Parshas Re'eh: Giving to Man, Giving to God

This week's parshah basically consists of an array of commandments. The parshah starts off with negative commandments; divine commands concerning actions we must stay away from. The bulk of these commandments relate primarily to idolatry, and to staying away from forbidden foods. The next half of the parshah then deals with positive commandments; divine commands concerning actions we must cling to in order to serve God. These include tithes, the sabbatical year etc.

In this second half of the parshah lies an important question whose answer contains an important value in Jewish practice.

These commandments (of this second half) begin with our obligation to bring certain gifts towards a sacred purpose. The first commandment is that of the second tithe: Basically, we are commanded to separate 10 percent of all our crops and eat them by the Holy Temple in Jerusalem (See 14:22-29).

The Torah then goes on to detail commandments directed towards what appears to be “less” of a sacred purpose. Instead of commandments that are directed "Before God" (14:23 and 26) like the tithe, these next commandments are directed towards our fellow man. For instance, the first commandment is that every 3 years, instead of using 10% of your earnings to be eaten in Jerusalem, they are given to the poor and needy. The next law is that of the Sabbatical year, which speaks of the obligation to erase any debts between a borrower and a lender. The subsequent law concerns the freeing of a Jewish slave. At the end of the slave's term, we are not allowed to just let him free "empty handed"; we have to provide him with a means of support, and give him money or part of your flock. So in essence, the Torah starts off by depicting commandments between man and God, and then evolves into a discussion concerning commandments between man and man.

But then a very strange thing occurs! The next law reverts back to a donation directed towards God! It's a commandment that requires us to donate every firstborn animal of our flock to the Temple. But this seems completely out of order because we have already discussed the gifts that are donated towards a sacred purpose (the tithe eaten in Jerusalem) and have moved onto the gifts directed towards man! Why go back? What is the meaning of this order?

The truth is, it's not really out of order. Rather, these set of laws consist of man-to-man commandments in the middle, flanked between two man-to-God commandments at the beginning and end. The reason for this is to express that the commandments directed toward our fellow man are actually at the same sacred level as the commandments directed towards God! On a simple level, this is true because since God Himself issued these man-to-man commandments, then by fulfilling them we are fulfilling God's will. But this idea goes deeper.

Our Rabbis tell us that God created "A world of kindness". The meaning behind this is as follows: If God is complete in every which way and lacks nothing, what was the reason for creating the world? If He has everything, what benefit can the world bring to Him!? Our sages explain that since God is the infinite and ultimate good, he created a world in which he can share this good with others. Therefore when we give from ourselves to our fellow man and are involved in loving and caring relationships with everyone, we are in fact emulating God, the ultimate giver! Therefore, when we give to man, we "give to God" by emulating His ways.

The world therefore can only reach its perfection when there is boundless love among mankind because it is in this state that we are closest to emulating God. It is this very state that we hope to find ourselves in the era of Mashiach (Messiah). In our daily prayers, at the end of the first blessing of the Amidah (the silent prayer), we say "U'Meivi Goel Livnei Bneihem Lmaan Shmo B'Ahava". This sentence can be translated in two ways, in which I think are in fact in tandem with one another.
The first way this sentence is described is that "(God) brings a redeemer … with love". Meaning, that no matter how much trials and tribulations we must go through in order to reach the final redemption, we must always realize that God brings along that path with boundless love.

The second way to translate the sentence is "(God) brings a redeemer … in love". This means, that God will only bring the final redemption in a status of love. God will only bring the era of the Mashiach when mankind is in a state of love with one another.

These two translations are actually one and the same, and it can be said in one simple verse: When we love each other God loves us back. God relates to us in a loving manner when we make sure to treat one another in the same degree of love as well.

May we merit to have loving relationships with all those around us, and may we be showered with God's blessings of love as well.


Good Shabbos,

NZL

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Parshat Eikev: The Source of our Sustenance

Among the many deep facets of this week’s parshah, there’s an idea that is worth noting. In the Talmud (a record of rabbinic discussions pertaining to Jewish law, ethics, customs and history) we find a discussion concerning Rosh Hashannah. An opinion in the Talmud states that Rosh Hashannah is designated as the new year for judgement; meaning, that at the beginning of the year (on Rosh Hashannah) heavenly judgement is already issued regarding what will occur in the (upcoming) year’s end. The Talmud brings a verse from the Torah to solidify its statement:

“…from the beginning of the year until the end of the year.” [Deutoronomy: 11: 12]

The Talmud understands this verse to mean that Hashem (God) will decide, from the year’s onset, what will befall the whole world (*See footnote*) throughout the entire year until its end.

The above verse is actually quoted from our week’s Torah portion, and if one were to examine it a bit closer (note that the Talmud only quoted half of the verse) a serious question may arise.

The verse reads in full:

“[Israel is] a land that Hashem, your God, seeks out; the eyes of Hashem, your God, are always upon it, from the beginning of the year until the end of the year.” [ibid.]

As can be seen, the verse is talking about how God’s supervision over the land of Israel is constant, ongoing throughout the entire year. So the obvious question is: Why is this verse the source for judgement on Rosh Hashannah for the entire world? Furthermore, the verse appears to have nothing to do with the concept of Rosh Hashannah or judgement what so ever!

A possible answer to this question is that the heavenly decree that is issued forth for the entire world on Rosh Hashannah is dependant upon Israel’s status. If, for instance, the land of Israel isn’t in its proper state and is not holding on a sufficient level of holiness, the entire world will suffer. The holiness that is imbued within our source of nourishment will be tainted if the land of Israel is lacking in spiritual completion.

This is in fact why the blessings we recite after eating include a considerable section involving a relationship to the land of Israel and the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. After eating, at one point we’ll recite thanks to Hashem for providing us with the food we just consumed, but then all of a sudden we find ourselves asking God to rebuild Jerusalem! What does rebuilding Jerusalem have to do with what we just ate!?

According to what we’re discussing, it’s because the Holy Temple (which was of course in Jerusalem) housed God’s providence in this natural world. Meaning, the Temple was the channel for spirituality to become manifest in the physicality of this world. Our Rabbis tell us that the actual point where heaven and earth meet is found within the Kodesh Hakedoshim (literally the “holiest of holies”, the most sacred room of the Temple, and in fact the most sacred room on earth). Therefore, Jerusalem and the Temple represent the ultimate idea of the fusion between physical and spiritual in this world.

However, without our Temple, this fusion is greatly hindered. The once bound opposites of Heaven and Earth have now become undone and are drastically separate within this world, longing to be brought back together. Therefore, our purpose is to sanctify this world as much as we can in order to bring the Humpty-Dumpty of spirituality and physicality “back together again”. Now we can understand that after eating, which is just about the most physical thing we ever do, we beg Hashem to return Jerusalem, to return that spiritual element that brings Godliness and life to the food we eat everyday.

This is a fundamental idea in Judaism, and truly gives meaning to the after-blessings recited after our meals. May we merit to push ourselves as much as possible to merge physical with spiritual and live to see the rebuilding of the Holy Temple.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*There may be a mistaken notion that Rosh Hashannah is the New Year for the Jews; this is wrong! Rosh Hashannah is indeed the day that God created the world, so it therefore represents the New Year for the entire world and for all the nations that dwell within it. Rosh Hashannah can be called the “Jewish” New Year only because it is the days that we, as Jews, believe the world was created. In fact, exactly six months after Rosh Hashannah is the 1st of Nissan (the month that Passover falls in) which is the real “New Year for the Jews” but that lies beyond the scope of the essay.

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Parshat Va'Etchanan: The Eternal Flame

At the beginning of this week’s parshah, Moshe recounts before the Jewish nation how he begged Hashem (God) to allow him to enter the land of Israel (previously, God decreed that Moshe was forbidden from entering, and Moshe was trying to rescind the decree). The following verse describes how Hashem answered him:

“…Do not continue to speak to Me further about this matter. Ascend to the top of the cliff…and see [the entire land of Israel] with your eyes, for you shall not cross this Jordan [river, to enter the land]” [Deuteronomy: 3: 26-27]

If you think about it, Hashem’s reply was rather taunting. Let’s use an example to bring forth our problem: Let’s say you were fasting for a day. Your friend, who wasn’t fasting, surely knew how badly you were thirsting for food. How would you react were he to hold up a piece of pie in your face and say “Hey buddy, I know you can’t eat this right now, but I’ll let you look at it for a while”? This would certainly force your mouth to salivate and increase your desire for food greatly, and the hardest part is that you wouldn’t even be able to satisfy that craving! There couldn’t be anything more annoying and irritating than that!

We all know that Moshe had reached the highest levels of Godliness one could ever reach in his lifetime. He literally put all his effort into serving God, and achieved as much as he was able. But there was only one thing lacking in his religious service: Israel. The spiritual energy flowing out of Israel is greater than anywhere in the world, and by just being there one can have the ability to intensify his divine service to the highest degree. Moshe of course knew this, and to lead the nation of Israel into this land was his ultimate life-long ambition. After imploring God to let him in, God stuck to his word and forbade Moshe from entering. But how could he “hold Israel up before Moshe’s face” and tell him “Listen you can’t come in, but I’ll allow to have a glimpse of what you’ll be missing out on”!? Was Hashem displaying cruelty before Moshe?

Rabbi Uziel Milevsky (an exceptional Torah scholar who passed away about 14 years ago) gives a beautiful answer to this question.

In order to solve our problem, we have to first understand a little bit more about Moshe. Almost everyone knows the famous children’s story about a boy who transformed anything he touched into solid gold. Like this boy, Moshe also possessed this gift, but slightly differently. Our Rabbis explain that Moshe represents the personification of endurance and eternality. Therefore, everything Moshe accomplished bears the quality of perpetuation and timelessness. Metaphorically speaking, everything Moshe “touched” turned infinite. For example, Moshe was the one who brought the Jews out of Egypt and established them as a nation. Consequently, the Jewish nation will always live on; despite all the pain and persecution we have experienced and may encounter in the future, we can never be erased. Furthermore, it was Moshe who brought the Torah down from heaven. Through him the world received the Torah, the blueprint of creation and the world’s guide for all eternity.

