Harder than it looks

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On Shavuos, Jews have the custom to read the Book of Ruth. The subtext of the book is how crucial it is to pursue a stake in Torah and to want to be a part of the Jews. The conclusion of the story is the genealogy of Ruth’s descendants, culminating in David drawing from her lineage – and Moshiach too.

It is pertinent to note that the story is not a happy one. Boaz died the morning after he redeemed her, leaving her a pregnant widow. She never saw the happy ending, nor did Boaz or Naomi see the vindication of their actions. David’s rise was generations after they had passed.

This clearly indicates that God’s justice is not simple or immediate, but calculated over centuries and generations.

The Chasam Sofer notes that the story of Cain and Abel is included in the Torah, right at the beginning, to teach precisely this lesson. God favoured Abel, and Cain murdered him out of jealousy. Yet Cain is recorded to have lived for 1,600 years, with countless descendants. Where is the justice? The Chasam Sofer notes that every single one of them died in the Flood, long afterward.

Justice is complicated. It is curious to note that the end of the book – the ostensibly happy ending that paints her struggle as having been worthwhile – the genealogy of Moshiach is consistently from apparently odd couplings.

Ruth was descended from Moav, borne of incest between Lot and his daughters. The other child born of this was Amon, of whom Shlomo’s wife Naama was a member.

The line of Yehuda was descended from Peretz, borne of the bizarre story of Yehuda and Tamar. The Gemara says that he lost his free will when he approached the crossroads and spotted her.

Boaz himself fainted at the sight of Ruth in his bed chambers. Everyone castigated him, supporting Ploni Almoni’s arguments. The day after adjudicating Ruth’s case, he died. Certainly the simpletons labelled his death as divine justice, wrath and retribution.

The story of David and Batsheva is equally odd. The Gemara says whoever says David sinned is making a mistake. But whoever says he didn’t sin is also making a mistake!

Moshiach appears through bizarre circumstances. Incest, prostitution, adultery, and promiscuity only track the origin of the house of David!

The reason Moshiach is needed is compelling. Although life is geared towards earning Olam Haba, the World to Come, that alone is not enough. If it were, an individual could take care of themselves, and leave the world to its damned fate, to burn and unravel. Clearly we do not believe this. This world needs repair. We have to do what we can to make it a better place – and Moshiach will finish the job. His origin reflects the nature of his task. Emerging from the ashes of a broken world to fix it.

Shavuos is the moment we were chosen; through which the entire universe was perpetuated. Perhaps Ruth is read to remind ourselves that the responsibilities entailed are hard, laborious, and seem fruitless. They may even be genuinely fruitless for us. But we must persevere and endure, fortified with the knowledge that’s what right isn’t always what’s easy.

Boldly going where no man has gone

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On specials occasions, a blessing called שהחיינו is made, that thanks Hashem for the opportunity of living to see a momentous event. The completion of the Torah cycle on Simchas Torah seems to fit the criteria needed to say the blessing, so why don’t we say it?

It isn’t said on Shavuos, commemorating the Torah being received, because it marks the beginning, and the blessing of שהחיינו is only said at conclusions – otherwise nothing has happened yet!

R Shlomo Farhi points out that the first word in the Torah is בראשית, and the last, ישראל. The first and last letters in the Torah spell out the anagram לב – heart. What Hashem wants from us is an emotional commitment.

But in the correct order, it also spells out בל, as in בלבל or מבלבל, meaning “confusion” or “mixed up”. When we look at the ocean of Torah looking forwards, it is בלבל, uncharted and unknown territory. But looking back, it is לב. A cycle is never isolated – every new cycle lends further light on previous cycles, and new insights always discovered.

Truly, this lends light on the adage that the Torah never finishes, and we immediately start again from the beginning. There is truly no end, only a constant battle against בלבל by way of לב, finishing again. And again. And again.

The job is never done, never finished, and as such, no שהחיינו is made – or in other words, there’s no והגיענו!

Everything Has It’s Time And Place

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Avraham and Hashem spoke many times. We find that after the instruction to leave his birthplace, something happens that never happened before:

וַיִּפֹּל אַבְרָם, עַל-פָּנָיו; וַיְדַבֵּר אִתּוֹ אֱלֹהִים, לֵאמֹר – Avraham fell on his face, and God spoke to him. (17:3)

Hashem tells him what truly lies ahead for Avraham, and tells him that the symbol of the covenant will be the mitzva of circumcision.

