SEEDS OF DISCONTENT – II

Parashas Shelach

Shelach lecha anashim veyasuru es eretz k’naan asher ani nosen l’vnei yisrael, ish echad, ish echad l’mateh avosav tishlachu, kol nasi bahem … send out men for yourself and they will explore the land of k’naan that I am giving to the children of Israel, one man for each tribe, each of them a person of high rank (Bamidbar 13:1)

The tragedy of the spies is well known; their malicious report resulted in an entire generation being denied entry into the Land of Israel. Many of the commentaries go to great length in examining the precise sin for which the spies were guilty. The Torah only tells us that they were motzi dibas ha-aretz – they spoke badly about the land. The Torah does not specify what that evil speech embodied. Some suggest that they were guilty of exaggeration; they described the country as eretz ochelet yoshveha – a nation that devours its residents. Others maintain that they needlessly frightened the people – telling them that the inhabitants of the land are anshei midos – people of giant proportions.

Both of these approaches seem to be somewhat deficient and it would be hard to categorize either description of the land as being malicious lashon hara, for their report was essentially true. The land did devour its inhabitants. The seven nations dwelling there were being uprooted by the Jews who were to replace them as masters of this land. Why? Because their decadence made them unworthy of inhabiting the land. Hashem had destroyed Sodom and Amorah for having lived liscentiously in the platrin shel melech – the palace of the king – and the Emorites and their fellow tribes had continued this kind of immoral behavior and were also being punished with banishment.

Moreover, it was true that the land was inhabited by anshei midos. The spies did not lie when they reported seeing the giants of Chevron. When they returned to the encampment, they brought with them a cluster of grapes so large that it took two people to carry it – another sign of the grotesque proportions that were common in the land.

The punishment also seems to be somewhat out of character. The spies, in convincing the people that it would be dangerous to try and capture the land, were guilty of leading an insurrection against G-d. Hashem had promised that the nation would go up to the land and they claimed that it would be impossible, efes ki az ha’am – the nation [dwelling there] is too strong and cunning! The ten spies are struck down for their blasphemy. They are devoured by a Divine plague, but not because they challenged G-d’s ability or His intention to keep His promise? Vayamusu ha-anashim motzei dibas ha-aretz ra’ah b’magefah … and the men who had given an evil report about the land died in a plague (ibid. :37) – the plague was a result of their having spoken lashon hara about the land. Not the sin of convincing the nation to deny its manifest destiny, nor the sin of fomenting a revolution against G-d.

And the people, who are guilty of joining with the spies and demanding to go back to Egypt and free themselves of their Divine mission accepted at Sinai, how are they punished? A plague, a fire from Heaven? No! They die a natural death over the next forty years and are not permitted to enter the land. True it is a punishment – tantamount to forbidding a child who has misbehaved from participating in some event. It appears to be no more than a slap on the wrist for a people who declared that they had no desire to go up to the land.

Perhaps we might offer another suggestion. The message of the spies report was not that it was beyond God’s ability to conquer the mighty nations of Canaan. They were the leaders of the generation, do you really think that they denied that God could do it if He so willed? Remember, we are dealing here with the dor de’ah – the generation that had witnessed the revelation at Sinai. But they also knew that the Divine will was inextricably linked to the spiritual level of the people which was anything but attractive at this juncture.

The spies honestly believed that the people were not on a level that would bring the requisite Divine intervention. They needed to go back to Egypt, to begin the entire Exodus process again, for they were still influenced by their years of slavery and had not yet become truly free of Egypt. And what was wrong with the spies’ analysis? They underestimated the ability of the Land of Israel to change the nature of the people. They did not realize what an effect entering the land would have, how it could transform a group of chronic complainers into a nation untied in seeking kirvat Elokim. Woe to the leaders who underestimate the ability of their people.

SEEDS OF DISCONTENT - I
Parashas Beha’aloscha

Vayehi ha’am k’misonenim, ra b’aznei Hashem ... v’ha’asafsuf asher b’kirbo hisavu ta’avah ... vayomru mi ya’achilenu basar ... v’ata nafshenu yevaisha ein kol bilti el haman einenu ... And the people complained which was evil in the ears of Hashem ... and the rabble that was in their midst had a great desire and they said, who will feed us meat ... for now our bodies are dried up, there is nothing to look forward to but manna (Bamidbar 11:1-6)

The Torah does not specify what the complaint was of those who it categorizes as being k’misonenim, unlike the asafsuf - rabble - mentioned in pasuk 6, who complained that their diet in the desert was boring and consisted only of manna. There is a disagreement among the Sages as to who these people were; one school maintains that they were the erev rav, the stragglers who joined bnei yisrael at the time of the Exodus. The other school maintains that they were ketzinim - officers or people of noble birth. In either case, the simple peshat would seem to indicate that they did no more than raise a general complaint but found nothing specifically wrong. Nevertheless, they are severely punished by a Divine flame that burns them to death. Why is their punishment so severe and why are their complaints categorized as being ra b’aznei Hashem - evil in the ear of G-d? Is the sin of the asafsuf who denigrated the miracle of the manna not far more serious? Yet, these ingrates have their desires fulfilled - or in reality, overfilled - while those who simply kvetched in general are burned to death!

Moshe’s reaction to the complaints about the lack of meat also seems to be out of proportion. When he returned from Sinai and found the nation dancing around the golden calf, he was angry. However, he did not try to abdicate from his role as leader of the people, asking G-d how he could be expected to satisfy the needs of the people. On the contrary, he demonstrated his leadership by eradicating those guilty of sin while at the same time pleading with G-d not to destroy the nation as a whole. But in the case of the asafsuf, on the other hand, we find no defense pleas or remonstrations that Hashem not strike down the nation. On the contrary, Moshe himself complains to G-d, asking why he has been given this unmanageable task of leadership.

It would seem that the sin of the misonenim is similar to the sin of the golden calf and is therefore considered - unlike other sins - to be evil in G-d’s ear and especially grievous. Man’s transgressions are most often driven by an inability to conquer a desire. They do not necessarily connote a rebellion against G-d, but a weakness that man cannot overcome. As serious as such sin might be, it is something that can be fixed and therefore does not necessarily raise G-d’s ire.

But then there are sins that are a result of man’s complacency and his desire to live life without G-d. He lacks nothing, has no desires but nevertheless complains. In truth, he understands that G-d has provided for his needs and that is what he resents most, for he realizes that he is now obligated. He kvetches because he is uncomfortable with his dependency, wishing as it were that G-d would simply leave him alone. This is the worst kind of rebellion against G-d - not because of the complaining, but because man seeks to separate himself from the Divine.

Note that the pasuk uses an expression that we rarely find. The kvetching of the misonenim is described as ra b’aznei Hashem - G-d's ears - rather than the familiar einei Hashem - G-d’s eyes. The difference between the eyes and the ears is that the former interprets what actually exists - you cannot see something that is invisible. Thus, when dealing with the tangible world, the Torah refers to einei Hashem as, for example, when describing the Divine providence present in Eretz Yisrael. However, aznei Hashem refers to what can be heard or learned from what has been said. The people thought that they were complaining, but G-d heard much more. He understood that their kvetching was an insidious form of rebellion.

Moshe, on the other hand, had a human perspective and did not hear that which was between the lines of the complaining people. On the contrary, in his opinion, those who desired meat and were nostalgic about how good it was back in Egypt, were almost beyond the pale and he did not know how he could possibly relate to them. Thus, he complained to Hashem, speculating how he could be expected to cope with a group of people who had absolutely no appreciation for the miracles that G-d had done for them.

THE NAZIR - SINNER OR SAINT?
Parashas Naso

Ish o ishah ki yafli l’ndor neder nazir ... if a man or woman shall take upon themselves a vow of nezirus (Bamidbar 6:2)

Rashi, quoting the Midrash, comments that the parashah of the nazir is juxtaposed to the parashah of sotah - the woman suspected of adultery - to teach us that one who sees a sotah in her state of disgrace [i.e., after she drinks the waters which prove her guilt] should swear off wine [i.e., accept the vow of nezirus], for it is wine that brought her to commit adultery.

