He loved peace and pursued peace, loved all creatures and brought them closer to Torah

We read in this week's Torah portion, Va'eira, of the specific instructions given to Moses by G-d prior to Moses' and Aaron's appearance before Pharaoh: When Pharaoh asked them for a sign to prove that the One who sent them was mighty, Aaron was to throw down his staff and it would turn into a serpent. When Aaron, in fact, threw down his staff, Pharaoh immediately called in his wise men and magicians, demanding that they duplicate the trick with their own staffs. They easily performed this feat. However, their staffs were all swallowed up by Aaron's staff.
The miracle which took place here was not that Aaron's staff turned into a serpent, for Pharaoh's magicians were also able to perform this feat. Rather, it was the fact that Aaron's staff (after having changed from a serpent back into a staff) swallowed the magicians' staffs.

The wonders and plagues that occurred in Egypt did not come about for the sole purpose of punishing the Egyptians, but rather to break down the resistance and opposition of the Egyptian people to G-d. Egyptian philosophy claimed that G-d has no power or influence in the world. According to them, after Creation the world was given over to the laws of nature and G-d relinquished any day-to-day supervision or attention.

The Ten Plagues served to disprove this ideology, each one of them illustrating a different error in their way of thinking. The miracle of the swallowing of the staffs was an introduction and precursor to the miracles that would follow. The general prelude to this refutation was the swallowing of the staffs.

The meeting between Aaron and Pharaoh was a confrontation between the forces of good and evil. Aaron's staff symbolized the G-dly force which comes from holiness. The serpent symbolized Egypt, as it says, "Egypt is a great serpent stretched out within its rivers." By turning the staff into a serpent, Aaron showed Pharaoh that Egypt itself owes its life-force to G-d. When Pharaoh's magicians were also able to turn their staffs into serpents, they were insisting that they have their own power. When their staffs were swallowed up by that of Aaron, it proved that the power of impurity and uncleanliness is nothing in the face of the power and force of holiness, and can have no existence or duration.

Through this miracle, G-d showed Pharaoh and his wise men that they, too, were under His dominion, and that Pharaoh truly had no power of his own. This underscored the lesson that was to be learned by all of Egypt, and foreshadowed the Ten Plagues that were to come.

From this discussion about the confrontation between Pharaoh and Aaron, we can learn a general lesson in our treatment of and relationship with others. Aaron was described as one who "loved peace and pursued peace, loved all creatures and brought them closer to Torah." When we meet someone who behaves improperly or with offensive character flaws, we must approach him with the staff of Aaron - with true love, and we must remember that we are using the staff of Aaron, not the serpent; our interaction should be without anger or ill-feelings, without involving our own emotions, rather like a dry stick.


Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

Any individual who lifts his hand against another is termed a rasha

In this week's Torah portion, Shemot, we read the incident where Moses came upon two Jews (Datan and Aviram) in the midst of an argument. When one man lifted his hand to strike the other, Moses cried out, "Rasha! (Evil one!) Why do you strike your fellow?" Moses called him a rasha even though he had not yet delivered the blow, as the very act of raising one's hand against another person is forbidden.
Any individual who lifts his hand against another is termed a rasha, even if he does not actually hit him. But why is it prohibited to raise one's hand?" Why is it considered such a serious transgression?

To explain:

Man was created for the sole purpose of serving his Maker, to learn Torah and perform mitzvot (commandments) in accordance with G-d's will.

The human body is comprised of many different limbs, each one of which must be properly utilized in the service of G-d. Some mitzvot are performed with the feet, others through the power of speech, and yet others with the nose. Each and every limb has a specific purpose, designed to carry out its own particular commandments.

So too has the human hand been created to perform G-d's mitzvot. There are many commandments that are done with the hands: donning tefilin, building a suka, lighting Shabbat candles, etc.

The hand is especially suited to perform the mitzva of tzedaka (charity). With our hands we take a coin and give it to a poor person or place it in a tzedaka box, as the Torah enjoins us: "You shall surely open up your hand."

The primary function of the hand is to do good for others. When a person argues with his fellow man and lifts his hand as if to strike him, he is using that hand to bring him harm - the opposite of the purpose for which it was created.

For this reason Moses called the man "evil one," for it is evil to use the hand which G-d has created for good in a negative fashion. Indeed, it is a serious transgression to pervert the potential for good into a potential for evil. Moses therefore became angry even before the blow was delivered.

A person who hits his fellow and causes him pain commits a sin "between man and his fellow man."

A person who lifts his hand in anger, even though he does not strike the other person, commits a sin "between man and G-d" by distorting the very purpose for which the hand was created.

Let us therefore use our hands - and all our limbs - to carry out G-d's will and serve Him. For that is the true purpose for which man was created.


Adapted from Likutei Sichot, Volume 31.

at the very end of our long and bitter exile

No words in the Torah are chosen arbitrarily, least of all the names of the weekly Torah portions. The name of a particular Torah portion expresses the essence of that section and tells us something about its content. This being the case, why is this week's portion entitled Vayechi ("and Jacob lived"), when it deals exclusively with the events which led up to his passing?
The answer to this question lies in understanding the true meaning of life. Is life our temporal existence in this world, where we are constantly faced with extinction from numerous forces threatening us at every turn? Or is true life something even greater?

Only G-d, the source of all life, can rightly be termed "alive," for He is never changing and exists forever. In this sense, only G-d truly lives, for His existence does not depend on outside forces. But human beings may also attain eternal life, by cleaving to that which is Eternal. G-d is the only entity which lives forever; attaching oneself to Him enables mere mortals to do the same.