So why is it that Hashem “tortured” Moshe by showing him the land of Israel, knowing clearly that he would never be able to come inside?

Hashem, in his unfathomable wisdom, wanted every Jew to be endowed with the intrinsic desire and passion to enter the Promised Land. No matter how far removed a Jew may become, Hashem wanted to ensure that his yearning for the Holy land would never be extinguished, and that ultimately through this yearning, he would return to his Jewish roots. Since Moshe had the special gift of generating eternity, Hashem commanded him to see the entire land. By seeing Israel, Moshe’s longing for it undoubtedly deepened to the highest extent. It was this powerful and burning desire that Hashem wanted Moshe to cultivate for the land of Israel only in order to transfer it to the entire Jewish nation forever.

Recently, we underwent the fasts of Shiva Asar B’Tevet (the seventeenth of Tevet, one of the twelve Jewish months) and Tisha B’Av (the ninth of Av, another Jewish month), which commemorate the fall of Jerusalem and the burning of our Holy Temple respectively. Besides mourning over these tragic losses that occurred many years ago, these fasts are also meant for us to reflect on what we can do to rectify the destruction and how we can plant seeds for the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Temple. In the final prayer services of Tisha B’Av, we add in a special prayer for the rebuilding of Jerusalem (additional to the daily prayer we already recite for Jerusalem). Within that prayer, we recite: “…Hashem, with fire you consumed her (Jerusalem) and with fire you will rebuild her…” What does it mean to rebuild with fire? It is a common teaching of the sages that fire alludes to the aspect of desire and emotion. The true meaning of this prayer is that Jerusalem and the Temple will ultimately be rebuilt with the blazing fire for the land of Israel that we will ignite in our hearts.

May we all live to see the rejuvenation of Jerusalem and her Holy Temple, and may we merit to truly mean it with all our hearts when we implore Hashem everyday in our daily prayers “May you rebuild it (Jerusalem) soon in our days as an eternal structure”.


Good Shabbos,

NZL

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Parshat Devarim: Empty Tears

This week begins the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy). The Rabbis consider this book, which is the final book of the five books of Moshe, as a review of events that have already transpired in the nation's history. In this week's Torah portion, we are reminded of the sin of the spies. Basically, before going into Israel the Jewish people requested to send out spies to scout out the land and come back with a report for the nation. The spies came back and told the nation that the inhabitants of the land were too strong to conquer and that it would be impossible to ever settle in Israel. Because of their lack of faith in Hashem (God), Hashem decreed that the present generation would not live to enter Israel, and would wander in the desert until they all died out.

A very interesting teaching is taught in connection to the sin of the spies. The Torah tells us, back in the book of Bamidbar (Numbers), that after hearing the evil report of the spies "The entire assembly raised up and issued its voice; the people wept that night" [Numbers: 14: 1] Our Rabbis teach us that in response to this weeping, Hashem declared "Because you wept for nothing, so shall it be that you will weep on this night throughout the generations". That very night was Tisha B'Av (The ninth day of Jewish month of "Av"). The "weeping throughout the generations" that Hashem declared was referring to the future destruction of the first and second Holy Temples, that both occurred on that same day of Tisha B'Av.


This statement of our Rabbis raises many questions. First of all, aren't the Jews being punished enough!? Hashem already issued a decree that they would not live to enter the land of Israel, why did He have to also decree that the Temples would be destroyed because of the sin!?

The simple answer to this question is that there were actually two separate actions the Jews committed that resulted in two separate punishments. The first sin was that they believed the report of the spies and lost faith that Hashem would deliver them into Israel. Because of this, Hashem swore that their generation would never enter the land. The second part of the sin was how they responded after believing the report, which was the act of "weeping in vain". It was this weeping that led God to declare that in the future they would weep and mourn over the destruction of the Holy Temples on that very day. (*See footnote*)

But this answer raises an even bigger problem. Isn't it a bit harsh that the Temples would be destroyed only because of their crying in vain!? What is the connection between the tears the Jewish nation shed in the desert and the destruction of both the Holy Temples? The answer to this question will hopefully shed light on an idea that will help us understand the importance of Tisha B'Av on a greater level.

First and foremost, we must examine the statement of our Rabbis, which we quoted above. After observing their teaching, we may notice that they never said that it was the weeping itself that was the cause of the future destruction of the Temples! The Talmud (a record of rabbinic discussions pertaining to Jewish law, ethics, customs and history) clearly tells us that both Temples were destroyed not because of the weeping, but because of various sins that the Jews perpetrated during the era that the Temples stood (These sins being idolatry, sexual immorality, and murder, which destroyed the first Temple; and baseless hatred between one Jew and another, which destroyed the second Temple)! So how do we understand the sages words that connects the "weeping in vain" to the Temples' destruction? What the sages meant was the following: Because of our sins (idolatry, sexual immorality etc.) the Temples had to be destroyed; but what decided on what day of the year they would be destroyed? It was the "weeping in vain" that the nation cried many years ago in the desert that determined that the (crying over the) destruction of the Temples would be "on that night"!

Despite the fact that the "tears of vain" were not the cause of the Temples' destruction, there still lies an inherent connection between the two events. There was a certain message that we are meant to uncover that links the destruction of the Temples with the "weeping for nothing" committed in the desert. Therefore, our final question is:
What is the connection between the tears the Jewish nation shed in the desert and the destruction of both the Holy Temples?

When the Jewish nation wept in the desert, they were not weeping to God; they were not crying to God and asking Him to take them out of their difficult situation. They were weeping to themselves; the tears they shed were due to the level of unwarranted despair that they had reached in their hearts and minds. They had lost all hope and believed that there was nothing left; there was nowhere to turn. Indeed, there are moments in everyone's life where we may unfortunately have these emotions and thoughts dwelling inside us, and there is nothing wrong with breaking down and crying; but it depends on who you're crying to.

The Temple was built as a dwelling place for Hashem in this world, and represented the core of the Jewish people's divine service. Unfortunately, the Jewish people became steeped in all types of sin (idolatry, sexual immorality etc.) during that era and focused their attention not on their connection to God but on their connection to themselves. What good is the service if the servants aren't really serving the master!? There was clearly no reason to keep the Temple and follow its rituals if the Jewish nation were concentrating on satisfying their immoral desires and lusts; the outside will never survive if the inside is blemished.

So the Temples were destroyed because the Jewish people focused their energy away from God. This is the concept we are supposed to internalize by the Rabbis statement that connects the weeping of the nation with the Temples' destruction. The Jews didn't cry to God, but to themselves, and for what? For nothing! They cried over the fact that they could never enter Israel when this was absolutely untrue; God promised the land to us and would conquer the land for us! So too, in the time of the Temples, the Jews wound up losing their feelings of connection to God, and directed their service to other matters. And for what? For nothing. For the illusion that this world is meant to satisfy our empty and unreasonable desires.

Nowadays, we are so steeped in the modern day world and we forget our real goal. We invest so much of our time and energy in vain pursuits and we cry over matters that, deep down, have no meaning at all. So on this Tisha B'Av, when we observe our ways and examine how we spend our time, we should ask ourselves "Who are we spending it for?"

Good Shabbos,

Have a meaningful fast,

NZL



* One may be inclined to ask that there is a third aspect to the sin; the sin of the spies themselves! We refer to it as "the sin of the spies" yet we left out the actual sin that the spies themselves committed; the evil report they expressed over the land of Israel! On a simple level, the punishment of not entering Israel and the destruction of the Temples did not really apply to them. The Torah itself depicts their punishment: "The people who spread the evil report about the Land died in a plague before God" (Numbers: 14: 37). This even applies to our Torah portion this week: If one were to read the verses recounting the episode of the spies (Deuteronomy: 1: 22-33), the report of the spies is not even mentioned!

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Parshat Maasei: Aaron's Temple

Parshat “Maasei” opens up with a detailed description of the route that the Jewish nation traveled from the moment we left Egypt up until the moment we were on the brink of entering the land of Israel. In just 49 verses, the Torah lists all the various locations we journeyed through during the 40 years we spent in the desert.

Because the Torah is portraying a simple list (with a few small tangents), it would seem appropriate to write this list in one single paragraph. (*See footnote*) Indeed, the Torah starts off this way; the first 39 verses are written one after the other, without any spacing whatsoever. At this point in the narrative a paragraph break appears, and then verses 40-49 continue on without any breaks between them as well. This seems strange, for verses 40-49 are merely a continuation of the list of the journeys that was described in verses 1-39! Why the sudden break!?

To find the answer, we must analyze the verses that come right before the paragraph break. Verse 37 lists the nation’s encampment in “…Mount Hor, at the edge of the land of Edom”. The Torah then goes on to briefly describe what occurred at that encampment:

“Then Aaron the Kohen went up to Mount Hor by the word of Hashem (God) and died there, in the fortieth year after the Children of Israel went forth from the land of Egypt, in the fifth month on the first of the month. Aaron was 123 years at his death on Mount Hor” [Numbers: 33: 38-39]

The death of Aaron delivered a severe blow to the nation. Aaron, who was described as one who “loved peace and pursued peace” [Ethics of our fathers: 1: 12], was not only a role model for the entire nation; he shared a deep and personal relationship with each and every individual of the Children of Israel. The sages inform us that the Jewish nation mourned over Aaron’s death to a larger extent than Moshe’s death. Moshe, despite the fact that he was the greatest leader in our history, was on an extremely lofty spiritual plateau that caused him to be somewhat disconnected from the people. Aaron, on the other hand, was more affiliated with each and every Jew and created peace and love between the members of the nation. Without Aaron, everything was different. After his death, a great void was created in each and every Jewish heart; the nation’s morale was shook. Every step they took felt different; every journey they embarked upon felt different as well. Therefore, the journeys in verses 40-49 were indeed separate from the journeys in verses 1-39; they were the journeys without our beloved Aaron. (*See 2nd footnote*)

The impact of Aaron’s death is not only expressed by the paragraph break, but by the style of the verse (describing his death) itself! Throughout all the journeys listed, there is not one encampment that includes the date on which it occurred. It is only at Mount Hor, upon Aaron’s death that we are told it was “…in the fortieth year after the Children of Israel went forth from the land of Egypt, in the fifth month on the first of the month”. The fact that the verse contains the exact date (day, month, and year) is meant to impress upon us the importance of this occurrence. Is there anything we can learn from the date of Aaron’s death?