The comment is somewhat difficult to understand, for the status of the nazir is enigmatic to say the least. On the one hand he [or she] is referred to as a kadosh - a holy or sanctified person - by virtue of his having undertaken a vow of isolation from the community. He is not to shave to demonstrate that he has no regard for social conventions. He is forbidden to come into contact with tumah to show that he is seeking a more spiritual kind of existence and desires kirvas Elokim - closeness to G-d - which is unattainable when one deals with ritual impurity [tumah]. He foreswears the fruit of the vine, for wine can be a substitute for spirituality [see commentary of Netziv to Shir ha-Shirim].

On the other hand, the nazir, at the end of his period of nezirus, must bring a korban chatos - a sin offering - for the Torah is critical of his having given up on society and on the pleasures that G-d has granted man in this world. Celibacy and living like a monk are not Jewish values, for G-d has commanded us to elevate the material into the spiritual. We recite a berachah before eating to show that we recognize that everything has G-dliness in it. We recite asher yatzar when we relieve ourselves to indicate that even the most mundane acts can have spiritual meaning.

My rebbi once explained that one can be both a kadosh - a holy person - and a choteh - a sinner - at the same time. The nazir, he explained, recognizes his weakness. He knows that unlike others, he does not have the fortitude or strength to resist sin. He therefore separates himself, sacrificing some of the good that G-d intended him. True this is a sin, but it comes from an honest, albeit mistaken personal assessment and is therefore atoneable. Every person can avoid sin, no matter how weak he thinks he is. Note that the nazir brings a chatos - a sacrifice that is offered for sins committed b’shogeg - inadvertently. Had accepting nezirus been a true sin, there would be no atonement, for sins committed b’meizid - with full intent - have no korban.

The Midrash comments that one who sees the sotah in her state of disgrace should foreswear wine. Note that the Midrash refers to her state of disgrace. If anything, the miraculous process of the sotah should be a source of strengthening a person. We have a situation where a man suspects his wife of adultery but has no means of proving whether or not she is guilty. The trust between them is tenuous at best and he therefore brings her to the kohen who is the only person who can determine the truth. Based on the results of her drinking the potion that the kohen provides, we will find out what really happened. If she is innocent then she will be blessed with children. But if she is guilty, her body will explode and all will know of her infidelity.

People are standing by, waiting to see what will transpire. The entire ceremony is degrading, especially if she is innocent of the charge. This is the point of sotah b’kilkulah - the sotah at her time of disgrace; not later when her stomach and loins have collapsed, but now when she stands before the kohen. Only she knows whether or not she has committed adultery. She can stop the entire process simply by admitting the truth. She will not have to drink the potion, she will not be subject to the death penalty because there are no witnesses. Her husband will divorce her, but she will remain alive.

But she says nothing, somehow believing that nothing will happen to her. One bystander, more sensitive than most, is cognizant of his own weakness. He understands how hard it is not to sin, he knows how weak he is. The others present see only the miracle. He sees how sin - or even the suspicion of sin - degrades man and he therefore decides that he can only save himself by accepting nezirus. Wine can bring man close to G-d by releasing the inhibitions that often prevent him from expressing his spirituality. But that same wine can also serve as a cover for the truth and it takes a kadosh - a person who is inherently holy - to realize what it does to him.

OHEL or MISHKAN?

Parashas Bamidbar

V’halevi’im yachanu saviv l’mishkan ha’eidus ... and the Levi’im shall encamp around the tabernacle of testimony (Bamidbar 1:53)
Vayedaber Hasaehm el Moshe v’Aharon leimor. Ish al diglo, b’osos l’beis avosam, yachanu b’nei Yisrael mineged, saviv l’ohel moed yachanu ... and Hashem spoke to Moshe and Aharon saying. Every person under his flag, with signs according to their paternal households, the children of Israel shall encamp, around the the tent of meeting they shall encamp (ibid. 2:1-2)

Rav Hirsch points out that this seemingly simple set of commands contains a number of elements that deserve consideration. The first command, the instructions to the tribe of Levi to separate themselves from the rest of the nation and encamp around the tabernacle, was given to Moshe alone [see 1:48] whereas the parallel command to the rest of the nation to encamp on all sides of the mishkan was delivered to Moshe and Aharon [see 2:1]. Additionally, the command to the tribe of Levi instructing them to make their encampment as a buffer between the people and the holy area refers to the place as mishkan ha-eidus - the tabernacle of testimony. The command to bnei Yisrael, on the other hand, instructing them to place their tents around this area so as to serve as a front line of defense, refers to the place as ohel moed - the tent of meeting. Obviously, there must be significance in a] adding Aharon and b] using different terms to refer to the same place.

Rav Hirsch explains that the Torah differentiates between instructions that were given as a means of creating the fabric of Jewish life and those laws that were more philosophical in nature and therefore required more instruction. The separation of the tribe of Levi from the rest of the nation was evidenced in two ways. They enjoyed an elevated status [they were supported by ma’aser and in the case of the kohen section of the tribe were subject to additional laws pertaining to their requirement to be kodesh - e.g., tumah and the specific laws as to who they were permitted to marry] and they were not to be part of the encampment of the other tribes. This type of command is given to Moshe alone, for it is given to create a fact of Jewish life and does not need to be explained. The division of the tribes into separate camps, however, and the decision as to the makeup of these four camps, entailed further instruction and elucidation. Surely the tribes would ask why they were paired with each other and there would always be contention. Moreover, the very division of the people into separate camps would seem to be questionable. At Har Sinai the people had encamped as one nation - k’ish echad im lev echad - like a single person with a single heart. And now they were being divided into separate encampments based on tribal and familial divisions, hardly a recipe for the creation of a united nation. This change required the assistance of Aharon, who together with Moshe could instruct the people as to the importance of separate but equal encampments.

This might explain the change from mishkan ha-edus used in regard to the levi’im and ohel moed when speaking to bnei Yisrael. The Tabernacle served a dual role - it was both the unifying factor for the people, the common denominator that united them as a people, as well as the repository of the luchos which testified to the unique role of am Yisrael among the nations as recipient of the Torah. As long as the entire nation encamped around the Tabernacle, they demonstrated that despite individual differences, they viewed themselves as a people with a shared destiny. In this regard it was the ohel moed - the tent of meeting - for it was there that the different factions met to be instructed in the law that bound them all. As pertains to the levi’im, however, it was mishkan ha-edut - the place of restricted access - for it was here that the document - the luchos - that set am Yisrael apart from the other nations was stored. Access to the repository of am Yisrael’s contract of separation was severely restricted [see 1:53] and was guarded by the levi’im - the tribe that had been separated from the others.

Rav Yaakov Kaminetski, zt”l, adds an interesting observation in this connection. Why, he asks, was the division of am Yisrael into separate encampments delayed until after the revelation at Sinai. If the optimal way of life for the nation is division into separate units so as to preserve the unique characteristics and traits of the individual rather than establishing a single nation, should this not have taken place before Sinai? Haven’t we been taught that am Yisrael is meant to be a confederation of individual tribes, each making their separate contribution to the nation, while at the same time maintaining their unique character traits [see Yaakov’s berachos at the end of Bereishis].

Rav Yaakov answers that the preservation of the individuality of am Yisrael is only possible if they share an eternal mission. Once they are united in a common cause, they can go about accomplishing their manifest destiny in the manner that suits them best. They can add their own nuances and flavorings once the commonality of purpose - the fulfillment of Torah and mitzvos - is agreed upon by all, at the same time and with the same level of acceptance.

AMEILUS BATORAH
Parashat Bechukosai

Im bechukosai tailaichu v’es mitzvosai tishmeru v’asisem osam ... If you will walk in my strictures and observe my mitzvos and perform them (Vayikra 26:3)

Rashi, quoting the Midrash, remarks that the phrase im bechukosai tailaichu teaches us that one must be an amal baTorah - literally, work in Torah, but more understandable as constant Torah study (see Ohr ha-Chaim). Sifsei Chachamim explains that the verb tailaichu - to walk - is not what one might have expected the Torah to use in this context. Usually, when we find a dictate to follow mitzvos, the expression used is tishmeru - observe - or ta’asu - fulfill - and indeed, these verbs are both used in the pasuk’s second phrase. Tailaichu, on the other hand, implies an obligation to making the chukim man’s weltaunschaung; i.e., the path of life that identifies his persona. Since the chukim are strictures of which we have no explanation and no understanding, they can only become the lifestyle of man if he constantly studies them. Man’s nature is to question and to try to find meaning in everything that he does; hence, cursory observance of the chukim will never make them the definitive expression of the way that he lives. It is only through constant “toil in Torah” - true amailus - that this can occur.

