Category: Excerpts

Excerpted from Rabbi Dr. Norman J. Lamm’s Derashot Ledorot: A Commentary for the Ages – Leviticus, co-published by OU Press and Maggid Books

God or Mercury?

The major portion of this morning’s sidra deals with mundane, prosaic financial law – the disposition of real estate, the law of Shemita (the sabbatical law which controls agricultural development), loans and debtors and creditors, and the care and treatment of the poor and the indigent.

And then – at the very conclusion – we find an abrupt shift from a Torah for businessmen to the great and timeless religious principle which is so often repeated in the Torah and is one of its sacred fundamentals: “Ye shall make you no idols, neither shall ye rear you up a graven image, or a pillar” (Leviticus 26:1). And here the student of Torah wonders: What does real estate and commerce have to do with idolatry? What is the relation of illegitimate business dealings to icons?

Our Rabbis (Sifra, Behar 6:9) were in all probability as vexed by this passage as we are. And that is why they clearly identified the idol here intended by the Torah. They maintained that in this verse the Torah was referring to Markulis, a pagan god also known as “Mercury” or “Hermes.”

And with this interpretation of the Sages, the Biblical passage assumes new dimensions and becomes extremely meaningful to Jews of all times, and for us as well. For Mercury, Markulis, was the pagan god of the merchants, the idol of commerce. And what the Torah thus tells us is that if Torah is to be just ceremony, just synagogue procedure, just dignified ritual, and not a way of life which governs our conduct in business and trade as well as in shul – then we are no better than the worshippers of Markulis. For if God and Torah have no place in the professional life and business life of the Jew, then such a Jew is in effect worshipping business and trade as an end in itself, a devout communicant in the cult of Mercury, god of commerce.

This is the challenge of today’s sidra: either God or Mercury. There is no middle position. Either you are a Jew all day and all week, or you are a pagan even when covered by a big tallis. Either one welcomes the judgment and teaching of Torah in one’s conduct in trade and relations with business associates and charity contributions and everyday life – or it is as if one had worshipped the very idols so repugnant to our whole religion. When you look up to God in the shul and disregard Him in the marketplace, you have effectively killed the whole spirit of Judaism.

Of course, this does not mean that there are those who insist that religion should be confined to the Temples and that one should be consciously dishonest in his personal dealings – of course not. Everyone is against dishonesty and for good citizenship. But that is perhaps why the peculiar form of religious service of the idol Mercury was stoning him. You served Mercury by throwing rocks at him – in other words, when you denounce dishonesty, when you reject open lack of ethics, but at the same time immunize business life from the word of Torah – you are still worshipping the idol! Yes, even when throwing rocks at Mercury one worships him, provided that his domain – business and commerce – is kept out of God’s jurisdiction.

And this worship of Mercury is an unfortunate development of modern times in Jewish life. Before the Emancipation, Jewish life was able to boast a healthy wholesomeness. All aspects of life, without exception, were treated from the point of view of Torah. In other words, the Jew looked on all problems from the point of view of God. Torah controlled the diet, guided sexual expression, determined financial questions, regulated prices, adjudicated disputes, approved or disapproved of contracts.

But in modern times, Judaism became fragmentized. Judaism became a matter of where you prayed, not how you lived; what siddur you used, not how regularly you paid employees or bills; how long was your Shemone Esrei, not how faithfully you worked for your salary; how good a tenor you got as a cantor, not how sincere your davening was; how ferociously you destroyed a competitor or “took in” a customer, not how much of your profits you gave to charity. Our whole sidra of this morning was forgotten, and business life became Godless – or better, became itself an object of worship and blind obedience.

And so Jews rejected the Lord, God of Israel, and accepted Mercury, god of commerce.

Why did this split between religion and life come about, this shrinkage of the area of Torah’s influence? Probably it was part of the secularization of life in general. But more probably it was a Christian influence, an influence which gave religion a monopoly on relations to God, and relegated to Caesar a virtual monopoly on things relating to Caesar. But whatever the source of this split, it spells a tragedy for Jews – for they became worshippers of Mercury, the god of commerce.

What is necessary for the revitalization of Jewry in our day is a new appreciation of the fact that Judaism, unlike Christianity, is not relegated to one holy place and one holy day. When a local Jewish fraternal and social organization organizes a baseball picnic on Shabbat, it is violating the integrity, the wholeness of Jewish life. When another group, part of a great nation-wide organization, organizes a golf tournament on a Jewish fast-day and serves a luscious treif dinner – it reveals its paganism, especially when it resents a rabbi rearing his head out of the pulpit and extending it into the secular clubs and their activities. And even golf itself must be treated as part of a way of life – that is, it too is not immune from Jewish opinion. That is why a country club must conduct itself Jewishly, both in matters of diet and holidays and business-wise.

Every morning we say: “A man must always be (le’olam yeheh) God-fearing, in private and in public.” Generally we take that as meaning that not only must a man be God-fearing in public, where all can see him, but even in private, where no one else can check on him. I beg to change that emphasis – not only in private, not only in the intimate matters of the heart, not only in the strict secrecy that guards a man’s prayer and in the innermost communication of his heart with his Creator must a man be religious – but also in public, in the market place, in the professional
office, in the store, in the club, in the factory, before the bar.

There is no dearth of Jewish law on social and business relationships. Under the influence of this split, of this shrinkage, of the effect of this Mercury cult, some of us may be surprised at how great a literature we have concerning activity outside the synagogue. All one has to do is open a Shulĥan Arukh or a Rambam. There are laws of prayer and interest; tefillin and profiteering; tallis and sexual relations; mezuza and tax evasion; Shabbat and larceny. Rabbi Yehuda Leib Maimon has recently calculated that there exist today over 100,000 teshuvot (responses to questions, or case histories) relating to social law or business law alone!

We today must return to this fuller and greater understanding of Torah, as it is presented to us in today’s sidra. By subjecting all of life to God’s influence, we will have smashed the statues of Mercury, instead of merely throwing pebbles at it. By opening all areas of our existence to the teachings of our tradition, we will have acted as genuine Jews, not as half and one-quarter Jews. We will have grown to the fuller spiritual stature of one who realizes that “the earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof ” (Psalms 24:1), and therefore all life must be lived so as not to be embarrassed by His presence. “A man must always be God-fearing, in private and in public” – not only in private but also in public. Then and only then can we conclude with the phrase, “umodeh al ha’emet,” “acknowledging the truth” – then will we have understood the great truths, the emet, of Judaism; “vedover emet bilvavo,” “and speak truth in his heart” – and then will the truths of Torah be not superficial and external, but then they will have penetrated to the very innermost depths of the heart, so that “veyashkeim veyomar,” so that we may rise each morning and say, with full knowledge and commitment, “ribon kol ha’amim” – you, O God, are the Master of the whole world, and nothing is beyond Your greatness and Your scrutiny.

 

Excerpted from Rabbi Menachem Genack’s Birkat Yitzchak Chidushim U-ve’urim al HaTorah

פרשת אמור

הטעם שאין מברכין שהחיינו על ספירת העומר

וספרתם לכם ממחרת השבת וגו’ (כג, טו)

עיין בבעל המאור סוף מס’ פסחים שתמה למה אין מברכין שהחיינו על ספירת העומר, ותירץ שספירת העומר בזה”ז אינו אלא מדרבנן וזכר לעגמת נפשנו לחרבן בית מאויינו. והיינו, הספירה הוי זכר לחורבן, שבזמן הזה אין קרבן העומר וכל הספירה הוי דרבנן, ולכן אמימר היה מונה ימים ולא שבועות (מנחות סו, א).

