of just talking to our children about charity or involving them in our own charitable activities, we can help them fashion a pushkah (charity box) and install it in their room. Each time the child places a coin in the box, it is assisting him and training him in an act of charity. A piece of wood or plastic has thus been formed into a "luminary."
Furthermore, even when it is not actually being used to perform a charitable deed, the charity box continues to act as a "lamp" which illuminates its surroundings. As a permanent fixture in his room, it acts as a constant reminder to the child of his responsibility towards others. A physical object has become "a flame which rises on its own," an independent source of guidance and enlightenment.
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Shabbat Behaalotecha 5751 (June 1, 1991)[8]
[1] See BeChayei on Exodus 25:9; Shaloh, Parshat Terumah (p. 324b); Torat HaOlah by Rabbi Moshe Isserlis (the Rama).
[2] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, 1040-1105, whose work is universally accepted as the most fundamental of all Torah commentaries.
[3] With the exception of the Ner HaMaaravi ("Western Lamp") which burned round the clock.
[4] Ecclesiastes 3:21.
[5] Proverbs 20:27.
[6] See The Lamp, WIR vol. X, no. 13.
[7] See The First Creation , WIR vol. X, no. 34.
[8] Sefer HaSichot 5751, vol. II, p. 600 ff.
by Simon Jacobson
The menorah, the seven-branched golden candelabra which was kindled each afternoon in the Holy Temple, represents man's potential to "kindle lamps": to generate sources of illumination within his own self, in his fellow man, and in the material resources at his disposal.
The Torah devotes a number of detailed chapters to describing the menorah's construction and the various laws governing its lighting. Each of these details has its corresponding "law" and lesson in the menorah's spiritual significance. By way of example, let us examine a phrase in one of the commentaries on one of these chapters:
The eighth chapter of Numbers opens with G-d's instruction to Aaron: "When you raise the lamps, they should shed their light towards the face of the menorah." In his commentary on this verse, Rashi[2] dwells on the Torah's use of the phrase behaalotecha, "when you raise." Why does the Torah employ this obscure synonym for "kindle"? Rashi explains that the Torah wishes to refer to the flame's nature to gravitate upward and rise, and also to instruct the kohen (priest) who lights the menorah's lamps to hold the fire to the wick until "the flame rises on its own.''
These three words-shalhevet olah me'eileha ("the flame rises on its own")-contain some of the basic lessons to be derived from the menorah.
"The Flame..."
The menorah's lights are usually referred to as its neirot, "lamps." Here, Rashi uses the word shalhevet, "flame." While the term neirot can apply to both lit and unlit lamps, shalhevet means a "live," light-producing flame. Indeed, for many hours of each day, the menorah's lamps were without flames.[3] Each morning, the lamps were cleaned, filled with the purest olive oil, and given new wicks. In this state they stood most of the day, awaiting the flame-bearing kohen who came to kindle them in mid-afternoon.
In those interim hours, the lamp was in its most complete and perfect state: its gold pristine, its wick fresh, and filled to capacity with the finest oil. Nothing of substance was lacking. Indeed, lighting it only sullied its luster, charred its wick and used up its fuel. But in its unlit state, the lamp was dark, its luminary potential locked within. It might have been perfect in itself, but it was of no benefit to that which lay outside of itself.
Man, too, can be a ner without a shalhevet, a lamp without a flame. He might achieve a personal perfection - an ornate vessel, fine-tuned talents and abundant potentials. But the purpose of life is to be a blazing lamp - to ignite one's talents and potentials so that they illuminate one's surroundings.
This is the first lesson of the menorah: that the goal of personal perfection alone will never suffice to satisfy the striving of our soul. Intrinsic to our nature is the quest to be a "flame"-an illumination to our surroundings.
"Rises..."
"The spirit of man gravitates upward."[4] While the space we inhabit possesses three dimensions and six directions, our deepest strivings tend upward. When children compete over who is "bigger," it is their vertical height which they compare. When men and women of all ages speak of their desire for self-betterment, they do so in terms of "climbing the ladder," "reaching upward," and "raising" themselves to "new heights."
Thus King Solomon describes the human soul as a "lamp of G-d."[5] Of the Four Elements (fire, water, air and earth), only fire gravitates upward. Like a flame forever straining at its tether, the human soul is forever pulling upwards, straining at the wick (i.e., the physical body) which binds it aground.[6]
What is the deeper significance of this "vertical" striving? Certain achievements can be described in terms of growth "length" and "breadth." We might expend much effort and toil to extending and broadening our accomplishments - but all on the same plane, all along the lines which define our present reality. The spirit of man, however, thirsts for more. The "lamp of G-d" within us does not allow us to reconcile ourselves to our present reality, whether it is a reality bounded by habit and convention, or even by the most basic dictates of our nature. Intrinsic to the human condition is the quest for transcendence, the striving to "break the mold" in which we are formed and remake ourselves as something more-something "higher" than what we are.