“The fifth month” is the month of “Av”; the month in which we are told to “decrease in happiness” upon its arrival. “Av” is known as the month of tragedy for it was during this month that our nation suffered a great amount of trials and tribulations. Perhaps the most tragic and devastating event of “Av” is the destruction of both our temples, which occurred on the 9th of the month. According to the code of Jewish law, during the first 9 days of the month we are meant to conduct ourselves in a behavior of grievance and mourning, much similar to the mourning one experiences over the loss of a close relative. Is there a reason why, according to Jewish practice, the mourning over the death of a loved one parallels the mourning over the temple’s destruction?

When the Jewish nation was commanded to build the tabernacle, God told Moshe: “They shall make a sanctuary for Me and I shall dwell in them” (Exodus: 25: 8) The well-known question on this verse is why didn’t God say “I shall dwell in it”!? From this verse, our Rabbis teach us that every Jew has the capacity (and is meant) to act as a temple in which God may dwell. This is attained not only by observing God’s commandments and carrying out acts of kindness, but by attaching spiritual significance to every single mundane act we perform in our everyday lives. By binding our physical actions with spirituality we are achieving the purpose of the Temple, which acts as the prime conduit in which the physicality of this world becomes united with the spirituality of Heaven. It is in the temple that Heaven and Earth, so to speak, meet.

The mourning we express over the destruction of the Temple is a mourning over the loss of our link between Heaven and Earth. We cry over the enormous chasm that now exists between God and us due to this separation of the physical and spiritual. So too, when a Jewish person passes away one is meant to experience sadness, not only because of the tremendous loss that has been created in ones heart, but also over the loss of this physical-spiritual link between the body and soul of the deceased. This is one of the reasons why mourners are comforted with the phrase “May God comfort you among the rest of the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem (referring to the Temple)”; the death of a Jew is likened to the destruction of the Temple.

Because every Jew is on a different spiritual plane, which is dependant on his level of observance, every Jew has a different level of integration between his body and soul. Some Jews have a very weak relationship between their body and soul, while others have a very strong connection. Consequently, it can be said that the death of someone who is on a higher spiritual plane is more tragic than that of someone on a lower plane. Because the more righteous individual attained a closer connection between the physical and spiritual, his death signifies the loss of that stronger link between body and soul, and ultimately between Heaven and Earth.

There are those who can reach such a high spiritual level that their body becomes a direct and unobstructed channel between Heaven and Earth. Their very existence becomes a means for us to connect to God here on Earth. It is regarding this kind of individual that the sages say “The death of the righteous is tantamount to the burning of God’s house (the Temple)” (Tractate Rosh Hashannah, 18b). Aaron was such an individual. Aaron had undoubtedly attained a spiritual level where his body and soul were completely intwined with one another. Upon his death, the mourning that the Jewish people took upon themselves was as great as the (future) mourning over the destruction of the Temple. Consequently, the 9-day period in the month of "Av" begins with and culminates in two different, yet similar, types of tragedies: The death of Aaron and the destruction of the Temple, which run parallel to one another. (*see 3rd footnote*)

With the month of "Av" coming up really soon, we should take some time to reflect upon this principle. May we be blessed to seek out and find the righteous individuals in our lives who will serve as our channels to Heaven, and who will help us understand the significance of our Temple which we long for so very much; may it be rebuilt speedily in our days.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*Throughout the Torah, there are two types of paragraph breaks: a closed break and an open break. A closed break is when a spacing appears after a verse, but the next verse continues on that same line. An open break is when the spacing extends all the way to the end of the line, and the next verse therefore continues on the next line. The paragraph break in our discussion is a closed break.

**It was not only the attitude of the Jewish nation that was changed throughout this second stage of their journey, but the very journey itself changed. Our Rabbis inform us that throughout our 40 years in the desert, we would be surrounded by a Heavenly cloud during our travels. Our Rabbis have taught us that these surrounding clouds were given to the nation only by the merit of Aaron. Upon Aaron's passing, the clouds no longer accompanied the Jewish people during their travels, therefore the very journey itself was entirely different now without the protection of the Heavenly clouds.

***Nowadays we do not practice any mourning on the 1st of "Av". The most probable reason is because so many righteous individuals die, as expected, and there would be too many days for fasting that we can handle. However, Aaron's death in particular fits into this time frame because Aaron was the first high priest; he himself inaugurated the Tabernacle. All the service that was performed in the Temple until its destruction stemmed from Aaron. Therefore, his death fits very well on the 1st of "Av".

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Parshat Matot: Chutz La'aretz

In this week’s Torah portion, of the many occurrences that take place, there is one episode in particular worthy of discussion. As the entire Jewish nation was journeying through the desert and was on its way to entering the land of Israel, two and a half tribes (Reuven, Gad, and half of Menashe) of the twelve national tribes decided that they did not want a share in the land of Israel. They felt that they needed to settle in the land on the east bank of the Jordan. When they approached Moshe about their request he grew angry with them. Moshe believed that, instead of aiding the rest of the nation in the conquest of Israel, they wanted to abandon their brethren. He was also afraid that this decision of theirs might influence other tribes to back out of the war as well and forget about entering the land altogether. [Numbers: 32: 1-15]

However, the two and a half tribes assured Moshe that this was never their intent. They clarified to Moshe that they would undoubtedly engage in war to conquer Israel, together with the entire nation. And only after the conquest would finish and the nation would settle in Israel, would they then return back to the east bank of Jordan. Moshe agreed to their request, and as long as they would fulfill their vow to help in the conquest they would be able to live outside of Israel [Verses 16 to 19]

The end of the story isn’t found in this week’s parshah, and it isn’t found at all in the entire Torah (the five books of Moses). However, we do find the culmination to this agreement in the book of Joshua (the first of the many books of the prophets).

There it describes that the two and a half tribes fulfilled their side of the bargain and returned to the east bank of Jordan. But when they arrived, they immediately erected a large altar. Being that it was forbidden to offer sacrifices on any foreign altar outside of the Temple, when the rest of the nation (the nine and a half tribes in Israel) heard about this they became infuriated and were ready to declare war against them. However, once again the actions of the two and a half tribes were misinterpreted, and they had a justified reason for the altar they put up.

They told the rest of the nation that they were afraid that “… In the future your children might say to our children ‘what have you to do with Hashem the God of Israel? Hashem has established a border between us and you…’ So your children will cause our children to stop fearing Hashem.” [Joshua: 22: 24-25] By living separately from the rest of the nation, who dwell in God’s chosen land, the future generations may come to believe that they are not a part of the Jewish nation, and that they were not obligated in serving God. The two and a half tribes assured their brethren that the erected altar was never meant to be used for offering sacrifices upon, but rather as “… a witness between us and you and our generations after us, to perform the service of Hashem…” [Verse 27] The altar was erected as testimony that the three and a half tribes are and always were part of the nation. Upon this explanation, the rest of the nation understood their mistaken accusation, and agreed with the decision of the two and a half tribes to erect the altar.

What lesson can we draw out from this story?

Interestingly, when the Torah first describes (in our parshah) the two and a half tribes’ decision to stay outside of Israel, one will undoubtedly notice that the motive behind their choice wasn’t holy in origin. The Torah states that the two and a half tribes “…had abundant livestock  very great. They saw the land of Jazer and the land of Gilead (the east bank of Jordan) and behold!  It was a place for livestock.” [Numbers: 32: 1] It seems that their decision to settle there was based solely on the conditions of their livestock. Furthermore, when they explained to Moshe that they would still remain loyal to the nation and engage in battle, they would nevertheless leave their families behind on the east bank of Jordan. The following verse describes their claim to Moshe: “… ‘Pens for the flock shall we build here for our livestock and cities for our small children.” [Verse 16] Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaqi, 1040-1105, famed as the author of the first comprehensive commentaries on the Torah) comments that from the fact that they mentioned their livestock before their children, they clearly cared more for their money than for their families. Evidently, it seemed that the two and a half tribes were caught up in materialism, which led to them staying behind outside of Israel. So when they ended up erecting the large altar, the rest of the nation immediately thought to themselves “You see! Because they were so engrossed in the pursuit of wealth and materilalism it has caused them to stray from God and build a foreign altar!”

It is clear that Israel was and always will be the center of spirituality in the entire world, especially for Jews, for it is our inheritance from God. But nowadays, so many of us are living outside of our homeland! Is this wrong!? Apparently, the level of holiness of the diaspora can’t even compare to that of Israel, and living there will no doubt numb our service to God to a certain degree. The desire for wealth, honor, and materialism is therefore far greater outside the land of Israel, and it is an extremely severe danger for us in our religious service. It is so much easier for us to get caught in the web of vanity when we are distanced from the source of holiness in this world, the land of Israel. However, we must never forget that although we may feel forced to live outside of Israel because of various and perhaps justified reasons, we will always be a part of the entire Jewish nation. And just like the two and a half tribes had to put up an altar as a testimony to their service to God, we must also be constantly reminding ourselves of that service as well. (please see footnote)

May we all one day live in the land of Israel together, but until then realize that our goals can still be completed even outside of our homeland.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


** To highlight this point, it is interesting to notice one verse in the parshah. When the two and a half tribes are detailing which cities they have chosen to settle in, Targum Onkelos (the official eastern translation of the bible) changes a few words. The original hebrew script states the cities: “Ataroth, and Dibon…and Nebo, and Beon” [Numbers: 32: 3] When Targum Onkelos translates this verse, in place of the city “Nebo”, he writes the words “the burial place of Moshe”. Indeed, Moshe was buried in the region of Nebo, as stated later in the Torah. But what possessed Targum Onkelos to add in these words if the Torah itself didn’t write them!? The idea is that although the two and a half tribes would stay outside of Israel, the center of spiritual growth, they would still live where Moshe was buried. Moshe, as we know, reached the highest potential anyone has ever reached, yet he never entered the land of Israel. Moshe’s burial place sort of acted as a symbol that even though one lives outside of Israel, he can still fulfill his spiritual potential to the utmost degree as did Moshe. This may have been Onkelos’s intention.