ושמעתי ממו”ר מרן הגרי”ד, דסברת הבעה”מ היא סיבת מנהגי האבילות בימי הספירה, מלבד הטעם של אבילות על פטירת תלמידי ר”ע, אלא דלפ”ז דין האבלות להיות כל ימי הספירה, וכן הוא מנהג האר”י וכן נהג רבינו ז”ל.

ועוד אמר רבינו ז”ל טעם למה אין מברכין שהחיינו על ספירת העומר (אפילו להרמב”ם דספירה בזמן הזה דאורייתא), משום דכל הענין הוא שמחכים לעת של קבלת התורה, שכל עיקרן של ישראל אינו אלא התורה, וכמו שביאר החינוך בזה במצות ספירת העומר (מצוה שו). ואמר רבינו דא”כ אין מקום לברכה של שהחיינו, שזמן מברכין כשהגיע הזמן והמטרה – “שהחיינו וקיימנו לזמן הזה”, אבל מצות ספירה היא להיפך, שמונין ספירה מפני שעדיין לא הגיע העת והמטרה, וכלשון החינוך: “ומפני כי היא כל עיקרן של ישראל ובעבורה נגאלו ועלו לכל הגדולה שעלו אליה, נצטווינו למנות ממחרת יו”ט של פסח עד יום נתינת התורה להראות בנפשנו החפץ הגדול אל היום הנכבד הנכסף ללבנו, כעבד ישאף צל, וימנה תמיד מתי יבוא העת הנכסף אליו שיצא לחירות, כי המנין מראה לאדם כי כל ישעו וחפצו להגיע אל זמן ההוא”, עכ”ל. [ולפ”ז הוא טעם גם לזמן שהבית על מכונו שלא לברך שהחיינו. ועיין עוד באבודרהם על דרך זו שהמצוה היא לצורך הבאת הביכורים בשבועות.]

ולפ”ד רבינו ז”ל יש להבין מה שאין אנו מברכין שהחיינו בשעת קדושין ונשואין, שלכאורה מה גרע מצות קדושין ונשואין שבאה משאר מצות הבאות מזמן לזמן, וכן מה גרע לקיחת אשה מלקיחת בגד. אבל לפי דברי מו”ר זצ”ל יש לפרש, דבנשואין אין זה רק זמן אחד בשעת חופה וקידושין אלא שאנו מצפים שבכל יום ויום היחס בין איש לאשתו יעמיק יותר ויותר בשמחה אושר ובבנין של בית של תורה ובנים עוסקים בתורה ומצוות. ועיין עוד במחזיק ברכה להגאון חיד”א (או”ח סי’ רכג אות ה) ובשו”ת חת”ס (או”ח סי’ נה) ובש”ך (יו”ד סי’ כח ס”ק ה) בגליון מהרש”א (יו”ד שם) ובערוך השולחן (או”ח סי’ רכג אות ד) מש”כ בענין שהחיינו במצוה זו. [והנה מה שכתב הגליון מהרש”א שאין קידושין אלא הכשר מצוה, נראה שדבריו קיימים דוקא לשיטת הרא”ש בכתובות פ”ק סי’ יב דאין ברכת אירוסין חשיבא ברכת המצוה כיון דקידושין הן אך הכשר מצוה למצות פו”ר, אבל הרמב”ם פ”ג מאישות הל’ כג כתב להדיא דברכת אירוסין היא ברכת המצוה וז”ל: “כל המקדש אשה וכו’ צריך לברך קודם קידושין וכו’ כדרך שמברכין על כל המצוות”, עכ”ל.]

Excerpted from Rabbi Menachem Genack’s Birkat Yitzchak Chidushim U-ve’urim al HaTorah

פרשת קדושים

א

קדושים תהיו

דבר אל כל עדת בני ישראל ואמרת אליהם קדושים תהיו כי קדוש אני ה’ אלקיכם (יט, ב)

“קדושים תהיו, יכול כמוני ת”ל כי קדוש אני וגו’ קדושתי למעלה משלכם” (ויקרא רבה כד:ט).

דברי המדרש מעוררי תמיהה, וכי אפשר שתהא אפילו עולה במחשבה באיזה צד שהוא שקדושת הקב”ה שהוא אין סוף, דומה ושוה לזה של בשר ודם, עד כדי שצריך ללמוד מקרא ד”כי קדוש אני” שקדושת הקב”ה גדולה משלנו.

ואשר נראה לבאר בזה, שודאי אין כונת המדרש לומר שקדושת הקב”ה גדולה משלנו, אלא לומר שקדושת הקב”ה שונה לגמרי מזה של בשר ודם. כי קדושת הקב”ה היא בזה, שהוא לגמרי ולחלוטין שונה ומופרש ומובדל לגמרי מכל היצירה והבריאה ואין לנו שום השגה כלל במהותו. וזהו מה שאמר המדרש: אפשר שאנו בשר ודם נעשים קדושים בפרישה מהעולם ובזה שאנו נבדלים מאחרים וחיים בבדידות. ולזה בא ה”תלמוד לומר כי קדוש אני”, ללמדנו שקדושת בשר ודם אינה באה על ידי שהוא פורש מהעולם, אלא אדרבה בזה שהוא מתייחס לעולם ונעשה חלק מהצבור ועושה חסד עמהם.

והנה פרשת קדושים כוללת את כל עשרת הדברות, אלא שבפרשת קדושים הדברות נאמרת בלשון רבים כגון: “לא תגנובו” במקום “לא תגנוב”. והטעם בזה הוא, שעשרת הדברות שבפרשת קדושים הם חיוב הציבור לקיים המצוות, וזהו משום שהקדושה שבה עוסקת פרשת קדושים באה דוקא על ידי שמתייחס ומצטרף אל הצבור ולא ע”י שפורש מן הצבור ומן העולם, ומטעם זה ג”כ נאמרה פרשה זו בהקהל.

[ואדרבה, מצינו שכל קיום דבר שבקדושה נזקק לעשרה מישראל. עם כי ודאי יש לעתים לפרוש מכל מה שהוא קשור לחברת ההמון, וכמו שמצינו באבות הקדושים ובנביאים שהיו מתבודדים הם ותלמידיהם כדי להשיג מעלת הנבואה. וכן הם דברי רבנו הרמח”ל במסילת ישרים (פרק יד, בחלקי הפרישות): “והפרישות במנהגים הוא התבודדות וההבדל מן החברה המדינית לפנות לבו אל העבודה וההתבוננות בה כראוי, ובתנאי שלא יטה גם בזה אל הקצה האחר, שכבר אמרו ז”ל (כתובות יז, א): לעולם תהא דעתו של אדם מעורבת עם הבריות, וכן אמרו (ברכות סג, ב): “חרב אל הבדים ונואלו”, חרב על שונאיהם של תלמידי חכמים שיושבים בד בבד ועוסקים בתורה, אלא יתחבר האדם עם הטובים זמן מה שמצטרך לו ללימודו או לפרנסתו, ויתבודד אחר כך להדבק באלהיו ולהשיג דרכי היושר והעבודה האמיתית”. ועיי”ע שם פרק כו.]

Excerpted from Rabbi Norman Lamm’s Derashot Ledorot: A Commentary for the Ages – Leviticus, co published by OU Press, YU Press & Maggid Books

Let Criticism Be Welcome

It may come as a surprise to some of us that criticism is not only regarded as a virtue by Judaism, but is included as a full biblical commandment, one of the 613 mitzvot: “Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart; thou shalt surely rebuke thy neighbor, and not bear sin because of him” (Leviticus 19:17). As long as a person is rational he will form opinions about his fellow human beings; and as long as his fellow human beings are, in fact, human, they will be imperfect. It is natural, therefore, that our judgment of each other sometimes be adverse. If we cannot and do not express these criticisms, then our neighbors will never know their own faults and we shall grow to dislike them more and more – in our hearts. It is better for them and for us that we express these criticisms and articulate the rebuke – “thou shalt surely rebuke” – and thus prevent all of society from falling into sin.

