Archive for the ‘Rambam’ Category

ואנוהו אלקי אבי וארוממנו (בשלח טו:ב)

“This is my G-d and I will glorify Him; the G-d of my father and I will exalt Him.” (Beshalach 15:2)

ראתה שפחה על הים מה שלא ראה יחזקאל וכל שאר הנביאים (מכילתא)

 “The maidservant at the Sea saw what [even] Yechezkel and all other Prophets did not.” (Mechilta)

I was always interested to know, who was this shifcha (female slave/maidservant) exactly; and why would there be a shifcha among Klall Yisroel who are now a free people?

The commentaries are interested to know how Chazal extrapolated their statement regarding the shifcha from the passuk. The Vilna Gaon (Kol Eliyahu), the Maharil Diskin (Chiddushim Al HaTorah) and the Maskil L’David accept basically the same view, with slight variances, as follows. Rashi writes that there are two parts to the passuk. The second half, that of “אלקי אבי וארוממנו”, is to be explained that Klall Yisroel mentioned Hashem being the G-d of their fathers, illustrating a relationship begun earlier than those of them at the Sea. The above commentaries explain that the word “זה” is used twice, once for “זה קלי ואנוהו” and also for “זה אלקי אבי וארוממנו”. Kall Yisroel, however, did not leave Egypt alone. Non-Jewish slaves and maidservants, a.k.a. the Eirev Rav, came along with Klall Yisroel in order to convert. They, being unable to refer to their relationship with Hashem as beginning with their forefathers, substituted “זה קלי ואנוהו” instead. Did Klall Yisroel say both statements? Maskil L’David writes explicitly that Klall Yisroel did say both statements, whereas the Eirev Rav said only “זה קלי ואנוהו”. From the Vilna Gaon and Maharil Diskin it seems that this passuk was truly split; with the Jews saying just”זה אלקי אבי וארוממנו” , and the non-Jewish slaves and maidservants saying “זה קלי ואנוהו” This opinion is also held by Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin (Tshuvos Chut Hameshulash, Pesicha #39). Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin adds a reasoning for Chazal’s reference to the Eirev Rav as “shifchas”; in contrast to the highborn Jewish nation, Chazal dubbed the non-Jewish intending converts as “shifchas” (a figure of a lower status).

The commentaries (ע’ פרדס יוסף עה”ת) explain how Chazal understood that the shifcha saw “more” than Yechezkel. The word “זה” was used at the Sea to connote a direct relationship, as opposed to the general “ואראה” used in the later prophesies. Chazal saw from this that even the “shifcha” (whom we have now deemed either a non-Jewish maidservant or woman of the Eirev Rav or both), who was able to point and say “זה קלי ואנוהו”, truly saw a greater revelation than even the greater of the prophets (for the Presence of Hashem was revealed in such a great way that one could point with the finger and say, “This is my G-d”).

Interestingly, I was shown by a great Talmid Chacham to a difference of opinions amongst the Rishonim regarding the nature of Hashem’s special “revelation” at the Sea. Rabbeinu Bachayei (here) writes that Chazal do not mean to say that the shifcha was indeed greater in ability to grasp loftiness, nor were they wiser than Yechezkel the Prophet. Rather their intention was that Hashem “revealed” Himself at greater levels at the Sea, more than He did to Yechezkel. The Rambam (in his Shmoneh Perakim, towards the end of Chapter 4) however, clearly disagrees. In describing the lofty levels reached by the Jews in the generation of the Exodus and the Desert travels, he writes: “The ‘lowest’ of them was like Yechezkel, as Chazal say.” (This is an obvious reference to the statement of Chazal which we are discussing.) Apparently Rambam understood this statement to be descriptive of the nation’s spiritual heights, which enabled them to have as remarkable a revelation as they did. (This opinion is also held by Shemos Rabba 23:15.)

According to the Rambam, two insights would appear. Firstly, that even the “lowest” Jew at that time was indeed greater, or at least equal to Yechezkal. Secondly, it appears that we need not understand that the shifcha was (at least originally) non-Jewish. In context the Rambam is discussing the great level of the Jewish nation at the time, and yet he uses this statement of Chazal as a proof. This leads one to surmise that the Rambam understood that the shifcha in question was truly Jewish. If so, our original question returns; why she is called a “shifcha” if she was as free as the rest of her nation?

As a final note, the Gemara Sota (11b) tells the story of how the pregnant Jewish women in Egypt would go out to the fields to give birth, and would leave their newborns there. To take them home would mean their being captured and tossed into the Nile. Hashem took care of these babies, sending angels to clean, feed and care for them. When the Egyptians found out about these children living in the fields, they came to kill them. A miracle occurred; the earth swallowed up these children to a depth deep enough to protect them from the Egyptian plows. After the Egyptians left, the children sprouted out of the ground like grass. When they grew up, herds of them came back to their homes. And when Hashem revealed Himself at the Sea, these children “recognized” Him first (having been raised in His presence – see Torah Temima כאן אות ז’), and said: “זה קלי ואנוהו”.  Clearly this Gemara understands that Klall Yisroel said “זה קלי ואנוהו”. Now according to the Maskil L’David, that “זה קלי ואנוהו” was also said by Klall Yisroel, this Gemara can be congruent with the Mechilta. However, according to the Vilna Gaon and the others, this Gemara too needs reconciliation with the word usage of the Mechilta: “shifcha,” וצ”ע.