"And you, who cleave unto G-d - all of you therefore live today." This is the reason that the Jews are called "alive" by our Sages, for they cleave unto the Eternal Living G-d.

This is demonstrated most clearly when a Jew encounters difficulties and obstacles lying in his path, which serve to make his passage through life all the more challenging. Leading a carefree existence unencumbered by problems is no test of our attachment to G-d; successfully overcoming life's hurdles is what reveals our true devotion and commitment to serving G-d. It is only then that we may be considered "alive."

This illustrates why this week's Torah portion is named Vayechi. It was precisely just prior to Jacob's passing in Egypt that the meaning and purpose of his life was fully revealed. The years Jacob had spent in the Holy Land, although fraught with various trials and tribulations, were insufficient to adequately demonstrate his true devotion to G-d. It was only on his deathbed, in the lowest and most abominable land on earth at the time, that Jacob's true "life" could be recognized by all.

The Talmud states that "Jacob did not die...as long as his seed is alive, he lives too." The continued existence of the Jewish people and their adherence to G-d and His Torah follows in the footsteps of their forefather Jacob and ensures his eternal perpetuation.

Furthermore, it is precisely now, at the very end of our long and bitter exile, that our adherence to Torah and our faith in the imminent coming of Moshiach demonstrates the attainment of true and eternal life.


Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

Joseph is yet alive

In this week's Torah portion, Vayigash, Joseph's brothers return to Jacob and bring him the wonderful news that his son is still alive. "Joseph is yet alive, and is ruler over all the land of Egypt." Jacob, however, could not believe it was true until "he saw the wagons which Joseph had sent to carry him." Only then was he convinced, "and the spirit of Jacob their father was revived."
Rashi, the foremost Torah commentator, explains that the wagons, "agalot" in Hebrew, were a special sign from Joseph to Jacob. The last time Joseph and his father learned Torah together, 22 years before, they had studied the portion of the "egla arufa" - the calf that is killed to atone for a murder whose perpetrator is unknown.

When Jacob saw the "agalot" (a word similar to "egla") he understood the allusion, and was thus convinced that Joseph was indeed alive.

Nonetheless, this explanation is problematical. Surely Jacob did not suspect his sons of telling a falsehood; why then did he not immediately believe them when they stated that "Joseph is yet alive"?

Did Jacob truly think that they had been fooled by an Egyptian stranger, who had somehow tricked them into believing that he was their long-lost brother?

The answer is simple. To a tzadik, a truly righteous person such as Jacob, "life" is not a matter of the physical body but of the soul. When the brothers told him that Joseph was not only alive but "the ruler over all the land of Egypt," he could not believe that his son had been able to maintain his spirituality and continue to live as a Jew in such abject circumstances. After all, Joseph was completely alone for so many years, in the most corrupt and abominable civilization in the ancient world. Not only was he surrounded by the lowest class of people, the brothers had stated that Joseph was their leader! How then could he "live" - truly "live," the spiritual life of a Jew?

When, however, Jacob was given the sign of the "agalot" and understood that Joseph had not forgotten his Torah learning, he realized that his son was on the same high spiritual plane as before his descent to Egypt.

Joseph had managed to remain a tzadik, despite his degraded surroundings. Only then was Jacob convinced that his son still "lived," and "the spirit of Jacob their father was revived."


Adapted from the works of the Rebbe

Far be it

In the Torah portion of Mikeitz, Joseph orders his servants to hide his goblet in his brother's bags. He then sends a messenger to overtake them on the road. When the brothers learn that they are accused of stealing, they reply, "Far be it ("chalila") from your servants to do such a thing!"
One of the explanations offered by Rashi on the word "chalila," which is generally translated as "G-d forbid" or "heaven forefend," is derived from its root in the word "chulin," meaning profane or derogatory. The word also connotes common, i.e., anything that is not related to holiness. The brother's reply to Joseph's messenger thus not only denied their participation in the theft, but expressed a much deeper concept: that the very idea of their involvement in anything other than the realm of holiness was absurd. In other words, the brothers were on such a high spiritual level that relating to the mundane, physical world was somehow incongruous.

Each one of the Twelve Tribes embodied a different path in the service of G-d. And while not every individual Jew is blessed with all of their unique character attributes, there are certain general aspects of their service that we all share in common. The brothers' declaration of "chalila" thus contains a practical lesson to be applied in our daily lives.

A Jew must know that his entire being - his very essence - is holiness. The Jew and the secular realm are two entirely different worlds. The mundane level of existence does not truly pertain to the Jew, to the point that involvement in the material realm is essentially foreign to him.

This extremely high level is not only something the Jew must feel inwardly, but must also be reflected in all of its external manifestations. The nations of the world should be able to see that, to the Jew, the very notion of "mundane" is just as incongruous as the notion of stealing. Indeed, it is this concept that was proudly articulated by Joseph's brothers to the Egyptian messenger.

Of course, the Torah commands that a Jew work within the framework of the physical world. "Six days shall you labor, and do all your work." But the intention is not that the Jew lower himself to the level of the profane; on the contrary, it implies the exact opposite. A Jew is required to involve himself in the world for the purpose of elevating the material plane of existence to holiness. This demonstrates that all his deeds are for the sake of heaven, and brings sanctity into the world.


Adapted from Volume 15 of Likutei Sichot

Joseph allways a Jew

At first glance, this week's Torah portion, Vayeishev, chronicles the circumstances leading to Joseph's appointment as second in command over Egypt, subordinate only to Pharaoh. Yet, upon examination, we find that Joseph's story is synonymous with the history of the Jews.
Joseph, the pride of his father, at the age of 17 is suddenly plucked from his secure environment, family, and his country. Sold into slavery and finding himself in a foreign land, he must now cope with the most adverse and cruel of circumstances. Worst of all, Joseph is not to blame, for all this has come about through no action of his own.