Indeed, not only is criticism one of the most important commandments, but it is one of the main functions of all religion. Torah was meant to serve as the spiritual leaven in the life of man and society.

It was meant to raise us higher and higher. This it does by serving as our critic, by focusing the spotlight of attention on the distance between the ideal and the real, by revealing to us our imperfections and thus urging us to strive for the perfect.

Moses and Balaam were both prophets. They lived at the same time and preached to the same people of Israel. Moses was incisive, merciless in his criticism of his people, and caused them great unhappiness by making them painfully aware of their inadequacy. Balaam, the gentile prophet, spoke only kind words to them. He hailed them, complimented them, blessed them, flattered them – while Moses berated them as stubborn and corrupt. And it was Balaam who greeted them with “ma tovu,” “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob” (Numbers 24:5). Yet it is Moses who is the archetype of the navi ha’emet, the true prophet, while Balaam is the navi hasheker, the prophet of falsehood. Moses, who criticized, is truly a prophet; Balaam, who did not, is merely a soothsayer – literally, he said soothing things calculated to put his happy listeners into moral slumber and spiritual stupor. At the time that Moses spoke our ancestors may have felt scandalized by his
irritating remarks. Yet the judgment of history was reverence for the prophet and critic, and utter condemnation for the soothsayer and propagandist. Moses made of us a holy people. Balaam almost pushed us over the threshold of depraved immorality with the daughters of Moab.

What Moses was to his generation, the Torah of Moses must be to every generation, including, especially, our own. When religion begins to do nothing more than tranquilize us, soothe us, and sanctify our status quo, it is no longer religion; it is then merely a shallow therapy for arm-chair psychiatrists. It is Balaam’s trademark. It is when religion fails to criticize that it deserves to be criticized itself – just as Balaam who should have criticized and did not was himself the object of criticism by his donkey.

That is why the pulpit too must be not only a source of inspiration and education, but even more so, criticism. It may occasionally be annoying, even irritating. But if our imperfections are hidden behind a veil of innocuous platitudes, then the voice of Torah has been silenced. The great Talmudic teacher Abaye once remarked (Ketubot 105b) that if a rabbi is very much liked by the townspeople it is often not so much because of his superiority but because of the fact that he tactfully refrains from every kind of criticism!

When we insist, time and again, that Orthodoxy today must not be silent, we do not mean merely that it avail itself of every channel of publicity just to mimic others and, so to speak, jump on the organizational bandwagon of other groups. Cooperate we must; but in all matters we must, on the basis of our Torah ideals, be critical and expose that which is non-Jewish and anti-Jewish. Whether it be a question of federal aid to Jewish day schools or a problem of synagogue architecture or a matter of kosher or non-kosher meals at the affairs of Jewish organizations, we must never be afraid to be respectfully critical. “Thou shalt surely rebuke thy neighbor.” As long as we regard our fellow Jew as our “neighbor,” we must not abstain from the mitzva of criticism.

What is true for religion is true for democracy. A democracy cannot survive if there is no right of criticism. The freedom to criticize the government is what determines whether the government is a democracy or a dictatorship. The difference between a good democracy and a poor one is the extent to which the citizens avail themselves of this right. No nation, society, or people can live on a high moral plane if criticism is either absent or suppressed. That is why we American Jews should not consider it an act of treachery when one of us is critical of the State of Israel, provided it is done in the proper spirit. Nor should we be hypersensitive to some of the very justified criticism leveled at American Jewry by our Israeli brothers. The Rabbis rightly declared (Shabbat 119b) that Jerusalem was destroyed because its citizens failed to exercise their duty to criticize one another.

Our Rabbis even ventured the idea that criticism has a place in domestic life. “A love which does not contain the element of criticism is not really love” (Genesis Rabba 54:3). A love between husband and wife in which there is no recognition of each other’s faults is static and must soon fade away. When love is not blind but critical, when there is an attempt, in the spirit of love, to improve each other, then that love is dynamic, it leads to growth and development.

But of course this is a tall order. The practice of criticism, in the spirit the Torah means it, is a most difficult art. It is so painful to be criticized, even for small things, especially when we realize that the reproach is justified. And it is even more difficult to reprove a friend in the proper manner, so that I cause him the least anguish and am most assured that the criticism will have a successful result – the correction of the mistake. How interesting that in an age far richer in greatness and nobility than ours, the sainted Rabbi Tarphon remarked, “I wonder if there is anyone left in this generation who knows how to take criticism” – and Rabbi Alazar ben Azariah answered, “I would be more surprised to find someone left in this generation who knows how to give criticism” (Arakhin 16b). If my purpose in criticizing you is only that I seem bigger in comparison, that I sadistically needle you, then I am captious, not critical; then my remarks are a sin, not a mitzva; for then I do not observe “You shall surely rebuke,” but rather commit the sin of insulting another human being (Avot 3:11). True criticism, said the philosopher poet Yehuda haLevi (Kuzari 5:20), is such that you must reprove with intent to improve – in other words, teshuva, repentance, or religious and moral growth, must be the goal of criticism. And this noble aim of “Thou shalt surely rebuke” can be achieved only if it is given in a spirit of profound friendship, in love, in loyalty; the object of the reproof must be “thy neighbor,” your dear friend, and you must give it so that he remains your friend. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 101b) maintains that Jerobam, the idol-worshipping king who split Jewry into two nations, was rewarded with the crown because he had the courage to criticize King Solomon. And why was he ultimately punished? Because he reproached him publicly and thereby embarrassed him! Great is the man who can accept criticism. Greater yet is he who welcomes it. But greatest of all is he who knows how to administer it in a spirit of love and sensitivity, without causing pain and chagrin.

One last point, the most important, remains to be made. Until now we have spoken of the criticism of others. Yet this is only the prelude to the most difficult art – criticism of one’s self. How does one go about reproaching himself? The great Ba’al Shem Tov taught that you arrive at self-criticism through your criticism of others. That is how he explains the well-known mishna (Avot 4:1) that “Who is wise? He who learns from every man.” When you look into a mirror, the Ba’al Shem tells us, you see all your own faults and deficiencies – the shape of your nose, the complexion of your skin, the size of your teeth. So when you look at your fellow man and notice his faults, treat him as a mirror, and recognize in him your own faults. For it is a part of human nature that you see only those defects in a friend which you yourself posses to a greater or lesser degree. He who has a slight tendency to depart from the truth will be quick to detect the same characteristic in another. The same holds true for the inclination to take that which belongs to another, or immorality, or bragging, or any other vice. Our own faults sensitize us to them in others. The wise man is the person who learns from every other man – who sees his failings and then knows he has them himself and proceeds to correct them. He holds up the personality of his friend as a mirror of his own. Criticism of others, if undertaken in the Torah spirit, leads to self-criticism. Perhaps that is why the Torah uses the double verb, for greater emphasis – not only “hokhei’aĥ,” criticism of others, but “tokhiaĥ,” reproach of yourself. Interestingly, the word “hokhei’aĥ” is from the same root as the word “viku’aĥ,” a debate or dialogue. For when I criticize my friend, even if he does not say a word, he is the mirror of my own faults, and I am automatically, through him, criticizing myself. “Hokhei’aĥ tokhi’aĥ” is a two-way street.

We Jews have had this quality of self-criticism in abundance. It is evident in our national sense of humor, so often turned inwards. It is evident in the writings of our prophets, who stung us with their pointed barbs. It is evident in the thorough way in which the Talmud exposes the least error of a Moses or a David. It is evident in the remarkable fact that, after having been driven out of our homeland by people no better than us – probably far worse – we say in our holiday prayers “we deserved it” – “umipnei ĥata’einu galinu mei’artzeinu,” “and because of our sins we were exiled from our land.”