There is perhaps nothing more difficult to explain to students than the concept of ameilus baTorah. In all honesty, are there not many of us who are bored and distracted when we try to learn? Try as a rebbi might to make his shiurim relevant and contemporary, he is still faced with an uphill battle and often loses. How often is he confronted by sleepy faces and yawns and frustrated by his inability to penetrate the fog that descends when he begins to teach? I used to tell my students that if they had any entreprenurial sense, they would tape my classes and sell them to insomniacs!

Talmidim can well understand the concept of Torah study as being important historically. We would not have continued to exist as a nation without the battei midrash and yeshivot that served as klal Yisrael’s link to Hashem in the aftermath of the churban. However, it is extraordinarily difficult to help them translate that understanding - and the sincere desire to fulfill their obligations - into concrete methods that will bring them success. I well remember sitting in the beit midrash yawning and the mashgiach coming over to me and asking “what’s wrong?" I told him that I had no cheishek to learn, whereupon he responded, “so learn without cheishek!”

At the time I was annoyed by what I considered a flippant and uncaring response. It took me quite awhile to understand what he was trying to teach me. No fighter enjoys the grueling training that he undergoes to prepare for a fight. However, he knows that he must continue running and jumping rope even when his legs ache and he is fighting for breath. He sacrifices the present for the promise of the future and the more he trains, the more he realizes that he must continue. Everyday is a new challenge to do more than he did previously. Every weight that he lifts goads him on to add another disc to the barbell. He sweats and wheezes because he knows there is no other way.

It is the chukim specifically that create a Torah lifestyle, for their fulfillment demonstrates our loyalty to G-d; loyalty that is not a result of our understanding or logic but, rather, based on our willingness to subjugate ourselves to G-d and His strictures. That willingness only comes through ameilus baTorah, constant study and toil in Torah even when one has no cheishek. They are our personal training program and come to describe who we really are.

KEDUSHAH - CHAPTER II
Parashas Emor

Kedoshim yihyu lai’elokaihem ... and they shall be consecrated to their G-d (Vayikra 21:6)

Ramban notes that the obligation of the kohanim referred to here parallels the requirement that was delineated in the first pesukim of parashas Kedoshim which was incumbent on the entire nation. Just as there the admonition was to separate from that which would otherwise be permitted, so too here the kohen is required to accept another level of separations; e.g., he is required to refrain from coming into contact with the dead and to accept another layer of forbidden marital relationships above that required of all other Jews.

Ramban’s comments are somewhat difficult to understand, for in the case of the kohanim, the steps or actions necessary to reach kedushah are mandatory, whereas in his opinion (see parashas Kedoshim), the parallel level of kedushah that the Torah suggests that every Jew aspire to are made up of voluntary actions; i.e., perishus - separating oneself by choice from that which would otherwise be permitted.

Moreover, the Torah clearly specifies - as Ramban notes - the steps necessary for a kohen to achieve kedushah. He must not defile himself by coming into contact with a corpse other than specified close relatives (21:1), he may not shave his entire head or cut himself as a sign of mourning (:5), and he may not marry a zonah, chalalah or a divorced women (:7). The kohen gadol, by virtue of his elevated status, is also forbidden to allow his hair to grow or to rent his clothing as a sign of mourning (:10), come into contact with any corpse (:11), or marry a widow (:14). If we take the kedushah of am yisrael to be parallel to that of the kohanim, albeit on a lower level, should one not expect that the laws delineated after the Torah’s mention of kedushah of am yisrael would call for a level of separation. For example, would it not be logical to place the laws of kashrus, or the laws of not following in the practices of the nations (18:3) in juxtaposition to the requirement to be kadosh, since these are the type of separations that might parallel the separations of the kohen and make us distinct?

Furthermore, as we have already noted in our comments to parashas Kedoshim, many of the mitzvos delineated there are unrelated to rituals. The portion immediately adjacent to the admonition of being kadosh teaches the laws of tzedakah (19:9-10), thievery, denial and lying (:11), swearing falsely (:12), not paying an employee on time (:13), misleading people (:14) as well as many other interpersonal mitzvos. In what manner are these mitzvos connected to achieving a level of kedushah?

I would like to suggest that there are two levels of kedushah referred to in these parshiyos - one individual and one communal. Parashas Kedoshim deals with the latter, and as such the mitzvos taught there reflect a standard wherein all of the community accepts a level of behavior that reflects a commitment to the public welfare at the expense of furthering individual agendas. For example, the laws of leaving the portions for the poor, teach man that tzedakah is not an act of voluntary sympathy, but rather an obligation. I must pay my employee on time because I have to understand that when a person is dependent upon me, I have obligations to them. The mitzvos in Kedoshim are chosen to create an attitude where the individual understands his obligation to the klal and makes his choices in life accordingly.

It is only when that mind frame is created that one can go on to the next level of kedushah, creating special laws for individuals. The extra level of sanctity demanded of the kohen is only possible once the klal as a whole has inculcated the concepts of community responsibility that the Torah teaches in Kedoshim. Man cannot hope to achieve the level of sanctity demanded of a kohen if he is deficient in his relationships with other men. Thus, man can only be sanctified by the avoidance of tumah, if he has first accepted the avoidance of lashon hara (:16) and of standing by watching his neighbor suffer (ibid.). The kohen who has not yet accepted the responsibility of admonishing his fellow Jew so as to help him avoid further sin (:17) can not successfully offer karbanos as a means of bringing that man atonement.

A note to us as educators: then Torah first speaks of the kedushah of the community and only then goes on to the kedushah of the individual. Perhaps we would do well in emulating this order when setting priorities in our schools and invest a little bit more in teaching those mitzvos which may be bein adam lechaveiro but bring us to kedushas haklal.

THE ULTIMATE SIGN

Parashas Tazria

Uvayom ha-Shemini yimol b’sar orlaso ... on the eighth day, the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised (Shemos 12:3). The Talmud [Shabbos 132a] derives from the seemingly redundant use of the word day [the verse could have said simply on the eighth] that the mitzvah of circumcision overrides the prohibition of inflicting a wound on Shabbos.

The Talmud elsewhere declares that a mumar l’chalel Shabbos - one who willfully desecrates the Shabbos - is considered to be a mumar l’kol ha-Torah kulo - one who would willfully desecrate the entire Torah. Observance of Shabbos has always been the standard against which a Jew was judged regarding his conformity to halachic requirements. The stringencies regarding Shabbos observance are well known; the Talmud only permits violating Shabbos law for a person suffering from a life-threatening illness or situation [pikuach nefesh] because it logically concludes that it is preferable to allow him [the person threatened] to desecrate one Shabbos so that he might fulfill many Shabbosos. Whereas the general leniency that prevails in a pikuach nefesh situation is based on a derivation from a pasuk [vechai bahem v’lo sheyamus bahem - he shall live by them (mitzvos) and not perish because of them] - the Talmud did not seem to find this to be sufficient cause to put aside the laws of Shabbos. Thus, it is somewhat difficult to understand why the mitzvah of milah - overrides Shabbos. Why not postpone circumcision until Sunday when the eighth day falls on Shabbos?

We might be tempted to suggest that the importance of milah is the fact that it is this act that most clearly identifies a person as being part of the Jewish nation. Indeed, circumcision is one of only two mitzvos aseh - positive mitzvos - punishable by kares! We find that an orel - a non-circumcised Jew - is not permitted to partake of the korban Pesach - the sacrifice most clearly connected to Jewish peoplehood. We might suggest that just as the Talmud rules that a non-Jew is subject to capital punishment for observing Shabbos, so too the orel must be circumcised - even on Shabbos - so as not to be culpable of non-sanctioned Shabbos observance.