Avraham falls over, as if he is recoiling, as though he were burned. This is unique to this command – Avraham doesn’t fall over at any other time Hashem speaks to him. So what changed now, that it never happened before?

R’ Chaim Soloveitchik explains that until the command to circumcise was delivered, the fact he hadn’t done it yet didn’t render him ערל – the term used for an uncircumcised person. The beginning of the communication requiring it was when it was expected – it suddenly became a deficiency, and literally could not stand God’s presence in this state.

R’ Shlomo Farhi explains that this rubs both ways.

What is expected of all Jews is nothing less that absolute, perfect dedication and diligent mitzva performance. But everything is a long way away from anything less that that, so improvements can be gradual. So long as a person is not ready to take on more, the fact they haven’t yet done so is no problem at all – it’s perfectly reasonable in fact!

But equally, the moment they are ready for more and are content to stay out, suddenly a new burden is cast upon them – וַיִּפֹּל אַבְרָם, עַל-פָּנָיו.

There’s nothing wrong with someone not ready for more. But sometimes more is expected, and the challenge must be taken.

Vindicating the struggle

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The Midrash teaches that the idea of Teshuva predates the universe, and that Teshuva does not wipe the slate entirely clean, but a small root of the transgression remain with the individual.

Teshuva is the flipside of the same coin as being tested. Hashem wants us to pass tests, but tests can be failed. In that case, there is Teshuva. Genuine Teshuva enables someone to learn from their mistakes, and move on.

When learning to ride a bicycle and you lose your balance; you fall and hurt yourself. You need to learn how to keep your balance – focussing on the fall doesn’t teach anything. After hard work, you learn to keep your balance, and you now know how to ride a bicycle.

This is why Teshuva cannot mean wiping the slate clean – a fresh start necessarily means no history, and therefore nothing learned from mistakes made. This is also why Teshuva predates the creation of the universe; Hashem did not create a static world, He created a world that is meant to grow. Teshuva enables people to move on from their mistakes.

When a person does Teshuva, their sins and transgressions can be measured differently based on their motivation. If motivated by fear, they are downgraded to accidents and oversights; if motivated by love, they become merits. This should seem perplexing, but should now be perfectly logical – a person adapts their past mistakes and uses them to become a better person.

This explains why a year is called שנה – similar to the words שני and שנוי – “secondary” and “change” subjectively. These are not mutually exclusive terms. It is from the past, the foundations one lays, that anything later comes. A fresh start wouldn’t be secondary, and nor would a repetition. It only through change, growth, that one can move on. This is ראש השנה – and also why we temporarily act more stringently during the Aseres Yemei Teshuva. From reliable foundations comes a strong building.

Perhaps this is why we read about the Akeida on Rosh Hashana. Without any of this information, it is obviously a monumentally important story, a watershed moment in Jewish history. It cemented Avraham into Avraham Avinu. But perhaps there is something more.

The story is not one where he willingly goes along with Hashem’s instruction; he begrudgingly conceded to Hashem. His life was predicated in kindness and being good; this is why Hashem displayed an interest in him. Yet here he was was, being asked to commit the ultimate of selfishness and cruelty, stifling out someone else’s very existence. It simply made no sense, and he struggled to come to terms with what he was told to do.

The Nesivos Shalom points out that Torah subtly references the turmoil he faced. We are told that as Avraham approached the area, וַיִּשָּׂא אַבְרָהָם אֶת-עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא אֶת-הַמָּקוֹם–מֵרָחֹק – Avraham lifted his eyes, and saw הַמָּקוֹם from a distance. (22:4)

Classically, this means that he literally “saw the place”. But הַמָּקוֹם is also a name of Hashem – He is “The Place”, He is everywhere, the Omnipresent. As we say on Pesach; ברוך המקום ברוך הוא.

In this context, וַיִּשָּׂא אַבְרָהָם אֶת-עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא אֶת-הַמָּקוֹם–מֵרָחֹק means that Avraham evaluated the situation, and felt a distance between himself and Hashem. It tore him apart – he’d spent his whole life fighting idol worship and sacrifice, and yet here he was, about to sacrifice his son, throwing away his entire future, and Hashem had not even demanded it. וַיַּרְא אֶת-הַמָּקוֹם–מֵרָחֹק – Avraham looked around, and felt a distance between himself and Hashem.