“Who shall ascend the mountain of the Lord, and who shall stand in His holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart; who has not taken My name in vain nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive a blessing from the Lord and righteousness from the God of his salvation” (Psalms 24:3-5).

How are hands cleaned and hearts purified? With the soap of criticism and the scouring powder of self-criticism.

 

Excerpted from Rabbi Menachem Genack’s Birkat Yitzchak Chidushim U-ve’urim al HaTorah

פרשת אחרי מות

לפני ולפנים הוא דוגמת גן עדן – התשובה והגאולה

“א”ר אחא בשם רב הונא לפני ולפנים הוא דוגמתו של גן עדן דכתיב ביה וישכן מקדם לגן עדן את הכרובים ואת להט החרב המתהפכת, וכשנכנס הכהן הגדול שם נכנס בנשמה ולא בגוף באימה ביראה ברתת ובזיעה ובנקיות, והכרובים עומדים שם שוערים, זכה הכהן נכנס בשלום ויצא בשלום, לא זכה יוצא מבין שני הכרובים להט ונשרף בפנים ומת” (מדרש הנעלם).

על פי דברי המדרש הללו נבין מדוע נכנס הכה”ג לפני ולפנים רק פעם אחת בשנה ביוה”כ. שהרי קודש הקדשים דומה לגן עדן, ותכליתו של יום הכיפורים שהוא יום תשובה היא להחזיר אותנו למצב שהיה קודם החטא הקדמון בגן עדן, ולכן נכנס הכהן הגדול כשליח העם לקודש הקדשים בקדושה ובטהרה לשוב לגן עדן כמו שהיה קודם החטא.

ועיין מה שכתבנו בספר גן שושנים (ח”ב סי’ לח) שלכן נוטלים אתרוג בסוכות, שאדם הראשון חטא באתרוג שהוא הוא פרי עץ הדעת האמור בכתוב, ואנחנו חוזרים בתשובה על מה שחטאנו מקדם בגן עדן, ועל ידי כך חוזרים אנו למצב שהיה קודם לחטא. וכן מפורש ברמב”ן עה”ת (ויקרא כג, מ), וז”ל: “פרי עץ הדר הוא הפרי שבו רוב התאוה, ובו חטא אדם הראשון שנאמר ותרא האשה כי טוב העץ למאכל וכי תאוה הוא לעינים ונחמד העץ להשכיל ותקח מפריו ותאכל. והנה החטא בו לבדו, ואנחנו נרצה לפניו עם שאר המינים”, עכ”ל.

והנה עיין ברמב”ן (ויקרא כו, ו) על הפסוק “וְהִשְׁבַּתִּי חיה רעה מן הארץ”, וז”ל: “כי תהיה ארץ ישראל בעת קיום המצות כאשר היה העולם מתחילתו קודם חטאו של אדם הראשון, אין חיה ורמש ממית אדם, וכמו שאמרו אין ערוד ממית אלא חטא ממית”, עכ”ל, ע”ש באריכות. הרי שבעידן אחרית הימים בימות המשיח יחזור העולם להיות כמו שהיה קודם חטא אדם הראשון, וכמו שהיה אז בגן עדן, כי זהו חלק מן היעד בביאת הגואל, שיגאל העולם והטבע לחזור להיות כמו שהיה מקדם בגן עדן. וזהו גם כן ענינו של יום הכיפורים שהוא יום גאולה ויציאה לחרות, דהיינו לחזור ולשוב אל גן העדן. [ועיין לקמן פר’ אמור אות ו’ שהארכנו בענין זה.]

 

Excerpted from Rabbi Shmuel Goldin’s ‘Unlocking The Torah Text: An In-Depth Journey Into The Weekly Parsha- Vayikra’, co-published by OU Press and Gefen Publishers

A Timely Man

Context

An individual is designated to assume custody of the sent goat and lead it to its final destination in the wilderness. This individual is referred to by the text simply as an ish iti, a “designated man” (literally “a timely man”).

So significant is the role of the “designated man” in the process of communal atonement that a series of way stations are set up along his route into the wilderness. At each station, the ish iti is offered the option of breaking his Yom Kippur fast, that he may retain the strength necessary to successfully complete his mission (the Talmud, however, testifies that no ish iti ever actually ate on Yom Kippur).

According to biblical law, any Israelite can serve as the ish iti; the High Priests, however, eventually mandate that only Kohanim assume this role.

Questions

Given the pivotal function performed by the ish iti in the attainment of communal atonement, the Torah’s silence concerning the requisite qualifications for his role is bewildering.

Shouldn’t the individual who completes the central Yom Kippur ritual of the se’ir hamishtaleiach be required to be righteous, holy, ritually observant? Why aren’t these, or for that matter, any real requirements spelled out? Why is the Torah satisfied simply with the designation ish iti?

Furthermore, exactly what does the term ish iti signify? What innovative criteria is the Torah establishing through the reference to “a designated man”? Wouldn’t any individual chosen for this task, by definition, automatically be considered “designated”?

Approaches

The approaches of the rabbis to the title ish iti range from the mystical to the utilitarian. Almost all who comment, however, base their suggestions on the literal interpretation of the words ish iti, “a timely man.”

A
One source in the Talmud, for example, views the designation as situationally – rather than personally – descriptive. The term ish iti conveys that the critical role of the “designated man” must be fulfilled at all times; even on Shabbat and even if the task calls for the overriding of specific Shabbat laws.

Choosing an entirely different path, the Chizkuni offers a startling mystical interpretation. Invariably, this scholar says, the individual designated to accompany the sent goat to its final destination does not survive the following year. The Torah, therefore, mandates that an ish iti be deliberately chosen – an individual whose time to die has arrived. In this way, only someone who is already destined to perish during the coming year will be appointed to this doomed role. The Kohanim were able to determine such a candidate, continues the Chizkuni, through their facility in the process of astrological divination.

The Chizkuni’s approach, however, is deeply troubling on two counts: both because of the arbitrariness of the ish iti’s fate and because of the reliance of the Kohanim upon divination, an art that is clearly prohibited by the Torah.

Interestingly, while the Chizkuni claims Midrashic foundation for his disquieting suggestion, later scholars are unable to locate any Midrashic source.

B
Those commentaries, such as the Rashbam, who generally view the text through the lens of pshat, maintain a straightforward, utilitarian approach to the term ish iti. The only prerequisites for this role, they claim, are knowledge of wilderness pathways and a consequent preparedness to depart for Azazel at a moment’s notice. In the eyes of these pashtanim, the designated man, unlike the Kohen, is neither a role model for nor a representative of the people before God. He is simply a facilitator.

Once the ceremonial requirements of the sent goat ritual have been completed by the Kohen, all that remains is to get the job done as expeditiously as possible. Someone must ensure that the sent goat reaches its final destination without delay. The only essential criterion for this role, the role of “designated man,” is that the candidate be the best man for the job.

C
Yet another Talmudic source, quoted in Rashi, sees an additional requirement embedded in the term ish iti. To be a “timely man” one must be muchan l’kach miyom etmol, “prepared for the task from the previous day.”

This source, at face value, strengthens the utilitarian position of the pashtanim. Pre-appointment is apparently necessary to ensure that the “designated man” will be ready to respond to the call of duty at a moment’s notice.

D
The requirement of “readiness” on the part of the ish iti, however, can be achieved even without pre-appointment. Why does the Talmud specifically insist that the “designated man” be prepared for his mission “from the previous day”?

A tantalizing possibility emerges if we consider the Talmudic mandate muchan l’kach miyom etmol in broader terms. Perhaps the rabbis are defining a singular character trait in the selection of the ish iti, a personal quality which they believe to be of inestimable value for any individual traveling along the path towards true tshuva.