Tosfos explain that Sefiras Ha’Omer is a rabbinical law, in memory of the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash. The reason this is so is that the pasuk says: וּסְפַרְתֶּם לָכֶם מִמָּחֳרַת הַשַּׁבָּת מִיּוֹם הֲבִיאֲכֶם אֶת עֹמֶר הַתְּנוּפָה שֶׁבַע שַׁבָּתוֹת תְּמִימֹת תִּהְיֶינָה – And you shall count for yourselves, from the morrow of the rest day, from the day you bring the omer as a wave offering seven weeks; they shall be complete. (23:15) – that is to say that we start counting from when the Korban Omer is brought.

The Rambam disagrees, and says it is a commandment directly from the Torah to count today. Looking at the above pasuk, it seems difficult to suggest this – so how can we say there is a mitzva today to count the Sefira?

R’ Yaakov Minkus explains that there are two reasons for counting Sefira.

Tosfos say that the Sefira marks the beginning of the harvest cycle. Pesach marks the beginning, and is called ראש הקציר – the head of the harvest. It was marked through the Korban Omer, and allowed the consumption of new grain within the Beis HaMikdash. Shavuos marks the end, and is called חג הקציר  – the celebration of the harvest. It was marked through the Shtei HaLechem, which allowed the consumption of all new produce, everywhere.

The Sefira is the process of enabling produce. We return the first of the harvest, the beginning, to Hashem. The Korban Omer exists to show our fealty and identity with Hashem. The Sefira results from this.

The Rambam explains that the pasuk’s instruction is to count מִיּוֹם הֲבִיאֲכֶם אֶת עֹמֶרfrom the day, that is to say, not from the Korban. So what is it we are counting from today then?

The Sefer HaChinuch teaches that counting Sefira takes us to Har Sinai. It is easy to lose track, and think of Pesach as a standalone day where we celebrate our liberation – it is not so. Pesach was the sole means by which we could get to Shavuos and Har Sinai.

Shavuos, and as a result, Har Sinai, are annual occurrences. They occur without the Korban Omer – this is how it can still be a mitzva to count Sefira. We count מִמָּחֳרַת הַשַּׁבָּת  – from after Pesach, not the Korban itself.

When a person makes a bracha, they say אשר קדשנו במצותיו, וצונו. Women have the first part, the אשר קדשנו במצותיו, but not the second, וצונו. Har Sinai gave us the Torah and it’s 613 commandments in a general sense. The women accepted the Torah in a general sense too. Although women are exempt from many mitzvos, which is to say they don’t have to, it does not mean they cannot grow from their performance –this is קדשנו. A non-Jew who performs a mitzva does not have either part of the bracha, and cannot grow from the performance of a mitzva.

This is the difference between Pesach and Shavuos. Pesach is full of mitzvos, instructions. The Korban Pesach, circumcision, the Seder we do nowadays. In performing Hashem’s instructions, we became His people, subjugated to Him. This is all וצונו. However, Sinai is Torah. This gave mitzvos a קדשנו – which women are also subject to. Sefira connects the אשר קדשנו במצותיו to the וצונו.

But the Sefira is not “just” to connect Pesach to Shavuos, the mitzvos to the Torah; but also, the other way around, Shavuos to Pesach. The first of the Ten Commandments is אָנֹכִי ה’ אֱלֹהֶיךָ אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִיךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם מִבֵּית עֲבָדִים – (to know that) “I am the Lord, your God, Who took you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage”. How can the first (or any) commandment be faith?

The first command specifies that Hashem took us out of Egypt. Egpyt and faith are inextricably linked. We were not liberated from Egypt at all – we were transferred. In the same way we recognised that Hashem had taken us out of Egypt, that same Hashem was giving us the Torah, based on a belief in Him. Sinai’s eternity is based on having been taken out of Egypt, and in this way Sefira links Shavuos and Pesach, both backwards and forwards.

It’s a very basic question, and there are many approaches to take. The Ramban on Vayikra 1:9 discusses various approaches we will analyse, and is widely considered one of the fundamental parts of the Ramban’s commentary on the Chumash.

The Ramban quotes the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim as the first approach. The Rambam writes there that the idea of Jews using animal sacrifice was necessary for the people as they needed a physical method of worship, having been a part of the pagan culture in Egypt and other such places. To battle and rectify the idol worship in the world, the Jews would do the same action for a sacred purpose.

The Ramban disagrees strongly with this on many facets. If we base an entire method of service to Hashem on the actions of fools and sinners, why would Hashem gain anything from it at all? Vayikra 1:9 says that the korban creates אשה ריח ניחוח ליהוה – Hashem “enjoys” the fact that we bring korbanos. The implication of the Rambam is that the korbanos are more for man than Hashem, but  if the korbanos were for man, why would Hashem enjoy it? We must find a suitable explanation for bringing korbanos that also explains why Hashem instructs it of us, rather than why why we ought to do it.