This is the second lesson of the menorah: that life is not only a "flame" but also a flame that "rises." That no matter how extensive our gains in the space we have carved for ourselves in this world may be, we must constantly search for new areas of achievement. Personal perfection is not enough; nor is leadership as a "luminary" in any defined field. Our inner essence as a "lamp of G-d" demands that we perpetually reinvent ourselves, that we constantly strive to break free of our present plane of existence to reach for something "higher."
"On Its Own"
A lamp cannot ignite itself: it requires a fire, an external source of energy to set it aglow. But the objective is that its flame should "rise on its own"-that it be transformed into an independent source of light.
This is the third lesson of the menorah: that when we act as "lamplighters" - whether in the endeavor to ignite our own potentials, to ignite the "lamp" in our fellow man, or to create luminaries out of the materials of our environment-the objective must be to generate a flame which "rises on its own."
In terms of our effort toward self-improvement, this means not to suffice with "resolutions" and behavior changes which must be constantly imposed by force of will. Rather, one should strive for a transformation of one's nature and character, so that the new behavior becomes the natural, instinctive way to act.
In teaching and influencing one's fellow, the objective should be to establish him or her as a self-sufficient luminary in his own right: to assist in developing his talents and abilities so that his lamp independently glows and, in turn, kindles the potential in others.
The same is true concerning our effect on the physical world. When we utilize the materials and resources of our world toward good and G-dly ends, we imbue them with sanctity and G-dliness.[7] Here, too, a physical object can be made not only into a passive vessel of light, but into a "lamp" that is an independent source of illumination.
For example, instead of just talking to our children about charity or involving them in our own charitable activities, we can help them fashion a pushkah (charity box) and install it in their room. Each time the child places a coin in the box, it is assisting him and training him in an act of charity. A piece of wood or plastic has thus been formed into a "luminary."
Furthermore, even when it is not actually being used to perform a charitable deed, the charity box continues to act as a "lamp" which illuminates its surroundings. As a permanent fixture in his room, it acts as a constant reminder to the child of his responsibility towards others. A physical object has become "a flame which rises on its own," an independent source of guidance and enlightenment.
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Shabbat Behaalotecha 5751 (June 1, 1991)[8]
[1] See BeChayei on Exodus 25:9; Shaloh, Parshat Terumah (p. 324b); Torat HaOlah by Rabbi Moshe Isserlis (the Rama).
[2] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, 1040-1105, whose work is universally accepted as the most fundamental of all Torah commentaries.
[3] With the exception of the Ner HaMaaravi ("Western Lamp") which burned round the clock.
[4] Ecclesiastes 3:21.
[5] Proverbs 20:27.
[6] See The Lamp, WIR vol. X, no. 13.
[7] See The First Creation , WIR vol. X, no. 34.
[8] Sefer HaSichot 5751, vol. II, p. 600 ff.
by Simon Jacobson
Password Protection
We all know the value of passwords these days, although passwords aren't always words. Sometimes they're numbers, or combinations of letters and numbers. However they're composed, though, passwords protect our data, safeguarding personal information and preventing intruders from gaining access. Passwords are electronic guardians.But what happens if we forget our passwords? Then we're the ones who are locked out. We can't get into our bank account. We can't access that file with the information we need for tomorrow's report. We can't get into the website to post our latest thoughts. We can't play that game online. We can't even read our email.
Without our password, we're like the hacker or the thief. Indeed, there's no way to tell us apart, without the password.
What protected us, distinguished us, identified us, gave us exclusive entrance into "the world" (our world) became a barrier, locking us out of ourselves, frustrating and angering us, forcing us to hack into who we are.
But why do we forget our passwords? How do we let such valuable information slip from our minds? Often, of course, we don't forget the whole password, only part of it. Part of it we remember, but part we forget. Or we confuse our passwords, mixing them up. We may have two, three, a dozen - depending on how many places on line we shop or do our banking and bill-paying. But still, we make up passwords that have some connection to us. They come from our experiences and our memories. So how can we forget them?
The Torah and mitzvot (commandments) are spiritual data, the "bank account" and "websites" of our souls, so to speak. And we need to know how to gain access to those important and very private locations.
Saying a bracha (blessing) before eating is an example of a password that can help gain entry to the spirituality in a fruit or other food.
Regarding tzitzit, the Torah says "You will see them and remember all the commandment of the L-rd and you will do them. And you will not wander after your hearts and your eyes which you use to go astray."