In truth, however, this is not really a valid solution to our question, for the halachah teaches that if there is a medical reason [e.g., jaundice] to refrain from circumcising on the eighth day, milah does not override Shabbos. For example, if the eighth day fell on a Friday and medical considerations precluded circumcising the child on that day, we would wait until Sunday to perform the ceremony since milah she’lo bizmano eino docheh Shabbos - milah performed not at the specified time does not override Shabbos. Similarly, if there is a question as to whether the baby was born on Friday or Shabbos [e.g., if the birth took place bein hashmashos - between sunset and the beginning of night - on Friday], the circumcision would be delayed until Sunday. It could not be done on Friday, for it is possible that the baby is only seven days old. It cannot be performed on Shabbos, because if we consider the baby to have been born on Friday, he is nine days old on Shabbos and milah performed not at the specified time does not override Shabbos.

Both Shabbos and milah are referred to as os - a sign - signifying the special relationship between G-d and the Jewish people. We also find that tefillin are referred to as an os. Interestingly, the os of tefillin does not override Shabbos, i.e., we do not lay tefillin on Shabbos since we already have an os [of Shabbos]. Why not say the same thing as regards milah; i.e., since Shabbos is already an os there is no reason why the os of circumcision should override it.

I would like to suggest that the os of milah is composed of two distinct components. On the one hand, milah represents a physical sign that we make in our bodies to demonstrate that we consider ourselves to be part of the covenant of Avraham, with all of the attendant restrictions and benefits. That part of the os of milah would not override Shabbos, just as the os of tefillin is set aside for Shabbos. Our observance of Shabbos itself is the ultimate evidence of our acceptance of our unique relationship with G-d and, indeed, a non-Jew who observes Shabbos is liable to the death penalty because he is assuming a covenantal relationship that does not exist.

At the same time, milah has a second os component. The Talmud [Shabbos 135a] explains that milah is done on the eighth day as an indication of the woman’s returning to a state of ritual purity after childbirth. The Torah rules that when a woman gives birth to a boy, she is tamei for seven days and milah is done on the eighth. But if a woman gave birth through Caesarian section, the child’s milah would not be performed on Shabbos, since she never became tamei. Similarly, if the milah is done after the eighth, it does not override Shabbos, since it does come to demonstrate her release from her state of ritual impurity.

While the os of Shabbos observance is greater than the os of tefillin or of the act of circumcision and is therefore not discarded, the separate os of milah that comes to signify the ascension from tumah to taharah does not find expression in Shabbos and it is for this reason that only milah on the eighth day, when we actually celebrate the mother’s ascension, overrides Shabbos.

THE SOUND OF SILENCE

Parashas Shemini

Vayomer Moshe el Aharon, hu asher dibair Hashem ... vayidom Aharon ... and Moshe said to Aharon, this is what Hashem had said ... and Aharon was silent (Vayikra 10:3)

The day must have been glorious and full of promise. At least part of the sin of the golden calf was about to be expiated, the Tabernacle had been constructed and the means put into position for man to achieve atonement for his sins. Man had demonstrated that his efforts could bring the Shechinah to the temporal world [see our comments to Pikudei]. It was a moment of incredible fulfillment, an instant in time when Heaven and earth were in perfect harmony.

And precisely then, tragedy strikes. Nadav and Avihu are killed by a fire emanating from Heaven and entering their nostrils. Something that they have done, some sin of omission or commission has brought death to Aharon’s oldest sons, his fellow kohanim/servants of Hashem. The Torah is cryptic in describing their sin ... vayakrivu lifnei hashem eish zarah asher lo tziva osom ... they brought a strange fire before G-d that He had not commanded them (ibid. :1). Chazal offer a variety of explanations as to the character of this aish zara - foreign fire. Some maintain that the brothers entered the kodesh hakedoshim - the innner sanctum - with their own incense. Others maintain that their sin was somewhat less grievous, a question of timing. They did not actually go into the inner sanctum but brought incense on the altar in the kodesh even though they had not been instructed to do so. They knew that there was a commandment to do so daily and set out to fulfill it. However, they failed to wait for Moshe to command them to do so, not realizing that he was waiting for the Heavenly fire to appear on the altar before proceeding with the rest of the service.

Another opinion maintains they were guilty of reaching a halachic decision without consulting Moshe. In their opinion, it was permissible to use a fire whose source was not from the altar. Irrespective of whether or not this was correct; they should have consulted with Moshe before acting. Another school of thought teaches that the sons entered the Tabernacle while inebriated, or that they set out to perform the Divine service even though they were celibate. These latter opinions would seem to be of the opinion that aish zara - the foreign fire - should not be interpreted literally, but rather as a euphemism for misguided zeal - i.e., in the case of wine they were culpabale for using an external means to demonstrate their spirituality or in the case of serving while unmarried they were guilty of equating permanent abstinence with holiness.

The common denominator for all these opinions is that Nadav and Avihu were worthy of death because they went beyond the parameters of what G-d had commanded at a point in history when no deviation could be sanctioned. As pure as their intentions might have been, they violated the first rule of the Divine service: It must be performed precisely in the manner that G-d commands. Man is tempted, as we have mentioned in the past, to add his own flavors and spices to the menu of avodas Hashem, motivated by a sincere desire to make it more meaningful and relevant. But while his conscious intent might be laudable, subconsciously he is declaring that only he - man - can determine the proper way of creating the bond between G-d and man.

G-d is therefore exacting in his requirements, especially when it comes to the tzaddikim with whom he is m’dakdek k’chut ha-s’arah - stringent even as concerns a hair’s breadth [of deviation from His commands]. The tzaddik must act as a role model and if he permits himself even minor changes, it follows that the common man will make major changes. This was the essence of Moshe’s response to Aharon’s anguished attempt to understand what had transpired.


B’krovei ekodesh v’al pnai kol ha-am e’kovaid ... I will be sanctified by those who are near to Me and through this, the entire nation will respect Me (ibid. :4). Moshe reassures Aharon that Nadav and Avihu must have been holier than either of them, for they had been chosen as the vehicles through which this Divine lesson would be taught. Their death, for a sin that would seem to be minor, would serve as an everlasting warning to be extraordinarily careful.

And Aharon’s reaction: silence! Rashi explains that Aharon was rewarded for his silence, but the silence nevertheless seems to be astounding. It does not state that Aharon accepted Moshe’s explanation of the events, it does not tell us that Aharon was consoled by his brother’s words. All it says is that he was silent. Whatever doubts he might have had, whatever pain he might have felt, whatever questions he still wanted to ask were put away in the drawer, never to be removed.

It is now almost a month since eight young tzaddikim were murdered in the library of Yeshivas Merkaz HaRav in Yerushalayim. Through our sins, we lack Chazal to explain what G-d’s plan was in taking them, how their deaths serve to teach us what we need to change, what we need to improve. All that we have is the silence of Aharon, the stoic strength to accept the Divine decrees that we cannot understand.

EXPANDED AND IMPROVED

Parashas Tzav

Va’ya’as Aharon u’vnav es kol hadevarim asher tzivah Hashem b’yad Moshe ... and Aharon and his sons did all of the things that Hashem commanded through Moshe (Vayikra 9:36)

The laws regarding each of the thirteen different types of korbanos were exceedingly complex; where they were to be offered, how they were to be sacrificed, what else was brought with them [incense, libations et. al.]. Nevertheless, Aharon and his sons were able to fulfill the requirements with precision and as Rashi comments, this is their praise; they did not deviate at all from any of the instructions that Moshe gave. The Maharal [Gur Aryeh to Rashi], noting that the commandments were given by Moshe rather than directly by G-d, points out that lesser people might have resented Moshe’s insistence on precision. Aharon and his sons, however, accepted that Moshe was the messenger of G-d and they consequently were no less reluctant to heed his commands than they would have been willing to fulfill the commands had they been issued directly by G-d. In this sense, their actions are a lesson that we should all learn; not to resent authority, but to accept it [when it is validly applied and does indeed represent the will of G-d].