The Ramban points out that if the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim is correct, that Jewish animal sacrifice only exists to battle idol worship, then we would not find instances of korbanos before an instance of idol worship. But this is not so – Adam was the first human – there were obviously no other people around to worship idols – yet he brought korbanos nonetheless, and so too with Noach; his family were the sole survivors of the Flood – so again, there could be no idol worshippers – and we find that nonetheless he did bring korbanos. How would the Rambam explain these instances where there was no idol worship to fight?

He further asks why the solution to idol worship would be to do the same thing in a different way – this seems to lend credibility to the idolatry the korbanos are trying to fight, chas v’shalom. It would seem that it would be better to just eat animals and not have sacrifices at all if we were indeed trying to fight the credibility of idol worship, as eating them shows we don’t consider them to be worthy of special attention.

R’ Yakov Minkus explains the solution to this issue. The Rambam in his magnum opus, the Mishneh Torah (Hilchos Me’ila 8:8) writes explicitly that the yesod – the distilled, fundamental, reason to bring korbanos is a חוק – there is no reason to do it other than the fact we were told to. The Moreh Nevuchim explains the inverse of this – once the mitzva exists, there is a spillover effect that we can relate to more, but the underlying reasoning remains a חוק. With this knowledge at hand, of course Noach could bring a korban, and the question about the non-existence of idol-worship falls away. Battling idol worship isn’t why there are korbanos as a starting point, rather, it helps explain it after the fact.

With this knowledge of the Rambam’s true approach to korbanos, we can suggest an answer to the question of why the countering of idol worship would take a similar form, rather than denigrating it, by simply eating all animals regularly, without any sacrifices at all.

Korbanos have their blood sprinkled on the Mizbeach, by a kohen, in the Beis Hamikdash. The Korban Pesach had none of these key functions, so why is it called a korban at all? R’ Moshe Shapiro explains that the key to understanding this issue is that idol worship is not nothing. Paganism and idol worship have a כח הטומאה – they usurp and corrupt spirituality. Eating an animal doesn’t battle the the negative of idol worship, it just nullifies it. The nullification does not require the Beis Hamikdash, or sprinkling of blood by the kohen.  This is why the Pesach could be brought publicly in Egypt. The Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim was saying that all korbanos have this nullifying the negative aspect to which we can relate, but we now see this isn’t the full spectrum of his opinion.

The Ramban then offers a second approach. There is an intrinsic good on man’s part in having korbanos. The idea of a korban is that a person should see the animal as being his substitute, and really, he ought to be sacrificed. The animal takes his place and atones for his sins, and this is the reason to have korbanos.

There is a mighty flaw with this approach too however. Most korbanos are donated, rather than obligated of people, so the Ramban’s approach doesn’t explain the existence of donated korbanos at all.

The Ramban offers a third solution, that is beyond the scope of this site to explain properly. The word קרבן, the root of which is the word קרב, means “closeness”. Offering a korban engenders closeness with Hashem. This is a difficult concept to explain, let alone understand, but to illustrate: we perform mitzvos to emulate Hashem’s ways, but we are not emulating Hashem by bringing korbanos – we are doing something else: we are interacting with Hashem. We are provoking a reaction in Hashem, as the pasuk says; “אשה ריח ניחוח ליהוה” – on which Rashi remarks “נחת רוח לפני, שאמרתי ונעשה רצוני”. This is difficult to illustrate, but there is a difference between doing Hashem’s will, and making it. When we bring a korban, we bring more of Hashem’s will into the world. One could suggest there is an element of creation here.

The Ramban brings a proof from Isaiah 60:7 that says: יַעֲלוּ עַל רָצוֹן מִזְבְּחִי וּבֵית תִּפְאַרְתִּי אֲפָאֵר – the Mizbeach is the expression of Hashem’s will.

So in bringing a korban, a person intentions are going to correlate to how they have extended G-d’s will in the world. This is why there is a concept of pigul, (a lengthy concept regarding what happens in the event that all the actions of a korban were carried out correctly, but someone in the porcess was thinking about something mundane, like the weather. Around 40 pages of Meseches Zevachim are devoted to this) – because the physical animal isn’t what matters – there is a transfer of spirituality here, from potential/theoretical to physical in this world. It’s a very big deal. The improper thoughts mean one can’t interact with what he’s trying to, and the korban has served it’s purpose, as the whole idea is not the physical at all.

So in answer to why we bring korbanos: there is the simple Moreh Nevuchim approach that we are counteracting paganism, the Ramban’s simple approach that we can atone our sins, and the Ramban’s esoteric Kabbalistic approach. We can suggest though, that perhaps the חוק aspect that the Rambam referred to was this third approach, and perhaps all the opinions harmonise together. Admittedly, this doesn’t answer why we bring korbanos, but it does explain what the function of the korban is.