When it comes to follow through, we are told how וַיִּשְׁלַח אַבְרָהָם אֶת-יָדוֹ, וַיִּקַּח אֶת-הַמַּאֲכֶלֶת – Avraham sent his hand, and picked up the knife.
The Torah disembodied the action from the actor – his hand was not doing what he wanted it to – he didn’t want to do it at all!

And in the end, he was vindicated. He was right the whole time! Every fibre of his being told him what he was doing was wrong, and he was proven right.

This is the comparison to Teshuva; the vindication of a struggle. It’s hard, and we don’t understand everything, but at the end of the tunnel, it all fits into place.

It’s for the Best

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Upon meeting Pharoh for the first time, Yakov and Pharoh have this conversation:

וַיֹּאמֶר פַּרְעֹה, אֶל-יַעֲקֹב: כַּמָּה, יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיֶּיךָ. וַיֹּאמֶר יַעֲקֹב, אֶל-פַּרְעֹה, יְמֵי שְׁנֵי מְגוּרַי, שְׁלֹשִׁים וּמְאַת שָׁנָה: מְעַט וְרָעִים, הָיוּ יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיַּי, וְלֹא הִשִּׂיגוּ אֶת-יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיֵּי אֲבֹתַי, בִּימֵי מְגוּרֵיהֶם – And Pharaoh said to Yakov, “How many have been the days, the years of your life?” And Yakov said to Pharaoh, “The days of the years of my sojournings are one hundred thirty years. The days of the years of my life have been few and miserable, and they have not reached the days of the years of the lives of my forefathers, in the days of their journeys.” (47:8-9)

Yakov lived a tremendously difficult life. He had fled his family to live in hiding from his brother; been cheated and overworked by his father in law; been denied marriage to the love of his youth, been betrayed by his firstborn son; seen the rape of his daughter; seen his sons bickering result in Yosef’s disappearance and presumed death for 22 years; and seen Rachel die in childbirth. This was not the future he had sought to create for the Jewish people.

Mishlei 3:2 advises that תורתי אל תשכח….. כי אורך ימים ושנות חיים – my son, don’t forget the Torah… Because it lengthens days and years of life. Life is lived through peace, wholeness and Torah – pain and suffering are not true living. It therefore stands to reason that Yakov says מְעַט וְרָעִים, הָיוּ יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיַּי – “The days of the years of my life have been few and miserable,”.

However, the opening of Parshas Vayechi, which addresses the conclusion of Yakov’s life, states:

וַיְחִי יַעֲקֹב בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם, שְׁבַע עֶשְׂרֵה שָׁנָה; וַיְהִי יְמֵי-יַעֲקֹב, שְׁנֵי חַיָּיו–שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים, וְאַרְבָּעִים וּמְאַת שָׁנָה – And Yakov lived in Egypt for seventeen years, and Yakov’s days; the years of his life; were a hundred and forty seven years. (47:28)

The Torah asserts that at this juncture, just 17 years after “few and miserable”, that וַיְחִי – Yakov truly lived, “living” being the thing he had lacked his whole life, what with all his suffering.

This marks a significant change. Before reuniting his family, he felt his life had been a failure. Now they were together, living in harmony, fulfilling Yakov’s ambitions for creating a nation, יְמֵי-יַעֲקֹב, שְׁנֵי חַיָּיו – Yakov’s days and years became years of life, to the extent that שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים, וְאַרְבָּעִים וּמְאַת שָׁנָה – he could look back, and his entire life had been worth it in the end, having achieved the harmony he sought his whole life.

The Midrash and Gemara in Shabbos say that a real exile begins in chains and handcuffs; Yakov was spared this in his exile because of his merits. The Nesivos Shalom explains how the brothers could attempt to murder Yosef and then sell him, whilst seeming incredibly evil, was actually their bodies expressing what Hashem wanted, that they eventually wind up in Egypt. The people Yosef was sold to we’re traditionally salesmen of foul scented products, but Yosef was “fortunate” that they were carrying sweet smelling spices on that day.

But it was not just “fortune”, and it was the same with Yakov

There had to be an exile to Egypt. Everything had been calculated precisely. Yakov recognised at the end of his life, that every event in his life had led him to where he was.