Throughout sefer Vayikra, we finds this idea being expressed; Aharon’s ability not to deviate or change the instructions of Moshe. Aharon’s ability to subjugate his own feelings and understanding of a situation is a remarkable lesson in self-discipline and in true anavah - humility. As we have noted elsewhere, Netziv comments that it is part of human nature to try to make our own imprint, to even take G-d’s commands and try to improve upon them. This is the root of the sin of the nazir, who for very valid reasons [his fear that he lacks self-control] takes upon himself obligations [refraining from drinking wine and coming into contact with a corpse] that the Torah does not demand. He is termed a choteh - a sinner - for his actions and must offer a sacrifice.

There is an old story taught about a writer who decided to translate Shakespeare into Yiddish. Asked for the title of his work, he replied: “Shakespeare fargressert und farbessert” [Shakespeare, expanded and improved]. If it is natural for us to try to improve upon the classics of literature, is it not natural for us to try to improve upon the ways of G-d? Are we not all experts in the will of G-d - perhaps even greater experts than G-d himself?

We find a similar attitude regarding some of the events surrounding Purim. Mordechai, the leader of Shushan Jewry, exhorts his fellow Jews to distance themselves from the celebrations arranged by Achashverosh, but his remonstrations fall on deaf ears. His fellow Jews feel that they are more astute observers of Persian politics and ignore the pleas of Mordechai. He is afterall, only a member of the Sanhedrin. What does he know or understand about real politics? It is only da’as Torah, they argue, nothing they need take seriously.

POWER CORRUPTS

Parashas Vayikra

Daber el b'nei Yisrael laimor, nefesh ki sechetah b'shgagah ... speak to the children of Israel saying, if a person sins inadvertently (Vayikra 4:2)

Most of the commentaries focus on the purpose of korbanos, choosing sides, as it were, in the well known disagreement between Rambam [as brought in the second section of Moreh Nevuchim] and Ramban. The latter takes the Rambam to task in unusually hard criticism, referring to Rambam's contention that the korbanot were a reaction to the nation's desire to continue their idol worship as divrei ha'vai - meaningless words. According to Ramban, the purpose of the animal sacrifice is to provide man with the chance to reflect upon his sins and become even more closely bound to Hashem. Through this kirvas Elokim he is ultimately protected from further sin, by realizing that it is he who should be paying with his life. The substitution of the animal in his place and the public nature of the sacrificial process provide man with the impetus and wherewithall to be more careful in the future.

Much of this week's parashah focuses on the korban chat'os - the sin offering. The Torah delineates various types and each has its own set of rules as well as common rules that govern each one. There is the offering brought by a kohen who has inadvertently transgressed the Torah through an incorrect ruling regarding any part of the Divine service (see 4:1-12). Because of his high station, and his position as a halachic decisor, the kohen is obligated to bring a special korban which differs from that which he would have to bring were his sin only related to his personal conduct.

This chat'as differs from the sin offering brought on behalf of the entire nation which had sinned because of an erroneous decision by the Sanhedrin (ibid. 4:13-21) and they both differ from the sin offering brought by the king - the political leader of the people (see 4:22-26). Here, the reference is to a king who commits a sin unrelated to his office; i.e., he sinned in the same manner as any other individual. Unlike the kohen whose individual korban is only brought when his sin concerns his public office, the king has a separate chat'as for both private and public sins. Rav Hirsch points out, because of his position of supreme authority, his sacrifice differs and he brings a male goat rather than a female sheep. Finally, there is the cha'tas brought by an individual who transgresses inadvertently (ibid. :27-35).

Sforno notes that in the pesukim preceding the korbanos of the kohen, the Sanhedrin and the individual, the Torah uses a conditional introductory phrase; e.g., nefesh ki sechetah - if a person sins (ibid. :2) or v'im kol adas Yisrael yishgu - if all of Israel shall act mistakenly (ibid. 13) or v'im nefesh achas techetah - if an individual should sin (ibid. :27). On the other hand, in introducing the parashah of the nasi who sins, the Torah states (ibid. :22), asher nasi yechetah - when the ruler sins - which seems to suggest a sense of inevitability. He notes that such is the character of office; the power that the ruler is given will lead him to sin for it corrupts him and makes him believe that what is forbidden to other is permitted to him. And if power corrupts, then absolute power corrupts absolutely.

He is therefore given a personal korban for his atonement, for it is insufficient for him to simply be contrite on the personal level. Rather, he brings a completely separate korban to remind him not to allow power to go this head. How prescient that this week's parashah should deal with such a topical issue, a ruler [or governor of a great State] guilty of the very kind of moral turpitude that he so strongly condemned in others. One wonders what kind of kapparah is necessary.

RECIPE FOR SWEETNESS
Parashas Pekudei

Vayar Moshe es kol ha-melachah, v’hinei asu osah ka’asher tziva Hashem ken asu, vayivoraich osom Moshe ... and Moshe saw all of the work and behold they had done it in the manner that G-d had commanded, and Moshe blessed them (Shemos 39:43)

Rashi, quoting the Midrash, explains that Moshe’s first prayed that it should be G-d’s will that His Shechinah rest upon them. He then added the verse, later incorporated into Tehillim (90:17): v’yehi noam Hashem Elokeinu aleinu, u’ma’aseh yodeinu konenah aleinu, um’aaseh yadseinu koneneihu ... and may the pleasantness of Hashem our Lord be upon us, and just as the work of our hands has brought it upon us, [so too] may the work of our hands [in the future continue] to bring it upon us. Rav Dovid Mann, shlita, rosh yeshiva of Kfar Chassidim, once explained the concept of noam Hashem - the pleasantness of Hashem - to which Moshe refers.

Malbim points out, in his introduction to sefer Vayikra, that there are no synonyms in lashon hakodesh. The precision of the Hebrew language is such that each word conveys a different idea. Noam - which we have translated as pleasantness but which has a connotation of sweetness and tranquility as well - is not a synonym for good. Something can be good without being sweet; e,g., a medication might well be good for me even though it is foul tasting and has side effects. Similarly, a surgical procedure might be beneficial and necessary - i.e., good - yet I would never characterize it as being pleasant. In English, on the other hand, we can describe something as being pleasant even though it is not good for us. Lashon hakodesh however, does not provide for this possibility. If something, relating to G-d, is described as being noam - pleasant - then it is both sweet and good. Noam Hashem is thus an elusive and rare quality. Intellectually, I can accept that kol d’avid l’tav avid - all that He does is for the good. Nonetheless, it is often difficult to discern how G-d’s actions, albeit good, can also be deemed pleasant. Given this problem, one can understand why Dovid ha-Melech prayed (Tehillim 27) that he be given the opportunity lachazos b’noam Hashem - to glimpse the pleasantness of G-d - even though he expected (ibid.) l’iros b’tuv Hashem - to see the goodness of G-d.

In a number of places, Rashi comments that the phrase ken asu in the passuk above teaches us that the work was performed exactly as commanded by G-d; i.e., every Divine instruction was precisely fulfilled and nothing was added or subtracted by either Aharon or Betzalel or whoever else was fulfilling Moshe’s instructions. Last week, we noted that man often has a tendency to try to do more than he is commanded in an attempt to achieve a spiritual bond with G-d. Later, we will see that many of the commentators see this as the root of the sin of Nadav and Avihu, Aharon’s sons who died during the consecration of the Mishkan because they had brought a fire which G-d had not commanded.

Reading the pasuk from this week’s parashah, one would assume that the reason why Moshe blessed the people that they be able to see noam Hashem was v’hinei asu osah ka’asher tziva Hashem ken asu, - because they built the Mishkan precisely according to the directions received and made no changes or additions of their own. How is fealty to Hashem linked to experiencing noam Hashem - the pleasantness of G-d? Again, intellectually I can accept that all that G-d does is not only ultimately good, but is good in itself. This does not, however, make the Divine way pleasant or sweet. As a case in point, take the fast of Yom Kippur. Clearly it is good for me, for it brings me forgiveness. It might even be physically positive. Nevertheless, the Torah refers to fasting, as well as to the other prohibitions of Yom Kippur as being inuyim - afflictions - which I accept upon myself and does not see them as being representative of noam Hashem.