The Rambam states in that there are three distinct types of unintentional killers:

1.) One who kills b’shgagah. This is defined as the state of mind possessed by one whose act is completely unforeseen. This category is referred to states in Sh’mos 21:12: v’asher lo tzadahwho did not lie in ambush. The punishment that applies to such a person is galus, whereby he is exiled to one of the arei miklot in order to receive a kaparah for his actions and to find refuge from the goel hadam who would not be penalized for exacting vengeance.

2.) One who kills b’shgagah korov l’oness, which describes the mental state of one who could not only not foresee the death as an outcome of his actions, but the killing was a wonderment which would not have occurred in the same circumstances in the majority of cases. This person is exempt from galus and if the goel hadam were to kill him, the avenger would be sentenced to death by the beis din.

3.) One who kills b’shgagah karovah l’zadon. This pertains to a person who acted with an attitude of wanton recklessness. His sin is considered too great for galus, he is prevented from receiving a kaparah and is not afforded any protection from the goel hadam, who is permitted to exact retribution without fear of capital punishment.

There exists a fundamental condition attached to the law of the pure shogeg (category 1), as taught by the Mishnah in Makkos 6b. The general rule is that if this type of unintentional killer was travelling in a downward direction at the time when the cause of death was set in motion, he is liable to be sent to galus since such an action is deemed to have been committed b’shogeg. However, if the offender was not descending at this time, he is exempt from galus. The Mishnah exemplifies this principle with several scenarios, one of which is involves a man who was climbing down a ladder when a rung broke causing him to fall on top of the victim below, who perished as a result. This is considered to be a case of shogeg and the defendant is sentenced to galus. However, if the killer was ascending when he slipped and fell he is exempt. The Gemara explains that the reason for this distinction is the verse in Bamidbar 35, where the Torah states that an inadvertent killer who is liable for galus is one who, ‘V’yapeil alav v’yamus’And he fell on him and he died. Chazal expound this phrase to teach that the killer must be moving in a downward direction in a derech nefillah (the way of falling) in order to be liable for galus.

The Rambam provides a rationale for the Torah’s distinction between descent and ascent. He submits that the reason why the one who was ascending the ladder is exempt is because it is as if he were coerced, thus falling under category 2. Indeed, in most cases, that fatal outcome would not have occurred. Therefore, the killer’s culpability is beneath the threshold required for the punishment of galus.

In contrast, if the killer was descending the ladder at the crucial moment, the Rambam reasons that in such a case there is a greater risk of injuring others because it is a rule of nature that weight is pulled in a downward direction with rapidity. (It is interesting to note that the Rambam, writing approximately 200 years before Newton, was not that far away from the theory of gravity!) Therefore, if someone did not take proper care at the time of his descent, he will be liable to galus.

What is the correct perspective in terms of defining the culpability of one who kills b’shogeg? We have learnt that such behaviour is sufficient to deserve galus; however, galus is more of a refuge and a kaparah zone, rather than a brutal onesh. Moreover, the Rambam describes the shogeg mindset as totally blind to the outcome of his actions. Nonetheless, there appears to be some level of criminal negligence and blameworthiness associated with a shogeg. We are left with the question, what proportion of blame may be attributed to one who kills b’shogeg, requiring a kaparah, and to what extent is the death the result of Divine intervention?

Perhaps the answer can be found in Parashas Mishpatim, 21:12-13, wherein the Torah declares that, ‘makeh ish va’meis mos yumas; v’asher lo tzadah v’ho’elokim inah l’yado v’samti l’cha makom asher yanus shamah.’ – ‘One who strikes a man and he will die, he (the killer) shall be put to death; and if he did not lie in ambush and God placed it in his hand and I shall place for you a place to where he may flee’.

As Rashi interprets, the pasuk is referring to the laws pertaining to intentional and inadvertent killing; the one who murders deliberately receives the death penalty, whereas the individual who did not intend to kill is exiled. Philosophically, a most striking element within the verse is that we are being taught that Hashem arranges for such inadvertent killings to take place. Onkelos translates inah as it’m’sar, to transmit or to hand over, while Rashi writes that it is an expression akin to zaman, to invite or summon (this is an example of a word in lashon hakodesh upon which the English equivalent is based). This demonstrates that, at times, G-d deliberately causes a person’s death via human agency.

To explain this notion, Rashi cites a Medrash that depicts a saying of David HaMelech. The Medrash reports that the monarch stated that the Torah tells us ‘m’rashaim yeitzei resha’- from evil-doers comes out evil. Where does the Torah convey this? From our posuk: ‘v’ho’elokim inah l’yado’, which refers to a situation involving two people, one who killed inadvertantly and one who killed on purpose. However, in both cases there were no witnesses to enable the prosecution of either offender. Consequently, the unintentional killer was not ordered to go to galus and the murderer did not receive the death penalty. The Medrash, quoted by Rashi, continues by teaching that, in such a case, Divine intervention may arrange for these two killers to arrive at the same public house. The one who killed deliberately ends up sitting below a ladder and the inadvertent killer climbs up the ladder and subsequently falls on top of the killer beneath him with fatal consequences. Conveniently, on this occasion there were witnesses, thus enabling the beis din to send the shogeg to galus, which he was liable for anyway, while the intentional killer has already received his just deserts.