Having recognised that all his negative experiences brought him to where he was, he was finally content, satisfied and fulfilled.

Wrestling in the dark

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We find that Yakov while crossing a river at night, Yakov remains behind the rest of his family, and is accosted by Eisav’s guardian angel, which has many forms – Satan, the angel of death, the evil inclination etc:

וַיִּוָּתֵר יַעֲקֹב, לְבַדּוֹ; וַיֵּאָבֵק אִישׁ עִמּוֹ, עַד עֲלוֹת הַשָּׁחַר. וַיַּרְא, כִּי לֹא יָכֹל לוֹ, וַיִּגַּע, בְּכַף-יְרֵכוֹ; וַתֵּקַע כַּף-יֶרֶךְ יַעֲקֹב, בְּהֵאָבְקוֹ עִמּוֹ. וַיֹּאמֶר שַׁלְּחֵנִי, כִּי עָלָה הַשָּׁחַר; וַיֹּאמֶר לֹא אֲשַׁלֵּחֲךָ, כִּי אִם-בֵּרַכְתָּנִי. וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו, מַה-שְּׁמֶךָ; וַיֹּאמֶר, יַעֲקֹב. וַיֹּאמֶר, יַעֲקֹב לא יֵאָמֵר עוֹד שִׁמְךָ–כִּי, אִם-יִשְׂרָאֵל: כִּי-שָׂרִיתָ עִם-אֱלֹהִים וְעִם-אֲנָשִׁים, וַתּוּכָל. וַיִּשְׁאַל יַעֲקֹב, וַיֹּאמֶר הַגִּידָה-נָּא שְׁמֶךָ, וַיֹּאמֶר, לָמָּה זֶּה תִּשְׁאַל לִשְׁמִי; וַיְבָרֶךְ אֹתוֹ, שָׁם. – And Yakov was left alone, and a man grappled with him until daybreak. And when he saw that he could not overcome him, he struck his hip, and dislocated his hip, as he grappled with him. And he said, “Let me go, because dawn is breaking!” – but Yakov said “I will not let you go, until you bless me”. So he said to him, “What is your name?”, and he replied, “Yakov”. And he said, “No longer shall your name be Yakov, for your name is Yisrael, because you have mastery with God and men, and you have prevailed”. And Yakov asked, and said, “Now tell me your name?”‘ and he replied, “Why is it you ask for my name?”‘ and he blessed him there. (32:25-30)

Rashi explains how the word וַיֵּאָבֵק – to wrestle/grapple, comes from the word אבק, dust, called so for the dust that is kicked up when moving and grappling for leverage. There is a Midrash that the dust kicked up from this epic struggle, reached all the way to Hashem’s throne.

R Tzvi Meir Silberberg explains how this relates to all of our struggles. People think that Judaism is about results, an end product. Not so. It was the not the victory that went up to Heaven; that remained with Yakov. But the struggle, the dust kicked up, went straight up to Hashem.

No one is born perfect. We are human, and we struggle. It is the human condition, and it’s what we are here for.

It is apt that this struggle occurs at night, which is darkness, the uncertain, the unknown. When confronted with light, which is truth and reality, the night is dispelled. This angel has to leave at sunrise, to sing in front of Hashem.

The Gemara in Suka teaches how at the end of days, Hashem will slaughter the Satan, and the righteous will cry because they will see it as a mountain, and they don’t understand how they overcame it, but the evil will cry because it will be as if it were a hair, and lament their lack of control and discipline to resist it. The Yetzer Hara is subjective.

The Steipler compares this to someone who hasn’t seen their family in a long time, and is certain that when they meet, they will all be happy, and never argue or fight again. It will never last. The imagination stage is always better that the reality, because when reality hits, the illusions disappear.

The angel had to leave when confronted with reality, and Yakov asks for his name. He asks for his name. The angel seems to refuse a real answer, “Why is it you ask for my name?”.
R’ Leib Chasman explains that this is the essence of what it is – nothing. It cannot be defined, because it’s almost a reflection of ourselves. There is no answer to what is, just what we make it into.

Yitzchak’s wells

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A fair portion of Parshas Toldos deals with Yitzchaks growth into an influential businessman, and some of the dealings he had. He becomes so wealthy, the locals ask him to leave, as they feel his assets would pose a strategic threat were they to be attacked. The Torah details how he owned his fathers wells, which the locals had filled up, and how he had them redug, and then excavated new ones, called Eisek, Sitna and Rechovos. It is not so apparent what function this portion serves.