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Parshat Pinchas: Hand to Head

The bulk of this week’s parshah focuses, either directly or indirectly, on one theme: the end of Moshe’s leadership. In the concluding verses to this theme, Moshe requests of God to “appoint a man over the assembly” (Numbers: 27: 16) who will take his place as the new leader of the Jewish people. The Torah depicts God’s response as follows:

“Hashem (God) said to Moshe, ‘Take to yourself Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom there is spirit, and lean your hand upon him’ ” [Numbers: 27: 18]

As in other instances in the Torah, the “leaning of the hand” refers to leaning ones hand on the other party’s head. What is the meaning of this act? Is it merely a ritual that lacks any real importance, or does the “leaning ones hand over the head” contain deeper significance? And what intrinsic connection does it have to the theme of transmitting leadership?

The idea is quite simple. The “hands” represent the mode of action, while the “head” represents the mode of thought. On one level, the act of placing the hands over the head hints to the idea that “action” and “thought” are meant to be intertwined with one another. As humans, it is incumbent upon us to realize that our thoughts and beliefs parallel our actions in this world. As we all know, believing one thing but acting another is known as hypocrisy. We must live the belief! This is a very difficult feat, but with commitment and patience, it will surely come. Upon being inaugurated as the new leader of the Jewish people, it was crucial for Joshua to understand this concept and keep it on his mind (no pun intended) always. A leader’s deeds must follow his beliefs and values in order to truly have a lasting impact on his people.

Perhaps on a deeper level, the act of placing the hands over the head signifies the idea that action is superior to thought. Yes, we are meant to contemplate and meditate upon the greatness of God. Yes, we were given the Torah in order to expound it and break our heads over it. But if all our efforts only go as far as our own thoughts, we have missed the point. As Jews, we are meant to spread the light of Godliness and Torah throughout the world, and this can only be done by means of our outward actions. Moshe was commanded to convey the message to Joshua that becoming a leader is not about being the wisest guy on the block! A leader can only sincerely affect his people through his actions alone. (*see footnote*)

This idea runs throughout the Torah: Upon receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai, we cried out “We shall do, and we shall understand”; the Jewish people understood that to truly accept the yoke of Torah, the “doing” takes precedence over the “understanding”. This can also explain why, when putting on Tefillin, we were commanded to put on the Tefillin for the arm first, and only then to put on the Tefillin for the head. This basic principle of Judaism is meant not only to run through the words of the Torah, but through our veins!

The term of “leaning ones hands” is also used nowadays for when somebody obtains a rabbinic degree (“Smicha” means “the act of leaning”). A Rabbi is supposed to view himself as one of the many leaders of the Jewish nation, and is especially supposed to develop a deep relationship between his thoughts and actions in order to influence his students. Whenever someone receives a blessing, it is very common for the other party to place their hands upon his head (one example is the widespread custom for fathers to bless their children on Shabbos night before Kiddush). Before reciting or receiving any blessing, it is critical to recognize that one of the greatest blessings is the ability to fuse ones thoughts and actions together and to truly understand how much greater our actions are than our thoughts. May we merit to receive this blessing and practice it forever.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*It is very interesting to note that verse 23, which describes how Moshe carried out God’s command, says that Moshe “leaned his hands upon him…”. When God commanded Moshe, he to told him to lean his “hand” in the singular! Why the change? There are many answers to this question. One possible answer, which relates to our idea, is that action can be divided up into two categories: (1) Action, as we know it, and (2) Speech, which can be viewed as action as well. The Talmud discusses the possibility of speech being considered an action, and the idea is also brought down in Tanya as well. It is fairly obvious that the power of ones words can also seriously impact others, if not more. Moshe therefore leaned both his hands upon Joshua.

I only spoke about the precedence of action over thought in regards to man’s relationships to his fellow human beings. But the idea of course applies to man’s relationship with God. It is a common teaching of the sages that although we may not have the proper intention and concentration while performing the commandments, we must perform them nonetheless. The idea also applies to man’s relationship with himself; very often, one’s own actions are what accord him with feelings of accomplishment and self-worth.

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Parshat Chukat: The Sin of the Serpent

A very peculiar episode occurs in this week’s parshah. In chapter 21, the Torah tells us that upon journeying through the desert:

“The people spoke against God and Moses: ‘Why did you bring us up from Egypt to die in this wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and our soul is disgusted with the insubstantial food!’ Hashem (God) sent the fiery serpents against the people and they bit the people. A large multitude of Israel died. The people came to Moses and said ‘we have sinned, for we have spoken against Hashem and you! Pray to Hashem that He remove from us the serpent’, Moses prayed for the people. Hashem said to Moses ‘Make for yourself a fiery serpent and place it on a pole, and it will be that anyone who was bitten will look at it and live.’ ” [Numbers: 21: 5-8]

Firstly, what was so great about the nation’s sin that it warranted such a great plague? Secondly, what is the symbolism behind the nation’s punishment? Why did Hashem specifically send down a serpent to carry out the plague? And thirdly, how do we understand the prescribed remedy for the plague? What is the meaning behind the fake serpent on the pole?

If one were to examine the words describing the people’s protest, we may notice that what was going on was much more than a mere complaint.
Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaqi, 1040-1105, famed as the author of the first comprehensive commentaries on the Torah) explains that when the verse states “The people spoke against God and Moses…” it teaches us that they were equating God to Moses. The people had an erroneous belief that man and God can be equal. But of course, it is impossible for a human being to ever reach a fraction of a fraction of God’s level. Even Moses, who clearly attained the highest spiritual level possible to the point where he spoke with God face to face, could never come near to God’s perfection. (Please see footnote).

Now, where in the Torah do we first come across this false ideology that man can be like God? At the very beginning of creation: When Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden, God prohibited them from eating from the Tree of Knowledge. But as we know, Eve went against God’s word and ate the fruit from the tree, and eventually Adam ate as well. But what caused Eve to commit the sin? The serpent was the one who persuaded her to eat from the forbidden fruit. In the dialogue between Eve and the serpent, the serpent used the following words to convince her: “…on the day you eat of it (the fruit), your eyes will be opened and you will be like God…” [Genesis: 3: 4]

So we see that this mistaken belief, that man and God can be equal, all began with the serpent. This is precisely why God specifically sent down serpents to carry out this plague. It was because the Jews took behaved according to the incorrect ideology of the serpent, that man can be like God.
But how do we understand the cure that God used, that they needed to look up at a fabricated serpent on a pole in order to be healed? On one level, it was meant for the nation to realize that the serpent and its ideology are fabricated, and not real. The idea that man can ever become like God is completely incorrect, and this is what Hashem was trying to convey to the nation upon healing them. Furthermore, Rashi explains that the reason the fake serpent was raised high up on a pole was so that the Jews would look up to the (serpent in the) sky and be reminded of God’s throne in heaven; this caused the people to subject their hearts to their Father in Heaven. God wanted them to understand that it was He who runs the world and it is He who holds the power to heal, not man.

Nowadays, we live in a world that masks God’s providence to a great extent. There are so many sources of confusion in this day and age that cause us to completely forget that there is something greater above us all. One area that we truly follow this misconception is unfortunately during illness. We get a headache and we simply believe that a pill prescribed by a certain doctor in a lab will make us all better. And God forbid, when terrible sickness strikes, we put all our faith in doctors to heal us and remove the sickness from our midst. It is true, pills contain certain elements proven to ameliorate certain conditions. And it’s true that, today more than ever, there have been tremendous advances in the medical field that have allowed doctors to perform all sorts of operations to repair various forms of disease. But it is also true that sometimes pills don’t work, and that all too often doctors unfortunately can not save all their patients. We have to understand that the pills we swallow and the doctors we consult are merely channels in which God uses to manifest His healing power in this world. It is God, and only God, who chooses who will be healed and who won’t. Man cannot “play God”. May we merit to live healthy and long lives, and attain understanding of Who truly holds the key to our health.

Good Shabbos,

NZL

*Moshe’s imperfection is even highlighted earlier in the parshah where the Torah recounts of Moses’ sin. Briefly, Hashem told him to speak to the rock in order for it to bring forth water for the nation; but instead of speaking to the rock, Moses hit the rock. Because he went against the word of God, he was forbidden to lead the nation into the land of Israel. This event clearly demonstrates that even someone as “perfect” as Moses is in fact not perfect.

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Parshat Korach: Korach's Mistake

The primary event in this week’s parshah is the revolt that is held against Moshe and Aharon. Led by a man named Korach, the rebellion stemmed from jealousy towards Moshe and Aharon because of their elevated status among the nation (Moshe was the nation’s leader and Aharon was the high priest). The following verse depicts Korach’s statement to Moshe and Aharon:

“… the entire assembly - all of them - are holy and Hashem (God) is among them, so why do you exalt yourselves over the congregation of Hashem?” [Numbers: 16: 3]

Korach believed that every individual in the entire nation was on the same spiritual plane, and that no one should be more privileged than anyone else. At first glance, his logic seems well in place. Everybody in the nation does have his or her part to play and no one should be considered superior in any way. But from the great divine punishment that befell these rebels, it is clear that Korach’s argument was indeed flawed. So what was the root of his error?