A lesser individual would have surely succumbed to bitterness and depression. Another might have become indifferent. But Joseph realized that he must deal with the reality which presented itself. As the servant of Potifar, he fulfilled his duties to the best of his ability. It soon became apparent even to Potifar that it was in Joseph's merit that his household enjoyed its material blessings.

This, then, is the task of every Jew: No matter how adverse the circumstances, each Jew must live up to his full potential and fulfill his duties to the best of his ability.

But how was Joseph repaid for his loyalty? He was thrown into prison! Why? Because he refused to betray his master by succumbing to the advances of the master's wife. Not only didn't Joseph's honesty and integrity bring him any positive benefits, these very qualities caused him to be incarcerated. Was Joseph discouraged? Did he reject his lifestyle and renounce his high standards? Joseph's response to adversity was to continue in the same path, acting honestly and in good faith. Eventually his behavior and virtue drew the attention of his jailers.

This is the history of the Jew as well: No matter how depraved and corrupt his surroundings, he remains undeterred from his faith in G-d and His Torah.

When Joseph noticed that two of his fellow inmates, Pharaoh's chief butler and chief baker, were distressed for some reason, he rushed to their aid, without thought of rejoicing at their misfortune or of taking revenge for the role they played in his downfall. Joseph could not bear to see people in need, and so he immediately offered his assistance. He was able to bring them relief by interpreting their respective dreams.

In return, Joseph did not ask for monetary payment or special treatment. He merely requested that the chief butler mention his name to Pharaoh when he was freed, which he didn't do. In his unbending faith in the goodness of man and in ultimate justice, Joseph believed that fairness would prevail if only Pharaoh was presented with the facts.

This theme has been played out time and again in Jewish history. Joseph unfortunately learned the hard way that this world is full of lies and deception. Yet when he later found himself in a position of almost unlimited power, he refused to exact revenge on those who had harmed him. This is not the way of the Jew. Joseph faithfully used his office to steer the Egyptians and the whole world from potential catastrophe during the years of famine, enacting, for the first time, the historic role the Jews have played during their exile among the nations.


Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

Israel

This week's Torah portion, Vayishlach, narrates Jacob's victorious struggle with the angel and the subsequent changing of his name to Israel. "Not Jacob shall your name any more be called, but Israel, for you have striven with G-d and with men, and prevailed."
The names "Jacob" and "Israel" are used to refer to the entire Jewish people; each of the two terms emphasizes a particular characteristic of the Jewish nation. According to Chasidic philosophy, "Jacob" and "Israel" symbolize two levels in the Jew's relationship with G-d.

Jews are referred to as both servants of G-d and as G-d's sons. As "servants," they are called "Jacob" - "Hearken unto Me, Jacob my servant." As "sons," they are called "Israel" - "My son, My firstborn, Israel."

The difference between a servant and a son is obvious. When a son fulfills his father's wishes, he does so happily and out of love. A servant, however, is not necessarily overjoyed at the opportunity to carry out his master's command, quite frequently doing so only because he has no choice in the matter.

Both situations apply to our own lives, in our own personal service of G-d. A Jew can pray, learn Torah, observe the mitzvot and serve his Father like a son, or he can perform the very same actions without joy, like a servant serves his Master. When a Jew stands on the level of "Israel," he willingly fulfills his Father's commands, experiencing no inner conflict with the Evil Inclination. When, however, a Jew is on the level of "Jacob," it means he is forced to grapple with the Evil Inclination in order to properly fulfill his Master's command, quite frequently doing so only out of a sense of obligation and submission.

Obviously, the level of "Israel" is the one toward which we all strive, yet one cannot reach this level without first passing through the level of "Jacob." If a Jew is not always enthusiastic in his service, sometimes finding it difficult to serve G-d properly, he should know that this is only natural when one embarks upon a new course. The Evil Inclination is not vanquished all at once, and it takes time to transform the will of G-d into one's own personal will. At first (and this stage may last for years!), the Evil Inclination howls in protest, attempting to divert the Jew. But when a Jew consistently stands up for what is right and refuses to despair, the Evil Inclination is eventually conquered.

This is also one reason why, even after Jacob received the name Israel, he is sometimes referred to in the Torah by his old name. For although the level of "Israel" is superior, the level of "Jacob" is nonetheless a necessary component in the spiritual life of the Jew.


Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

Success in the lowest place

In this week's Torah portion, Vayeitzei, we read how Jacob left the home of his righteous father Isaac, left his studies in the yeshiva of Shem and Eber, and went to the home of the evil Laban in Charan. There he began a new chapter in his life, working as a shepherd day and night. Until then Jacob had concentrated on spiritual service, devoting himself solely to the study of Torah. In Charan, however, Jacob's focal point shifted, and he now found himself involved in more mundane tasks.
Surprisingly, it was precisely in Charan that Jacob achieved his highest level of success, as we are told, "And the man increased exceedingly." Jacob became very wealthy, both literally and figuratively. Moreover, it was there that Jacob married and established the Twelve Tribes, the foundation upon which the entire Jewish people would later be built.

But how is it possible that Jacob experienced his greatest success in a place as lowly as Charan? Why was it necessary for the Jewish people to establish its beginnings in such a sordid environment? (Charan is related to the Hebrew word for anger or wrath.)