וַיִּגְדַּל, הָאִישׁ; וַיֵּלֶךְ הָלוֹךְ וְגָדֵל, עַד כִּי-גָדַל מְאֹד. וַיְהִי-לוֹ מִקְנֵה-צֹאן וּמִקְנֵה בָקָר, וַעֲבֻדָּה רַבָּה; וַיְקַנְאוּ אֹתוֹ, פְּלִשְׁתִּים. וְכָל-הַבְּאֵרֹת, אֲשֶׁר חָפְרוּ עַבְדֵי אָבִיו, בִּימֵי, אַבְרָהָם אָבִיו–סִתְּמוּם פְּלִשְׁתִּים, וַיְמַלְאוּם עָפָר. וַיֹּאמֶר אֲבִימֶלֶךְ, אֶל-יִצְחָק: לֵךְ, מֵעִמָּנוּ, כִּי-עָצַמְתָּ מִמֶּנּוּ, מְאֹד. וַיֵּלֶךְ מִשָּׁם, יִצְחָק; וַיִּחַן בְּנַחַל-גְּרָר, וַיֵּשֶׁב שָׁם. וַיָּשָׁב יִצְחָק וַיַּחְפֹּר אֶת-בְּאֵרֹת הַמַּיִם, אֲשֶׁר חָפְרוּ בִּימֵי אַבְרָהָם אָבִיו, וַיְסַתְּמוּם פְּלִשְׁתִּים, אַחֲרֵי מוֹת אַבְרָהָם; וַיִּקְרָא לָהֶן, שֵׁמוֹת, כַּשֵּׁמֹת, אֲשֶׁר-קָרָא לָהֶן אָבִיו. וַיַּחְפְּרוּ עַבְדֵי-יִצְחָק, בַּנָּחַל; וַיִּמְצְאוּ-שָׁם–בְּאֵר, מַיִם חַיִּים. וַיָּרִיבוּ רֹעֵי גְרָר, עִם-רֹעֵי יִצְחָק לֵאמֹר–לָנוּ הַמָּיִם; וַיִּקְרָא שֵׁם-הַבְּאֵר עֵשֶׂק, כִּי הִתְעַשְּׂקוּ עִמּוֹ. וַיַּחְפְּרוּ בְּאֵר אַחֶרֶת, וַיָּרִיבוּ גַּם-עָלֶיהָ; וַיִּקְרָא שְׁמָהּ, שִׂטְנָה. וַיַּעְתֵּק מִשָּׁם, וַיַּחְפֹּר בְּאֵר אַחֶרֶת, וְלֹא רָבוּ, עָלֶיהָ; וַיִּקְרָא שְׁמָהּ, רְחֹבוֹת, וַיֹּאמֶר כִּי-עַתָּה הִרְחִיב יְהוָה לָנוּ, וּפָרִינוּ בָאָרֶץ. – (26:13-22)

It is curious how the Torah discusses this at length, without it being clear at all what it is we are meant to learn from here, or what significance these events bore.

R’ Ezra Hartman explains that this portion of the Torah tells us what our aspirations should be.

וַיָּשָׁב יִצְחָק וַיַּחְפֹּר אֶת-בְּאֵרֹת הַמַּיִם, אֲשֶׁר חָפְרוּ בִּימֵי אַבְרָהָם אָבִיו, וַיְסַתְּמוּם פְּלִשְׁתִּים, אַחֲרֵי מוֹת אַבְרָהָם; וַיִּקְרָא לָהֶן, שֵׁמוֹת, כַּשֵּׁמֹת, אֲשֶׁר-קָרָא לָהֶן אָבִיו – and Yitzchak returned, and dug the wells that had been dug in the days of his father Avraham, that the Phillistines had filled, after his father Avraham’s death. He called them the names his father had called them.

The Torah tells us that if our fathers are worth emulating, we absolutely should. We should have an eye on family heritage and tradition – Yitzchak pursued and reclaimed his fathers assets, and called them the name his father did. But we should not aspire to be someone else – we should aim higher, to exceed where our ancestors reached.

The Ramban and Kli Yakar discuss the details of the three wells that Yitzchak had excavated. The Ramban discusses how the three wells are veiled references to the three Temples, the Batei Mikdash.