Consider, for a moment… How different would our lives be if we were truly muchan l’kach miyom etmol, if somehow we could train ourselves to perceive the seeds of the future, each day, in our actions and in the world around us? What would have truly changed had we been prepared yesterday for today? What will change now if we are prepared today for tomorrow?

The rabbis, as always, said it well: “Who is truly wise? He who sees that which is a-borning.”

E
We can now begin to understand the single prerequisite that the rabbis mandate for the man who brings the Yom Kippur process of communal atonement to its conclusion. He must be, literally and figuratively, muchan l’kach miyom etmol.

Each Yom Kippur, after all, we inevitably confront our “regrets.”

If only I had been more aware… If only I could have known where my words or my actions would lead… I would certainly have spoken more carefully… I would certainly have acted differently… if only I had known…

Essential to the process of tshuva, then, is increased awareness of the ultimate impact of our deeds. If we can somehow perceive the potential future results of our words or actions, we will be more able to carefully calibrate our current reactions and interactions, sparing ourselves and those around us untold measures of pain.

To sensitize the nation towards this task of self-awareness, the Torah mandates only one symbolic requirement for the ish iti. The individual who completes the communal process of atonement on the holiest day of the year must simply be muchan l’kach miyom etmol, prepared for the task from the previous day.

Points to Ponder

My father, of blessed memory, passed away a short time before Rosh Hashana 5758. That year, I sorrowfully prepared my High Holiday sermons armed with a new understanding of the grieving process. Although I had certainly counseled many mourners before, only through my own loss did I truly begin to comprehend man’s journey through the “valley of the shadow of death.”

I spoke that Yom Kippur, before the Yizkor prayer (the memorial prayer) of the ish iti and of his requirement to be muchan l’kach miyom etmol.

By way of illustration, I cited the connection drawn by Rav Soloveitchik between the dual experiences of mourning and tshuva. Noting the similarity between the laws of shiva (the seven-day mourning period mandated by Jewish law) and the laws of Yom Kippur, the Rav arrives at a dramatic conclusion: mourning, in Jewish law, is largely an act of tshuva.

Man is always a latecomer as far as the formation of value judgments is concerned. His axiology [value system] or appreciation of persons, things and events is always a product of hindsight. In retrospection man discovers the precise value of something which, or somebody who was, but is no longer with us.… While the somebody was near, while I could communicate with the somebody, I was unaware of him.… He comes into existence and turns into somebody important and precious at the very moment he departs from me and is lost in the mist of remoteness. Only after he has gone do I begin to ask: Who was he? What did he mean to me?

With the Rav’s observations as backdrop, I continued to speak in personal terms of my own tshuva process and of the lessons we can all learn from the “designated man”:

If only I had recognized what I had when I had it… If only I could have predicted the deep pain and emptiness I now feel with my father gone… I would never have taken his presence for granted while he was with me…

If only we could all be, like the ish iti, muchan l’kach miyom etmol, truly prepared for life experiences – cognizant of what would be and how we would feel today – yesterday.

 

Excerpted from Rabbi Menachem Genack’s Birkat Yitzchak Chidushim U-ve’urim al HaTorah

בדין קרבן פסח כקרבן ציבור

ושחטו אותו כל קהל עדת ישראל בין הערבים (יב, ו)

א. כתב רש”י (ד”ה קהל עדת ישראל): “קהל ועדה וישראל, מכאן אמרו פסחי צבור נשחטין בשלשה כתות זו אחר זו, נכנסת כת ראשונה ננעלו דלתות העזרה וכו’, כדאיתא בפסחים (סד, א)”.

והנה בהך דינא דהפסח נשחט בג’ כיתות דוקא ואין פוחתין משלושים בני אדם בכל כת, נראה לפרש, שהוא משום שקרבן פסח בא בכנופיא, וכדי ליצור שם צבור בהקרבת הקרבן צריך להביא בצירוף כתות אלו של קהל, עדה, וישראל. שהרי ‘קהל’ ‘עדה’ ו’ישראל’ הם שמות נרדפים לתואר הצבור של ישראל.

ועיין בשו”ת זרע אברהם (להגר”א לופטביר, סי’ ו) שכתב לבאר את המכילתא פר’ בא: “מנין אתה אומר שאם אין להם לישראל אלא פסח אחד שכולן יוצאין בו ידי חובתן ת”ל ושחטו אותו”, והביא מס’ ‘בירורי המדות’ שפי’ שכמו דמצוה על הצבור להקריב את התמיד כך מצוה עליהם להקריב את הפסח. ודינו אמנם ככל קרבן ציבור, אלא דכיון דבפסח נוספה גם כן מצות אכילה, לפיכך כל אדם מחויב להקריב קרבן פסח בנפרד כדי שיוכל לקיים גם את מצות אכילה. אבל אם אין להם לישראל אלא פסח אחד, אזי מצוה על הצבור להקריב, עיי”ש. [ועיין במקראי קדש לפסח סי’ ב.]

ונראה שפשר הענין שחל דין צבור בהקרבת הפסח, הוא שקרבן פסח הוא קרבן הגאולה, וכיון שהיחיד בעצמו אינו מובטח שיגאל, שהרי ההבטחה הזאת שייכת רק לכלל ישראל כולו שסופו להגאל, אם כן גאולת כל יחיד ויחיד תלויה בכך שהוא מצטרף לצבור, ואם הוא אכן חלק מן הצבור זוכה אף הוא ורואה בישועתו וגאולתו.

ב. והנה קרבן פסח טעון ביקור ד’ ימים כמו קרבן התמיד [עיין במנ”ח (מצוה ה) שתמה על הרמב”ם שהשמיט מה דפסח צריך ביקור ורק הביא דין ביקור תמיד דפ”א מתמידין]. ונראה בביאור הדברים, שמה שקרבן פסח צריך ביקור, הוא משום הדין צבור שיש בפסח, ולכן פסח שני שאינו בא בכנופיא – דרק יחידים נדחין לפסח שני – ואין לו דין צבור הכרוך בהקרבת הפסח, לא בעי ביקור כמבואר בגמ’ (פסחים צו, א).

ג. ועיין בספורנו על הפסוק “והיה כי יאמרו אליכם בניכם מה העבודה הזאת לכם” (יב, כו) שכתב: “מה העבודה הזאת לכם – שאינה ביום מקרא קדש כשאר הקרבנות ולא תוך זמן שאר הקרבנות שהוא מתמיד של שחר עד תמיד של בין הערבים, ולמה לא יספיק קרבן אחד לכל ישראל כמו בשאר קרבנות צבור”. ועיין בדבריו בפסוק כז שכתב: “זבח פסח הוא – זה הזבח נעשה בשביל הפסיחה שהיתה עתידה להעשות בחצי הלילה של אחריו, ומפני שאין זבח בלילה הוצרך לעשותו בזה הזמן הנמשך אחר הלילה של אחריו בענין הקרבנות, והוצרך כל אחד להקריב כי הנס נעשה לכל יחיד בפני עצמו ולא בציבור בכלל”.

ומבואר מדברי הספורנו שכונת שאלת ‘מה העבודה הזאת לכם’ היא, למה כל אחד מקריב לעצמו, מדוע לא יספיק קרבן אחד עבור כל הצבור. ומשמעות דבריו כדברי הזרע אברהם, שמדין קרבן צבור בפסח יתכן שיוקרב רק קרבן אחד עבור כל הצבור. אלא שעדיין צ”ע בכוונתו של הספורנו בתירוצו: “כי הנס נעשה לכל יחיד בפ”ע ולא בציבור בכלל”. ואפשר שעל ידי נתינת דם על כל בית ובית בנפרד, נחשב לנס שנעשה לכל יחיד ויחיד, וצ”ע. אבל עכ”פ נראה שסבר שיש שני ענינים בקרבן פסח: קרבן הציבור, ושישתתפו בו יחידים, ולכן אין מביאים רק קרבן אחד, אלא כל חבורה מביאה קרבן לעצמה לקיים גם את דין היחיד.

