We apologize. We emailed this basic Dvar Torah last year on March 11 for Parshat Vayakhel. This year’s incarnation was further edited, but fundamentally the two are the same. Unfortunately, time exigencies made it difficult to produce a totally new Dvar this week.
PARSHAT VAYAKHEL – FROM NOBLE TO IGNOBLE
Parshat Vayakhel describes the construction of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). The Mishkan was extraordinarily miraculous and sacred – even more so than the two Temples that would later be built in Jerusalem (Commentary of Sforno on Parshat Pekudei). For example, the Midrash writes that a person IN the inner sanctum of the Mishkan could look upward and somehow see the Heavens.
The primary builder of the Mishkan was Bezalel. He was chosen from the entire Jewish Nation as the person most qualified for this task. Regarding Bezalel, The Almighty said, “See that I have called by name Bezalel, son of Uri, son of Chur” (Parshat Vayakhel, 35:30). What these words refer to is unclear; Bezalel already had his name. What do the Scriptures mean in saying that G-d ‘called him by name?’
The Midrash Rabbah (48:7) explains that the words allude to a specific incident that occurred. After Bezalel completed this fabulous structure, the people began to extol him for what he had accomplished. However, their tribute included accolades that should have been directed instead to Hashem (G-d), the real source of Bezalel's greatness. This made their praises excessive to the point of being improper. With the phrase, “See that I have called by name Bezalel...” G-d was pointing out that the degree of praise for Bezalel was inappropriate.
To explain the point, the Midrash provides an example of a doctor's disciple who cured a disease utilizing the skills he was taught. People then heaped lavish praises upon the student for what he did. The student certainly deserved some of those praises. Nevertheless, much of that praise should have been directed to the teacher whose wisdom the disciple made use of.
So too, the acclaim for Bezalel was richly deserved. His great wisdom and understanding deemed him more qualified to construct the Mishkan than all other Jews. Had they not praised Bezalel at all, it would have been improper. But they carried the adulation to an excess, and much of what they said about Bezalel’s greatness should have instead been directed at Hashem.
This means that Bezalel was being praised with accolades applicable only to Hashem. One can thus infer that the Jews were beginning to invest Bezalel, a human being, with G-d - like qualities. What was transpiring therefore was the beginning of idolatry; the praises accorded Bezalel, a mortal human, were in fact appropriate only to The Almighty.
It is interesting: The motivation to perform a righteous deed emanates from the nobility and holiness within the human, while sin is an expression of the profane – especially the sin of idolatry which is one of the Torah’s three most serious transgressions. (The other two are adultery and murder.) Yet, one can lead to the other.
This teaches that a truly noble pursuit can give rise to an inadvertent error that could in turn, ultimately evolve into apostasy.
Upon reflection, one can easily see how this sacred-to-evil segue transpires. This phenomenon can be observed through the example of someone rushing a heart attack victim (G-d forbid) to the hospital. Arriving at the hospital ASAP is critically important. Hence, the driver would not bother with the niceties of red lights and stop signs whenever possible. In a similar vein, those who are avidly pursuing truly noble undertakings might fall prey to a tendency to ignore some of the ‘niceties’ of human conduct. In the case of honoring Bezalel, the ‘nicety’ was the exact line of demarcation, after which this honor became inappropriately excessive. Left uncorrected, that ‘small’ error could have led to idolatry.
This type of problem can beset almost any everyday human activity. Following are some illustrations of basically praiseworthy activities gone awry:
Many have observed a friendly group of people that undertook an exalted project (such as the building of a synagogue or yeshiva) where the end results were dreadful. Differences of opinion on how to accomplish the task rapidly became personal, and great disputes arose. Best friends become enemies, and at times, communities that were once tranquil were torn by strife and rancor. Why did this happen? The original intent was genuinely high-minded. The problem often is that people don’t realize that the intense stress to complete the sacred task at hand can beget a tendency to overlook what they see as ‘less important’ issues. Those issues for example, might include a concern for careful speech. When this care is not being exercised, insults might be more easily exchanged, and quarrel can result.
It is normally the responsibility of parents to provide for the family. The dedication to this task, however, can be readily carried to improper extremes. It can become so all encompassing that it results in a virtual personal abandonment of that same family that the parent is providing for.
Discipline of young children is certainly vital to their well being. However, left unchecked, discipline can evolve into emotional if not physical abuse. Conversely, an unrestrained urge to nurture and help one's younger or even adult children can foster unwholesome dependency.
This dynamic can also play itself out on a governmental level. For example, many if not most of Russia’s 19th Century Communists sincerely sought to create a ‘worker’s paradise’ that would bring dignity and prosperity to all. But the principal architects of that revolution deemed their cause too vital to be hindered by all of the ‘niceties’ of proper conduct. After the revolution, the Czar - but not his young children - might have been sentenced to death in a courtroom for crimes against the Russian people. Rather than being bothered with courtrooms, the Communists secretly murdered the Czar and his entire family. This established a pattern of brutality for the sake of “the higher good.” What ultimately resulted was tragic. It has been said that the 20th Century Communists in Russia and China each killed far more people than the WW II Germans. And unlike the Germans, the Communists primarily murdered their own countrymen - those very same people they ostensibly came to help.
Undertaking good deeds is noble and virtuous. Doing them enthusiastically is even more honorable. However, without adequate safeguards, the pursuit of even sacred causes can quickly morph into catastrophic wrongdoing.
Please consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.The “cost” is $120, though amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
JHI Dvar Torah on Parshat Ki Tissa
PARSHAT KI TISISA – DEFINING TRAGEDY
When Moshe descended from Mount Sinai - with the two tablets of the testimony in Moshe’s hand as he descended from the Mountain - Moshe did not know that the skin of his face had become radiant when He had spoken to him.