A similar question can be asked about G-d's desire for a "dwelling place" in the physical world. Of all the higher celestial planes, G-d chose our lowly material world as the place where He wanted to dwell, to establish a permanent "residence."

The mitzvot of the holy Torah are practical commandments that we perform with simple, physical objects. Tefilin are made from the hide of an animal; tzitzit are made from wool; a suka, from planks of wood; candles for Shabbat and holidays from wax. G-d wants us to build for Him a "dwelling place down below" by using material objects in the performance of mitzvot. The life-long service of the Jew consists of utilizing whatever he comes in contact with to erect a permanent "residence" for G-d in the lower realms.

This desire for a "dwelling place down below" will be realized completely when Moshiach comes and ushers in the Final Redemption. At that time the purpose of creation will be fulfilled, "for the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the L-rd, as the waters cover the sea."

This Divine plan for creation is reflected in Jacob's establishment of the Jewish people in as abject a location as Charan, precisely against a backdrop of involvement in material affairs:

In Charan, Jacob first began to fulfill G-d's intent in the creation of the world, the establishment of a "dwelling place" in this lowest of all possible worlds. In Laban's house he succeeded in laying the groundwork for the generations of Jews who would follow, foreshadowing their Divine mission to transform the physical world into an appropriate "residence" for G-d.


Adapted from Likutei Sichot, Volume 30

These are the generations of Isaac, the son of Abraham

This week's Torah portion, Toldot, begins with the words, "These are the generations of Isaac, the son of Abraham: Abraham begot Isaac." What is the meaning of the repetition in this verse? By stating "the son of Abraham" and "Abraham begot Isaac" - two ways of expressing the same idea - the Torah offers us the reason for "the generations of Isaac":
The generations of Isaac are the consequence of Abraham having begotten Isaac.

Abraham, as the Torah relates, was "one" - the only Jew in the entire world. The whole world stood in opposition to Abraham, as the name "Ivri - Hebrew" (from the word "eiver - side") - implies. The entire world was on one side and Abraham on the other. Nonetheless, Abraham persisted in his mission to make G-d's Name known, as it states, "And he called there in the name of the L-rd, G-d of the world."

This approach was passed on to Abraham's son Isaac as an inheritance, thereby paving the way for the possibility of future "generations of Isaac" - both in the spiritual sense (according to the explanation of our Sages that the primary "descendants" of the righteous are their Torah, mitzvot (commandments) and good deeds) and the physical sense, actual offspring.

This contains a lesson for every Jew in his daily life. When a Jew takes a look at the world he is apt to become discouraged. Evil people seem to prosper and flourish, and countless obstacles stand in the way of his service of G-d. For most o f the day he must involve himself in mundane affairs; it is an ongoing struggle to bring holiness into his life. The Jew is liable to wonder where he will get the strength to observe the commandments and perform good deeds. How can he withstand the many trials that he must endure?

The answer is contained in this week's Torah portion.

"The deeds of the forefathers are a sign for their children" - and not only a sign or indication of how they should conduct themselves, but an infusion of strength. "Abraham begot Isaac" - Abraham was the rock from which Isaac was hewn, and t he source of strength for all Jews. Just as Abraham did not flinch at taking on the entire world, spreading the belief in one G-d and the knowledge that "there is none but Him," so too must every single one of Abraham's descendants take courage in his ability to overcome all hindrances and impediments that come his way.

By striving to fulfill "the generations of Isaac" in the spiritual sense, i.e., Torah, mitzvot and good deeds, we thereby merit to become "the generations of Isaac" in the literal sense as well, vanquishing the enemies of G-d and His Torah in preparation for the conquest of the holy land, at the hands of Moshiach.


Adapted for Maayan Chai from Likutei Sichot, vol. 1

Meaning of a Name

The name of this week's Torah reading is Chayei Sara, literally the "life of Sara." As explained by Rabbi Shneur Zalman, founder of Chabad Chasidism, the Hebrew name of a particular object or creation is what gives it its vitality and sustains it. Thus we must conclude that the entire Torah portion is somehow connected with the "life of Sara."
This, however, appears difficult to understand at first glance. Only the first verse of the Torah portion relates to Sara's life, whereas the rest of it speaks of seemingly unrelated matters: the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, and the passing of Abraham. Why then is the entire portion known as Chayei Sara?

The answer is that in truth, all of the events related in Chayei Sara - the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, as well as the passing of Abraham - express the sum and substance of our Matriarch Sara's life.

Concerning the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, the Torah tells us, "And Isaac brought her into the tent of Sara his mother, and took Rebecca, and she became his wife." When did Isaac agree to marry Rebecca? Only after he brought her into his mother's tent, and the miracles that used to occur during Sara's lifetime resumed.

Rashi, the foremost Torah commentator, explains that there were three specific miracles: 1) the Shabbat candles Sara kindled burned from one Friday afternoon till the next; 2) the dough she kneaded was specially blessed, and; 3) a cloud of holiness hovered over her tent. After Sara's death these miracles ceased; in the merit of Rebecca, they returned.

This occurred three years after Sara passed away, yet we see in these miracles a continuation of her life.

A similar connection exists to the passing of our forefather Abraham. The Torah states, "His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him." Isaac is mentioned before Ishmael, for by the time Abraham died, Ishmael had already repented. By giving his younger brother precedence, Ishmael demonstrated that the birthright rightly belonged to him.

This development was in the sole merit of Sara, who when she saw that Ishmael was "mocking," i.e., not behaving properly, demanded that Abraham "cast him out...for he will not be heir." Sara's intent was for Ishmael to return to G-d in repentance, which indeed subsequently occurred. Many years later, after Sara was no longer alive, Ishmael allowed his younger brother to lead the way, again an expression of the continuation of Sara's life.