ד. ונראה עוד, דמה דקרבן פסח נאכל בחבורה מה שלא מצאנו בשאר קרבנות, הוא כדי לצרף אחרים איתו בקיום דין קרבן הפסח משום דיש בו דין צבור ולכן אין ראוי שיעשה כקרבן של יחיד בלבד. [והרמב”ם (קרבן פסח פ”ב ה”ב) סובר דאף לר’ יוסי דשוחטין על היחיד, מ”מ לכתחילה אין לשחוט על היחיד שנאמר: “יעשו אותו”, ועיי”ש בכסף משנה.]

 

Excerpted from Rabbi Menachem Genack’s Birkat Yitzchak Chidushim U-ve’urim al HaTorah

פרשת מצורע

טהרת המצורע בשתי ציפורים ועבודת יוה”כ בשני שעירים

המעיין יראה שטהרת מצורע על ידי שתי צפורים דומה לכפרת שני שעירים שביום הכפורים. שהרי במשנה (נגעים פי”ד מ”ה) מבואר דשתי צפורי מצורע מצוותן שתהיינה שוות בקומה ומראה ובדמים ובלקיחתן כאחד, והוא הדין גם כן בשני שעירי יום הכפורים שצריכין להיות דומים זה לזה בקומה ומראה ובדמים ובלקיחתן כאחד כמבואר במשנה (ריש פ”ו דיומא).

והרי גם עצם עבודתם של שני השעירים של יום הכפורים דומה לזה של שתי צפורי מצורע. שהרי השעיר לה’ נשחט ודמו הוזה לפנים ולפני ולפנים, והשעיר לעזאזל נשתלח חוץ למחנה, וכמו כן בשני הצפורים אחד נשחט והציפור השני משתלח, הרי לגבי שני השעירים וצפורי מצורע, אחד נשחט והשני משתלח. וכמבואר ברמב”ן (ויקרא יד, נג), וז”ל: “הנה הכפרה הזאת בצפור המשתלחת שתשא הצפור את כל עונותיו אל מחוץ לעיר על פני השדה כענין הכפרה בשעיר המשתלח”, עכ”ל.

ואשר נראה לבאר בזה הוא, שמצורע נשתלח משום חטאו אל מחוץ למחנה, וע”י שתי צפורים מותר הוא לחזור למצבו הקודם, וכן הוא בענין יוה”כ שמשום חטאותינו נתרחקנו מאבינו שבשמים, ועל ידי תשובה וכפרת היום הוסרה המחיצה של העבירות המפסיקה בינינו לאבינו שבשמים. וכמבואר ברמב”ם (הל’ תשובה פ”ז ה”ז), וז”ל: “כמה מעולה מעלת התשובה אמש היה זה מובדל מה’ אלקי ישראל שנאמר עונותיכם היו מבדילים ביניכם לבין אלקיכם. צועק ואינו נענה שנאמר כי תרבו תפלה וגו’ ועושה מצות וטורפין אותן בפניו שנאמר מי בקש זאת מידכם רמוס חצרי, מי גם בכם ויסגר דלתים וגו’, והיום הוא מודבק בשכינה שנאמר ואתם הדבקים בה’ אלקיכם, צועק ונענה מיד שנאמר והיה טרם יקראו ואני אענה, ועושה מצוות ומקבלין אותן בנחת ושמחה, שנאמר כי כבר רצה האלקים את מעשיך”.

Excerpted from Rabbi Shmuel Goldin’s Unlocking the Haggada, co-published by OU Press and Gefen Publishers

Making Sense of the Seder II: A Historical Perspective

Questions

From a historical perspective, the Seder can be seen as a recreation of a powerful moment, critical to the birth of the Jewish nation. Contrary to what we would expect, however, the moment recreated at the Pesach Seder is not that of the Exodus itself…

The Torah narrative is clear. Pharaoh, the Egyptian king, summarily releases his Israelite slaves in the middle of the night, in the immediate aftermath of the devastating final plague of the firstborn. Nonetheless, Moshe does not lead his people to freedom until the next day. Based upon a midrashic tradition, the Ramban explains that the first footfalls of the nation’s journey are not to be those of thieves slinking away in the darkness of night. Instead, the Israelites will leave Egypt victoriously in the middle of the day, with their heads held high, in full view of their erstwhile masters.

If the Seder is designed to be a recreation of the actual Exodus from Egypt, therefore, it should be marked at high noon on the fifteenth day of Nisan, the first day of Pesach. Instead, across the generations, Jews have gathered in their homes on Pesach Eve to reexperience the night before the Exodus.

Historically, the Israelites in Egypt marked that night, at God’s command, by retreating to the safety of their homes in extended family groups. There, each group consumed a Korban Pesach while, outside their doors, the final plague rained down upon the Egyptians. Centuries later, we mirror their actions. We join in family groups for the Seder, commemorating the moment when our ancestors prepared for an unknown future through the consumption of their first ritual family meal. The question, however, is obvious. Why is the moment of the Korban Pesach memorialized each year through the Seder, while the actual moment of the Exodus, midday of the following day, passes unmarked? Wouldn’t it be logical to celebrate the moment of the Exodus itself on the
festival clearly designed to commemorate that event?

Approaches

The answers to our question may well lie in a series of powerful lessons that emerge from the rituals of the first Korban Pesach – lessons that we are meant to remember and commemorate each year…

I. Between Liberty and Freedom 

Most immediately, the first Korban Pesach draws our attention to the two different dimensions of freedom that exist in Jewish thought: dror and cherut.

A. Dror (liberty) – the removal of external constraints, physical or otherwise, that impede upon an individual’s personal choice and independent action. Dror is either conferred upon an individual by an outside force or attained by an individual through severance from that force.

B. Cherut (freedom) – the injection of positive purpose and value into one’s life. The individual who enjoys cherut, by choosing to pursue a higher goal, actively frees himself from servitude to the surrounding world and its potentially enslaving influences. Cherut is not granted by another but must be attained by an individual alone.

One can be free even when not at liberty. One can be at liberty yet not be free. 

While still enveloped in the darkness of Egyptian servitude, the Israelites are commanded to declare their cherut. By setting aside a lamb, the god of Egypt, on the tenth day of Nisan; by publicly waiting four days and then slaughtering and consuming that lamb on Pesach Eve, the Israelites demonstrate that they are already free from Egypt and the Egyptians. Although physical liberty will only be achieved on the morrow, the Israelites attain their spiritual freedom while still in Egypt, on the night of the Korban Pesach.

How appropriate, then, that we mark this night each year at the Seder. How many times through a long and arduous history have we, the descendants of those first Israelites, been forced to relive  the scene of the Korban Pesach in actual life? How many times has our nation been called upon, against the backdrop of physical darkness and persecution, to declare spiritual and philosophical freedom from its oppressors? How many times will we be forced to do so again, before the dawn of the messianic age?

As we sit in the comfort of our homes, we recall Sedarim courageously observed under very different circumstances; from basements in Catholic Spain to prisons in Arab lands, from Nazi labor camps to the Soviet Gulag. And, through these collective memories, a sobering message of the Seder becomes abundantly clear. The ability to achieve freedom, even in the absence of liberty, has always been and continues to be a talent crucial to the survival of the Jewish nation.