Perhaps the key to understanding this is to go back to Moshe’s blessing. He first told the nation that it was his prayer that G-d rest the Shechinah upon Israel; i.e., that the Divine presence be palpable and tangible. He then added that this resting of the Shechinah should be the result of their actions; i.e., something that they could bring forth and that was not necessarily beyond their grasp. What greater blessing could there be than to realize that man has the ability, as it were, to bring G-d’s presence to this world, how empowering a thought. All of man’s suffering, all of his pain, all of his turmoil, is it not but a manifestation of the confusion caused by the Divine being hidden? When man sees G-d’s Hand as clearly as he sees his own, then he will also experience the pleasantness of His ways. And this all is dependent upon one thing, following G-d’s law precisely instead of confusing it with our own misinterpretations.

Moshe saw this when they completed the Mishkan. The Shechinah took up residence and the world existed in perfect harmony and balance. We have it within our powers - ma’aseh yadeynu - to recreate that moment.

FORBIDDEN RECIPES - PART II

Parashas Vayakhel

V’es habosem v’es hashamen, la’maor ul’shemen hamishchah v’liktores hasamim ... the spice and the oil, for illumination and for the oil of anointing and for the ketores (Shemos 34:28)

Last week we noted that the Torah forbade duplicating the mixtures used for the anointing oil and for the ketores. The Torah also proscribed using the anointing oil made by Moshe whereas there was no parallel proscription regarding the ketores made by Moshe. We also noted that these proscriptions were punishable by kares whereas illicit use of any other utensils connected to the Divine service was not a capital crime. While duplication of the menorah crafted by Betzalel and Moshe might be forbidden, one who did so was not subject to kares. Similarly, if one used the mizbeach for a barbeque, as distasteful as this might be, his punishment would be lashes and a fine for misuse of something sanctified. The question that we posed was why are the anointing oil and ketores different?

As a preface, I suggest that we first try to analyze the sins themselves; most specifically, what would entice man to commit these types of aveirot. Why would anyone want to duplicate the oil and ketores or use the oil prepared by Moshe? Netziv, in his commentary to Shir ha-Shirim, poses a similar question. It is understandable, he writes, why man would be tempted to violate the sin of ba’al tigra - of fulfilling a mitzvah in an incomplete fashion. For example, the Torah requires that one refrain from eating chametz for seven days. Man, either because of his distaste for matzah or his uncontrollable urge for chametz might decide that this mitzvah is just too difficult. Reluctant, however, to completely ignore the Torah, he decides to make his life easier by declaring that the mitzvah is not really for seven days but perhaps only for six or five. He has thus satisfied both his conscience as well as his yetzer ha-ra. How often do I, as a teacher, hear students declare emphatically that a law that they violate is not really an aveirah but simply a chumrah. They do so because they are reluctant to admit that they are doing something wrong and prefer the comfort of self-delusion.

On the other hand, Netziv comments, we have a similar proscription of ba’al tosif - overfulfilling the mitzvot; for example, a man who makes tefillin with five parshios in the batim. Why, Netziv asks, would any rational person want to do this? The Torah was obviously not addressing crazies! What urges would cause a person to do this?

In his answer, Netziv points to a psychological truth that I have found to be compelling. Usually, man sins because he cannot control his urges or because he seeks to limit G-d’s ability to legislate his life. Fearful of G-d, and essentially a believer, he creates a G-d who fits his own image, interpreting or reinterpreting what G-d says to fit his needs. However, there also people who become overly enraptured by their own spirituality or their search for a connection to the Divine. They seek to become holier than commanded, reluctant to allow things that the Torah clearly permitted. The prime example is the nazir, referred to as a kodesh but who must nevertheless offer a korban chatas for having chosen to deny himself that which the Torah saw as permissible. According to the Netziv, this was the basis of Shlomo’s failures, for he thought that he was immune to the inevitable results of this kind of search for spirituality. Shlomo took more wives than permitted, claiming that ani osif v’lo echta - I can take more but I will not be drawn to sin - but he was wrong, for ultimately they turned his heart away from Hashem. When man creates his own parameters of kedushah, he rejects the boundaries set by G-d. Although his intentions might be good, he is in fact recreating G-d in the image of man. In this, he is an oved avodah zarah, for he worships himself.

Why would anyone want to use the shemen hamishchah prepared by Moshe or duplicate the formulas of the oil and the ketores? Might we not suggest that the urge to do so is a result of a person’s mistaken need to assume a level of spirituality above that which he deserves. Think of the person who says to himself: “If I could take the oil prepared by Moshe and anoint myself, would that not automatically make me as holy and spiritual as the vessels and people anointed by Moshe? If I could but duplicate the smells of the ketores would that not make me the conduit through which atonement for Israel’s sins would flow?” This man might have begun his quest out of a true desire for spirituality, but he ended up being self-serving. His kares is a result of his having been reluctant to accept the limitations that G-d has placed upon him - a sin typical of the avodah zarah family.

FORBIDDEN RECIPES - PART I
Parashas Ki Sisa

Shemen mishchas kodesh ... al b’sar adam lo yisach u’v’maskunto lo sa’asu kamohu, kodesh hu ... the oil for sanctified anointing ... no person should use it for anointing and its recipe you shall not duplicate, it is sanctified (Shemos 30:31-32)

Rashi, quoting the Talmud [Kerisus 5a], notes that there are two distinct prohibitions in this verse. The first [al basar adom lo yisach] specifically proscribes using the oil that Moshe Rabbenu produced for anything other than its original intention. If I produced the exact same mixture of anointing oil on my own, I would not violate this prohibition by using it for myself or giving it to someone else. However, I would be in violation of the second proscription [u’v’maskunto lo sa’asu kamohu] which forbids following the recipe used by Moshe to create an anointing oil with the very same ingredients in the same proportion. Should I or someone else use that oil, however, there would be no additional violation. In other words, as regards the oil produced by Moshe there is a prohibition of using it whereas as regards oil that I make on my own, the prohibition only pertains to production. The punishment for either prohibition is kares.

The next parashah deals with the production of the k’tores used on the interior mizbeach. The Torah (ibid. :38) states: ish asher ya’aseh chamoha l’hariach bah, v’nichras mei’amav - a person who makes something similar to smell, and he shall be cut off from his people. Rambam (Klei ha-Mikdash 2:9) notes that the prohibition is dependent upon the producer’s intent; i.e., if they intended to use it as incense, they are in violation even if they did not actually use it. Moreover, if one used ktores but did not actually produce it, he would not be punished with kares; rather he would be subject to the same fine as anyone who derived benefit from anything that was consecrated. In this sense it would seem that the k’tores is similar to the second shemen hamishchah prohibition in that the laws concerns production rather than use.

However, this is not entirely accurate, for as regards the ktores, one is in violation even if one does not use the same amounts provided that one uses the same proportions. As regards shemen hamishchah, one is only in violation if both the proportions of ingredients and weight are precisely the same as in Moshe’s recipe.

A number of questions present themselves. In only a few other cases concerning the Divine service in the Mishkan/Mikdash do we find similar halachos calling for punishment for having duplicated something. One is specifically forbidden to create a human form of gold or silver like the keruvim [see 20:20 and Rambam, Avodah Zara 3:10-11] or exact replicas [e.g., a seven branch menorah] of the vessels used in the Mishkan/Mikdash] or playing the chatzotzrah made by Moshe. If one does so, however, he is not liable for kareis as he is here. Hence, we need to determine why non-sanctioned production/use of shemen hamishchah and k’tores is dealt with so stringently [kareis!]. Moreover, why does the Torah differentiate between the two, each having a stringent side [using the shemen hamishchah made by Moshe and making k’tores with non-identical weight] and a lenient side [the k’tores if not used to smell and anointing oneself or another person with private label shemen hamishchah].