The entire Torah portion is therefore known as Chayei Sara, as all of the events it relates are connected to Sara's life.


Adapted from the Lubavitcher Rebbe's talk on Shabbat Chayei Sara, 1975

The roof

This week's Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, contains a commandment involving safe-guarding one's roof lest someone fall from it: "When you build a new house, you must place a guard-rail around your roof. Do not allow a dangerous situation to remain in your house, since someone can fall from [an unenclosed roof]."

A guard-rail is placed around the roof not only for self-protection, but even more to protect others from falling from one's roof.

With the help of Chasidic philosophy, this commandment can be understood in spiritual terms also. A roof - the highest part of the house - is indicative of egoism and conceit. Placing a guard-rail around the roof means that one must confine and limit these undesirable traits. This needs to be done "since someone can fall [from an unenclosed roof]" - i.e., the trait of egoism and conceit is at the root of every spiritual downfall; all evil traits stem from them.

The "guard-rail" placed around egoism and conceit is important not only to protect the person, himself, from negative trait, but it is also important as it relates to a fellow Jew; it is necessary to assure that the person's own ego not bring about another Jew's spiritual downfall.

When a Jew involves his fellow Jews with Judaism and bringing them closer to G-d, he might be filled with conceit. Then, not only is he lacking in terms of his own spiritual service, but his conceit may cause the person whom he is trying to teach to wonder, "What can I learn from a person whose personal gain and self-gratification are foremost in his mind?" This person might actually become distanced from Judaism.

Therefore, an egotistical person might wonder how he can embark on encouraging another Jew in his Jewishness. "How do I know," he asks himself, "if I will be able to build a proper guard-rail around my ego, thereby forestalling my own, or my friend's spiritual downfall?" Maybe it would be better not to "build a new house" - encourage other Jews - at all!

This, though, is not the case. The command begins with a blessing and injunction, "You shall build a new house." A Jew can and must build a house to G-d by creating an environment of Judaism. He cannot rely on others but must build a "new house" - a house which is uniquely his. A guard-rail can and must be made.

The affirmative language assures us that we will be successful in this endeavor.

Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

Torah itself is the refuge in which all may seek asylum

This week's Torah portion, Shoftim, speaks about the cities of refuge a person would flee to if he accidentally killed someone. There, the unintentional killer would dwell, protected from the wrath of the victim's relatives, until the High Priest who served in the Holy Temple passed away.
But not only unintentional killers sought refuge in these cities; even someone who committed murder intentionally was expected to flee there as well. The court would then convene and issue its ruling on the death. The cities of refuge offered protection, if only temporarily in some cases, to anyone who had caused a loss of life.

After the destruction of the Holy Temple and the dispersion of the Jewish people, the cities of refuge ceased to exist in the physical sense. Yet the Torah is eternal, and its lessons apply in every generation. In our times, therefore, the concept of "cities of refuge" finds expression in the spiritual dimension.

Our Sages taught that "the words of Torah absorb." In other words, the Torah itself is the refuge in which all may seek asylum. In the spiritual sense, "killing" symbolizes the act of committing a sin, causing a spiritual death to the G-dly soul, for the Torah's 613 commandments are the "ropes" that bind the soul to G-d. Transgressing the Torah's commandments damages those ties and threatens to cut the soul off from its G-dly source.

We learn from this week's Torah portion that it is never too late to repent, no matter how grave a transgression has been committed. Even the person who deliberately sinned can do teshuva (repentance) and seek protection in the refuge of Torah.

In one sense, nowadays we have a distinct advantage over our forefathers who lived during the times of the Holy Temple. In those days, repentance alone was not enough to atone for a sin. The unintentional killer had to remain exiled in the city of refuge until the death of the High Priest, and the intentional murderer (as defined by the Torah) received capital punishment. Yet after the destruction of the Temple, teshuva alone can atone for even the gravest sin.

Years ago, when Jewish courts had ultimate authority, a judge could only rule on what he himself had seen. G-d, however, can look into the heart of man and judge whether or not his repentance is sincere.

In the same way, the month of Elul, during which we take account of our actions of the previous year, is a "city of refuge" in time, offering us the same opportunity to clear the slate and merit a good and sweet year to come.


Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

When Jews keep G-d's laws...

In this week's Torah portion, Re'ei, the Children of Israel are commanded to maintain their own code of behavior and not to learn from the nations that inhabited Israel before its conquest. "Take heed to yourself that you not be snared by following them." A Jew must never ask, "How do these gentiles worship their gods, that I may do the same?" For G-d has commanded us: "You must not do this before the L-rd your G-d... But hearken to the voice of the L-rd your G-d, to keep all His commandments... to do that which is right in the eyes of the L-rd your G-d."
Moses warned the Jews against imitating the gentiles' conduct. They have their own culture and customs, he explained. Some worship idols, some spend their lives trying to satisfy earthly lusts and desires, while others are motivated by the pursuit of power. But it is forbidden for a Jew to learn from their behavior.

From a numerical standpoint, of course, the Jewish people is the most insignificant of all the nations. Nonetheless, its conduct is entirely unique. Some Jews might mistakenly think that the key to earning the respect and admiration of the gentile nations is to copy their behavior. And yet the opposite is true. It is only when Jews proudly maintain their Jewish traditions and unwavering faith in G-d that they merit not only the respect of their gentile neighbors, but their support and assistance as well.

G-d placed the Jewish people among the nations so that others may see and learn from their simple and uncompromising faith. Jews must always remember that "You have chosen us from among the nations" and conduct themselves according to His will, as revealed in the Torah.