Aaron and all the children of Israel saw, and behold! - the skin of Moshe’s face had become radiant; and they feared to approach him (Parshat Ki Tisisa, Chapter 34, sentences 29 & 30).
Shortly before the Torah was first given, a revelation of the Almighty Himself appeared above the Mountain of Sinai. As the Jews at that time were so spiritually exalted, they were able to countenance the great sight without incident. Moshe (Moses) then ascended to the heavens for 40 days and 40 nights to be taught the Torah and to receive the First Tablets. When descending, he came upon the Jews committing the terrible sin of worshipping the Golden Calf, and Moshe broke the First Tablets. Moshe then ascended to the Heavens for a second 40 day/40 night period to pray for the Jews. This was followed by a third 40 day/night period during which time Moshe received the Second Tablets.
When Moshe descended from his third stay in the Heavens, the Divine Presence emanated most intensely from his face. Upon beholding this sight, the Jewish people were afraid to even come close to Moshe. The Commentary of Rashi explains that this demonstrates the devastating force of sin. Before the Jewish people sinned, they were sufficiently spiritual to behold the awesome sight of the Divine Presence Itself at Sinai. After the Golden Calf, even the holiness that radiated from Moshe’s face (which was far less intense than what hovered above Sinai) could not be countenanced due to their diminished spiritual state.
Rashi wrote that what happened in the aftermath of the Golden Calf demonstrates the profound devastation caused by sin. The proof cited is that the Jewish people could no longer tolerate the holiness emanating from Moshe's face, whereas before the sin they were able to participate in a much higher level of spirituality. Why was this deemed such a prima-facie example of the “power of sin?”
A conventional explanation of Rashi would be that the essence of the tragedy lies in its far reaching ramifications of diminished spirituality. People with decreased spirituality are initially affected on the personal level. Torah studies and mitzvah performance might suffer. This diminished observance and fervor will then affect others with whom these individuals come in contact. Those others who were themselves weakened will then go on to exert a negative influence on others. Ultimately, the decline of spirituality will beget widespread consequences that can endure for generations. One might assume that this unfolding scenario is at the heart of what is referred to in Rashi as the devastation of sin.
A closer examination of Rashi indicates that the catastrophe referred to is not this destructive chain of events. It is accepted that the texts of the Torah are written in the most explicit and direct manner possible. As such, if the real tragedy of diminished spirituality is the sequence of events that will surely follow, Rashi would have said so more specifically – such as: “A transgression creates a ripple effect that contaminates family, friends, society in general, and it may continue for generations.” Rashi mentions nothing of this, but discusses only the diminished ability of those particlar Jews who could not tolerate the holiness emanating from Moshe. Their spiritual decline, in and of itself, was deemed the ultimate tragedy.
It should be noted that the sin of the Golden Calf caused other serious consequences. The Talmud (Eruvin 54a) writes that were the tablets not smashed (1) the Torah would never have been forgotten by the Jews, and (2) no other nation or language would have ever had dominion over the Jewish Nation. This means that all of the slaughter and torture and death of untold of millions of Jews at the hands of other nations since the time of the Golden Calf would have never occurred. One can hardly imagine more misfortune arising out of a single sin!
Why then did Rashi focus on the tragedy of the personal loss of holiness when so much long-term tragedy of global consequence arose from the Golden Calf? Seemingly, the spiritual loss of that generation was of far less significance than thousands of years of suffering and death. Being less able to tolerate Moshe's countenance did not even cause anyone physical harm. Furthermore, it was only a catastrophe for that generation alone.
Rashi is thus conveying an idea of enormous significance. At the very heart of the purpose of the entire universe is the imperative that people live their lives in a manner that makes them more God-like and thus closer to The Almighty.
It therefore follows that a person who brings himself closer to Hashem is thus providing a raison d’être for the entire universe. On the other hand, the converse is also true. A diminishment of human spirituality is a cataclysmic event that rivals all other tragedies. The justification for the entire universe has been compromised. This remains “The tragedy of tragedies” even if there were no other pragmatic consequences.
It is of course true that that saving a life is great mitzvah and murder is one the Torah’s three cardinal sins. Nevertheless, the world was not created so that people could to save lives. It was, however created so that people would be able, through their own free will, to draw themselves closer to G-d.
The secular world gauges the importance of human actions by the extent of their impact upon others. Jews as well also often apply this barometer to assessments of mitzvah-related activity. People assume that the pursuit of a given Mitzvah is deemed highly worthwhile and meritorious if other people are thereby positively affected and pragmatic changes are wrought. But a mitzvah performed privately that had no pragmatic consequences is of far lesser import.
Based on the above Rashi it is probably true to say that a superficially performed mitzvah (commandment of the Torah) that affects hundreds of people superficially is less significant in Heaven than a one-time occurrence of a single person reciting the blessing over a sip of water with enormous fervor. Reciting a bracha (blessing) in this manner might be deemed in Heaven as an event of earth-shattering import and significance
This casts an entirely different light on the global importance of daily and oft-repeated actions. Almost any everyday mitzvah can be qualitatively upgraded and imbued with a more intense dedication to serve Hashem. This applies to both those Mitzvot that are between man and G-d and those between man and man.
_____________________
Newspapers give greater prominence to stories that are more ‘important.’ A very significant development might be front page news. An even more important event might become that day’s lead story and given especially bold headlines. A story of lesser consequence, though, might appear on the back pages. Most events go unreported, for they are deemed not worthy of being included with, “All of the news that is fit to print.”