At the same time, reliving the night of the Korban Pesach also reminds us of the emptiness of liberty without freedom. Had the Israelites left Egypt without first experiencing the rituals of the previous night, their emancipation would have been incomplete. Dror only has meaning when it is accompanied by cherut, when the removal of external constraints is accompanied by the injection of positive purpose.

Why do so many citizens of the United States and other democratic countries remain deeply unhappy in spite of the liberties they possess – liberties unimaginable in other times and places? How many of us and those around us, living at liberty in free societies, nonetheless feel enslaved to the pressures of an outside world? The ancient formula proposed by the Talmudic sages rings true to our day: “Ein lecha ben chorin ela mi she’oseik b’talmud Torah” (No one is free except for he who involves himself in the study of Torah). Meaning in life is attained through the recognition of a purpose beyond oneself. Only through belief in and pursuit of such a higher cause can a human being truly be “free.”

II. A Societal Blueprint

Digging a bit deeper, another critical layer of meaning can be uncovered in the rituals surrounding the first Korban Pesach.

A careful reading of the text reveals that the instructions concerning the first Korban Pesach unfold in three stages, ritualistically outlining a three-stage societal blueprint by which the emerging Israelite nation is to be built:

Speak to the entire assembly of Israel, saying: On the tenth of this month they shall take for themselves, each man, a lamb for each father’s house, a lamb for the household. And if the household shall be too small for a lamb, then he and his neighbor who is near to his home shall take according to the number of people; each man according to his ability to eat shall be counted for the lamb.

A. “A lamb for each father’s house, a lamb for the household.” The first and foremost pillar of Jewish society is the family unit.

God deliberately refrains from marking the birth of the Jewish nation with constitutional conventions, mass rallies or declarations of independence. Each Israelite is, instead, commanded to return to the privacy of his home, where he is to participate in the family meal that is the Korban Pesach.

By insisting upon a retreat to the home as a prelude to our nation’s birth, God delivers a simple yet powerful message: As you prepare to begin your historical journey, stop and mark this evening within the societal unit most critical to your success. Remember always that your survival will depend upon the health of the family. If the family is strong, if the home fulfills its educational role, your people will be strong and your nation will endure. The Jewish home is and always has been the single most important educational unit in the perpetuation of our people. What our children learn at home, more than what they learn in any other setting, indelibly shapes both their knowledge of and attitude toward Jewish tradition and practice.

Furthermore, Jewish experience will be enriched across the centuries, not only by the nuclear family, but by the extended family, as well. God, therefore, insists that the Korban Pesach shall be “for each father’s home” as well as “for the household.”

B. “And if the household shall be too small for a lamb, then he and his neighbor who is near to his home shall take…” Moving beyond the family unit, the text arrives at the second foundation of Jewish society: the community.

The family unit, as important as it is, cannot operate in a vacuum. Each household will be required, at times, to reach beyond its walls, either to ask for or to offer assistance and support. God, therefore, instructs any family that cannot perform the Pesach rituals on its own to turn outward. If neighbors work together, creating communal institutions of mutual support, the nation they build will survive and thrive.

An apparent redundancy in the text underscores the mindset that must characterize these shared communal endeavors. A neighbor is, by definition, an individual who lives in close proximity to another. Why, then, does the Torah state that the Korban Pesach should be shared with “his neighbor who is near to his home”?

Perhaps the text stresses that we should adopt an attitude toward our neighbors that defines them as “near to our home.” By recognizing the vulnerabilities, rights and dreams that we and our neighbors all share, we will be moved to assist those around us to reach their goals, even as we strive to achieve our own.

C. “Each man according to his ability to eat shall be counted for the lamb.” Finally, the Torah reminds us that no individual can escape the obligations raised by the third societal foundation: personal responsibility.

Strong families and communities can, at times, serve as a refuge for those who wish to escape the burdens of their own obligations. After all, if there are others to “do the job,” why should we?

Such an attitude clearly robs our people of essential human resources. Each and every individual has a unique and invaluable contribution to make to our nation’s story – a contribution that is solely his or her own. God therefore symbolically demands that the computation concerning the size of each Korban Pesach be based upon the full participation of all involved in that korban. Our national aspirations will be fully met only if “each man” performs “according to his ability.”

Gathering in their homes on the first Pesach Eve of our nation’s history, our ancestors ritually underscored the three societal foundations that would make their nation’s journey enduring. Centuries later, we commemorate that moment by underscoring the very same foundations. We gather in extended family units in the comfort of our homes; we invite others to join us, even formalizing our invitation through the recitation of a special paragraph (Ha lachma anya); and we encourage the personal participation of each and every individual at the Seder, young and old alike.

III. Hurry Up and Wait

A third lesson emerges from the notion of ritualized haste and urgency that seems so central to the observance of the Korban Pesach: “And so shall you consume it: your loins girded, your shoes on your feet and your staff in your hand. And you shall eat it in haste; it is a Passover offering to God.”

At face value, this sense of haste seems totally unnecessary.

The Exodus is not a sudden, unexpected event. The conclusion of Egyptian exile was clearly predicted as far back as the days of Avraham (see my Unlocking the Torah Text: Bereishit, Lech Lecha 4; Vayeishev 3). The Israelites themselves have been waiting and hoping for this moment over centuries of servitude. To further complicate matters, as explained above, when Pharaoh finally urges the Israelites to leave Egypt during the night, Moshe insists that the departure take place in broad daylight, midday of the following day.

Why introduce a sense of urgency into the Korban Pesach when the departure from Egypt could well have been experienced in a calm, ordered fashion?

Once again, through ritual, the Torah conveys an idea that cannot be ignored: Great opportunities are often presented in swiftly fleeting moments. While it is true that the moment of the Exodus had been predicted and anticipated for centuries, when that moment finally arrives, an instantaneous decision on the part of each Israelite is required. Hesitation will prove fatal. Only those individuals decisive and courageous enough to leave a known existence for the unknown will merit becoming part of the glorious story of their people. Those who miss this small temporal window of opportunity will be too late and will disappear into the mists of history. The difficulties inherent in the choice to leave Egypt are reflected in the rabbinic tradition that only a small percentage of the Israelites ultimately depart.

(As we will note in our further studies, the challenge presented by fleeting opportunities is further ritualized in another Seder symbol: matza, unleavened bread – see pp.136–38).

Finally, we consider one strikingly strange instruction associated with the ritualized haste surrounding the Korban Pesach. “And so shall you consume [the Korban Pesach]: your loins girded, your shoes on your feet and your staff in your hand.”

Why must the Israelites eat the Korban Pesach already prepared for a journey that will only begin on the morrow? Certainly there will be time to dress appropriately and pick up staffs after the ritual is concluded. Is this detail simply a further demonstration of symbolic speed, or is there an even deeper lesson to be learned?

Commenting on this extraordinary scene, the rabbis only seem to muddy the waters further: “Rabbi Yossi Haglili stated: ‘Here the text comes to provide good advice for travelers, that they should be energetic.’”

What, exactly, is Rabbi Yossi adding to the mix? Are the rituals of the first Korban Pesach to be reduced to “good advice for travelers,” conveying a lesson that is already clearly self-evident?

Upon consideration, however, Rabbi Yossi’s observation emerges as a brilliant example of rabbinic methodology, which often couches complex, critical lessons in easily remembered tales and pictures. According to Rabbi Yossi, the Torah proposes that, from the moment of the Korban Pesach, all Jews become “travelers” in the journey of our people across the face of history. As we travel along that long and arduous road, one talent becomes critical to our survival – a talent captured in the image of the Israelites dressed for tomorrow’s journey the night before. Somehow, we have to learn to be prepared for tomorrow’s challenges today.

In generation after generation, in society after society, the descendants of the Israelites will confront ever-changing circumstances and challenges. At times, change may occur so rapidly and so totally as to seem impossible to predict. Most often, however, the seeds of these transformations will be visible in advance to those perceptive and energetic enough to notice.