Tzitzit - the fringes at the end of the a tallit - are a mnemonic password, with the numerical value of its letters, strings, and knots adding up to 613, the number of mitzvot.
The tzitzit serve as a visual password when we see them - and focus on the meaning they evoke, what they remind us to do - or not to do. If we mix up the messages, we risk being led astray by distracting sights.
And we can somehow confuse our passwords, by substituting our own values for those of the Torah, for example assuming that "social justice" can substitute for Shabbat or that prayer can take the place of helping our fellow man.
So remembering our spiritual passwords, and which one belongs where, can help us connect to our spiritual gateways and get us in to our most essential personal information.
Without our password, we're like the hacker or the thief. Indeed, there's no way to tell us apart, without the password.
What protected us, distinguished us, identified us, gave us exclusive entrance into "the world" (our world) became a barrier, locking us out of ourselves, frustrating and angering us, forcing us to hack into who we are.
But why do we forget our passwords? How do we let such valuable information slip from our minds? Often, of course, we don't forget the whole password, only part of it. Part of it we remember, but part we forget. Or we confuse our passwords, mixing them up. We may have two, three, a dozen - depending on how many places on line we shop or do our banking and bill-paying. But still, we make up passwords that have some connection to us. They come from our experiences and our memories. So how can we forget them?
The Torah and mitzvot (commandments) are spiritual data, the "bank account" and "websites" of our souls, so to speak. And we need to know how to gain access to those important and very private locations.
Saying a bracha (blessing) before eating is an example of a password that can help gain entry to the spirituality in a fruit or other food.
Regarding tzitzit, the Torah says "You will see them and remember all the commandment of the L-rd and you will do them. And you will not wander after your hearts and your eyes which you use to go astray."
Tzitzit - the fringes at the end of the a tallit - are a mnemonic password, with the numerical value of its letters, strings, and knots adding up to 613, the number of mitzvot.
The tzitzit serve as a visual password when we see them - and focus on the meaning they evoke, what they remind us to do - or not to do. If we mix up the messages, we risk being led astray by distracting sights.
And we can somehow confuse our passwords, by substituting our own values for those of the Torah, for example assuming that "social justice" can substitute for Shabbat or that prayer can take the place of helping our fellow man.
So remembering our spiritual passwords, and which one belongs where, can help us connect to our spiritual gateways and get us in to our most essential personal information.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Question of the Week: What is the Jewish view of divorce?
If souls are united under the Chuppah, can they then split apart?
Answer:
When a couple gets married in a Jewish wedding ceremony, their souls become one. It is like a spiritual operation that takes separate beings and fuses them into a new whole. The Jewish divorce ceremony is the reverse of this. It is a spiritual amputation, severing one part of the united soul from the other, creating two separate beings. Divorce, like an amputation, is a tragedy, but sometimes it's the right thing to do. Our attitude to divorce parallels our attitude to the amputation of a limb in several ways. It is painful. When a limb becomes so diseased that it endangers the rest of the body, the patient is faced with a horrible choice: to face the pain of amputation, or risk worse suffering by leaving things as they are. If the future risks are high enough to clearly outweigh the present pain, the right thing to do is cut off the limb. Similarly, divorce is painful for all involved, but it is the right choice when remaining in an unhealthy relationship will only cause more suffering and heartache. It is a last resort. We do everything possible to avoid having to amputate. If there is a remote chance that the limb can be salvaged, even with great effort and expense, it is worth a try. Only after exhausting all other possibilities would we resort to amputation. Same with divorce - it is only considered after counselling and sincere efforts to change prove fruitless. It is not just a "Plan B". Amputation is not taken lightly. It is not seen as an option if things don't work out. No one would recklessly experiment on their body, saying ,"If anything happens to my limbs, I can always amputate." Similarly, we don't enter marriage saying, "If things don't work out we can always get a divorce." Divorce should not be a factor in the decision to get married. Marriage is forever. There is no Plan B. Prevention is better than a cure. Amputees can live a happy and fulfilled life. They may be far better off after their operation than before. But if they could live life over again, they wouldn't choose to go down that path a second time. So too, divorce may sometimes lead to happiness, and true love and contentment may come after the dissolution of a relationship. But if we can reach that point without the pain of divorce, surely that would be preferable. Often when a couple splits up, the question is not, "Why did they get divorced?", but rather, "Why did they ever get married in the first place?" People are getting divorced for the right reasons, and married for the wrong reasons. High divorce rates should not scare us away from getting married, but rather strengthen our resolve to take marriage seriously, and ensure that we are choosing our partners for the right reasons. What are the right reasons? That's another question...