וַיָּרִיבוּ רֹעֵי גְרָר, עִם-רֹעֵי יִצְחָק לֵאמֹר–לָנוּ הַמָּיִם; וַיִּקְרָא שֵׁם-הַבְּאֵר עֵשֶׂק, כִּי הִתְעַשְּׂקוּ עִמּוֹ – And the shepherds of Gerar quarreled with Yitzchak’s shepherds, saying, “The water is ours”; so he named the well Esek, because they had contended with him.

This is the first Beis HaMikdash. There is a strong parallel, in that the Torah emphasises two factions, that argued. The era of the first Beis HaMikdash was defined by two factions, the Malchei Yisrael against the Malchei Yehuda – the kingdom of Israel against Judea, arguing over who deserved to be king.

וַיַּחְפְּרוּ בְּאֵר אַחֶרֶת, וַיָּרִיבוּ גַּם-עָלֶיהָ; וַיִּקְרָא שְׁמָהּ, שִׂטְנָה – And they dug another well, and they fought about it too; so he named it Sitnah.

This is the second, which was defined by hatred between everyone. This is worse than the first. The Torah emphasises how the first was fought by the shepherds, which is a metaphor for the leaders, which is who fought for the first Temple. This time around, “they” just fought. No one in particular, a heavy hint to baseless hatred. Further, they failed to listen to the lesson of the first – וַיָּרִיבוּ גַּם-עָלֶיהָ – they fought about this one too.

The third however had no such strife – וַיַּעְתֵּק מִשָּׁם, וַיַּחְפֹּר בְּאֵר אַחֶרֶת, וְלֹא רָבוּ, עָלֶיהָ; וַיִּקְרָא שְׁמָהּ, רְחֹבוֹת, וַיֹּאמֶר כִּי-עַתָּה הִרְחִיב יְהוָה לָנוּ, וּפָרִינוּ בָאָרֶץ – And he moved away from there, and he dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it; so he named it Rechovos, and he said, “For now the Lord has made room for us, and we will be fruitful in the land.”

The third is defined by peace. The word for peace is שלום, from the root שלם, whole. With peace, there is wholeness, harmony and space, and there is expansion.

Leaving your past behind

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The parsha opens with:

ויאמר ד׳ אל אברם לך לך מארצך וממולדתך ומבית אביך אל הארץ אשר אראך – And Hashem said to Avraham, “Go for yourself, from your land, your homeland, and the house of your father, to the land which I will show you”.

This pasuk is loaded with inferences. Rashi points out that Hashem was telling Avraham that this journey would be לך – for his own benefit and growth, which seems difficult to understand. Did Avraham need a personal gain to do what Hashem had instructed?

Further, the pasuk uses an expression of leaving from, rather than exiting to, which seems odd, if the actual goal was to arrive at the land Hashem would show him.

Lastly, the requirement to go “from your land, your birthplace, and the house of your father, to the land which I will show you”, seems redundant – the goal is אל הארץ אשר אראך, the land he would be shown. Why include where he was leaving from at all?

Avraham is commanded to go first from his country, then his homeland, and lastly, his father’s house. Shouldn’t the sequence be reversed? When travelling internationally, you leave the house first, then the area and then the country. So why is the command in this order?

The Nesivos Shalom explains that Hashem was telling Avraham to leave his negative traits which he acquired in these locations. Our environment is instrumental to developing who we are as people. The more localised the environment, the greater the affect it can have.

As such, a home environment is more persuasive than a homeland, which in turn is more influential than a country. The command is brought to greater light; Hashem was telling Avraham to leave, abandon even, the negative influence he picked up from his country, homeland and father’s house. The order is listing in ascending difficulty.

This further bring to light that לך לך means “Go fro yourself”. Avaham understood that ultimate happiness is becoming close to Hashem, echoing the Mesilas Yesharim, that the supreme joy in this world is the joy of serving Hashem; acknowledging one’s purpose in life and fulfilling it. Hashem told him that in order to grow further, he needed to totally separate himself from the negative culture he’d lived his whole life in – מארצך וממולדתך ומבית אביך.

It’s not enough for a person to try to be the best they can be, where they are. To reach full potential, he also has to remove himself from the bad midos of his environment because they still have an affect on him.

Once Avraham abandoned his past, he could achieve אל הארץ אשר אראך.