A Midrash (inherited teachings of Moses from Sinai) on this week’s parshah reveals different statements that Korach exclaimed towards Moshe as he was sparking the revolt. Korach used two different examples that conveyed the same message, intending to embarrass Moshe’s level of knowledge and, ultimately, his capability of leadership:

Korach asked Moshe “A cloak made entirely of Tcheilet (the material of the blue string that one is commanded to place in his Tzitzit, the white strings we hang on the corners of our garments); does the cloak require that one puts Tzitzit on it?” When Moshe responded “yes”, Korach laughed at him saying, “Regarding a cloak of a different type of material, placing only one thread of Tcheilet exempts it from the obligation of Tzitzit. This one, which is made entirely of Tcheilet, should it not exempt itself!?”
Korach then asked Moshe “A room full of Torah scrolls; does it require a Mezuzah (a piece of parchment, usually contained in a decorative case, inscribed with specified Hebrew verses from theTorah that we are obligated to affix to our doorposts)?” Again, when Moshe answered “yes”, Korach laughed and said with amusement “Regarding an empty room, only one small parchment containing a few verses form the Torah is needed at its doorpost to exempt it from the commandment of Mezuzah. A room filled with scrolls containing the entire Torah, should it not exempt itself!?”

Korach used these specific examples in order to parallel his argument, as follows: “An entire nation that is at a sanctified and holy level, does it need further holiness!? Does it really need a leader and high priest!? The nation can make its own decisions and lead itself!”

Close examination of this Midrash may help us understand the flaw in Korach’s argument; not by observing what the Midrash says, but rather what it doesn’t say. The Midrash tells us that Korach asked questions regarding Tzitzit and Mezuzah, two different Jewish commandments that we are commanded to keep throughout our daily lives. Interestingly, these two commandments are grouped together in a particular section of our daily prayers. In the paragraphs following our recitation of Shema Yisrael (possibly the most important prayer in Judaism), we recount the obligation for both Tzitzit and Mezuzah. However, one may notice that there is also a third commandment that is grouped along with these two; the commandment of Tefillin (two boxes containing Biblical verses and the leather straps attached to them, which are worn on the arm and head during our daily morning prayer). So if these three commandments - Tzitzit, Mezuzah, and Tefillin - are part of a recognized trio, can there possibly exist a significant reason why Korach only includes two of the three in his debate with Moshe and leaves out Tefillin, or is it mere coincidence?

Perhaps, the fact that Korach leaves Tefillin out of his dispute tells us that there is an aspect of Tefillin that Korach couldn’t relate to, an aspect that he never internalized, and therefore couldn’t use the example of Tefillin in his debate with complete confidence. What is that special aspect?

Each of the three commandments - Tzitzit, Mezuzah, and Tefillin - possess their own unique quality that differentiates it from the other two. For instance, Tzitzit is different from Mezuzah and Tefillin because it does not involve any parchment or scripture; it is merely a garment with strings at its corners. Mezuzah is different from Tzitzit and Tefillin because it is never worn on the body; it is affixed to the doorpost of the house. What prime difference is there between Tefillin and the other two? One possibility is that Tefillin is the only one of the three that comes in two separate pieces. As mentioned, Tefillin are two boxes containing holy parchment; one box is worn on the arm, the other is worn on the head.

Although Tefillin consist of two separate boxes, it has been said that together, they are infact one single commandment. This explains why, before strapping them onto the body, some have the custom of reciting only one blessing for both the head-Tefillin and the arm-Tefillin. So we see that the special characteristic of Tefillin is that although they appear separate, they are in fact one unit. This was the concept that Korach couldn’t fully relate to, and therefore ommitted Tefillin from his debate. Korach couldn’t understand how two apparently separate entities can infact be one. All Korach saw was that Moshe and Aharon were elevated in status and that they were completely removed from the nation. This was his flaw! Because although Moshe and Aharon were indeed on a higher spiritual level and were given more obligations than everyone else, this was never meant to completely disconnect them from the nation. They were always at one with the Jewish nation, and never believed that their part to play was more important than anyone else’s. Moshe and Aharon both knew that if anyone from the nation was missing, the nation would be incomplete, and they never viewed themselves as superior to anyone.

May we all learn from Korach’s mistake and be blessed to recognize where we stand in life; what roles we’re meant to play amongst our family, friends and within the Jewish nation. And may we all truly recognize, establish, and maintain the unity that is expected between us all.

Good Shabbos,

NZL

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The Tzitzit of Harmony

At the end of this week's parshah, we learn about the commandment to wear Tzizit (fringes) at the edges of our (four-cornered) garments. The paragraph that describes the commandment is the very same paragraph that we recite twice daily (morning and night) in our prayers in the section of the "Shema". Wearing Tzitzit is a crucial and fundamental commandment to the Jewish people, and through this commandment we are meant to "remember all the commandments of Hashem (God) and perform them" (Numbers: 15: 39). In order to understand the commandment on a deeper level it will be necessary to see the paragraph in its entirety; the Torah writes:

"And Hashem (God) spoke unto Moses, saying: 'Speak unto the children of Israel, and say to them that they are to make themselves Tzitzit on the corners of their garments, throughout their generations, and that they put with the Tzitzit of each corner a thread of tcheiles (a type of turquoise color). And it shall constitue Tzitzit for you, that you may see it, and remember all the commandments of Hashem, and perform them; and that you not explore after your heart and your eyes, after which you stray; So that you may remember and perform all My commandments, and be holy to your God. I am Hashem your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to be your God; I am Hashem your God.' "[Numbers: 15: 37 – 41]

There are a few core questions that come to mind when observing these verses: In the verse "And Hashem (God) spoke unto Moses, saying", the last word "saying" seems, at first, superfluous. However, this kind of sentence occurs very often in the Torah and the Rabbis have explained that the extra "saying" implies that Moses is meant to repeat it (what God is about to tell him) to the Jewish people. If this is so, then the sentence that follows "Speak unto the children of Israel, and say to them" is definitely superfluous. If we have already established, from the first verse, that Moses is meant to convey this over to the Jewish people, why the need to repeat it!? The paragraph should have started out as something like "And Hashem (God) spoke unto Moses, saying: The children of Israel are to make themselves Tzitzit…' "! From the way the Torah has presented it, it seems that Moses is meant to tell this commandment to the Jewish people twice! Why is that necessary!?

There are two more sentences that appear repetitive as well (as highlighted in bold). The paragraph mentions the idea of "remembering and performing the commandments of Hashem" twice. Why? And in the final sentence, God says "I am Hashem your God" twice as well. Again, why? From the fact that all our questions concern redundancy, there seems to be an underlying theme in the commandment of Tzitzit: duplicity. What is the nature of this duplicity?

Ideally, there is meant to be two types of Jew: The majority of Jews fall into the category that is engaged in pursuing a career and making a living; we can call this the "worldly" Jew. The other, less frequent, kind of Jew is the one that has dedicated his life entirely to studying Torah and clinging to God; we can call this the "Torah" Jew. Looking back on our first question, Moses indeed was meant to convey the commandment of Tzitzit twice! The commandment of Tzitzit was meant to be directed to the two different types of Jew!

To the "wordly" Jew, Hashem commanded that they " remember all the commandments of Hashem, and perform them; and that you not explore after your heart and your eyes, after which you stray". Because this type of Jew must go out of the confines of his Jewish home and environment into the work force, he is most likely to become exposed to the corruption and materialistic desires of the secular world. It is this Jew that requires the special warning of "that you not explore after your heart and your eyes, after which you stray" in order to follow God's commandments. Furthermore, when God tells this Jew that "I am Hashem, your God", he is also reminded that God "brought you out of the land of Egypt, to be your God". Because the "worldly" Jew is in danger of becoming attached to immorality, God reminds him of the immorality of Egypt from which he was rescued. By remembering the spiritual bonds and wickedness of Egypt, the "worldly" Jew will avoid the danger of "exploring after his heart and eyes".

The "Torah" Jew, however, is told to "remember and perform all My commandments, and be holy to your God". Unlike the "worldly" Jew, the "Torah" Jew stays within the walls of his Jewish neighborhood and strives to spend his hours in the houses of Jewish study and prayer. To him, the caution of "not exploring after the heart and eyes" is less likely to apply. Because his lifestyle seeks to come closer to God, he is told that, through keeping the commandments, he will become "holy to your God". (*please see footnote*)

This idea is not only expressed in the verses that pertain to the commandment of Tzitzit, but it is also expressed in the actual Tzitzit themselves! The Tzitzit are composed of two types of string; the more common white string (there are 7 of them), and the less common turquoise string (there is only one of them). Although there are two different types of string, the Torah nevertheless uses the "singular" terminology for Tzitzit ("Tzitzit" is really translated as "fringe" in the singular; "fringes" in the plural would be "Tzitziyot" in Hebrew)

Getting back to our idea; the more common white string represents the more common "worldly" Jew, while the less common turquoise string represents the less common "Torah" Jew. Throughout Jewish history, there has and will inevitably exist this branching of "worldly" and "Torah" Jew. But despite these differences, there is undoubtedly an obligation amongst us, as Jewish people, to fuse together and intertwine these two strings into one harmonious string of unity.

(Inspired by a teaching from Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin of Volozhin, 1817 - 1893)

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*It is a common teaching amongst the sages that the beginning and end of the Torah parshah are related to one another. Since the commandment of Tzitzit is at the end of our parshah, they must relate in some fashion to the opening topic of our parshah: the sin of the spies. I believe the sin of the spies demonstrates how each type of Jew ("worldly" and "Torah") are in danger of falling into sin.

To the "worldly" Jew, the sin of the spies shows what can happen when one leaves the confines of his Jewish surroundings. The spies left the Jewish encampment in the desert to spy out the land of Israel, and because they were distanced from their Jewish homes and families they were more susceptible to the dangers of confusion and dullness of heart, which eventually led them to sin. To the "Torah" Jew, the sin of the spies shows how men of such immense righteousness and grandeur (as the Rabbis explain; the spies were the most righteous individuals from each tribe), who have completely dedicated their lives to serving God, can still fall prey to sin as well.

There is yet another connection; the only spies who didn't sin were Yehoshua and Calev. I believe that Yehoshua and Calev represent the "worldly" and "Torah" Jew. If one is interested in this, please email me.