Good Shabbos,Rabbi Moss
Answer:
When a couple gets married in a Jewish wedding ceremony, their souls become one. It is like a spiritual operation that takes separate beings and fuses them into a new whole. The Jewish divorce ceremony is the reverse of this. It is a spiritual amputation, severing one part of the united soul from the other, creating two separate beings. Divorce, like an amputation, is a tragedy, but sometimes it's the right thing to do. Our attitude to divorce parallels our attitude to the amputation of a limb in several ways. It is painful. When a limb becomes so diseased that it endangers the rest of the body, the patient is faced with a horrible choice: to face the pain of amputation, or risk worse suffering by leaving things as they are. If the future risks are high enough to clearly outweigh the present pain, the right thing to do is cut off the limb. Similarly, divorce is painful for all involved, but it is the right choice when remaining in an unhealthy relationship will only cause more suffering and heartache. It is a last resort. We do everything possible to avoid having to amputate. If there is a remote chance that the limb can be salvaged, even with great effort and expense, it is worth a try. Only after exhausting all other possibilities would we resort to amputation. Same with divorce - it is only considered after counselling and sincere efforts to change prove fruitless. It is not just a "Plan B". Amputation is not taken lightly. It is not seen as an option if things don't work out. No one would recklessly experiment on their body, saying ,"If anything happens to my limbs, I can always amputate." Similarly, we don't enter marriage saying, "If things don't work out we can always get a divorce." Divorce should not be a factor in the decision to get married. Marriage is forever. There is no Plan B. Prevention is better than a cure. Amputees can live a happy and fulfilled life. They may be far better off after their operation than before. But if they could live life over again, they wouldn't choose to go down that path a second time. So too, divorce may sometimes lead to happiness, and true love and contentment may come after the dissolution of a relationship. But if we can reach that point without the pain of divorce, surely that would be preferable. Often when a couple splits up, the question is not, "Why did they get divorced?", but rather, "Why did they ever get married in the first place?" People are getting divorced for the right reasons, and married for the wrong reasons. High divorce rates should not scare us away from getting married, but rather strengthen our resolve to take marriage seriously, and ensure that we are choosing our partners for the right reasons. What are the right reasons? That's another question...
Good Shabbos,Rabbi Moss
Spiritual Gems from the parsha
You shall take a count (lit. "Lift the heads") of the sons of Gershon (Num. 4:22)
The "head symbolizes the brain and our higher faculties, which we use to learn and understand G-d's wisdom. The Torah tells us to "lift our heads" - to constantly strive to learn more and more, for by doing so we will simultaneously "lift up" the rest of the "body," those commandments we perform with our other limbs.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
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Because the service of the Sanctuary belonged to them; they were to bear it upon their shoulders (Num. 7:9)
Worshipping G-d properly is hard work, requiring much effort and "elbow grease." The perfection of G-dly service does not just happen by itself. "If one says, 'I have not toiled, yet I have succeeded' - do not believe him."
(Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk)
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If any man or woman commits a sin against a fellow man, thereby committing an offense against G-d (Num. 5:6)
For most sins which the Torah demands an offering, a small, inexpensive one is sufficient for atonement. The exception to this rule is the guilt offering, which was brought for the sin of stealing. This offering had to be worth at least two selaim. Why? Other sins are committed only against G-d; stealing is a double offense, committed against man and G-d alike. The atonement offering, therefore, had to be more costly.
(M'lo Haomer)
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And every man's holy things shall be his. Whatever he gives the priest shall belong to him (Num. 5:10)
Someone once asked the fabulously wealthy Rothschild from Frankfurt exactly how much he was worth. Rothschild responded by quoting the verse, "And every man's holy things shall be his." "The only riches a person can count as truly belonging to him," he said, "are those he has used for good and holy purposes, such as giving charity and supporting Torah institutions. No one can take these away. The same cannot be said, however, for the rest of one's fortune..."
(Fun Unzer Alten Otzar)
From where does the custom of eating a special meal - Melave Malka - come?
It is customary on Saturday evening to eat a meal in honor of the departure of Shabbat known as Melave Malka - literally, "Escorting the (Shabbat) Queen." As King David was foretold that he would pass away on Shabbat, each Saturday evening he had a meal celebrating another week of life. According to our Sages, the luz bone - from which the body will be formed at the time of the resurrection of the dead - is nourished only from food eaten at the Melave Malka. The Talmud states that eating something hot on Saturday evening is medicinal and helps as an antidote for depression. Another source explains that telling a story about the Baal Shem Tov [some say any righteous person] is beneficial for livelihood.