When Jews conduct themselves in such a manner, so as to serve as living examples to the gentiles, they demonstrate that it is indeed possible to adhere to the Seven Noahide Laws that apply to all mankind.

The Jewish people has lived according to the Torah's laws for over 3,000 years. Yet despite its antiquity, the Torah is equally relevant to our present day and age, imparting all who follow in its ways with renewed strength and vitality.

When Jews keep G-d's laws and refuse to mimic the surrounding nations, they merit a multitude of G-d's blessings: long life and good years, tranquility and peace, physical health and true pleasure.

Additionally, when Jews do what is right, the gentile nations not only hold them in high esteem, but lend their assistance as well.


Adapted for Maayan Chai from Hitva'aduyot 5745, Vol. 5

Mezuza

About the commandment of mezuza, which is found in this week's Torah portion, Eikev, the Talmud relates that Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi once sent a mezuza as a gift to Artaban, king of Persia, explaining that the small scroll would protect him from harm.
At first glance, Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi's gesture seems odd. The commandment to affix a mezuza upon one's door posts was given only to the Jewish nation. A non-Jewish king, therefore, would not be fulfilling a religious precept by possessing a mezuza. As such, he would also be ineligible for any reward resulting from the performance of a mitzva (commandment). Why then did Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi promise the gentile king that the mezuza would guard and protect him?

A similar question may also be asked about the common practice, dating back to the time of the Mishna, of inserting a mezuza scroll into one's walking stick, also done for the sake of the protection it afforded. A walking stick is certainly not included in the commandment of mezuza. If there is no commandment, there is certainly no reward. How then, did the mezuza afford protection?

A distinction must be made between the reward a person receives for performing a mitzva and the intrinsic attribute of the mitzva itself. When a person obeys G-d's command by fulfilling a mitzva, the reward he earns is a separate and distinct entity, additional to the essential nature of the mitzva. For example, the Torah states that the reward for the mitzva of mezuza is long life: "That your days be increased and the days of your children."

Yet besides the reward promised by the Torah, each mitzva has its own special attributes and characteristics that have nothing to do with reward, but are integral parts of the mitzva itself. The mezuza's attribute is protection. Our sages explained that when a kosher mezuza is affixed to the door post, G-d Himself watches over the occupants of the house, even when they are not at home. A mezuza is written solely for the purpose of protection, and, by its nature, it protects.

With this in mind, it becomes clear that even when no fulfillment of a religious precept is involved, a mezuza still possesses this attribute of protection, at least to some degree. It was for this reason that Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi sent the mezuza as a gift to the Persian king and that Jews took mezuzot with them wherever they went inside their walking sticks.

In a similar vein, speaking about and studying the laws of mezuza afford similar protection. The Talmud relates that in the house of one Jewish king a special sign was made on those door posts which were exempt from having a mezuza.

From this we learn the crucial importance of having kosher mezuzot.

The Jewish people, likened to "one sheep among 70 wolves," is always in need of special defense. Every additional mezuza affixed to a Jewish home extends G-d's Divine protection to the entire Jewish nation, for all Jews are ultimately responsible for one another.


Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

How could G-d have first begun to show His greatness only in Moses' time?

In this week's Torah portion, Va'etchanan, Moses addresses G-d: "O L-rd G-d," Moses opens his prayer, "You have begun to show Your servant Your greatness and Your strong hand..." With these words, Moses establishes that it wasn't until his generation that G-d began to reveal His greatness in the world.

The Zohar asks how this can be possible. Many years before, it points out, there was a great tzadik (righteous person) named Jacob, who was one of the three Jewish Patriarchs. In fact, Jacob is called "the chosen" of the Forefathers, and he merited to see many G-dly miracles. So how could G-d have first begun to show His greatness only in Moses' time?

The Zohar answers its own question: "That which Moses had, was had by no other human being: many thousands and tens of thousands of Jews, etc."

In Jacob's time the Jewish people was very small in number, far fewer than the several million who existed in Moses' generation. From the "seventy souls" that went down to Egypt at the beginning of the exile, by the time of the Exodus they had already multiplied to 600,000 men between the ages of 20 and 60, not counting women and children and men in other age groups, .

It was not until Moses' generation, when the Jewish people had become "great" also in number, and stood together in unity and oneness, that the true "greatness" of G-d was manifested.

This contains a practical lesson for the Divine service of every Jew: Every individual, regardless of age, must do everything he can to strengthen Jewish unity and make the Jewish people more cohesive. Every person must strive to increase his love for his fellow Jew, and connect himself to as many Jews as possible.

This is one of the reasons we preface our daily prayers with the words "I hereby accept upon myself the positive commandment of 'You shall love your fellow as yourself.'" Before we ask G-d to fulfill a personal request, we identify and connect ourselves to the totality of the Jewish people.

Indeed, it is then that the "greatness" of the Jew is expressed. A single Jew is not alone, nor is a single Jewish family or Jewish community. Every Jew is connected to every other Jew, and to all Jews throughout the generations.

As the Zohar explains, the process of showing G-d's "greatness," initiated by G-d in the generation of Moses, will reach its culmination with the coming of Moshiach, who will redeem not only the Jewish people but also the entire world. At that time we will experience wonders and miracles far greater than those witnessed during the Exodus, and indeed, incomparable to anything experienced in history.