Based on the above Rashi, it would appear that in the “Newspaper of Heaven,” the fact that a person suffered a spiritual decline is considered a tragedy worthy of extensive coverage. On the other hand, if a person performed a single mitzvah with a more profound closeness to Hashem, that might be headline news. A deep and long-term difference in one’s spirituality may become an even bolder headline overshadowing all of the other events that took place on that day. This means that while still alive, every person has the opportunity to become extremely newsworthy in the “World of Truth” (as the Heavens are sometimes referred to).
Rabbi Yosroel Salanter is reported to have once said: “Nothing makes a louder noise in the universe than the fact that a person improved his character traits.”
Please consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.The “cost” is $120, though amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!
When Moshe descended from Mount Sinai - with the two tablets of the testimony in Moshe’s hand as he descended from the Mountain - Moshe did not know that the skin of his face had become radiant when He had spoken to him.
Aaron and all the children of Israel saw, and behold! - the skin of Moshe’s face had become radiant; and they feared to approach him (Parshat Ki Tisisa, Chapter 34, sentences 29 & 30).
Shortly before the Torah was first given, a revelation of the Almighty Himself appeared above the Mountain of Sinai. As the Jews at that time were so spiritually exalted, they were able to countenance the great sight without incident. Moshe (Moses) then ascended to the heavens for 40 days and 40 nights to be taught the Torah and to receive the First Tablets. When descending, he came upon the Jews committing the terrible sin of worshipping the Golden Calf, and Moshe broke the First Tablets. Moshe then ascended to the Heavens for a second 40 day/40 night period to pray for the Jews. This was followed by a third 40 day/night period during which time Moshe received the Second Tablets.
When Moshe descended from his third stay in the Heavens, the Divine Presence emanated most intensely from his face. Upon beholding this sight, the Jewish people were afraid to even come close to Moshe. The Commentary of Rashi explains that this demonstrates the devastating force of sin. Before the Jewish people sinned, they were sufficiently spiritual to behold the awesome sight of the Divine Presence Itself at Sinai. After the Golden Calf, even the holiness that radiated from Moshe’s face (which was far less intense than what hovered above Sinai) could not be countenanced due to their diminished spiritual state.
Rashi wrote that what happened in the aftermath of the Golden Calf demonstrates the profound devastation caused by sin. The proof cited is that the Jewish people could no longer tolerate the holiness emanating from Moshe's face, whereas before the sin they were able to participate in a much higher level of spirituality. Why was this deemed such a prima-facie example of the “power of sin?”
A conventional explanation of Rashi would be that the essence of the tragedy lies in its far reaching ramifications of diminished spirituality. People with decreased spirituality are initially affected on the personal level. Torah studies and mitzvah performance might suffer. This diminished observance and fervor will then affect others with whom these individuals come in contact. Those others who were themselves weakened will then go on to exert a negative influence on others. Ultimately, the decline of spirituality will beget widespread consequences that can endure for generations. One might assume that this unfolding scenario is at the heart of what is referred to in Rashi as the devastation of sin.
A closer examination of Rashi indicates that the catastrophe referred to is not this destructive chain of events. It is accepted that the texts of the Torah are written in the most explicit and direct manner possible. As such, if the real tragedy of diminished spirituality is the sequence of events that will surely follow, Rashi would have said so more specifically – such as: “A transgression creates a ripple effect that contaminates family, friends, society in general, and it may continue for generations.” Rashi mentions nothing of this, but discusses only the diminished ability of those particlar Jews who could not tolerate the holiness emanating from Moshe. Their spiritual decline, in and of itself, was deemed the ultimate tragedy.
It should be noted that the sin of the Golden Calf caused other serious consequences. The Talmud (Eruvin 54a) writes that were the tablets not smashed (1) the Torah would never have been forgotten by the Jews, and (2) no other nation or language would have ever had dominion over the Jewish Nation. This means that all of the slaughter and torture and death of untold of millions of Jews at the hands of other nations since the time of the Golden Calf would have never occurred. One can hardly imagine more misfortune arising out of a single sin!
Why then did Rashi focus on the tragedy of the personal loss of holiness when so much long-term tragedy of global consequence arose from the Golden Calf? Seemingly, the spiritual loss of that generation was of far less significance than thousands of years of suffering and death. Being less able to tolerate Moshe's countenance did not even cause anyone physical harm. Furthermore, it was only a catastrophe for that generation alone.
Rashi is thus conveying an idea of enormous significance. At the very heart of the purpose of the entire universe is the imperative that people live their lives in a manner that makes them more God-like and thus closer to The Almighty.
It therefore follows that a person who brings himself closer to Hashem is thus providing a raison d’être for the entire universe. On the other hand, the converse is also true. A diminishment of human spirituality is a cataclysmic event that rivals all other tragedies. The justification for the entire universe has been compromised. This remains “The tragedy of tragedies” even if there were no other pragmatic consequences.
It is of course true that that saving a life is great mitzvah and murder is one the Torah’s three cardinal sins. Nevertheless, the world was not created so that people could to save lives. It was, however created so that people would be able, through their own free will, to draw themselves closer to G-d.
The secular world gauges the importance of human actions by the extent of their impact upon others. Jews as well also often apply this barometer to assessments of mitzvah-related activity. People assume that the pursuit of a given Mitzvah is deemed highly worthwhile and meritorious if other people are thereby positively affected and pragmatic changes are wrought. But a mitzvah performed privately that had no pragmatic consequences is of far lesser import.
Based on the above Rashi it is probably true to say that a superficially performed mitzvah (commandment of the Torah) that affects hundreds of people superficially is less significant in Heaven than a one-time occurrence of a single person reciting the blessing over a sip of water with enormous fervor. Reciting a bracha (blessing) in this manner might be deemed in Heaven as an event of earth-shattering import and significance
This casts an entirely different light on the global importance of daily and oft-repeated actions. Almost any everyday mitzvah can be qualitatively upgraded and imbued with a more intense dedication to serve Hashem. This applies to both those Mitzvot that are between man and G-d and those between man and man.