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Preparing the Lamps

Last week’s parshah concluded with the special inaugural sacrifices that were offered by the princes of each Jewish tribe, besides the tribe of Levi. This week’s parshah opens up with the commandment directed towards Aaron, the high priest, to light the holy Menorah (Candelabra) in the Tabernacle. What is the connection between Aaron’s lighting the lamps and the inaugural sacrifices of the princes? Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaqi, 1040-1105, famed as the author of the first comprehensive commentary on the Torah) offers a possible solution:

“…Because when Aaron saw the inauguration of the princes, his mind grew weak, for he was not with them in the inauguration; neither he nor his tribe (Levi). [Therefore] God told him ‘[I swear] by your life! Your role is greater than theirs, for you [will be commanded to] kindle and prepare the lamps’ ” [Rashi; Numbers: 8: 2]

With this comment, Rashi definitely answers our original question and creates a correlation between lighting of the lamps and the inaugural sacrifices. However, Rashi’s words give rise to another question: What is so special about the lighting of the lamps that comforted Aaron!? Furthermore, how is the service of lighting of the lamps considered greater than the inaugural sacrifices?

There have been many answers offered by various commentators to these questions on Rashi, but perhaps we may suggest another. Before solving this greater problem, we may have to ask one more question which arises upon analyzing Rashi’s words. According to Rashi, God said to Aaron:

“Your role is greater than theirs, for you [will be commanded to] kindle and prepare the lamps”

Normally, the preparations always come before the actual act is carried out. Surely, it does not make any sense to prepare for something once it has already been done! So, why did God say that Aaron would “kindle and prepare” the lamps? Shouldn’t He have said that he would first “prepare” and only then “kindle” the lamps!?

The preparations for the lamps, as with everything else in life, were to be carried out before the kindling. However, the ordering of God’s words was not meant to convey the chronological order between the “preparation” and the “kindling”. Rather, the ordering of His words was meant to emphasize to Aaron that not only was he commanded to “kindle” the lamps, but he was also in charge of “preparing” them! Looking back on Rashi’s words, God was telling Aaron: “Your role is greater than theirs, for you [will be commanded to] kindle AND PREPARE the lamps”. It was the commandment of the “preparation”, rather than the kindling, that brought Aaron true comfort! (*See footnote*) As great as they and their service were, the princes were only commanded to offer up the special inaugural sacrifices. However, they took no part in the preparations; they only took part in the service itself. Aaron, on the other hand, was commanded to not only take part in the service of the lamps, but to prepare them as well.

At first it would seem odd that this is what reassured Aaron! Aaron felt anxiety about not participating in the inauguration, so God tells him that he will now be responsible for the extra menial labor that was necessary to light the lamps!? This seems more like a punishment than a privilege! But this is a grave misconception.

The service of kindling the lamps of the Menorah was Aaron’s unique service to God in the Tabernacle. He knew that the act of lighting the lamps brought an immense amount of spiritual light and clarity to the world, for God deemed the service holy. But everything else outside of the simple and almost effortless act of kindling seemed to have no significance attached to it. Whether it was cleaning out the lamps, polishing them, affixing them, throwing out the old wicks, or pouring in the oil — it all seemed meaningless and paled in comparison to the act of kindling itself. But when God told Aaron that all of those tedious preparations were in fact considered meaningful and holy and were an essential factor in the entire service of kindling the lamps, then Aaron was truly comforted.

Just as Aaron was given his own personal and unique religious service to God, each and every one of us have our own personal and unique service to Him as well. Each one of us have our special character traits that make us who we are, and at the same time allow us to serve God in our own special way. Whether it be engaging ourselves in the teachings of Torah, immersing ourselves in intense prayer, or dedicating ourselves to helping others in need — we all have our own unique ability of bringing light into this world. But it goes beyond that. Fortunately, many of us truly care about doing good deeds and serving God. But unfortunately, many of us focus all our attention on reaching the point of fulfilling that good deed, and we get so caught up in the deed itself that we negate everything else! We may end up caring about Torah and prayers so much that cleaning our room or doing the dishes seems trivial and insignificant. We have to understand that it’s not only about serving God, but creating a proper foundation in that service to God as well. All those small and “meaningless” chores are part of the package in our religious commitment to God and they themselves are deemed holy as well.

May we all merit to recognize the necessity and holiness of the preparations for kindling the lamps in our service to God, and bringing a great and spiritual light into the world.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*If one were to read the next comment of Rashi on the verse, one may see this idea as well. Rashi comments that the verse teaches us that “there was a stair in front of the Menorah upon which the priest (Aaron) would stand and prepare [the lamps]” Rashi didn’t even mention the act of “kindling”, as if to attribute special importance to the act of “preparing” alone.
Furthermore, the verse in the Torah itself uses a seemingly strange terminology; instead of saying, "when you light the lamps", God says "when you bring up the lamps"! This can also be hinting to the fact that the act of "bring up" the lamps alone (i.e. the preparation) merits a special significance!

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Inner Peace

In Chapter 6 of this weeks parshah, we learn about the laws of the Nazirite; the case of an individual who wishes to take upon himself extra stringencies, most probably with the intention of strengthening his commitment to God. For thirty days, this individual is prohibited from drinking wine, cutting his/her hair, and coming in contact with a corpse. At the end of the thirty-day period, he/she brings a special offering marking the completion of the entire Nazirite process.

Immediately after, the Torah then speaks about the three-part priestly blessing that the Kohanim (the priests of the Temple) bestow upon the Jewish nation daily. The juxtaposition of these sections seems odd at first and the obvious question that comes to mind is what is the connection between these two? How is the Nazirite related to the priestly blessing?

Following the priestly blessing, Chapter 7 then describes the special sacrifices offered by the leaders of each tribe for the inauguration ceremony of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle, God’s dwelling place). Again we may note the seemingly strange positioning of this segment! Once more we should be asking ourselves about the relationship between these two sections; is there a link that exists between these special sacrifices and the previously mentioned priestly blessings?

In order to come to an understanding of our question we will first probe one section on its own; that of the inaugural sacrifices. Interestingly, the description of these offerings is unlike anything else written in the entire Torah. As the verses demonstrate, each leader offered the same exact sacrifice; there literally was not one discrepancy between any of the 12 offerings from each of them. Therefore, it would be common sense to detail the offerings in only one paragraph and conclude with something like “This was the inaugural sacrifice offered up by the leader of each tribe”. Instead, the Torah repeats the inaugural sacrifice 12 times; once for every leader! The Torah, in its divine essence, cannot contain anything superfluous. So why was it necessary to repeat the same exact thing 12 times, word for word, when it could’ve easily been written just once!? Let us attempt to solve this dilemma.

Often times in Jewish life, it is very common for someone, in his service to God, to feel like he’s doing the same exact thing every day. Years go by and one can still feel he resides in the same spiritual status as before and that he hasn’t changed a bit in his relationship with God. With time, his religious service becomes quite monotonous and he doesn’t really feel any sense of spirituality at all while fulfilling God’s various commandments. This is a frequent problem that even existed back in the times of the Holy Temple. Even then it was possible for a Jew to simply feel a lack of improvement in his religious growth, and the unchanging rituals make him feel like an emotionless robot. Therefore, certain individuals felt it necessary to temporarily impose upon themselves additional stringencies in their daily religious routine. This was often times the mindset of the Nazirite (explained above). This individual felt that by going the extra mile for a certain amount of time (30 days or longer), it would help rejuvenate his commitment to God and aid him in keeping His commandments on a daily routine.

But the truth is that this is not always the necessary solution. If only one would have true patience, over many years his daily prayers or other religious rituals would eventually flourish and begin to actually mean something to him. He just needs to realize that with time, his spiritual chasm would sooner or later fill up. Even by doing the same thing as everyone else, one can really obtain that desired spiritual feeling after some time. And because every individual is different, any religious practice, as repetitive as it may seem, can express itself in its own significant way for that particular person.

This was the message of the seemingly repetitious description of the inaugural offerings. The Midrash (inherited teachings of Moses from Sinai) explains that although each sacrifice was identical, because each leader had his own special intention while he brought up the offering, it was as if each offering was in fact different. Therefore, if one could comprehend the inner thoughts and emotions of each tribal leader, rather than observing the outer performance of the offering, one would see that each sacrifice indeed had its own special significance

This may explain why the inauguration offerings are found right after the laws of the Nazirite. The moral is that sometimes it isn’t necessary to act different, like the Nazirite, in order to realize your own uniqueness, as each tribal leader exemplified. All too often, people tend to disregard their own individual strengths and in order to feel different from everyone else they develop the need to do something extreme like die their hair blue or pierce their body in every possible way.

If we only focused on the inner dimension we’d find that even the simplest actions we perform can be truly unique; although our actions may sometimes appear identical to everyone else’s on the outside, they can be worlds apart on the inside. This inner vision is in fact the meaning of the priestly blessing.
The concluding words of the three-part priestly recitation is that God should “…establish peace for you” [Numbers: 6: 26]. This blessing for peace should not be viewed as only the final part of the three-part blessing, but rather as the ultimate goal of the entire blessing. What is the meaning of this peace and how does it tie together everything we’ve said thus far?

In the blessing for peace in the Shemoneh Esrei prayer service, we pray to God to “Establish peace…upon us and upon all of Your people Israel…” If we’re begging for peace within the Jewish nation (“upon all Your people Israel”), then whom are we referring to when we declare “upon us” just before that!? The answer is that there are two realms of peace; on the one hand there must exist a universal peace between man and his fellow human being, but on the other hand there must also exist an individual peace between man and himself. Not only do we demand God for peace between ourselves and other members of the world, but we also request God to bestow peace within each and every one of us. This realm of individual peace is what seems to be included in the priestly blessing. The words of the priestly blessings are all written in the singular, rather than plural (which would seem more fitting since this blessing was declared to the nation), as if the blessing was directed toward an individual. But that is the very point! The blessing is indeed meant to be directed toward each and every Jew on his own individual and unique level.

It is this inner peace that is necessary for us to recognize the harmony in our own individual lives. It is this inner peace that allows us to understand our true selves and our own unique characteristics, without having to result in adopting radical outward behaviours in order to feel different. May we all merit to come closer to understanding the inner meaning within ourselves and to uncovering our true individual essence.