As was the case with the clothing of the kohanim discussed in last weeks parashah and the utensils used in the Mishkan/Mikdash discussed in parashas Terumah, it is obvious that the incense and anointing oil have great symbolic value. Although we do not know understand why they used those particular ingredients in that particular mixture and with these weights, we can understand the symbolism of both products. The essence of the Divine service in Judaism is to elevate that which appears to be natural and extend to it spiritual meaning. This is the basis of the concept of korbanot, for example. Netziv explains that the sacrifices are referred to as lechem - bread - related to lechem - to bond. Bread is both the very basis of natural life [along with water of which Torah is symbolic] and of spiritual life [the offering to G-d who has no natural needs] and as such provide the bond between man and G-d.

Shemen and k’tores are also part of this process and b’ezras Hashem we will try to examine their meaning and answer the questions we posed.

THE CHOSHEN MISHPAT
Parashas T’zaveh

V’asisa choshen mishpat, ma’aseh choshev, k’ma’aseh ephod ta’asenu - And you shall make a breastplate of judgement, a woven design, similar to the ephod it should be made (Shemos 28:15)

Kli Yakar points out that only two of the eight articles of clothing worn by the kohen gadol were woven from multiple fabrics: the ephod - the vest - and the choshen - the breastplate. He explains that these two articles of clothing have similar symbolic purpose that is best expressed by a mixture of fabrics woven together. The ephod was worn as a means of achieving kapparah for sins of avodah zarah while the choshen was worn as a means of achieving kapparah for sins of perverting justice. Neither of these shortcomings need be overt; indeed they can be violated by thought alone. Thus, if one mentally accepts the validity of avodah zarah, one is liable even though one has not actually served an idol. Similarly, if a judge did not adjudicate a case correctly, or if he did not think things through to the extent necessary, he will have sinned even though his misdeed has no physical manifestations. The Hebrew ma’aseh choshev - translated in this context as woven - can also mean the product of thought; thus the connection between the symbolism [kapparah] and essence [woven] would seem to be mainly alliterative.

The choshen mishpat - the breastplate worn by the kohen gadol - was, as we have already noted, a source of atonement for the sins of judges who adjudicated incorrectly. However, it had an additional role as well. The choshen, and more specifically the stones that were inset within it, served as a means of divining the truth in a given situation. When the urim ve-tumim - a parchment on which the name of G-d was inscribed - was placed within the folds of the choshen, a question could be raised and the stones would provide the answer by illuminating the appropriate letters inscribed upon each one. According to the Midrash, the stones had a total of seventy two letters [the names of each individual tribe as well as the words shivtei yisrael so that each letter of the Hebrew alphabet was represented].The ability to decipher the answer demanded special talent, for the letters did not appear one at a time allowing for an easy reading [see Ramban]. According to the Vilna Gaon, Eli ha-kohen misread the answer when he queried the choshen about Chana [mother of Shmuel who Eli saw praying at the Mishkan at Shilo]. The letters heh, kaf, resh and shin all lit up and Eli read them as shikorah [drunkard] when he should have read k’sheirah [fitting].

Interestingly, the parameters as to when the choshen was to be used to are not delineated. It would seem from the Talmud in Yoma [73b] that the choshen was only used for public questions [e.g., questions similar to that posed by Yehoshua as to which tribe should lead the armies into Canaan at the time of the first conquest]. Obviously, the kohen gadol could not use it to ask for the numbers of the weekly lottery pick or as a means of playing the stock market. This limitation, however, would not account for the question addressed by Eli regarding the sobriety of Chana which would seem to have no public manifestations. It is also not clear whether consultation with the choshen was voluntary or mandatory. One might think that if there was a means of determining the Divine will, then the practice of relying upon the choshen should have been a requirement! Moreover, if all that was needed was to address the choshen, why not raise every single query to it and thus insure the possibility of mistake in halachah?

Ramban writes that the choshen was a lower form of prophecy, just above the bat kol used during the period of the Second Beit ha-Mikdash. As such, it could not be used at will, just as any other prophecy [with the exception of Moshe] was dependent upon situations and conditions. Moreover, in halachic matters just as a bat kol has no standing [see for example Bava Metzia 59b] we can assume that the choshen would also not have any standing. This might well explain why the choshen was considered the permanent kappara for a beit din that had erred in a halachic decision and the connection might well be more than a play on the words ma’aseh choshev..

Ki ein bayit asher ein sham meit

In the summer, I received an e-mail concerning an incident that had taken place in Monticello, N.Y. on a motzaei Shabbat. The writer was one of the community activists who had intervened in what he described as a base scene of debauchery that included young women and men from across the spectrum of observant Jewry. To his credit, he ascribed no blame for the incident. Many of the bloggers in our community did not share his reticence and were quite willing to serve as both judge and jury and let their learned comments loose. Their tone suggests that they understand their subject despite their lack of expertise in dealing with teenagers. "I was a teenager, I have sired teenagers, therefore I can analyze the problems of teenagers." The parallel would be: I have a headache, I've given others headaches, therefore I am qualified to perform neurosurgery.

Later, I received a second e-mail from the same source announcing that the problem had been solved. He and a group of askanim had come to the site early, before the parties began. They made arrangements before Shabbat whereby the local pool hall would be for boys and the local bowling lanes for girls. They put patrols in place to guarantee separation and voila, the situation was and is under control.

I have the greatest respect for the person behind the e-mails; he works tirelessly, is very well meaning and has a great deal of real life experience. But like many practitioners, he focuses on the symptoms rather than dealing with the malaise itself. This is not a criticism; his role is to deal with problems once they manifest themselves. However, my experience has been that the problem we are facing as a growing avalanche of kids at risk uses the Catskills as their latest venue, is a fault of the type of schools and families that we have allowed to develop.

As a high school level mechanech for some thirty years, I firmly believe that no-one has complete expertise in understanding teenage behavior; it remains the world's most inexact science. The consolation in dealing with adolescence is that it usually lasts for six years and then miraculously cures itself. That said, I do have a sense, even without statistical data to support my theory, that many readers will agree that the analysis I offer deserves further exploration. A caveat: I begin this diatribe by pointing out that I do not yet have a complete, step-by-step plan for implementing what I feel is the real resolution to the kids at risk phenomenon. Nevertheless, I present it to you and would greatly appreciate your direct feedback.

To begin, I propose that the identification of students as being kids at risk be expanded rather than limited to those who exhibit high risk behavior vis-a-vis alcohol, tobacco or substance abuse. The adolescents throwing rocks or harassing women on buses in Ramat Beit Shemesh are as much a part of this problem as are the kids in Monticello. So too are the students at our mainstream yeshivot who have to appoint a designated driver to take them back to the Beit Midrash after attending weddings. All exhibit conduct unbecoming a Jew and should be called off the derech even if the first group is considered a greater indication of departure from halachic norms than the latter two.

Additionally, I would like to remove from the equation, for the meantime, those adolescents who are clearly at risk because of sociological or psychological factors. Physical, verbal and/or sexual abuse, ADD, ADHD or diagnosable learning difficulties need treatment in and of themselves, and while they are clearly behavioral modifiers, they are often treatable through medication, therapy or various compensations and modifications.

I direct my comments to those adolescents who come from what seem to be stable, loving homes, who have been mainstreamed educationally and who nevertheless just don’t fit in. There are those who blame their departure from the derech to exposure to the internet and to the electronic and print media, blasting them as an evil the extent of which has never raised its head against the innocent youth of our people.

Frankly, I don’t think that the internet, as addictive as it can be [ask any serious blogger’s wife], is the cause of people going off the derech. Rather, once the person has begun to slide down the slippery slope out of Judaism, the internet may function as an outlet for various frustrations or as a means of seeking information that had heretofore been avoided. Drugs and alcohol can be viewed in the same vein: kids experiment because there is a void they are trying to fill. If that void did not exist, or if there was something as fulfilling/satisfying that could fill the void, they would avoid the temptation because they are aware of where it can lead.

In my relationships with adolescents through the years, and in talking to colleagues in the field, I have a sense that the overwhelming majority of kids at risk would like nothing more than to remain within the system. The fact that they experiment, or engage in illicit behavior, is no indication that they have chosen to abandon the derech. I would not be at all surprised if the kids who rented bungalows in Monticello for their weekend of partying [which I am sure included promiscuous behavior and a great deal of chilul Shabbos] nevertheless made kiddush Friday night and made sure that the food was glatt!