At the dawn of their national history, in the darkness of the night, a people gather in groups to eat a family meal while fully prepared for a journey that will only begin on the morrow. From that time on, that people’s ability to determine and prepare for changes before they emerge full-blown will be central to their success and survival.

“Who is truly wise? He who sees that which is a-borning.”

The story is told of the Jewish optician who lives in Berlin in the 1930s. Noting the events taking place around him, he decides to emigrate to Israel. To inform his patients of his departure, he places a sign outside his of fice: “For all of you who are nearsighted, there is a doctor around the corner. For all of you who are farsighted, follow me.” While the story is poignant, it is also, of course, simplistic. How can we judge, from the safety of our own environment, the issues that must have confronted the Jewish community of Europe in the years leading up to World War II? Had we been there, would we have believed that countries such as Germany – representing the height of civilization at the time – could possibly commit the unspeakable atrocities that were to come? Are we so certain that, ensconced comfortably in homes that had been ours for decades, we would have been able to pick up and leave?

And yet…the facts remain. Had we been more intuitive, had we listened to what was being said by the Nazis, had we mobilized in the face of impending danger – who knows how many would have been saved?

We must also ask: Are we any better equipped today? Would we see the danger signs looming on the horizon of our own exiles in time to make a difference? Are some of those signs already appearing? Are we sensitive not only to the open physical threats against us but also to the subliminal philosophical dangers that so often lie beneath our radar screen?

We would do well to keep the image of the first Pesach table before us as we continue our travels. The lessons learned around it continue to inform our journey to this day.

 

 

Excerpted from Rabbi Menachem Genack’s Birkat Yitzchak Chidushim U-ve’urim al HaTorah

פרשת החודש

בענין ארבע פרשיות וגאולתן של ישראל

א. ארבעת הפרשיות: שקלים, זכור, פרה, החודש, מהוות כל אחת ואחת מצוה בפ”ע, וכל אחת מהן מיוחדת לשבת שלה ולזמן קריאתה. פרשת שקלים קוראין משום שבאדר משמיעין על השקלים; פרשת זכור קוראין בשבת שלפני פורים, מכיון שהמן היה מעמלק ונכרת הוא וביתו; פרשת פרה קוראין לפי שצריכין להיטהר להקרבת הפסח; ופרשת החודש קוראין בשבת שלפני ר”ח ניסן או בר”ח ניסן משום שקריאתה החודש הזה לכם ראש חדשים בניסן.

אך נראה שלמרות יחודה של כל פרשה ופרשה יש לכולן רעיון משותף, בזה שהן מלמדות על גאולת ישראל ומהוות הכנה לחודש הגאולה, חודש ניסן, ובכן מצטרפות כולן לחטיבה אחת הבנויה מנדבכי פרשיות שונות. ויתבאר הענין להלן.

ב. יסוד פרשת שקלים הוא שכל אחד חייב לתת מחצית השקל עבור קרבנות הציבור הבאין מתרומת הלשכה. והנה קרבן צבור אינו רק קרבן שיחידים שותפין בו, דאינו קרבן שותפין כלל, ואפילו אם יקנו יחד כל אישי ישראל בהמה להקריב, אין בו דין קרבן צבור אלא קרבן שותפין (עיין רמב”ן עה”ת ויקרא א, ב). שהרי קרבן ציבור איננו רק קרבן של קיבוץ של יחידים החיים עתה, אלא קרבן של כנסת ישראל כגוף אחד ונשמה אחת – אלו החיים עכשיו, ואלו שכבר מתו, וגם אלו שעתידין להוולד ועדיין לא נולדו – כולן מהווים חלק מהציבור של כנסת ישראל, שענינו של ציבור הוא חטיבה אחת שכל אחד מישראל משתתף בה.

וראיה לדבר, מהא דחטאת שמתו בעליה למיתה קא אזלא אבל חטאת הצבור אף שמתו כל אותו הדור עדיין קריבה שאין צבור מתים, וכן היה בזמן עזרא שהקריבו לאחר שבעים שנה פר העלם דבר שהפרישו המעות בזמן בית ראשון, אף שמתו רוב אלו שחטאו בבית ראשון, לפי שאין צבור מתים (הוריות דף ו, א).

זהו היסוד הראשון הנצרך לגאולת ישראל: עם ישראל הוא נצחי וכל אחד מישראל משתתף בנצחיותה של הכנסת ישראל, ואי אפשר לציבור להיכרת.

ג. פרשת זכור מלמדת אותנו שעמלק וגם כל אלו הבאים בתעודתו ורוצים להזיק ולהרוג את עם ישראל, לבסוף יכרתו, וכמו שנכרת ביתו של המן, כי מלחמה לה’ בעמלק מדור דור, וה’ נשבע בכסא כבודו שלבסוף יכרת עמלק לגמרי.

ד. פרשת פרה הולכת ומפתחת את הקו שנמתח על ידי שתי הפרשיות הקודמות. פרה אדומה היא חוק שאין בכח האדם להבינה, ואפילו שלמה המלך החכם מכל אדם אמר (קהלת ז, כג): “והיא רחוקה ממני”. מצות פרה אדומה היא הדרך להיטהר מטומאה החמורה של טומאת מת – וזה שעוסק בה נטמא. ויותר מזה, אינו מובן איך אפשר להטהר מטומאה חמורה של טומאת מת. וזהו החוק הבלתי נתפס לשכל אנושי שמטומאה יכולה לבא טהרה, ומשעבוד מוחלט יכול לצמוח גאולה.

ועיין בהקדמת היעב”ץ לסידורו שכתב שהנס הכי גדול הוא שישראל קיימים אחר כל השנים של שנאת העמים – כ’כבשה אחת בין שבעים זאבים’ הרוצים לטרוף אותה, שבכל דור ודור עומדים עלינו לכלותינו, ועם כל זה אנחנו קיימים. הרי זה חוק בלתי מובן, שנצח ישראל לא ישקר ואנו חיים וקיימים לעולם.

ה. בפרשת החודש טמון היסוד הרביעי לגאולה. שהרי עוד לפני שנגאלו ממצרים נצטוו במצוה הראשונה “החודש הזה לכם”, שבלא לוח חדש זה התלוי בלבנה לא היו ישראל יכולים להגאל. וכפי שישנם חוקי הטבע כן ישנם חוקי היסטוריה, ולפי חוקי ההיסטוריה אי אפשר היה שבני ישראל יתקיימו “כבשה אחת בין שבעים זאבים”, ולא היו יכולין לצאת ולהגאל ממצרים שהיתה באותה תקופה המלכות הכי חזקה בעולם. ולפי תקופת השנה התלויה בשמש, אין דבר חדש תחת השמש ומה שהיה הוא שיהיה, אבל לפי זמני הלבנה המשתנה בכל זמן, אפשר לצפות לגאולה, ולמילוי פגימת הלבנה. כי לעם ישראל יש סדר זמן ולוח לעצמו ולכן אינו כפוף לזמן החמה וחוקי ההיסטוריה. נוסף לכך, זמן זה תלוי בישראל, “החודש הזה לכם” – הוא תלוי בכם, ויש לכם כח לשלוט על הזמן והתקופה בכח מעשיכם – “אתם אפילו שוגגין, אתם אפילו מזידין אתם אפילו מוטעין”. החדש מתקדש רק על ידי קביעות ב”ד שהוא שלוחו של כלל ישראל כולו. וכמבואר בגמ’ (ברכות מט, א): “מקדש ישראל והזמנים – ישראל דקדשינהו לזמנים”.

הרי שיש צירוף בין כל הארבע פרשיות שכולן מתאימות ומגלות לנו יסודות בעניני נצחיות העם וגאולת ישראל.