_____________________
Newspapers give greater prominence to stories that are more ‘important.’ A very significant development might be front page news. An even more important event might become that day’s lead story and given especially bold headlines. A story of lesser consequence, though, might appear on the back pages. Most events go unreported, for they are deemed not worthy of being included with, “All of the news that is fit to print.”
Based on the above Rashi, it would appear that in the “Newspaper of Heaven,” the fact that a person suffered a spiritual decline is considered a tragedy worthy of extensive coverage. On the other hand, if a person performed a single mitzvah with a more profound closeness to Hashem, that might be headline news. A deep and long-term difference in one’s spirituality may become an even bolder headline overshadowing all of the other events that took place on that day. This means that while still alive, every person has the opportunity to become extremely newsworthy in the “World of Truth” (as the Heavens are sometimes referred to).
Rabbi Yosroel Salanter is reported to have once said: “Nothing makes a louder noise in the universe than the fact that a person improved his character traits.”
Please consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.The “cost” is $120, though amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
JHI Dvar Torah on Parshat Tetzaveh
PARSHAT TETZAVEH - REMINDERS
"And they shall make holy clothing for Aaron...and his sons” (Parshat Tetzaveh 28:4).
This verse teaches that a kohain (priest) performing the service in the temple was required to wear special priestly garments that were unique and unusual. These garments enveloped almost the entire body, and hence, they were constantly visible to the wearer. Why was this attire necessary?
The Sefer Hachinuch (literally, “The Book of Education” - published anonymously in 13th century Spain) explains the matter. While performing the 'avodah' (service in the temple) the kohain was bound by a special restriction. He was not permitted to forget, for even a moment, that he was executing the rite of Hashem (G-d). Since the kohain would always see and feel his distinctive priestly garments, they served as a constant reminder of this fact. This was the primary purpose for the garments. (An ancillary purpose was that they added to the grandeur of the temple which was itself a factor in impressing sinners to repent.)
It is difficult to understand why the special dress was necessary to enhance the kohain's focus on his tasks. There were numerous indicators, all plainly visible, that constantly called to mind the sanctity of the Temple. Too illustrate, Tracteate Avot (5:8) lists ten constant and plainly visible miracles that occurred in the second Temple. Among them:
1) All of the Jews would come to Jerusalem during the holidays. When the kohain blessed the people in the Temple during the services of the day, they would all fall to the ground prostrate. The Temple was very crowded. While standing, the press of people standing shoulder to shoulder was so intense that it would literally lift them off the ground. Nevertheless, when laying upon the ground, eveyone was surrounded by a free space of several feet so that they could confess their sins to Hashem without being embarrased by others hearing what was said.
2) Even a physically weak kohain could hoist and wave a huge animal when it was part of a sacrifice.
3) The smoke from the daily offering of incense would always rise directly to the heavens despite the blowing of the wind.
To carry this point further, those above-quoted miracles of the temple were found in the second temple. The holiness of the First Temple exceeded that of the Second Temple. The Mishkan (Tabernacle), built by Bezallel in the desert, was even more sacred and miraculous than the first temple (Commentary of Sforno, Pekudei 38-21).
Furthermore, the most preeminent kohain of all was the high priest Aharon (Aaron). Moshe (Moses) is described in the Torah as the greatest of people, and Ahron is referred to in the Midrash as the equal of Moshe.
Nevertheless, the Mitzvah of donning priestly garments not only applied to an ‘ordinary’ kohain serving in the Second Temple. Ahron needed this reminder as well, even when serving in the Mishkan. Evidently, he too could have neglected to fully focus on the holiness of the Mishkan.
This requirement of priestly garments reveals a potentially negative characteristic of the human personality. That is an innate inclination to be desensitized to the commonplace, no matter how miraculous or vital. Facts and stimuli that are plainly visible but repetitious may simply not impact or be recognized with appropriate focus and intensity. Certainly the great miracles that cried out that “This is the House of Hashem” were noted by the kohain. But the very deluge and repetition of these wonders could have themselves caused him to overlook their meaning and their implications upon his behavior.
However, an additional reinforcement may revitalize a person and inspire a refocus of attention. The an extra "tap on the shoulder" can spell the difference as to whether a person will properly focus on a matter vital to his or her own well being.
This explains the significance of the priestly garments. The unique attire was an effective tool that might have helped the kohain at a moment when his focus on the holiness was about to lapse. Even when he might not have fully taken heed of the many miracles, one extra glance at his 'uniform' could shake him, thereby causing a rededication of focus.
The following question, however, might still be raised: If the many miracles did not drive this home, was this not indicative of the kohain’s unresponsiveness to reminders? Why then would the additional factor of special apparel make a difference?
One might argue that the garments were more effective reminders because the kohain wore them physically. As such, he felt them and didn’t just see them. In truth, this is not a valid answer because a person can quickly become inattentive to a slight physical impediment. For example, after several days of having a large bandage on an arm, hours can pass without the person being aware that it even exists. A high priest that had already worn the garments daily for years could also mostly forget about their presence.
It must therefore be that the only significance of the priestly garments was the fact that they provided yet an additional though different reminder. This teaches that when it comes to attaining proper focus, there is always a need for an additional reminder. A person with four unnoticed or ignored reminders might respond to a fifth. When there are more reminders, there is a greater chance that the person will respond to at least one of them.
In sum: The words of the Sefer Hachinuch teach two different human insights:
1 - It is extremely easy to loose one’s focus on what is evident and most vital. Even while performing the priestly service in the Mishkan, Ahron was capable of somewhat forgetting that he working in the “House of The Almighty.