This further answers why the command was to “go” from somewhere, not just to somewhere. He had to leave where he was to get where he was going.

How Will We Cope?

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In Moshe’s final speech to the nation, having fulfilled his duties, he informs them of what will be later. He says:

ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ, הוּא-יַשְׁמִיד אֶת-הַגּוֹיִם הָאֵלֶּה – Hashem, your G-d; He will cross you over, He will destroy the nations before you. (31:3)

The emphasis on הוּא, that “He” will do it, seems strange, and the fact it is said twice is even stranger.

The Ohr HaChaim explains that the Jews were worried that on losing Moshe, they would further lose two abilities he had; first, that he could and would intercede on their behalf, such as with the Golden Calf, where his intercession ended the plague and prevented their destruction; and second, that he would not be leading them in the wars they would inevitably fight on entry into the Land of Israel.

Moshe addressed the first concern by telling them that הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ – the same word is used to describe Hashem’s capacity to forgive – עובר על פשע. Moshe explained that in reality, it had been Hashem all along, that He had aroused the idea of praying for the Jews in Moshe, and that capacity to be forgiven would remain, since Moshe had been an instrument for Hashem’s forgiveness, and not the cause.

Regarding the second, Moshe expressed the same idea – it had never been him – הוּא-יַשְׁמִיד אֶת-הַגּוֹיִם הָאֵלֶּה – Hashem had been with them all the time, and would remain so.

The Seforno explains the whole speech as conveying this message – that they had Hashem watching over them, and it would be better for them to experience Hashem directly than via himself as a conduit.

Sometimes people are averse to recognising their own abilities, and they don’t feel capable of rising to a challenge without their teachers. Moshe was telling the Jews that after 40 years of preparing, they were finally ready to become what they left Egypt to be. We too need to recognise that eventually, the training wheels have to come off.

Land, murder and exile

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The pasuk teaches that a man who kills someone accidentally is forced to run to an עיר מקלט, a city of refuge, and he must remain there until either he or the Kohen Gadol die. A close family member of the dead man is appointed to chase the murderer, and if he catches up to him before he arrives at the עיר מקלט, is fully permitted to avenge his dead relative and kill his murderer. Gemara in Sanhedrin 45b adds that if no family member will set out to avenge the dead man, then the Beis Din themselves must appoint someone.

The Steipler Gaon explains that the purpose of the murderer fleeing to the עיר מקלט is two-fold – it saves and punishes at the same time. It saves the murderer from being murdered by the person who has set out to avenge his family member, but even in a situation where for some reason the avenger would definitely not kill him, he must still go to the עיר מקלט anyway. He needs to stay there until he dies, and is buried in the עיר מקלט – the avenger can’t kill him one he’s dead, but he still has this punishment there.

The city he runs to is meant to rehabilitate him – he runs to a city of the Levi’im – the teachers of Bnei Yisrael. The reason there needs to be an avenger appointed by the Beis Din is that we must always be responsible and accountable for our actions – this man cannot get away with it, and the Torah teaches us that he cannot bribe his way out – he stays until the end. There must always be justice in the world.

Hashem runs the world on mercy and strict judgment – with the two there is Creation, and there is justice in the world.

How to change the world

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The parsha opens with אִם בְּחֻקֹּתַי תֵּלֵכוּ וְאֶת מִצְוֹתַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם – If you follow My statutes and observe My commandments and perform them (26:3)

Rav Shach quotes a pasuk from Neviim, Chabakuk 3:6 that הליכות עולם לו – that the ways of the world are Hashems. We say this when we say korbanos at the end of davening, and we quote the ma’amar Chazal that expounds אל תקרי הליכות אלא הלכות – Read it not as ways, but as laws. The הלכות, the Torah, that we bring in to the world, dictates the הליכות, the ways, of Hashem’s world.

Our performance of mitzvos has a very real effect on the world – the mitzvos dictate Read Full Dvar Torah →

Matza: Poverty or Liberty?

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There is a dichotomy regarding the Matza on Pesach. Is it poor man’s bread, indicative of slavery; or is it because of the redemption, that they were freed before they had time to prepare bread?

The Sfas Emes explains that we cannot celebrate being freed from Egypt on it’s own; we must celebrate the fact we were enslaved as well. If we were capable of being a nation that could serve Hashem in freedom initially, we need not have been enslaved, and if we could serve Hashem in slavery, we weren’t in need of rescue. So being enslaved in Egypt was a key part of the process through which we became Hashem’s people.