Adapted from a talk of the Lubavitcher Rebbe on 7 Menachem Av 5740/1980

Preparation for Moshiach's imminent arrival

This week's Torah reading, Devarim, is the first portion in the fifth and last book of the Torah, Devarim (Deuteronomy). The entire book was related to the Jewish people in their 40th year in the desert. By that time, the majority of the Jews who had left Egypt were no longer alive; only those who would enter the land of Israel remained. The messages in this book were intended as a preparation to help them make this transition.
Devarim begins by noting the location of the Jews' final encampment before entering Israel. "These are the words that Moses spoke...on this side of the Jordan." At the end of Bamidbar (Numbers), however, this same place is referred to as "the plains of Moab, by the Jordan opposite Jericho."

"The plains of Moab" and "this side of the Jordan" are both names that describe the same physical location. And yet, each name has a different connotation:

"The plains of Moab" identifies the location by its connection to the land of Moab. "This side of the Jordan," by contrast, associates it with the land of Israel, identifying it as lying on the eastern shore of the Jordan river, with the rest of the land of Israel lying toward the west.

What are we to learn from the Torah's usage of two names for the same place? The answer is in the name of each of the two books, Bamidbar (literally "in the desert") and Devarim (meaning "the words"). Bamidbar relates the various encounters and experiences of the Jewish people during their 40 years in the desert, while Devarim, relates Moses' exhortations to the generation that was about to enter Israel, as preparation for the new lives they would be leading there.

At the end of the book of Bamidbar, the site of the Jews' encampment is referred to as "the plains of Moab," as it expressed their connection to a land whose status was non-Jewish territory.

In Devarim, however, it is referred to as "this side of the Jordan," for at that time, the Jewish people were focused on their imminent entry into the land of Israel.

We find ourselves now in the last minutes of exile, poised on the brink of the Final Redemption. Our present era is analogous to the one we read about this week.

"The plains of Moab" is symbolic of the exile and its completion; "this side of the Jordan" is symbolic of our preparation for Moshiach's imminent arrival. Indeed, "this side of the Jordan" is a most appropriate name with which to characterize our present transitional period, for it corresponds to the Jews' heightened state of anticipation in the 40th year of their going out of Egypt.

Moshiach's coming is imminent. We must prepare to greet him. May it happen now.


Adapted for Maayan Chai from Likutei Sichot, Volume 2

"Know Him in all your ways"

This week's Torah portion, Matot, focuses on the mitzva (commandment) of making vows, whereby a person forbids him- or herself from partaking of certain foods or becoming involved in certain activities. Why would a person make a vow? Because he sees that he is becoming too involved in worldly entities; that his life is becoming too materially oriented. Therefore he seeks a safeguard. The intention of this path of conduct is certainly positive, but it has drawbacks. Our Sages teach: "Why add more prohibitions? Is not what the Torah has forbidden enough?" For G-d did not create material existence to be ignored, but instead to be used for a G-dly purpose and intent.
At the heart of this issue is an inner conflict most of us face. Generally, we conceive of a person devoted to spiritual pursuits as otherworldly, somewhat acetic, not the kind of person with whom we'd like to relax and spend a Saturday night. And for that matter, not really the kind of person we'd like to be.

Where did this concept come from? There are some spiritual approaches that consider all material involvement as "a necessary evil." Some get very graphic about how bad material indulgence is and what difficulties it can lead to.

Since people at large aren't willing to accept such an approach, they go to the other end of the spectrum, seeking out sensual gratification and making that the object of their endeavors. They aren't necessarily protesting against aceticism. They're concerned simply with what makes them feel good.

And there are some who vacillate between the two extremes, at times indulging and at times feeling remorse over their deeds and inability to hold themselves back.

Why these two extremes? Because material satisfaction in and of itself is not very uplifting or fulfilling. It does not expand your horizons or enable you to grow. On the contrary, we all know how we can sometimes get caught up in seeking such satisfaction to the exclusion of all else. Then we become coarse and downward oriented. But this is not what we want to do with our lives. We want our lives to have meaning and depth.

On the other hand, we know that we are not angels and we don't want to pretend that we are.

Judaism offers a resolution to this quandary that satisfies both perspectives: Live in the world, but know that it is G-d's world. Be happy. Know how to appreciate the good things in life and do so in a manner that others enjoy your company. However, don't indulge in material things out of selfish desire. Instead, partake of material things as an act of appreciation to G-d for creating a world that contains a great variety of good.

In this vein, our Sages taught that the verse "Know Him in all your ways" is "a small passage on which the entire Torah depends." For the Torah is intended to teach man to relate to G-d in all forms of experience.


From Keeping in Touch, adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Rabbi E. Touger, published by Sichos in English.

To know is to do

Moses, Aaron and the Elders stood weeping with despair, not knowing what to do. Zimri, a prince of the tribe of Shimon, had openly brought Kozbi, a Midianite woman, into his tent. Since the Giving of the Torah, the Jewish people had been forbidden to marry or have relations with Midianites. Witnessing this scene, together with the Jewish leaders stood Pinchas, one of Aaron's grandsons.
Pinchas saw that the leaders were silent, yet he did not hesitate. Courageously he reminded Moses of the law which the latter seemed to have forgotten - that under these circumstances, one who is "jealous" of G-d's honor may execute the offender. Moses replied, "You are the one who has remembered and reminded us of the law. You be the one to carry out the verdict." Pinchas entered Zimri's tent and slew him together with Kozbi. Pinchas had stemmed the tide of immorality and idol-worship, which had become rampant in the Jewish camp. As a result, Pinchas earned a great spiritual reward for averting G-d's anger against His people.