Peace in the Home
Translated and adapted from letters of the Rebbe
The crucial importance of Shalom Bayis [peace and harmony in the relationship between husband and wife] and the fateful consequences of the lack of Shalom Bayis is to be understood from the following statements of our Sages, of blessed memory:
G-d decrees that His (Ineffable) Name be effaced by placing it in water [in the instance of a Sotah] so that peace can be brought about between husband and wife.
When the opposite occurs [i.e., in the case of a divorce, G-d forbid] - the Mizbei'ach, the Altar in the Holy Temple, sheds tears, which is to say, that this act of divorce has significant impact even on that special place [i.e., the Altar] where atonement is granted and prayers are recited for the peace of the entire Jewish people. Divorce is thus not merely a personal matter between two individuals [it has a cosmic effect as well].
Notwithstanding the above, our Sages of blessed memory have stated, "No two people think alike." In other words, despite the above natural differences of opinions between individuals, it is still possible and indeed necessary that there be true peace between each and every Jew.This is surely so with regard to peace between husband and wife, whose conduct, when in accordance with Torah and mitzvos (commandments), is so meritorious that it is described by our Sages of blessed memory as bringing about that the "Divine Presence resides in their midst."
Likutei Sichos, Vol. XXIV, p. 467
The crucial importance of Shalom Bayis [peace and harmony in the relationship between husband and wife] and the fateful consequences of the lack of Shalom Bayis is to be understood from the following statements of our Sages, of blessed memory:
G-d decrees that His (Ineffable) Name be effaced by placing it in water [in the instance of a Sotah] so that peace can be brought about between husband and wife.
When the opposite occurs [i.e., in the case of a divorce, G-d forbid] - the Mizbei'ach, the Altar in the Holy Temple, sheds tears, which is to say, that this act of divorce has significant impact even on that special place [i.e., the Altar] where atonement is granted and prayers are recited for the peace of the entire Jewish people. Divorce is thus not merely a personal matter between two individuals [it has a cosmic effect as well].
Notwithstanding the above, our Sages of blessed memory have stated, "No two people think alike." In other words, despite the above natural differences of opinions between individuals, it is still possible and indeed necessary that there be true peace between each and every Jew.This is surely so with regard to peace between husband and wife, whose conduct, when in accordance with Torah and mitzvos (commandments), is so meritorious that it is described by our Sages of blessed memory as bringing about that the "Divine Presence resides in their midst."
Likutei Sichos, Vol. XXIV, p. 467
In this week's Torah portion, Nasso,
In this week's Torah portion, Nasso, we find the command to count the Levites - the sons of Gershon and the sons of Merari. The actual count of these people was taken only once, during the second year of their 40-year wanderings. What are we to learn from the Torah's inclusion of this commandment?Why did the Jewish people had to wander for 40 years in the wilderness? When the spies gave a negative report about the land of Israel, the Jewish people were reluctant to enter the land G-d had promised them. G-d, therefore, punished the Jews with 40-years of wandering and decreed that those who had been unwilling to enter Israel would not be allowed to do so. But why did G-d choose a wilderness for their wandering, as opposed to another location?
A wilderness is uninhabited by man, and indeed, the desert the Jewish People wandered through is described as "a great and terrible wilderness: snakes, poisonous serpents and scorpions, and thirst without water to quench." The Children of Israel, through their travels, were charged with transforming that wilderness and purifying the negative forces that still had their hold on the Jewish People. The cloud that preceded them as they traveled destroyed the snakes, serpents and beasts, which threatened their existence. By overcoming the obstacles in the desert the Jews brought light and G-dliness into the world. The uninhabited wilderness became the dwelling place, for 40 years, of the millions of Jews who had just left Egypt, and the "unsown land" was blessed with water from Miriam's well, causing all kinds of plants and trees to flourish.
The commandment to count the Levites charged with transporting the Sanctuary underscored and gave spiritual strength to this higher purpose - the transformation of a wilderness into an inhabited land. This, too, is the responsibility of every Jew, in every era, no matter where he may live, to transform and elevate his surrounding by infusing them with holiness. If at times it appears that insurmountable forces surround us, we are to remember the mission with which we have been charged and the special G-dly powers we are given to accomplish it. Just as the Children of Israel traveled from place to place by Divine command, so too is every Jew, by Divine Providence, faced with precisely those obstacles and challenges he is charged with overcoming. The Torah assures us that through our actions, we can succeed in turning any wilderness into a flourishing dwelling place for G-d.
We also learn from the fact that the Levites were not counted or required to carry the Sanctuary until the age of 30, that it is never too late try to improve oneself. Even if our behavior has been less than admirable and undisciplined - in the category of "wilderness" - we must never become dejected and despair of achieving our spiritual goals. Once the decision to improve is made, G-d gives us the strength to serve Him, purify ourselves, and uncover the G-dliness concealed within.
Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
A wilderness is uninhabited by man, and indeed, the desert the Jewish People wandered through is described as "a great and terrible wilderness: snakes, poisonous serpents and scorpions, and thirst without water to quench." The Children of Israel, through their travels, were charged with transforming that wilderness and purifying the negative forces that still had their hold on the Jewish People. The cloud that preceded them as they traveled destroyed the snakes, serpents and beasts, which threatened their existence. By overcoming the obstacles in the desert the Jews brought light and G-dliness into the world. The uninhabited wilderness became the dwelling place, for 40 years, of the millions of Jews who had just left Egypt, and the "unsown land" was blessed with water from Miriam's well, causing all kinds of plants and trees to flourish.
The commandment to count the Levites charged with transporting the Sanctuary underscored and gave spiritual strength to this higher purpose - the transformation of a wilderness into an inhabited land. This, too, is the responsibility of every Jew, in every era, no matter where he may live, to transform and elevate his surrounding by infusing them with holiness. If at times it appears that insurmountable forces surround us, we are to remember the mission with which we have been charged and the special G-dly powers we are given to accomplish it. Just as the Children of Israel traveled from place to place by Divine command, so too is every Jew, by Divine Providence, faced with precisely those obstacles and challenges he is charged with overcoming. The Torah assures us that through our actions, we can succeed in turning any wilderness into a flourishing dwelling place for G-d.
We also learn from the fact that the Levites were not counted or required to carry the Sanctuary until the age of 30, that it is never too late try to improve oneself. Even if our behavior has been less than admirable and undisciplined - in the category of "wilderness" - we must never become dejected and despair of achieving our spiritual goals. Once the decision to improve is made, G-d gives us the strength to serve Him, purify ourselves, and uncover the G-dliness concealed within.
Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
Do Me A Favour
When someone says, "Do me a favour," how do you react? Do you jump at the opportunity or do you think to yourself, "Uh oh, here it comes. I can't say 'no' but this is going to be a major inconvenience...."?
The next time, before you respond to a request for a favour, consider the following: The Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chasidic movement, taught that the whole reason for a person being put in this world just might be in order to do another Jew a favour!
A favour doesn't have to involve a long-term investment of time, energy or money. It can and does include any act of kindness one might do for another.
Doing a favour for someone connects us to that person in a very intrinsic way. This can be understood by considering how Rabbi Shneur Zalman, the founder of Chabad Chassidus, expanded on the Baal Shem Tov's teaching. He said that when one does a favour to an individual, it is a favour to all those souls that will descend from him until the end of all generations.
Isn't that amazing and mind-boggling! When you lend a friend money, help someone find a job, go shopping for a shut-in, offer a cold glass of water to the man who came to collect the old furniture for the local thrift shop, or even when you do something as simple as helping a little old lady cross the street, you are doing something that has an effect not only on the person, but on his children and his children's children.
If this is true with monetary or corporeal favours, how much more so is it true when it comes to spiritual favours. But what kind of "spiritual favours" might be within the reach of every person?
Do you know how to read Hebrew? Not necessarily understand it but at least read it? There are many young people and adults who can't read Hebrew but want to learn. You can teach someone!
Or you can invite someone who has never experienced Shabbat to celebrate it with you.
You can schlep someone along to a class at your local Chabad Center.
Or you can tell the new Jewish family on the block about the local Jewish summer camp for their children.
Do any of these possible suggestions click? If not, here's something that everyone reading L'Chaim can do. Share this copy of L'Chaim with one of your friends! We're not trying to toot our own horn, but surely you know someone who would benefit form reading a few of the articles.
Do yourself a favour! The next time someone asks you to do him a favour - or even before - give him or her a helping hand materially or spiritually. That favour might just be the reason why you were born!
The next time, before you respond to a request for a favour, consider the following: The Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chasidic movement, taught that the whole reason for a person being put in this world just might be in order to do another Jew a favour!
A favour doesn't have to involve a long-term investment of time, energy or money. It can and does include any act of kindness one might do for another.
Doing a favour for someone connects us to that person in a very intrinsic way. This can be understood by considering how Rabbi Shneur Zalman, the founder of Chabad Chassidus, expanded on the Baal Shem Tov's teaching. He said that when one does a favour to an individual, it is a favour to all those souls that will descend from him until the end of all generations.
Isn't that amazing and mind-boggling! When you lend a friend money, help someone find a job, go shopping for a shut-in, offer a cold glass of water to the man who came to collect the old furniture for the local thrift shop, or even when you do something as simple as helping a little old lady cross the street, you are doing something that has an effect not only on the person, but on his children and his children's children.