The glaring question is, how can Rashi quote the Medrash as teaching that the shogeg was climbing up the ladder (oleh ba’sulam) before he fell onto the person below. Surely it is the clear ruling of the aforementioned Mishnah in Makkos that in such a case, the individual is in fact exempt from galus. This problem is compounded by the actual reading of this Mechilta, as quoted in the Gemara in Makkos 10b. There, the text reads that the shogeg killer was descending the ladder (yored b’sulom) at the time of his fall. In that case, with what licence did Rashi not only alter the text of this Medrash, but give a misrepresentation of the correct halachah? This cannot be a simple mistake for we are dealing with Rashi, who the Meiri dubs greatest of the commentators.

The Sifsei Chachomim and the Mizrachi both opt for a rather ‘lav davka’ approach to resolve this conundrum by concluding that of course Rashi meant that when the killer fell he was moving downwards. Rashi merely refers to the fact that the shogeg went up the ladder so that it was possible for him to descend before falling. This may be true but it remains perplexing as to why Rashi so conspicuously deviates from the text of the Medrash as quoted by the Gemara and thereby risk halachically misleading the reader.

Enter the Maharal in his opus, Gur Aryeh. He contends that the sole message of the Medrash was to convey the extent of Divine intervention into human affairs. Therefore, Rashi deliberately changed the text in order to emphasize that the man’s ascent up the ladder was not the result of his own free choice, but rather, was entirely engineered by the Celestial chess player. The descent down the ladder however, was not the outcome of Divine programming and is thus irrelevant to the Medrash’s agenda. This approach not only absolves Rashi, but provides a scintillating insight into the Yad Hashem which clandestinely arranges earthly goings on in order to bring out justice and retribution.

Furthermore, this yesod assists us in our inquiry as to the correct understanding of the shogeg killer. This person is certainly subject to the Divine master plan, who leads him up the ladder. Nonetheless, the act of killing must contain an element of moral blameworthiness and G-d does not force you to sin under duress. It is within this person’s bechirah to be watchful of his actions, as it is axiomatic that he would not be exiled without deserving it. Thus, his descent must have been the result of his autonomous free will. These insights not only alert us to the penetrating truths of our holy Torah, but reveal extent of Hashem’s awesome jurisdiction over our existence.

As heard from R’ Yakov Minkus
 
ז. זְכֹר יְמוֹת עוֹלָם בִּינוּ שְׁנוֹת דּוֹר וָדוֹר שְׁאַל אָבִיךָ וְיַגֵּדְךָ זְקֵנֶיךָ וְיֹאמְרוּ לָךְ
7. Remember the days of old; reflect upon the years of [other] generations. Ask your father, and he will tell you; your elders, and they will inform you.
  
טז. יַקְנִאֻהוּ בְּזָרִים בְּתוֹעֵבֹת יַכְעִיסֻהוּ
16. They provoked His zeal with alien worship; they made Him angry with abominations deeds.

Ha’azinu is a repetition of history and everything that happened in the Torah so far for example:
 
The first letters in the first 4 psukim are:
ה = הַאֲזִינוּ
י =  יַעֲרֹף 
כ = כִּי
ה = הַצּוּר 
 
These four letter equal a gematria of 40, corresponding to the letter מ.  The 5th pasuk starts with a  שֶׁ and the sixth starts with a ‘ה’.     
מ + ש + ה = משה 
 
The Midrash Tanchuma says that an author usually writes his name at the end of his book. If we apply this here then Ha’azinu seems to be the end of the Torah, even though on first glance it seems that the parsha of V’Zos Habracha is the final parsha. However, if we look into it then we will see that in fact, V’Zos Habracha is not a halachic or historical parsha, it is ’merely’ Moshe’s farewell speech to the Jewish People and his Brachos to them.

In last week’s parsha, Nitzavim-Vayelech, it says, ‘כִּתְבוּ…הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת’.

In this weeks parsha it says, ‘הַאֲזִינוּ הַשָּׁמַיִם…וְתִשְׁמַע הָאָרֶץ’ Finally, in the beginning of the Torah, parshas Bereishis it says, ‘ א. בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱ־לֹהִים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ: The Sefer Yetzira says that the end of an era, or in this case, the Torah, reflects the beginning.

There is an argument as to whether the instruction of ‘כִּתְבוּ…הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת’ is on Ha’azinu, or the whole torah. However, if we bring in the fact that the end should reflect the beginning, it is not a question, or an argument because they are inextricably linked and, essentially, one and the same.