2 - Multiple reminders are a device that might spur a person to avoid loosing necessary focus.
The introduction to the classic work, Mesilat Yesharim begins with the following:
"The author says - I have written this work not to teach men what they do not know, but to remind them of what they already know and of what is evident to them. For you will find in most of my words only things which most people know and concerning which they entertain no doubts. But to the extent that they are well known and their truths revealed to all, so too is forgetfulness in relation to them extremely prevalent." A great book such as the Mesilat Yesharim was authored primarily to remind people of what they already comprehend and have previously accepted.
This idea has wide daily application. Most people have several relationships with others that are vital. A person may be a child to a living parent, and/or a parent to a child, a spouse, and a close friend. Because these associations are so meaningful, people might automatically assume that they are fully in tune with each and every one of them and their inherent obligations. Can it be otherwise? Can, for example, the mother of a large family of small children not be aware of her situation? She is inundated with her family duties during her every waking minute!
The words of the Sefer Hachinuch and Mesilat Yesharim reveal that she could indeed loose sight of the situation she is in, despite the crush of her duties. She may begin performing many of her tasks by rote while hardly thinking about what she is doing and to whom her efforts are directed. This oversight might prove to be very harmful. It could result in a failure to notice developing problems that require parental attention and intervention. Strange as it may seem, the young women needs to constantly remind herself that she has small children and that she is their mother and caretaker. This reminder is necessary for her to perform her role with the appropriate focus, effectiveness, and zeal.
The following vignette sems like an appropriate ‘closer’ to this Dvar: Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin (1749-1821) was likely the most famous students of the Gaon of Vilna (1720-1797). In his small hometown of Volozhin, he founded a yeshiva that grew to become one of the world's foremost centers of Torah study. Volozhin became a mecca for many of the greatest minds of the Jewish people, and the students were known for their prodigious Torah scholarship as well as for their refinement of character and piety.
Reb Chaim (as he was known) was once asked why the 'baalei batim' (lay people) of Volozhin were mostly unaffected by the yeshiva in their midst. One might have assumed that the presence of the great Torah center would have inspired many of the local townspeople to forget all of their other concerns and totally dedicate themselves to Torah study. This, evidently, was not the case.
Reb Chaim replied that indeed, Volozhin was one of the world’s great centers of Torah. However, the very wealth of local Torah scholarship and ongoing Torah study had a contrary effect. It desensitized many of the townspeople to its majesty and holiness.
Please consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.The “cost” is $120, though amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!
"And they shall make holy clothing for Aaron...and his sons” (Parshat Tetzaveh 28:4).
This verse teaches that a kohain (priest) performing the service in the temple was required to wear special priestly garments that were unique and unusual. These garments enveloped almost the entire body, and hence, they were constantly visible to the wearer. Why was this attire necessary?
The Sefer Hachinuch (literally, “The Book of Education” - published anonymously in 13th century Spain) explains the matter. While performing the 'avodah' (service in the temple) the kohain was bound by a special restriction. He was not permitted to forget, for even a moment, that he was executing the rite of Hashem (G-d). Since the kohain would always see and feel his distinctive priestly garments, they served as a constant reminder of this fact. This was the primary purpose for the garments. (An ancillary purpose was that they added to the grandeur of the temple which was itself a factor in impressing sinners to repent.)
It is difficult to understand why the special dress was necessary to enhance the kohain's focus on his tasks. There were numerous indicators, all plainly visible, that constantly called to mind the sanctity of the Temple. Too illustrate, Tracteate Avot (5:8) lists ten constant and plainly visible miracles that occurred in the second Temple. Among them:
1) All of the Jews would come to Jerusalem during the holidays. When the kohain blessed the people in the Temple during the services of the day, they would all fall to the ground prostrate. The Temple was very crowded. While standing, the press of people standing shoulder to shoulder was so intense that it would literally lift them off the ground. Nevertheless, when laying upon the ground, eveyone was surrounded by a free space of several feet so that they could confess their sins to Hashem without being embarrased by others hearing what was said.
2) Even a physically weak kohain could hoist and wave a huge animal when it was part of a sacrifice.
3) The smoke from the daily offering of incense would always rise directly to the heavens despite the blowing of the wind.
To carry this point further, those above-quoted miracles of the temple were found in the second temple. The holiness of the First Temple exceeded that of the Second Temple. The Mishkan (Tabernacle), built by Bezallel in the desert, was even more sacred and miraculous than the first temple (Commentary of Sforno, Pekudei 38-21).
Furthermore, the most preeminent kohain of all was the high priest Aharon (Aaron). Moshe (Moses) is described in the Torah as the greatest of people, and Ahron is referred to in the Midrash as the equal of Moshe.
Nevertheless, the Mitzvah of donning priestly garments not only applied to an ‘ordinary’ kohain serving in the Second Temple. Ahron needed this reminder as well, even when serving in the Mishkan. Evidently, he too could have neglected to fully focus on the holiness of the Mishkan.
This requirement of priestly garments reveals a potentially negative characteristic of the human personality. That is an innate inclination to be desensitized to the commonplace, no matter how miraculous or vital. Facts and stimuli that are plainly visible but repetitious may simply not impact or be recognized with appropriate focus and intensity. Certainly the great miracles that cried out that “This is the House of Hashem” were noted by the kohain. But the very deluge and repetition of these wonders could have themselves caused him to overlook their meaning and their implications upon his behavior.
However, an additional reinforcement may revitalize a person and inspire a refocus of attention. The an extra "tap on the shoulder" can spell the difference as to whether a person will properly focus on a matter vital to his or her own well being.