Good Shabbos,

NZL

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Numbers in the Desert

Last week we concluded the book of Vayikra (Leviticus), and this week we begin the fourth book, that of Bamidbar (Numbers).

The Talmud (a record of rabbinic discussions pertaining to Jewish law, ethics, customs and history) attributes a different name to each of the five books of the Torah that would portray the underlying theme of the entire book in one word. The book of Bamidbar was named “Sefer Pekudim”, translated as “The Book of Countings” (commonly known as “The Book of Numbers”). The reason for this title is most probably due to the fact that the book both opens and concludes with a national census (counting) of the Jewish people.

There is a common view suggesting that both book titles (e.g. “Bamidbar” and “Countings”) are linked to one another. The book of “Bamidbar” translated into English means the book of “In the Desert”; so what does the desert have to do with counting and numbers?

Before reaching an answer it may be necessary to ask the same exact question, but for the book of “Shmot” (the second book of the bible). The English translation for “Shmot” is “Names”, and the special name that it was given by the Talmud is “The Book of Redemption”. It seems clear why it would be ascribed a title relating to redemption, for the book mainly contains the story of our nation’s redemption from Egypt. But what does the concept of “Names” have to do with redemption? Briefly, the idea is that a name is what uniquely defines one’s character and potential. Our names reflect our own independence and self-purpose; our individual role in this world. In essence, the key to attaining true redemption was to discover our real “names”. (*Please see footnote*)

So if that’s a name, what does it mean to have a number? A number relates to the very same idea but on a completely different and perhaps greater context. When one is counted and obtains a number it is an indication that he is part of a bigger whole, that he belongs to a sum total of other individuals. For example; before meeting a bank teller in person we must pick a number and wait our turn. If someone gets the number 542, that means that 541 people before him have waited thus far at that bank; his number relates back to the greater whole. A number represents the idea of finding one’s own purpose not only within himself, but within a group. As a nation coming out of Egypt and traveling through the desert, it was incumbent that every individual discover his part to play in his relationship with the other people in his life and on a greater level, in his relationship to the entire Jewish nation.

However, the most important thing to realize beforehand is that everyone’s own role is as important as that of the one standing next to him. No one’s task is ever to be considered as on a higher or lower level than another’s. The Jews formed a unit of 603, 550 people and if even one person was missing, that unit would be lost. It is a well-known teaching that there are also 603, 550 letters in the Torah (Bible) and that every Jew in this world has his own letter. This message conveys that every single Jew has his unique portion in the Torah, and his true purpose can only be realized in a life dedicated to Torah. What is even more interesting is that the Jewish code of law, dictates that if a Torah scroll was missing one letter, literally, the entire Torah scroll would be ruled invalid and lose its sanctity completely. So too, if one Jewish soul is lost, if one Jew abandons or ignores his purpose, the entire Jewish national purpose in this world will be flawed as well.

This idea is clear not only in the first chapter of the Book of Bamidbar, which is completely involved in the nation census, but also in the second chapter as well. After being counted in the first chapter, the second chapter deals with the encampment of the nation during their journeys in their desert. We see a detailed and precise description of where and how every family in every tribe was to be placed in reference to the other tribes of the nation. Again, our placement in the camp teaches us how every Jew has their special place within the Jewish nation. What’s extremely important is that we were commanded to place the Mishkan (the Tabernacle, the House of God’s dwelling) in the middle of the national encampment [Numbers: 2: 17], which again teaches us that we can only seek our individual task within the Jewish nation as long as it revolves around Godliness.

So what does the book of “Numbers” have to do with the book of being “In the Desert”? The underlying character trait of a desert is that it’s completely empty; there’s literally nothing there at all for us. However, the very lesson of the book of “Numbers”, which we have developed thus far, is to look deeper into the desert and realize that it isn’t empty after all. Along our journeys, there was one thing in the desert that we were meant to uncover: eachother. After being redeemed, why didn’t God transport us right into Israel? Why did we need to travel through the long and weary desert roads? The reason was that through the nothingness of the desert, we would be able to discover the togetherness of our nation, and it was the only opportunity for every Jew to learn his part to play in the greater whole of the Jewish people.

Too often, we involve ourselves with entertaining and potentially meaningless social activities such as sport franchises, concerts, or even Kiddush clubs. The meaning behind it all is because we want to feel that we’re a part of something; that we belong to something greater than ourselves. God willing, one day we will each realize our own goals, and eventually come to understand that we already do belong to a far greater whole than anything out there: the Jewish people.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*Because this idea lies beyond the scope of this essay, it was greatly summarized. If anyone would like to read a more detailed description of this concept, I would be glad to send you the complete essay.

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The Blessing of Peace

This week’s parshah caps off the book of Vayikra (Leviticus). The majority of the parshah deals with the rewards we are to receive if we follow God’s commandments and the punishments we would be deserving were we to negate his commandments. In the section discussing our possible rewards, the Torah writes:

“I will provide peace in the land…” [Leviticus: 26: 6]

God promises us a state of peace as a reward for keeping His commandments and adhering to His word. However, the next verse writes:

“You will pursue your enemies; and they will fall before you by the sword” [Leviticus: 26: 7]

How is it possible that God promises us a state of peace while at the same time ensuring that we will go to war with our enemies!? Despite the fact that He promises our victory, isn’t “peace” supposed to describe an ideal era, void of war and strife in the world, where all nations have reached a balanced and equal relationship with one another? Clearly, the “peace” that God promises us is not the same “peace” that we have been brought up with! So, what is “peace” in the Jewish worldview?


In the final teaching of the Jewish Oral Law, we read:

“Rabbi Shimon Ben (son of) Chalafta said: ‘The Holy One, Blessed is He, could find no container which would hold Israel’s blessings as well as peace, as it says: ‘Hashem (God) will give might to his people, Hashem will bless His people with peace’ ” [Uktzin: 3: 12]

According to this passage, peace is not one of the blessings that God bestows upon us; rather peace is the medium in which we are able to receive all of God’s blessings. This is the reason why we mention “peace” upon the conclusion of the Shemoneh Esrei (silent prayer), the Priestly Blessings, and Bircas HaMazon (Grace after meals). After reciting all of our needs and desires in each of those prayers, we terminate with a request for peace, for peace is the idyllic vessel for us to obtain all of those requests and blessings that we previously prayed for before God.

Although we have defined what peace does (acting as a vessel for blessing), we have yet to define what peace is itself. Furthermore, if we were to live in a state that lacked “peace”, does that mean we would never receive any of God’s blessings?

Rabbi Mordechai Elon explains that peace is described just as we know it: a state of mutual harmony between two parties. However, the “two parties” that peace exists between are Heaven and Earth. Peace is a state where there are no spiritual arguments or obstacles between the spiritual Heavenly sphere and the physical Earthly sphere. It is a situation where a completely direct connection and flow exists between Heaven and Earth, with nothing getting in the way. Therefore, because there exists a channel that combines Heaven to Earth directly, peace is a time where God’s blessings are able to be transferred directly from His heavenly abode to us on Earth.

This state of peace can only happen if the inhabitants of Earth are behaving in the way that God in heaven expects them to behave (*see footnote*). Presently, the world we live in is clearly not in this state of peace; our corrupted ways have produced the obstructions and blockages between us and God that denies us that direct and efficient vessel in which to receive His blessings. Sure, God is watching over us constantly and His blessings do make their way down to Earth; but because of the spiritual impediments we have created, those blessings either get stuck on the way or take a very long time to reach us.

Returning to this week’s portion; at the end of the section discussing the punishments we were to receive if we ignore God’s commandments, God ensures that we would eventually repent from that sinful state and we would ultimately return to His service. In that section of the parshah, God promises us:

“I will remember My covenant with יעקוב (Jacob)…” [Leviticus: 26: 42]

Normally, our patriarch Jacob’s name is spelled as “יעקב”, without the letter “ו” in it. Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaqi, 1040 –1105, famed as the author of the first comprehensive commentary on the Torah) tells us that there are five places in all of Holy Scripture that Jacob’s name is written with the unusual letter “ו”, and there are also exactly five places that the prophet Elijah’s name (אליהו) is written without the usual letter “ו”. Rashi explains that this hints to the idea that Jacob took a letter from Elijah’s name and would only return it when Elijah would come and bring the redemption to his (Jacob’s) children. Although this is a very nice thought, why is it specifically the letter “ו” that is taken?

The letter “ו” is the only Hebrew letter that connects two words to one another, it can therefore be translated as “and”. Each Hebrew letter has endless significance unto itself, and the letter “ו” in particular relates to the idea of connection, therefore it is used to connect words. On a deeper level, it is an entirely straight letter, without any deviations or breakages; it is simply a straight line. Therefore, not only does it represent connection, but it represents a straight and direct connection. “ו” is therefore the letter that represents the direct and perfect relationship between God and the world; it represents real "peace". This ideal state of peace will only come with the final redemption, therefore Jacob takes specifically the letter “ו” from Elijah until that time. Once the redemption arrives, the “ו” is returned and ultimately that direct unwavering connection between Heaven and Earth returns as well.

Every Jewish month has been given its own letter, and the Jewish month that we find ourselves in now, Iyar, relates to the letter “ו”. It is this month that contains the great majority of the 49 days that we are counting between the holidays of Pesach and Shavuot. Each day of the 49 days was meant to act as a cleansing process of the 49 levels of impurity that the Jews found themselves in upon leaving Egypt. So too, in our time, each of these 49 days are meant to destroy and remove those 49 spiritual barriers of impurity between us and God. May we merit to remove all of the spiritual obstructions between Heaven and Earth and ultimately receive God’s blessings in a state of real peace.



Good Shabbos,

NZL



*The state of peace for the entire world must be when the entire world is doing God’s bidding. If only the Jews were completely following God’s command, then this state of peace would only fall upon the Jews and the land of Israel. This is why the verse says that God will “provide peace in the land”. “The land” here means the land of Israel. Because the promises in this week’s parshah are directed to the Jewish people alone, God ensures that “peace” will bestowed upon “the land” of Israel in particular.