Pinchas was not only junior to the leaders in age but also in Torah learning. Yet, when Torah-law demanded action, Pinchas did not indulge in rationalization; he did not say "there must be a good reason why Moses, Aaron and the Elders - who surely know Torah better than I - are silent." No! Respectfully, yet boldly, Pinchas spoke up. Then, he took decisive action with great self-sacrifice - and saved Israel. G-d had caused Moses to forget the law, providing Pinchas with the opportunity to act and earn G-d's reward of the priesthood.

To know is to do: If one becomes aware of a teaching that he can implement, of a mitzva (commandment) he can do, let him do so. If one witnesses an action that needs to be corrected, let him speak up, let him act. If he sees that the accepted leaders are silent and inactive, let him realize that this may have happened in order that he should earn a special Divine reward.

In this week's portion, named Pinchas, we learn of Pinchas' reward. For in the Alm-ghty's plan for the universe, each individual has certain mitzvot and opportunities for Jewish action that are destined to be presented to him - and to no one else - for fulfillment. If, therefore, one notices that no one is taking action in a situation that he has come across, this may be because it is his mitzva, for him alone to fulfill.


From A Thought for the Week - Detroit. Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

He saddled his donkey...

As related in this week's Torah portion, Balak, when Bilaam went to curse the Jewish people, he woke up early in the morning "and saddled his donkey."
Bilaam was a very important personage, and was accompanied by an entourage of Moabite princes and leaders. Why, then, did Bilaam perform such a menial task himself?

Rashi, the foremost Torah commentator, explains: "From this we see that hatred causes disregard of proper conduct." Bilaam hated the Jews so intensely and was so eager to curse them that he disregarded the usual mores of society.

All this hatred, however, did not ultimately help him, as Rashi continues: "Declared G-d: Wicked one, Abraham their father has already preceded you, as it states, 'And Abraham arose early in the morning and saddled his donkey.'" When Abraham set out to what he thought would be the sacrifice of his son Isaac, he too "arose early and saddled his donkey." Abraham's actions thus "canceled out" Bilaam's evil intent and protected the Jewish people.

What exactly was Bilaam trying to accomplish? Surely he knew that G-d would not allow him to curse the Jews, for he had already been warned: "Only the word which I shall say to you, that shall you do." However, Bilaam hoped to somehow provoke G-d's anger against His people and damage His love for them. Bilaam was a master of incitement. When he saw that it would be impossible to curse the Jews within the natural order, he attempted to "disregard proper conduct" and circumvent convention. Bilaam figured that after the Jewish people had sinned in the desert, G-d would also "disregard proper conduct" and stop showing them His attribute of loving-kindness.

Bilaam's faulty logic was derived from blind hatred. However, G-d said to Bilaam, "Wicked one, Abraham their father has already preceded you." In other words, in the merit of Abraham, the Jewish people are deserving of blessing within or without the natural order. For Abraham's actions also transcended the "usual" way of doing things.

The Torah portion of Balak expresses the transformation of curse into blessing: "The L-rd your G-d would not listen to Bilaam, but... turned the curse into a blessing to you, because the L-rd your G-d loved you." Bilaam's hatred for the Jews caused him to "disregard proper conduct"; conversely, a Jew's love for G-d should prompt him to observe Torah and mitzvot even beyond the letter of the law, with dedication, devotion and commitment. This love must be so intense that it can even transform evil into good.

When a Jew is strongly connected to G-d, it arouses a reciprocal love from on High; curse is turned into blessing, and G-d's love for His people is revealed.


Adapted from the works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, vol. 28

Longing for Moshiach

This week's Torah portion, Chukat, begins with the laws of the red heifer, by which a person was cleansed of ritual defilement.
Maimonides, in his summary of these laws, includes an interesting historical note on this practice: "There have been a total of nine red heifers from the time this mitzva (commandment) was given until the destruction of the Second Holy Temple.

"The first was rendered by Moses, the second by Ezra the Scribe, and seven more between the time of Ezra and the destruction. The tenth red heifer will be rendered by King Moshiach, may he be speedily revealed, Amen, may it be Your will."

These last words seem out of place. Why did Maimonides include a prayer for the revelation of Moshiach in the middle of a legal work? Maimonides measured every word he used. Indeed, many practical implications are learned from his choice of language. Why, then, did Maimonides include this supplication in his discussion of these laws?

Had Maimonides' intent be to teach the importance of praying for Moshiach, he would have included this prayer with the laws of Moshiach, and not in a section in which Moshiach is mentioned only in passing.

Rather, the inclusion of these words - inserted after only a passing reference to Moshiach - underscores that the subject of Redemption must evoke a deep and profound longing in every Jew, culminating in the heartfelt plea: "May he be speedily revealed, Amen, may it be Your will!"

On the belief in Moshiach, Maimonides writes: "He who does not believe in him, or does not await his coming...denies...the Torah and Moses our teacher."

It is not enough to have faith in Moshiach's eventual arrival; a Jew is obligated to actively anticipate his coming, all day, every day. The faith of a person who believes Moshiach will come but does not actually expect him to arrive is lacking.

Just as the belief in Moshiach is constant, so too, is the obligation to joyfully anticipate his arrival a perpetual commandment. A Jew must always feel as if Moshiach will arrive at any moment, for indeed, such is the case.

This unquenchable longing for Moshiach stems from our realization that a Jew cannot complete his personal mission until the Final Redemption, when the entire world will reach its perfection. Every minute till then, we find ourselves in a state of spiritual deficiency.

The lesson, therefore, to be learned from Maimonides' choice of words is that when a Jew anticipates Moshiach in the proper way, the very mention of the subject must elicit such strong emotion and longing that he will spontaneously cry out, "May he be speedily revealed, Amen, may it be Your will."


Adapted from Likutei Sichot of the Rebbe, Vol. 28