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.