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The Constant

This week’s parshah deals primarily with laws that relate to an individual’s estate in the land of Israel. When the Jews finally conquered and inherited the land of Israel, each of the twelve tribes was given its own portion throughout the country. And within every tribe, every person inherited their own particular portion of the land. In this week’s parshah we learn about different situations in which one must, for certain reasons, sell his portion (either land, or his house) to another. The Torah tells us:

“If your brother becomes impoverished and sells part of his ancestral heritage, his redeemer who is closest to him shall come and redeem his brother’s sale. If a man will have no redeemer, but his means suffice and he acquires enough for its redemption…he shall return to his ancestral heritage” [Leviticus: 25: 25 - 27]

In his commentary on this verse, Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaqi, 1040-1105, famed as the author of the first comprehensive commentary on the Torah) tells us:

“ ‘If your brother becomes impoverished’ – This teaches that a person is not permitted to sell his field except when under the pressure of poverty.

‘PART OF his ancestral heritage’ – But not all of it; The Torah teaches proper conduct that he should leave a field for himself”


Every Jew has his own unique share in the land of Israel, and his connection to it is not merely physical, but spiritual as well. The entire land was given to the Jewish nation as a gift from God, therefore each individual must recognize that his own special portion was given to him by God himself, and he must treat it accordingly. The Torah therefore stresses that we are not allowed to sell any part of our portion without a significant reason. It is God’s gift to us! Only under extreme forceful situations, where we have no other choice, are we permitted to give up our piece of land for money. And still, even then we are told to hang on to some remnant of our portion, in order to sustain our physical and spiritual attachment to part of the gift that God has bestowed upon us. And even in such a situation, the Torah pushes us to constantly make an effort to regain our portion; whether it’s through a close one who buys it back (redeems) for us or whether we are able to muster up enough money to buy it back ourselves.

I think this concept can be expanded and can serve as a fundamental lesson in our religious level in life.

Being born as Jew, we have all been endowed with another spiritual heritage from God; our soul. We are put into this world to deeply understand and connect to our individual souls in order to develop a close relationship with God. We must internalize that our soul, our life source, is a gift from God; this is what we have to meditate over when we wake up every morning and proclaim “I gratefully thank You (“Modeh Ani”), O living and eternal King, for You have returned my soul within me with compassion — abundant is Your faithfulness” (*see footnote*). Because our souls are our own unique portions from God Himself, we are to treat them properly; we are to infuse them with Torah and good deeds constantly. We must strive for this always.

Unfortunately, all too often a person falls short of this connection to his soul, and ultimately of his connection to God. There are times in life where someone reaches that feeling of connection and may even spend a considerable amount of time cultivating it and strengthening his commitment to Judaism and to God. But then he loses it. This may be for many reasons; someone becomes too influenced by his job, his studies or his group of friends. Slowly but surely, all that work he spent on his soul wears off and he only realizes it when it’s too late; he has become spiritually impoverished.

In such a situation, it is so easy to convince oneself that all he had worked for was for naught, and that there remains no reason for him to start over and pursue his spiritual endeavors. It is so easy to give up and let it all go. But no! The Torah tells us that, despite our unfortunate state of poverty, we must hold on to something! Anything! Whether it’s maintaining some sort of prayer schedule, or putting on Tefillin everyday, or learning Torah once a week, or even just saying our “Modeh Ani” every morning. Do something! Don’t let go entirely! It is in these impoverished situations that one must maintain a constant, in order to provide himself with some degree of stability so that one day he will slowly work his way back up and “return to his ancestral heritage”. Whether it’s by associating oneself with a close family member/friend/role model who will redeem him, or by pushing oneself on his own to redeem himself; by maintaining this constant, one can be redeemed.

May we all merit to find the constant in our lives, and continuously walk on the path of returning to our ancestral heritage.


Good Shabbos,

NZL


*The word "Modeh" in the "Modeh Ani" prayer does not necessarily mean to "Thank". "Modeh" very often is defined as an act of acknowledgement, and therefore what we are truly saying is "I am acknowledging before You, O living and eternal King, that You have returned my soul within me with compassion — abundant is Your faithfulness”

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Counting from the Omer

This week’s parshah covers a wide range of topics. Chapter 23 primarily speaks about the different holidays throughout the Jewish calendar, and since we find ourselves in the special weeks between the holiday of Pesach and Shavuot, it seems fitting to analyze the verses that describe this period that we find ourselves in presently.

Briefly, the Torah commands us to bring a special barley offering to God (in the Temple) the day after (the first day of) Pesach; this offering is known as the “Omer” offering. After the Omer offering is brought, we are then commanded to count 49 days, and on the 50th day we bring a special bread offering. This 50th day is known as the holiday of “Shavuot”, and it celebrates the day that we received the Torah at Mount Sinai.

Because the Beit Hamikdash (the Holy Temple) is not standing in our time, we are not able to bring the special barley and bread offerings which we were commanded. However, we still observe the practice of counting 49 days between Pesach and Shavuot. Therefore, every night in synagogue, at the conclusion of the evening services we recite the special blessing of “Sefirat HaOmer” (“The counting of the Omer”) and then count the day by announcing what day we are presently on.

Assuming we are counting 49 days until Shavuot, it would seems sensible to announce on the first day: “There are 49 days left until Shavuot”, and on the second day: “There are 48 days left until Shavuot”, and so on. This way would seem logical because we would be expressing our yearning and excitement for the day of Shavuot to come. However, this is now how we count. On the first day we say: “Today is one day of the Omer”, on the second day: “Today is two days of the Omer”, and so on. Why do we count in such a way?

Clearly, we are not counting how many days are remaining until Shavuot, rather we are counting how many days have passed since we have brought the Omer offering. This is why it is called “Sefirat HaOmer” (“The Counting of the Omer”). But why do we keep relating back to the Omer offering, rather than counting towards Shavuot, the day which we received the Torah? What does this represent?

As mentioned before, the Omer offering consisted of barley, which is an animal food, and the offering brought on the 50th day consisted of bread, which is a human food. The reason for this is because it represents the transition the Jewish nation underwent between coming out of Egypt and receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. The Rabbis tell us that upon leaving Egypt we were steeped in the 49th level of immorality, and all our actions stemmed from our animalistic tendencies and desires; therefore the offering at this time was that of animal food (barley). However, we experienced a purification process in the desert that lasted 49 days, and by then we had completely removed ourselves from our corrupted ways and became closer to Hashem. By the end of the 49th day we were on the level of “men” and were ready to receive the Torah; therefore the offering we gave at the end of this period was human food (bread). (*Please see footnote*)

But this makes our question even stronger! If the Omer represents our lowly state upon leaving Egypt, why should we be relating to it daily when we count!? Why should we remind ourselves everyday throughout this period of our impure and deficient condition upon leaving Egypt!? We should focus on improving ourselves throughout these days, not dwelling upon our past iniquities and mistaken ways!

I believe that the answer to this question is quite simple. When undergoing repentance, there are generally two ways one can follow. One way would be to go forward right away and forget about your past entirely. You simply want to start off on a clean slate and do not want to have to undergo the guilt and suffering of reflecting upon your past sins. This can be seen as “repentance of action”. The other form of repentance would be to spend serious time and effort to contemplate your past mistakes and only then proceed in your path of repentance. Through deep introspection and analysis of your past sins, you teach yourself what to stay away from in your new path towards self redemption and repentance. Throughout every step you take in your goal towards self-correction, you continuously remind yourself of who you used to be, which helps you develop into who you want to become. This can be seen as "repentance of thought".

This latter form of repentance is what Sefirat HaOmer is all about. Day by day we continuously work on ourselves, attaining higher and higher levels of self-improvement, by reminding ourselves of our lowly “barley” state; during these 49 days we are continuously working on how to remove ourselves farther from the Omer offering. After these 49 days we are meant to ultimately reach a refined and perfected state, and only then can we truly encounter God and receive the Torah. (**Please see second footnote**)

May we truly merit to refine ourselves during these weeks that follow the Omer offering, and ultimately celebrate Shavuot as new individuals.

Good Shabbos,

NZL


*Another interesting note about the Omer offering: What does “Omer” mean? “Omer” is merely a term of measurement used in Holy Scripture; the word “Omer” does not relate to barley in any way, it merely describes “how much” barley is brought. In this week’s parshah, we are not even told that the offering is to consist of barley, all we are told is “…you shall bring of an Omer from your first harvest…” [Leviticus: 23: 10] Imagine I were to ask you “Please bring me a pound of food”! The first question you’d ask is “What sort of food do you want?” Why does the Torah not even tell us about the barley!?
I think that this represents another symbolism of the Omer offering, relating to our state upon leaving Egypt. By leaving out “barley”, the Torah is presenting us with an undefined offering. This “undefined” offering relates to the “undefined” state of the Jews upon leaving Egypt. At the time of the Exodus we were completely empty and void of any connection to God and were on the lowest level of impurity; this is represented by the “undefined” description of the Omer offering.


**Two other reasons for reminding ourselves of the Omer offering during these 49 days: The Torah was meant to be given in a state of humility; this is why it was given through Moses, the humblest of all men, and it was given on Mount Sinai, the lowest (in height) and humblest of all mountains. The constant reminder of our lowly “Omer” state was meant to serve as a humbling experience during the 49 days leading up the giving of the Torah through Moses on Mount Sinai.
Another reason for constantly remind ourselves of our lowly “Omer” state was in order to cultivate within ourselves a sense of self-appreciation. Every day in the 49-day period was used for extreme self-growth and development. So at the end of each day, by looking back at how we were at the beginning, in our “Omer” state, we truly recognize how far we’ve come and how much we’ve accomplished.
Both of these qualities, humility and self-pride, are meant be brought together in order to maintain a healthy balance in our lives. This is not the time to expand upon this, but we have spoken about this before in our essay on the weekly portion of “Metzora”.

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