There is a ‘יסוד’ – a ‘secret insight’ about the importance of Heaven and Earth, of שמים וארץ. In their essence, they interact through גשם – rain and the water cycle reflects this interaction, as we will now explain:

 
ג. כִּי שֵׁם יְ־הֹוָ־ה אֶקְרָא הָבוּ גֹדֶל לֵאלֹהֵינוּ
3. When I call out the name of the Lord, ascribe greatness to our God. (Devarim 32:3)
The Rambam explains, ‘כִּי שֵׁםה’ is in שמים and ’הָבוּ גֹדֶל’ is on the ארץ. Effectively, this means that we have בכירה - a free will to see the physical in this world, elevate it in our own way and aquire the ability to be spiritual. Creating our own spirituality through the pre-existing physicality of the world.
Rain, in its being, improves, fixes, nourishes and revitalises everything it ’touches’  and this is the ’שפע’ – ‘goodness’ from שמים that provides production in the world.

We, in our own way, can connect to שמים through two different mediums - תורה and תפילה.

Why do we daven for rain? For the obvious reason that we are not looking for the physical aspect – but for the recognition of Hashem’s hand and part in our day to day physical lives.
Through תפילה, we connect to שמים and bring it down to ארץ, and through תורה we elevate the world and bring it up to שמים
Rain has two states of being. One of them being the vapor state, where moisture evaporates and ‘rises’ into the sky, and it condenses and ‘descends’ to earth.

Ha’azinu is the summary of the purpose of creation - history has proven that when we acheive this function of linking שמים וארץ, life unfolds pleasantly, and when there hasn’t been a link, there has been devastation and destruction.

 
אז הוחל: (לשון חולין) לקרא את שמות האדם ואת שמות העצבים בשמו של הקב”ה לעשותן עבודה זרה ולקרותן אלהות:
Then it became common: הוּחַל, is an expression of חוּלִין – profaneness: to name people and idols with the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, to make them idols and to call them deities. (Bereishis 4:26)
During the time of the דור ענוש there was a lot of עבודה זרה. Shamayim was ‘stopped’ and as a result the seas swelled and consumed a third of the earth – thus proving that when we sin through שמים/ תפילה we get punished through the ארץ. 
 
On the other hand, during the דור המבול the Jews sinned through the land and therefore, suffered punishment through the שמים – it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Thus proving that when we sin through ארץ  we get punished through שמים.
 
The Zohar says that the דור המבול should have received the תורה.    
 
120 years of שת’s life was taken in order for נח to be able to wait 120 years.  Then there was the 40 days of rain which was נגד הר סיני, and when הר סיני happened, people thought there would be another מבול.

‘Vatishaches ha’aretz’ - The תורה was there to be able to elevate the physical.

Hashem broke up the world into nations, and the Jews were the link בין שמים וארץ.
In the מדבר, and when we had the ananei hakavod with us, we were with hashem, and truly experienced שמים on the ארץ on our level. When we got to ארץ ישראל, we experienced an ארץ elevated closer to שמים.
If or when we lose ארץ ישראל, we lose the connection between שמים וארץ, and the other nations will have the power to overtake and dominate us.
 
To conclude, the pasuk says, ‘הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת’  and we asked, ’is it ספר תורה or תפילה?’, the answer is that it is both. When we sing it as a prayer, its שמים בארץ. When we learn it, its ארץ לשמים.

Jewish law is often misrepresented as being focused on retribution and having an almost sadistic desire for violent punishment: nothing could be further from the truth. It does, in fact, demonstrate many ways to be acquitted as well as ways of rehabilitation for the offender. The essence of rehabilitation is clearly seen in this weeks parsha. Note the following:

כִּי-יִהְיֶה רִיב בֵּין אֲנָשִׁים, וְנִגְּשׁוּ אֶל-הַמִּשְׁפָּט וּשְׁפָטוּם; וְהִצְדִּיקוּ, אֶת-הַצַּדִּיק, וְהִרְשִׁיעוּ, אֶת-הָרָשָׁע. וְהָיָה אִם-בִּן הַכּוֹת, הָרָשָׁע–וְהִפִּילוֹ הַשֹּׁפֵט וְהִכָּהוּ לְפָנָיו, כְּדֵי רִשְׁעָתוֹ בְּמִסְפָּראַרְבָּעִים יַכֶּנּוּ, לֹא יֹסִיף:  פֶּן-יֹסִיף לְהַכֹּתוֹ עַל-אֵלֶּה מַכָּה רַבָּה, וְנִקְלָה אָחִיךָ לְעֵינֶיךָ 

 If there is a quarrel between men, and they approach the tribunal, and they [the judges] judge them, and they acquit the innocent one and condemn the guilty one. and it shall be, if the guilty one has incurred [the penalty of] lashes, that the judge shall make him lean over and flog him in front of him, commensurate with his crime, in number.  He shall flog him with forty [lashes]; he shall not exceed, lest he give him a much more severe flogging than these [forty lashes], and your brother will be degraded before your eyes.  (Deut. 25: 1-3)
For a number of reasons there are many Halachic discussions of these verses; but for now we can look at the change of name of the offender. The verses start by calling the accused הָרָשָׁע-the evil one then quite quickly use the friendly name of אָחִיךָ-your brother. The Sifri on this pasuk understands this apparent misnomer to be teaching us a moral lesson. Namely, that once the Offender has accepted punishment he is once again part of our people, connected by Ahavas Yisroel.