This explains the significance of the priestly garments. The unique attire was an effective tool that might have helped the kohain at a moment when his focus on the holiness was about to lapse. Even when he might not have fully taken heed of the many miracles, one extra glance at his 'uniform' could shake him, thereby causing a rededication of focus.
The following question, however, might still be raised: If the many miracles did not drive this home, was this not indicative of the kohain’s unresponsiveness to reminders? Why then would the additional factor of special apparel make a difference?
One might argue that the garments were more effective reminders because the kohain wore them physically. As such, he felt them and didn’t just see them. In truth, this is not a valid answer because a person can quickly become inattentive to a slight physical impediment. For example, after several days of having a large bandage on an arm, hours can pass without the person being aware that it even exists. A high priest that had already worn the garments daily for years could also mostly forget about their presence.
It must therefore be that the only significance of the priestly garments was the fact that they provided yet an additional though different reminder. This teaches that when it comes to attaining proper focus, there is always a need for an additional reminder. A person with four unnoticed or ignored reminders might respond to a fifth. When there are more reminders, there is a greater chance that the person will respond to at least one of them.
In sum: The words of the Sefer Hachinuch teach two different human insights:
1 - It is extremely easy to loose one’s focus on what is evident and most vital. Even while performing the priestly service in the Mishkan, Ahron was capable of somewhat forgetting that he working in the “House of The Almighty.
2 - Multiple reminders are a device that might spur a person to avoid loosing necessary focus.
The introduction to the classic work, Mesilat Yesharim begins with the following:
"The author says - I have written this work not to teach men what they do not know, but to remind them of what they already know and of what is evident to them. For you will find in most of my words only things which most people know and concerning which they entertain no doubts. But to the extent that they are well known and their truths revealed to all, so too is forgetfulness in relation to them extremely prevalent." A great book such as the Mesilat Yesharim was authored primarily to remind people of what they already comprehend and have previously accepted.
This idea has wide daily application. Most people have several relationships with others that are vital. A person may be a child to a living parent, and/or a parent to a child, a spouse, and a close friend. Because these associations are so meaningful, people might automatically assume that they are fully in tune with each and every one of them and their inherent obligations. Can it be otherwise? Can, for example, the mother of a large family of small children not be aware of her situation? She is inundated with her family duties during her every waking minute!
The words of the Sefer Hachinuch and Mesilat Yesharim reveal that she could indeed loose sight of the situation she is in, despite the crush of her duties. She may begin performing many of her tasks by rote while hardly thinking about what she is doing and to whom her efforts are directed. This oversight might prove to be very harmful. It could result in a failure to notice developing problems that require parental attention and intervention. Strange as it may seem, the young women needs to constantly remind herself that she has small children and that she is their mother and caretaker. This reminder is necessary for her to perform her role with the appropriate focus, effectiveness, and zeal.
The following vignette sems like an appropriate ‘closer’ to this Dvar: Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin (1749-1821) was likely the most famous students of the Gaon of Vilna (1720-1797). In his small hometown of Volozhin, he founded a yeshiva that grew to become one of the world's foremost centers of Torah study. Volozhin became a mecca for many of the greatest minds of the Jewish people, and the students were known for their prodigious Torah scholarship as well as for their refinement of character and piety.
Reb Chaim (as he was known) was once asked why the 'baalei batim' (lay people) of Volozhin were mostly unaffected by the yeshiva in their midst. One might have assumed that the presence of the great Torah center would have inspired many of the local townspeople to forget all of their other concerns and totally dedicate themselves to Torah study. This, evidently, was not the case.
Reb Chaim replied that indeed, Volozhin was one of the world’s great centers of Torah. However, the very wealth of local Torah scholarship and ongoing Torah study had a contrary effect. It desensitized many of the townspeople to its majesty and holiness.
Please consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.The “cost” is $120, though amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
JHI Dvar Torah on Parshat Terumah
PARSHAT TERUMAH – APPRECIATING WHAT IS GIVEN
Parshat Terumah deals with the construction of the Mishkan (Tarbernacle). The Mishkan was a most sanctified but portable version of the Holy Temple that would later be built in Jerusalem. Within the Parsha, distinct sections deal exclusively with the various components of the Mishkan. One of those components was the Aron (the Holy Ark) that housed the Ten Commandments that Moshe (Moses) received at Sinai.
Interestingly, The Almighty’s commandment to Moshe to build the Aron differed slightly from His Charge to construct the other sections of the Mishkan. In the case of the other components, the commandment was issued in the singular, "You should build..." When it came to the Aron however, the commandment was stated in the plural. "They should build the Aron." Why this difference?
The Midrash (Midrash Rabbah on Shemot, 34:2) explains that the phrase, ‘They should build the Aron’ was, in fact, a specific commandment from Hashem (G-d) that each and every Jew had to personally participate in the Aron’s construction. There was a specific reason behind this decree. To quote the Midrash, “Rabbi Yehudah ben Shalom said, Hashem said to him (Moshe), Let them all come and involve themselves with the Aron so that they should all merit the Torah.”
The Commentary of the Etz Yosef on the Midrash explains this command. Because the Torah is so central to Judaism, Hashem took special measures so that the Jews would merit a part of the Torah. Hashem therefore issued a one-time command that all Jews be involved with the building of the Aron – either through physical work or through a financial donation made specifically for the purpose of the Aron. This was to guarantee that the Jews would appreciate the Aron and the Torah that it represented.
The Jewish people who lived at that time are referred to as the Dor Deaah – the Generation of knowing G-d. They had reached a spiritual plateau that was never before or since attained by the Jewish people as a group. The Midrash (Mechilta Bo, 12) writes that at the splitting of the Red Sea, even a maid servant was party to more Divine Revelations that the prophet Ezekiel would see in later generations. Those revelations were then eclipsed by the experience of Sinai where the Heavens opened up, and the Jews heard the first two Commandments from the Almighty Himself.