If this is true with monetary or corporeal favours, how much more so is it true when it comes to spiritual favours. But what kind of "spiritual favours" might be within the reach of every person?
Do you know how to read Hebrew? Not necessarily understand it but at least read it? There are many young people and adults who can't read Hebrew but want to learn. You can teach someone!
Or you can invite someone who has never experienced Shabbat to celebrate it with you.
You can schlep someone along to a class at your local Chabad Center.
Or you can tell the new Jewish family on the block about the local Jewish summer camp for their children.
Do any of these possible suggestions click? If not, here's something that everyone reading L'Chaim can do. Share this copy of L'Chaim with one of your friends! We're not trying to toot our own horn, but surely you know someone who would benefit form reading a few of the articles.
Do yourself a favour! The next time someone asks you to do him a favour - or even before - give him or her a helping hand materially or spiritually. That favour might just be the reason why you were born!
In an Earthen Vessel
And G-d spoke to Moses, saying: A man whose wife shall stray and commit a betrayal against him... that man shall bring his wife to the Kohen... And the Kohen shall take holy water in an earthen vessel...
Numbers 5:11-23
Life, as described by the Kabbalists, is a marriage of body and soul. The soul—the active, vital force in the relationship—is its “male” component. The body—the vessel that receives the soul and channels and focuses its energies—is the “female” element in the relationship.
Common wisdom has it that spirit is loftier than matter and the soul superior to the body. Indeed, the soul of man maintains a perpetual awareness of its Creator and Source, while the body, susceptible to the enticements of the material, is often the culprit in man’s tendency to forget, stray and betray.
But this is a “male” vision of life. There also exists another perspective on reality—a perspective in which passivity is superior to activity, being is greater than doing, and earthiness is truer than abstraction. A perspective in which the body is not, at best, no more than a servant of the soul, but is itself a conduit matrix of the divine.
Our sages tell us that there will come a time when the supremacy of the female will come to light. A time when the physical will equal and surpass the spiritual as a vehicle of connection to G-d. A time when the soul shall draw its nourishment from the body.[1]
Oil and Water
Therein lies the deeper significance of the laws of the sotah (the “wayward wife”), legislated in the fifth chapter of Numbers:
A man who suspected his wife of unfaithfulness (and had evidence that substantiated his suspicions[2]) was to bring her to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. There the Kohen (priest) would fill an earthen vessel with water from a Temple well and mix in earth from the Temple ground. He would then inscribe the oath of faithfulness (Numbers 5:19-22) upon a parchment scroll, which he also placed in the “bitter waters” until the words were dissolved in the water. The “wayward wife” would then drink of the water.
If the woman had been indeed guilty of adultery, the “bitter waters” would spell her end. In the case in which her husband’s suspicions were unjustified, they not only exonerated her, but actually enhanced her relationship with her husband and the productivty of her marriage.
It is significant that the “wayward wife” was vindicated by means of holy water placed in an earthen vessel. This is in contrast to a law regarding the kindling of the Chanukah lights, which instructs that one should avoid kindling them in a clay lamp or other earthen vessel, as the placement of oil in such utensils yields unaesthetic results.[3] Indeed, the lights in the Holy Temple, after which the Chanukah lights are modeled, were lit with the finest olive oil in a candelabrum of pure gold. While the Chanukah lights are not held to such a high standard of purity and refinement, they require a clean-burning fuel (oil or wax) and a utensil of metal or other “clean” material.
The Chanukah lights proclaim the supremacy of spirit over matter.[4] It is only natural, therefore, that something of such a “spiritual” and “male” character would shun the earthen vessel. The spirituality of Chanukah is also expressed in its oil, whose nature is not to mix with other liquids but to rise above them, as spirit holds itself aloof from the physical and the earthly.
But there is also a fluid of another sort. “The Torah has been compared to water,” writes Rabbi Schneur Zalman in his Tanya, “because just as water tends to descend from a higher place to a lower place, so has the Torah descended from its place of glory, which is the will and wisdom of G-d... until it has clothed itself in physical things and in matters of this world.”[5]
When a soul contemplates his body and finds her a “wayward wife” contentious to his spiritual goals, his wont may be to lay the blame on her femininity—on her physicality and earthiness. But if he truly desires to achieve harmony between them, he must learn to incorporate her feminine vision into their marriage. He must learn that life is more than spiritual oil flickering in vessels of purest gold. He must learn that it is also water—water that gravitates earthward to fill the most material containers with its divine essence.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Shabbat Nasso 5720 (June 4, 1960) and on other occasions
[1]. See Torah Ohr, Vayigash, 44d-45b; Sefer HaMaamarim Melukat, vol. III, p. 321 and sources cited there; et al.