Practically speaking in halachah, while someone is considered a רָשָׁע they are excommunicated. That is, they are forbidden from taking part in religious ceremonies and also from civil law (for example giving testimony in court). Yet when the person has undergone the prescribed punishment his religious and civil rights and obligations are reinstated as a full member of Am Yisroel. This led to a specific enactment by the sages, known as “takkanat ha-shavim”, a rule designed to remove any obstacles to repentance.

An example of this is found in massechet Gittin (5:5): “If a beam which was acquired by robbery has been built into a building, restitution for it may be made in money so as not to put obstacles in the way of penitents.” The rule is, that in a case of robbery, the guilty party must return what he has taken to the rightful owner (Lev. 5:23). This makes obvious sense. If a thief were merely allowed to make a monetary compensation rather than return the stolen object, the law would, in effect, allow someone to acquire an object – albeit at a price – through unlawful means. That is clearly morally wrong, even to an atheist. Yet this rule was suspended for cases where returning the stolen object would cause the thief to incur a massive loss. This is the case in the Mishnah in Gittin; in order to restore the actual beam to its rightful owner the thief would have to demolish his own house. Although the sense of guilt at the original crime might induce remorse in the thief and an effort to return stolen goods; Nonetheless, if this would involve disproportionate loss the thief might decide that restitution was too dear and decide against giving the object back. “So what?”, even a fairly reasonable man might say. “Surely the thief, by breaking the law, has forfeited any claim on the courts’ clemency. What matters is the right of the original owner of the beam- not the rights of the thief”. Yet Jewish law ruled otherwise. To be sure, the owner must be compensated for his loss, for without this he would have suffered an injustice. But we must have concern for the offender too, and must remove obstacles to becoming a law-abiding person.

Our sages went further still. In Massechet Bava Kama (94b) we find a remarkable principle: “if robbers or usurers [repent, and of their own accord] are prepared to restore what they have wrongly taken, it is not right to accept it from them, and one who does so is not acting with the approval of the sages.” This does not apply to a convicted criminal – only a person who has, without any prompting other than a guilty conscience, has decided to confess and make amends. This is “brought down” by Rambam (Hilchot Gezelah 1:13): “Even though robbing someone is like taking their life…we must help [a thief who repents on his own accord] and pardon him in order to bring him to the right path.

There are other principles articulated by the sages which help an ‘offender’ to atone for his misdeeds and feel fully accepted back by Klal Yisroel (not referring to his criminal past to take one example). These teachings were ahead of their times as justice in ancient times was not tempered with mercy, but like so many of the moral truths given to our forefathers on Har Sinai, they are radical and eternal. Jewish law is concerned not only to protect the rights of those who have been wronged, but also to help the offenders rebuild their lives. Only acts are forever wicked, never a person; and we put this into practice by welcoming the penitent back as our brother and equal

For all posts on Chukas click here

Rashi 19:22 explains in the name of Rabbi Moshe Hadarshan,  ויקחו אליך-משלהם כשם שהם פרקו נזמי הזהב לעגל משלהם כך יביאו זו לכפרה משלהם- And have them take for you: From their own possessions; just as they removed their own golden earrings for the golden calf, so shall they bring this cow from their own possessions in atonement. It is clear that Parah Adumah (the red heifer) is an atonement for the sin of eigel (the golden calf).

Another Rashi in 19:22 explains this concept further: פרה אדמה: משל לבן שפחה שטינף פלטין של מלך. אמרו תבא אמו ותקנח הצואה, כך תבא פרה ותכפר על העגל - A red cow: This can be compared to the son of a maidservant who soiled the king’s palace. They said, “Let his mother come and clean up the mess.” Similarly, let the cow come and atone for the calf.

The first answer seems to be clear and valid; why did Rashi feel the need to add the example as further elucidation?

The problem with the first explanation is that Parah Adumah was one of the few mitzvos that were given to us before the actual giving of the Torah. We were commanded in Moroh (as mentioned in tractate Sanhedrin), and the sin of the eigel occurred after the giving of the Torah.

One of the most famous philosophical questions in the Jewish religion is understanding bechira and yedia. In a nutshell: if God knows every move a human being is going to make, then how can we explain that every person has a choice between good and evil? If God knows in advance what’s going to happen, it would seem that the choice has been taken away from the person.

When addressing this query in his book, Moreh Nevuchim (guide for the perplexed), the Rambam says there definitely is an answer to this question. However, no paper in the world will suffice to adequately answer it. Therefore, we’ve got to have a blind faith that we still have a choice in choosing between right and wrong, despite God’s knowledge in advance of what we plan on doing.

The other Rishonim (e.g the Ramban) agree with the assessment of the Rambam and disagree on minor points concerning the explanation. (There is not enough space here to go into the explanation!) However, the common theme is that this is the most complex philosophical question concerning the Jewish religion.

Therefore, we can perhaps suggest that the question was how God could command us to do the mitzvah of Parah Adumah before we actually sinned with the golden calf. There should have been nothing to atone for yet, if we do indeed have our own choice of choosing not to sin. The answer is that this is a chok (a commandment which we don’t understand), since this truly is the most difficult concept in Judaism. Shlomo Hamelech (King Solomon) said, in regard to this mitzvah, ”Omarti echkama vehi rechoika mimeni“ (I wanted to understand but it was distant from me: I couldn’t understand).