At so lofty a level, the Jews were very capable of appreciating the greatness and the holiness of the Mishkan together with its components, such as the Aron. Furthermore, the Mishkan itself was an enormously sacred entity. The Sforno in Parshat Pekudei (38:21) writes that the holiness of the first temple exceeded the holiness of the second temple, but that the holiness of the Mishkan was greater than even that of the first temple.
This was truly a confluence of the sublime. The Mishkan, the most holy of objects, was coexisting with the most sanctified people – those who were most capable of appreciating its sanctity. Nevertheless, the Etz Yosef writes that were it not for the fact that the Jews personally participated in the building of the Aron, they would not have fully appreciated it. Why would this minimal participatory activity in any way change their attitude to the Aron?
Evidently, people have an innate resistance to appreciating the quality, the substance, and the greatness of what is given to them. The fact that the Jews were intellectually aware of the holiness of the Mishkan and the Aron did not necessarily mean that they would have felt the appropriate appreciation. The highest level of appreciation could only occur after sacrificing to some measure to help make the Mishkan a reality.
Two applications of this concept come to mind. One is communal, and one is familial.
On the communal level, religious organizations such Yeshivot or Synagogues almost always collect money from their membership in order to remain financially solvent. Typically, the response to these appeals varies greatly. At one end of the group there are some extremely honorable people who quickly contribute what is asked of them…and then much more. They donate additional money when they can, and they volunteer to help whenever possible. A second type of member pays what is requested, but then does little beyond that. A third type seeks to avoid paying, both financially and in volunteerism. Often, they dishonorably contrive to pay less than their fair share.
Who receives the most benefit from the organization? It is the third type – he receives the same benefit as the other two while paying the least for the same services. The second type receives ‘less for his money,’ for he at least pays his fair share. The first type benefits the least because of all that he contributes. It should therefore follow that the third person would be the most grateful, and the first type would be the least.
In reality, the very opposite is most often true. People tend to be grateful to the Yeshiva or Synagogue in an almost exactly inverse proportion to the amount they receive. Those who pay and contribute as well tend to be the most appreciative. Those who merely pay are average, and those who receive the most assistance tend to be the most uncooperative and unappreciative. This phenomena can be explained by the Midrash’s concept of why people had to work to build the Aron. Those who make greater sacrifices for what is being received can better appreciate its value – hence they are entirely more grateful.
In another communal/religious context, with all other factors being equal, the one who sets up the chairs and cleans up afterward for the Torah class will have an enhanced capacity to recognize and assimilate the gems of Torah wisdom that are (hopefully) being taught. The sacrifice in time and effort of setting up chairs and cleaning up make the Torah more precious to him.
The familial context of this Dvar concerns one of the great questions of parenting. How much should parents give their children, and how should it be given? This question especially concerns parents who are themselves wealthy.
There is a Chassidic tale that has been passed down in the author’s family. The holy Shinyiver Rebbe had a most outstanding chassid (disciple) who was a holy person in his own right. The chassid, who was desperately poor, once went to be with the Rebbe for Shabbat. On Friday night the Rebbe asked him how things were, to which the chassid replied that all was well. The same conversation took place at the Shabbat lunch and then again at the Seudah Shlishit. After Shabbat, the Rebbe asked why the chassid didn’t mention his financial travails. The Rebbe continued that over that Shabbat, the Merciful Gates of Heaven were wide open regarding this situation. Had the chassid even mentioned his difficulties, so much abundant wealth would have been showered upon him from On High, that generations of the family would have remained wealthy. The chassid answered that he too was aware of the same. Nevertheless, he avoided this particular blessing for fear of the moral/spiritual harm that unearned wealth could inflict upon his descendents.
The point is that parental affluence can pose a tremendous peril to children and grandchildren. What should parents do? Many people spend their lives pursuing wealth. But if they succeed, will it end well? This holds true as well for parents who are not that affluent. They too can harm their children by lovingly giving them whatever they can - unconditionally. Solving the problem by giving the wealth away and mostly disinheriting one’s children is not the Torah’s way.
The source text of this Dvar indicates that it would be extremely significant and helpful if the children were made to work, to at least some extent, for what they receive. This way they will form a deeper appreciation of what they receive, and they will be more likely to deal with it responsibly and feel a sense of gratitude.
To help defray the cost (in time) of its production, and as a way of supporting our Jewish outreach organization in Cambridge, we are asking people to consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.
The “cost” is $120, but amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!(Should the situation arise, we consider it acceptable to have more than one sponsor per Dvar.)
Parshat Terumah deals with the construction of the Mishkan (Tarbernacle). The Mishkan was a most sanctified but portable version of the Holy Temple that would later be built in Jerusalem. Within the Parsha, distinct sections deal exclusively with the various components of the Mishkan. One of those components was the Aron (the Holy Ark) that housed the Ten Commandments that Moshe (Moses) received at Sinai.
Interestingly, The Almighty’s commandment to Moshe to build the Aron differed slightly from His Charge to construct the other sections of the Mishkan. In the case of the other components, the commandment was issued in the singular, "You should build..." When it came to the Aron however, the commandment was stated in the plural. "They should build the Aron." Why this difference?
The Midrash (Midrash Rabbah on Shemot, 34:2) explains that the phrase, ‘They should build the Aron’ was, in fact, a specific commandment from Hashem (G-d) that each and every Jew had to personally participate in the Aron’s construction. There was a specific reason behind this decree. To quote the Midrash, “Rabbi Yehudah ben Shalom said, Hashem said to him (Moshe), Let them all come and involve themselves with the Aron so that they should all merit the Torah.”