[2]. I.e. witnesses that she was alone with the man with whom her husband suspects she is being unfaithful to him (the laws of sotah do not apply in the case that there are witnesses to her act of betrayal itself).
[3]. Tur and Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim, 673:3; commentaries, ibid.
[4]. See The Transparent Body, The Week in Review, vol. IX, no. 12.
[5]. Tanya, ch. 4. Cf. Isaiah 55:1; Talmud, Taanit 7a and Bava Kama 17a.
by Simon Jacobson
Numbers 5:11-23
Life, as described by the Kabbalists, is a marriage of body and soul. The soul—the active, vital force in the relationship—is its “male” component. The body—the vessel that receives the soul and channels and focuses its energies—is the “female” element in the relationship.
Common wisdom has it that spirit is loftier than matter and the soul superior to the body. Indeed, the soul of man maintains a perpetual awareness of its Creator and Source, while the body, susceptible to the enticements of the material, is often the culprit in man’s tendency to forget, stray and betray.
But this is a “male” vision of life. There also exists another perspective on reality—a perspective in which passivity is superior to activity, being is greater than doing, and earthiness is truer than abstraction. A perspective in which the body is not, at best, no more than a servant of the soul, but is itself a conduit matrix of the divine.
Our sages tell us that there will come a time when the supremacy of the female will come to light. A time when the physical will equal and surpass the spiritual as a vehicle of connection to G-d. A time when the soul shall draw its nourishment from the body.[1]
Oil and Water
Therein lies the deeper significance of the laws of the sotah (the “wayward wife”), legislated in the fifth chapter of Numbers:
A man who suspected his wife of unfaithfulness (and had evidence that substantiated his suspicions[2]) was to bring her to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. There the Kohen (priest) would fill an earthen vessel with water from a Temple well and mix in earth from the Temple ground. He would then inscribe the oath of faithfulness (Numbers 5:19-22) upon a parchment scroll, which he also placed in the “bitter waters” until the words were dissolved in the water. The “wayward wife” would then drink of the water.
If the woman had been indeed guilty of adultery, the “bitter waters” would spell her end. In the case in which her husband’s suspicions were unjustified, they not only exonerated her, but actually enhanced her relationship with her husband and the productivty of her marriage.
It is significant that the “wayward wife” was vindicated by means of holy water placed in an earthen vessel. This is in contrast to a law regarding the kindling of the Chanukah lights, which instructs that one should avoid kindling them in a clay lamp or other earthen vessel, as the placement of oil in such utensils yields unaesthetic results.[3] Indeed, the lights in the Holy Temple, after which the Chanukah lights are modeled, were lit with the finest olive oil in a candelabrum of pure gold. While the Chanukah lights are not held to such a high standard of purity and refinement, they require a clean-burning fuel (oil or wax) and a utensil of metal or other “clean” material.
The Chanukah lights proclaim the supremacy of spirit over matter.[4] It is only natural, therefore, that something of such a “spiritual” and “male” character would shun the earthen vessel. The spirituality of Chanukah is also expressed in its oil, whose nature is not to mix with other liquids but to rise above them, as spirit holds itself aloof from the physical and the earthly.
But there is also a fluid of another sort. “The Torah has been compared to water,” writes Rabbi Schneur Zalman in his Tanya, “because just as water tends to descend from a higher place to a lower place, so has the Torah descended from its place of glory, which is the will and wisdom of G-d... until it has clothed itself in physical things and in matters of this world.”[5]
When a soul contemplates his body and finds her a “wayward wife” contentious to his spiritual goals, his wont may be to lay the blame on her femininity—on her physicality and earthiness. But if he truly desires to achieve harmony between them, he must learn to incorporate her feminine vision into their marriage. He must learn that life is more than spiritual oil flickering in vessels of purest gold. He must learn that it is also water—water that gravitates earthward to fill the most material containers with its divine essence.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Shabbat Nasso 5720 (June 4, 1960) and on other occasions
[1]. See Torah Ohr, Vayigash, 44d-45b; Sefer HaMaamarim Melukat, vol. III, p. 321 and sources cited there; et al.
[2]. I.e. witnesses that she was alone with the man with whom her husband suspects she is being unfaithful to him (the laws of sotah do not apply in the case that there are witnesses to her act of betrayal itself).
[3]. Tur and Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim, 673:3; commentaries, ibid.
[4]. See The Transparent Body, The Week in Review, vol. IX, no. 12.
[5]. Tanya, ch. 4. Cf. Isaiah 55:1; Talmud, Taanit 7a and Bava Kama 17a.
by Simon Jacobson