In the beginning of the parsha, Rashi asks why the parsha of the spies is juxtaposed with that of Miriam speaking against Moshe. He answers that the spies saw what had happened with Miriam and didn’t learn the lessons of speaking loshon hora.

This answer may seem a little problematic. Why would they learn mussar from Miriam, who was speaking against her brother? After all, they were speaking against the insentient, inanimate land.
(more…)

When Yosef brings his two sons, Ephraim and Menashe, to his father Yaakov, to bless them, we find Yaakov does something quite curious:

שכל את ידיו – he maneuvered his hands… (48:14)

He switched around his right hand with his left, so that Ephraim, the younger son, was under his right hand. But why did he not just tell Menashe and Ephraim to switch places?

R’ Chaim Volozhin explains that the nature of the average person is to talk down the positive attributes of his fellow, but when it comes to the negative side, he is ready to speak up and even exaggerate the other’s bad traits. In this way, he will look good compared with his friend.

Indeed, when one stands opposite his fellow, one’s left is the other’s right and vice-versa. This hints to the fact that his friend’s right, or stature, stands opposite his left, generally the one seen as weaker, i.e. weakening his friend’s strengths, whereas his friend’s left, i.e. weaker side, is opposite his right, i.e. contrasting his own strengths with his friends weaknesses.

Yaakov was the ultimate man of truth, not wishing to detract or embellish any characteristic. He only crosses his hands – the result being that his right hand corresponds with the boys’ right and his left with theirs!

It teaches us a really important, says R’ Moshe Shternbuch – how careful we must be when relating to the strengths and weaknesses of our friends (and others!), placing our right opposite their right…

He cites the Rambam for further proof – ”it’s a mitzva upon every person to to love his fellow Jew as himself as it says ואהבת לרעך כמוך. Therefore, he must tell of his praiseworthy points…as himself…”.

As an addendum, Gav C pointed out that the Ohr Hachaim says a beautiful idea associated with the above: it says שכל את ידיו כי מנשה הבכור – he maneuvered his hands because Menashe was the firstborn – surely Menashe being the firstborn would be reason to not cross hands!?
So he answers that just before, we were told that ”Yisrael’s eyes were heavy from old age and he could not see”. This indicates that he couldn’t see who was Menashe – the firstborn – and who was Ephraim. So when it came to blessing them, he knew who he wanted under his right hand. He worked out in his mind that Yosef would have placed Menashe on his right – therefore he crossed his hands because he knew where the firstborn was, and because Menashe was the בכור!

There is a concept called hidur mitzva, which means that we enhance mitzvos we do to make them beautiful. Examples of this principle include using beautiful esrogim on Succos, using larger tefillin and arranging for a megillah to be written by the best scribe.

The basic mitzvah of Chanukah is that the householder will light one candle each night on behalf for all the residents. The next stage is where another candle is progressively lit as the holiday progresses. The ideal method of performance is where each resident lights progressively

The Brisker Rav quotes the Rambam as codifying the act of lighting in the singular, indicating his view that there is no such step as the final one mentioned above, and that therefore the best mitzvah one can do is for the householder (but not each member of the house) to light progressively, which Sefardi Jews do.

This is at odds with the Rema, whom Ashkenazi Jews tend to follow, who maintains that each person lighting is ideal. What is the disagreement over?

The Gemara in Shabbos discusses a Bris Milah, where the Mohel realises afterwards that he has left a small piece of skin. There are two types of this skin, one that leaves the baby considered uncircumcised, and the other does not matter; and therefore the mitzvah has been fulfilled. The Gemara concludes that there is no need for the Mohel to repeat the Bris if it is the type which does not matter.

Rashi explains that it is only when the circumcision takes place on Shabbos that the Mohel does not return, but that on weekdays he would. The Rambam disagrees, and says the Mohel would not perform the operation again even on a weekday.

The Brisker Rav sheds light on the issue: after the time of the mitzvah has gone, the mitzvah cannot be improved. There is no doubt that this is the case on Shabbos, where there is universal agreement that one does not break it for the hidur, but the Rambam says that once the Mohel has finished the Bris, he cannot make it any more beautiful than it was, as the mitzvah has been completed and therefore gone.

The Rema and Rashi disagree, and say that yes, you can! This is the difference with regard to lighting menorahs. The Rambam says that once the householder has lit, there is no further possibility for the rest of the household to perform a hidur, as the basic mitzva was already completed when the householder had lit the first light, so the hidur stops once he has lit additional lights. Any further attempts at beautification by doing more, eg everyone else lighting, are after the mitzva has passed, so are redundant.

Ashkenazim follow the opinion the Rema and Rashi, that we can enhance something after the main mitzvah has been completed, which is why each of us lights our own menorah.

Beautiful kesubot
and custom art by
Rav Yoel Rakovsky.
Call 02 628 5346 or
visit ituryn.com

Categories