The Commentary of the Etz Yosef on the Midrash explains this command. Because the Torah is so central to Judaism, Hashem took special measures so that the Jews would merit a part of the Torah. Hashem therefore issued a one-time command that all Jews be involved with the building of the Aron – either through physical work or through a financial donation made specifically for the purpose of the Aron. This was to guarantee that the Jews would appreciate the Aron and the Torah that it represented.
The Jewish people who lived at that time are referred to as the Dor Deaah – the Generation of knowing G-d. They had reached a spiritual plateau that was never before or since attained by the Jewish people as a group. The Midrash (Mechilta Bo, 12) writes that at the splitting of the Red Sea, even a maid servant was party to more Divine Revelations that the prophet Ezekiel would see in later generations. Those revelations were then eclipsed by the experience of Sinai where the Heavens opened up, and the Jews heard the first two Commandments from the Almighty Himself.
At so lofty a level, the Jews were very capable of appreciating the greatness and the holiness of the Mishkan together with its components, such as the Aron. Furthermore, the Mishkan itself was an enormously sacred entity. The Sforno in Parshat Pekudei (38:21) writes that the holiness of the first temple exceeded the holiness of the second temple, but that the holiness of the Mishkan was greater than even that of the first temple.
This was truly a confluence of the sublime. The Mishkan, the most holy of objects, was coexisting with the most sanctified people – those who were most capable of appreciating its sanctity. Nevertheless, the Etz Yosef writes that were it not for the fact that the Jews personally participated in the building of the Aron, they would not have fully appreciated it. Why would this minimal participatory activity in any way change their attitude to the Aron?
Evidently, people have an innate resistance to appreciating the quality, the substance, and the greatness of what is given to them. The fact that the Jews were intellectually aware of the holiness of the Mishkan and the Aron did not necessarily mean that they would have felt the appropriate appreciation. The highest level of appreciation could only occur after sacrificing to some measure to help make the Mishkan a reality.
Two applications of this concept come to mind. One is communal, and one is familial.
On the communal level, religious organizations such Yeshivot or Synagogues almost always collect money from their membership in order to remain financially solvent. Typically, the response to these appeals varies greatly. At one end of the group there are some extremely honorable people who quickly contribute what is asked of them…and then much more. They donate additional money when they can, and they volunteer to help whenever possible. A second type of member pays what is requested, but then does little beyond that. A third type seeks to avoid paying, both financially and in volunteerism. Often, they dishonorably contrive to pay less than their fair share.
Who receives the most benefit from the organization? It is the third type – he receives the same benefit as the other two while paying the least for the same services. The second type receives ‘less for his money,’ for he at least pays his fair share. The first type benefits the least because of all that he contributes. It should therefore follow that the third person would be the most grateful, and the first type would be the least.
In reality, the very opposite is most often true. People tend to be grateful to the Yeshiva or Synagogue in an almost exactly inverse proportion to the amount they receive. Those who pay and contribute as well tend to be the most appreciative. Those who merely pay are average, and those who receive the most assistance tend to be the most uncooperative and unappreciative. This phenomena can be explained by the Midrash’s concept of why people had to work to build the Aron. Those who make greater sacrifices for what is being received can better appreciate its value – hence they are entirely more grateful.
In another communal/religious context, with all other factors being equal, the one who sets up the chairs and cleans up afterward for the Torah class will have an enhanced capacity to recognize and assimilate the gems of Torah wisdom that are (hopefully) being taught. The sacrifice in time and effort of setting up chairs and cleaning up make the Torah more precious to him.
The familial context of this Dvar concerns one of the great questions of parenting. How much should parents give their children, and how should it be given? This question especially concerns parents who are themselves wealthy.
There is a Chassidic tale that has been passed down in the author’s family. The holy Shinyiver Rebbe had a most outstanding chassid (disciple) who was a holy person in his own right. The chassid, who was desperately poor, once went to be with the Rebbe for Shabbat. On Friday night the Rebbe asked him how things were, to which the chassid replied that all was well. The same conversation took place at the Shabbat lunch and then again at the Seudah Shlishit. After Shabbat, the Rebbe asked why the chassid didn’t mention his financial travails. The Rebbe continued that over that Shabbat, the Merciful Gates of Heaven were wide open regarding this situation. Had the chassid even mentioned his difficulties, so much abundant wealth would have been showered upon him from On High, that generations of the family would have remained wealthy. The chassid answered that he too was aware of the same. Nevertheless, he avoided this particular blessing for fear of the moral/spiritual harm that unearned wealth could inflict upon his descendents.
The point is that parental affluence can pose a tremendous peril to children and grandchildren. What should parents do? Many people spend their lives pursuing wealth. But if they succeed, will it end well? This holds true as well for parents who are not that affluent. They too can harm their children by lovingly giving them whatever they can - unconditionally. Solving the problem by giving the wealth away and mostly disinheriting one’s children is not the Torah’s way.
The source text of this Dvar indicates that it would be extremely significant and helpful if the children were made to work, to at least some extent, for what they receive. This way they will form a deeper appreciation of what they receive, and they will be more likely to deal with it responsibly and feel a sense of gratitude.
To help defray the cost (in time) of its production, and as a way of supporting our Jewish outreach organization in Cambridge, we are asking people to consider sponsoring this weekly email Dvar Torah. It is a meaningful way to note an occasion such as a graduation, birthday, anniversary, yahrzeit, etc.
The “cost” is $120, but amounts greater than $120 will of course be gladly accepted. The sponsorship will be noted in the Dvar. Thank you in advance!(Should the situation arise, we consider it acceptable to have more than one sponsor per Dvar.)
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