What transition took place in Egypt that created a nation capable of serving God?

The Sfas Emes explains by being in crushing slavery, the people were far beyond their comfort zones, and pushed way past the extremes of what they thought they were capable of. This was a life lesson to the people that the arrogance and ego of man could be removed, and a person could devote his entire being to something. This was a key stage in becoming Hashem’s servants – the people knew what it meant to give their all; which would not have been the same thing without the ravages of slavery.

The Sfas Emes explains that this is what all evils and adversity in life are for – they educate us about our limits, and more than that, they show us the opposite extremes to which we can aspire, attain and transcend. This is the only purpose they serve, just like Egypt. If they weren’t there to help us become closer to Hashem, they would have no function, and therefore would not exist.

This was the only way in people could have accepted Hashem as their King entirely; in the same way they had been entirely subjugated to Paroh, they could now subjugate themselves entirely to Hashem. This was the critical moment the Jews were born as a nation. As we say in Shema every day: אשר הוצאתי אתכם מארץ מצרים להיות לכם לאלוקים – “That I took you out of Egypt to be for you a God” (Bamidbar 15:41). The causation is clear – we had to have been in Egypt before, in order to be taken out, to become everything we were meant to be.

Being God’s people hinges on the need to have subdued arrogance and ego. This is what טוב אחרית הדבר מראשיתו means – “the end is better than the beginning” (Koheles 7:8). It was far from pleasant to be in Egypt, but what followed was receiving the Torah.

The Sfas Emes tells us that our celebration of leaving Egypt must hinge around the fact that we became better once we left – we accepted Hashem as our King and our God, and we received the Torah. The first thing we did on being freed was for Hashem – this is why there is a concept of firsts going to Hashem, for example the korban Omer (and Pidyon haBen, bikkurim etc).

This is what is so vital on Seder night, to relive the Exodus from Egypt. It is when we became God’s people.

The Sfas Emes answers that this is why Matza correlates to both slavery as well as freedom – it is devoid of the ego, exemplified by chametz, yet it also correlates to the freedom – the process of freedom started when we were slaves. It is how we became truly free to serve Hashem.

Our freedom stems from having not been free once.

Yakov’s Journey

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“וַיֵּצֵא יַעֲקֹב מִבְּאֵר שָׁבַע וַיֵּלֶךְ חָרָנָה – And Jacob left Beer sheba, and he went to Charan”


Why would Yakov leave the kedusha of Eretz Yisroel and go to Charan? A place devoid of spirituality and ruchnius? Furthermore we know where Yakov lived, so why does the Torah stress that he left Be’er Sheva. If he went on a journey, presumably he started at home.

The Sfas Emes explains that Yakov’s departure was a preparation for Klal Yisroel’s eventual exiles in Chutz La’aretz. Yakov therefore voluntarily traveled to a place where Hashem’s presence was more ‘nistar‘, or less visible to show his descendants that even in the darkest of places, the torch of our faith can shine brightly, an example of Maaseh Avos Siman LeBonim.

Furthermore, Yakov Avinu showed us how we can keep our faith throughout our struggles and hardships. Be’er Sheva. the place he left, represents complete spirituality. A be’er is a well of water. Water is the life force of all creatures and figuratively represents the spiritual life force, the connection to G-d that sustains everything around us. Sheva means seven, representing the seventh day of the week – Shabbos.Shabbos is a time that we distance ourselves from the mundane and unimportant things that occupy our lives. It is a time when we can elevate ourselves to higher spiritual levels. Eating and sleeping are things that we do every day that seem to be the polar opposite of spirituality. Yet on Shabbos they take on a new dimension as a part of oneg Shabbos and allow us to bring spirituality and a higher purpose into the physical aspects of our lives. Thus Be’er Sheva figuratively represents a place where the spiritual source of life and its connection to the physical world are apparent.


Yakov our ancestor showed us how to travel through the darkness. We must always remeber where we came from and do our best to connect to our spiritual source. We may find ourselves in places where G-d seems remote and we do not see his hand guiding events around us. Yet, we have the capacity to serve Him through simple actions and even thoughts. A kind word or deed, a brocho on what we eat, brings G-d into our lives and give us a spiritual lift in even our darkest of hours.