Ki ein bayit asher ein sham meit. There is no home in which one will not find someone who is dead spiritually. Reportedly, Dr. Abraham Twerski has named this phenomena SDS - spiritual deficiency syndrome. Intellectually, our schools have been a phenomenal success. In the post-war period we have created a true dor deah. Our kids collectively learn more Mishnayot, more dapei gemara, more rishonim and achronim than previous generations. It is true that previous generations learned more deeply on an individual level - we would be hard-pressed to match the level of Slobodka and Volozhin - but that is because a decision was made in the wake of the Second World War to expand the yeshivot quantitatively at the expense of their quality. Spiritually, however, our yeshivot have become morgues. Little or no time is spent on real mussar; a yeshiva that has a short seder where talmidim who barely understand Hebrew rote-read Sha’arei Teshuvah or Mesilat Yesharim is paying lip service to the idea of mussar. Machshavah and communal responsibility are subjects that are almost never discussed on the high school level. Rav Yaakov Kaminetsky zt”l would often stress in his Thursday afternoon shmuzzen that talmidei yeshiva had an enormous debt to society in return for the opportunities provided them by the ba’alei battim who supported the yeshiva. Is there a single rosh yeshiva who echoes this sentiment today?

Instead of challenging teens within the yeshivot to discuss their feelings about their personal role in the world and to examine their Jewish personna, the mashgiach, mashpia, rosh yeshiva engages in a monologue focusing on how awful general society is and how superior we are as Jews. This often confounds the young man - or woman - who hears that he or she is a member of an am hanivchar but doesn’t really know what that implies or means. If he is superior, is he wrong in acting like a behemah when he burns garbage cans to protest infringements on his royal territory? When his mind has been distorted by years of hearing about his entitlement, is it any surprise that he relates to a woman like a cockroach and will shove her to the back of the bus if she invades his turf, because he ranks higher in the pyramid of life. Moreover, the talmid or talmidah often looks at their surroundings and wonders in which way is he or she really superior? In ethical behavior, in the treatment of his environment?

What transpires in the beit midrash when the rosh yeshiva or mashgiach tells the student that tefillah raises him to a level of kirvat Elokim that is the greatest source of joy that man can experience? A percentage of kids will accept this without even needing further elaboration, for they are endowed with a natural sense of spirituality that can recognize the satisfaction of a relationship with G-d. Another percentage wait for the speaker to demonstrate how this is possible and when he fails to do so, are frustrated but not yet ready to throw it all away. And then there is a percentage who say that the words of the teacher are empty phrases and when they recall them, deem them to be completely out of touch.

I have heard many speakers talk to high school students in Israel and the U.S. Those who made the greatest impact were the ones who understood that they were not standing in the beit midrash in Baranovich or Kaminetz. Those who had the least impact were those who were either back in Eastern Europe or who walked into the beit midrash poorly prepared to face reality. I recall one speaker in particular, an entertaining and eloquent man who called me after his presentation to ask for my critique. He could not understand why I felt that his talk had been a disaster. I found that his cynical attempts to denigrate popular culture had backfired whereas he felt that he had struck responsive chords because he had elicited so much laughter. Little did he realize that he had caused great damage because his remarks were so obviously based on a limited information bank. I would suggest, for example, that these type of rabbis avoid historical issues unless they are truly well versed in the fields they mention. There’s almost nothing more shattering to a teenager than hearing someone whom they are told to respect reveal his foolishness or ignorance. Kids are extraordinarily adept at discerning when the emperor is wearing no clothes.

A recent conversation with a young man who is no longer at risk, for he has completely left the derech, was an eye opener for me. I asked him why assimilating the worst of general culture was so seductive; e.g., multiple body piercing, tattoos, emulating gangs by adopting their greetings and hand communications, contemporary music motifs and language patterns borrowed from rap/ebonics. He answered with one word: passion. I then realized that this young man, driven away from our faith despite having received an excellent yeshiva education, viewed Judaism as something dry and suffocating, for his soul had never been developed. Without passion our souls cannot thrive and without our souls our bodies are seduced by general culture. Passion for what we do and finding real meaning in our mitzvos and learning is the only antidote to the malaise.

In pharmacological research there is a stage wherein an antidote has been developed and even field tested but is not ready for mass distribution because the manufacturer has not yet managed to synthesize it and thus make its production economically viable. I feel that the same is true in dealing with SDS - spiritual deficiency syndrome. We know what will work, we simply have not yet developed the means to inoculate as many people as possible. The challenge to do so is twofold: to those engaged on the battlefields and to those who stay back and provide the financial support. Until we develop a method of producing passionate talmidim, we will remain mired in expressing compassion for those who have left the fold.

DIMENSIONS COUNT
Parashas Terumah

K’chol asher ani mar’eh os’cha, eis tavnis hamishkan v’eis tavnis kol keilov, v’chen ta’asu - like all that I show to you, the form of the Tabernacle and the form of all of its vessels, this is what you shall do (Shemos 25:9)

As has already been noted, the form of service as well as the vessels used in the Tabernacle and the Beis ha-Mikdash have obvious symbolic meanings that transcend their physicality. They are emplaced in the courtyard [the external mizbeach used for korbanot] or inside the kodesh [the menorah, shulchan, mizbeach hazahav (used for incense) or inside the kodesh hakodoshim [the aron] in specified places, covered in gold or copper et. al. as a means of imbuing them with a special aura and demonstrate their uniqueness. Generally, the commentaries agree that the shulchan represents Divine bounty that presents us with our sustenance, the menorah symbolizes the Divine wisdom manifested in the creation of this world, the mizbeach, G-d’s gift of teshuvah and atonement, and the aron - the crown jewel that is held separate and protected by a paroches - represents the gift of Torah, the manual that teaches us how to live in this world.

Kli Yakar notes that three of the internal vessels - the aron, the shulchan and the mizbeach hazahav had a zer zahav - a crown of gold - along their tops. He sees this as being symbolic of the three types of crowns - or leadership positions - that adorn klal Yisrael; the kesser kehunah - the crown of priesthood, the kesser meluchah - the crown of kingship and the kesser Torah - the crown of Torah. Despite this commonality, he notes that there was a disparity in the measurements of the vessels. The measurements in the aron were all partial or broken [it measured two and a half amos by one and a half by one and a half]. The measurements of the shulchan were both partial and whole [two amos by two amos by one and a half] while the measurements of the mizbeach were all whole [five amos by five amos by three].

He explains this phenomenon in the following manner: the measurements of the aron - representing the crown of Torah - were not whole, for one should never think that he has mastered all of Torah. On the other hand, the measurements of the mizbeach - representing kapparah - were whole, for when man returns wholeheartedly to G-d and is granted atonement for his shortcomings, G-d wipes his slate clean and there are no vestiges of his sins left. In regard to the shulchan however - representing parnasah - some amos were whole and some partial, for while man must appreciate that G-d has given him whatever he needs in this world, he is nevertheless given permission to seek more.

Interestingly, Kli Yakar does not discuss the fact that the menorah did not have a zer zahav even though it was an internal vessel. More intriguing is the fact that there are no measurements specified for the menorah even though there is a detailed account of the designs that were to be incorporated. Finally, why of all of the vessels used in the Mishkan and Beis ha-Mikdash is the menorah the only one that must be made mikshah achas - of a single mass of gold?

Perhaps all of these singular qualities of the menorah can be seen as being necessary elements for transmitting its true symbolism - the Divine wisdom manifested in this world. That wisdom is completely separate from man, who might comprehend parts of it but who can never use it to adorn himself. Man’s tzelem Elokim can give him the basic ability to recognize its existence, but no one can reach the plateau where chochmas Hashem becomes his crown. This might account for the reason why Moshe found it so difficult to construct [see midrash to parashas Vayekhel].

The Divine wisdom manifested in this world is immeasurable and cannot be quantified by amos - either partial or whole. Chazal spoke of G-d as being m’komo shel olam - the space within which this world exists - while it is impossible to think of this temporal world as being the space within which G-d exists. Thus, the dimensions of the menorah are not given and the only details provided are the adornments through which its light shines forth.