The Ramban says that Shmita and the Yovel cycle are fundamental mitzvos.

Something is lost on us today – slavery and a global agricultural society have mostly vanished from Earth with the advent of industry; Shmita and Yovel have long been missing large chunks of their key halachos, for thousands of years.

Consider the fact that when the Ramban classified it as fundamental, Yovel hadn’t been properly marked for centuries. When the laws associated with it seems so antiquated, archaic, and arguably irrelevant, what about it is fundamental?

The Pnei Yehoshua explains that Yovel is not just a time when slaves go free – it is a Yom Tov that celebrates freedom and liberty. The Sfas Emes notes that the nation was born by being liberated from the crucible of Egypt.

After millennia of exiles, restrictions on movement, bans, pogroms, genocide, and general oppression, society has developed to give all people human and civil rights; Jews can now practice Judaism relatively freely, to the extent that young people today have little to no idea of what it means to not be free. While progress is undoubtedly a good thing, we must be vigilant not to take our rights for granted.

One of the brachos said daily is שלא עשני עבד – perhaps this alludes to the principle that we do not take our unprecedented liberties for granted. But our ancestors said it even whilst it wasn’t strictly true – when they were harried and enslaved! So perhaps it doesn’t refer exclusively to our bodies.

The Sfas Emes explains that the body is a vessel for the soul. With discipline, the body can simply be an appendage of the soul; physicality can be transformed into spirituality. To do so, the soul must lead the way, so that the body is almost passive in decisions. The Mishna in Avos says לא מצאתי לגוף טוב אלא שתיקה – I found nothing better for the body than silence. The Sfas Emes notes that the emphasis is on silence for the body specifically. When the body is silenced with deference to the soul, it is elevated.

This is precisely mirrored in Yovel. The land is dormant and fallow for a year, and man internalises that God is the true provider of sustenance and nourishment. Matter is led by the soul. A microcosm of this is reflected in the fact that humans are the only creatures that are made to stand upright. We strive to reach upwards, and animals cannot.

Yovel was dedicated to displaying our gratitude that we are always able to serve God – indicated by the shofar being blown. A slave, whose entire existence is subjugated to his owner, goes free on Yovel. It becomes abundantly clear why it is classified a foundational mitzva; freedom is a wonderfully thing that we are very grateful for. But perhaps it also shows that even under oppression, slavery, and exile, we are nonetheless subjugated exclusively to God. The Zohar says that on Yovel, everything returns to its source.

The soul always remains free.

Having delivered word of a fair few plagues already, Moshe is told to go see Paroh again, and the reason he is given is quite bizarre:

וַיֹּאמֶר ה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, בֹּא אֶל-פַּרְעֹה: כִּי-אֲנִי הִכְבַּדְתִּי אֶת-לִבּוֹ -Hashem said to Moshe, “Go see Paroh, because I’ve hardened his heart”. (10:1)

What is the cause and effect in the instruction? Why is the fact Moshe is sent related to Hashem hardening his heart?

The Sfas Emes explains that Paroh’s heart was hardened, meaning his resolve was given the endurance to withstand the plagues. This was the challenge Moshe was sent to address.

The Sfas Emes teaches that every Jew must know that every hurdle and obstacle they will ever face in life is a challenge straight from God. It is precisely because God is testing you that you must rise to the occasion. When a כִּי-אֲנִי הִכְבַּדְתִּי אֶת-לִבּוֹ is placed before us, is precisely when we receive the instruction of בֹּא אֶל-פַּרְעֹה.

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!

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.

Moshe reiterates to the people the responsibility they took on when they agreed the covenant at Sinai:

הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה, ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ מְצַוְּךָ לַעֲשׂוֹת אֶת-הַחֻקִּים הָאֵלֶּה–וְאֶת-הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים; וְשָׁמַרְתָּ וְעָשִׂיתָ אוֹתָם, בְּכָל-לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל-נַפְשֶׁךָ. אֶת-ה הֶאֱמַרְתָּ, הַיּוֹם: לִהְיוֹת לְךָ לֵאלֹהִים וְלָלֶכֶת בִּדְרָכָיו, וְלִשְׁמֹר חֻקָּיו וּמִצְו‍ֹתָיו וּמִשְׁפָּטָיו–וְלִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ. וַה הֶאֱמִירְךָ הַיּוֹם, לִהְיוֹת לוֹ לְעַם סְגֻלָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר, דִּבֶּר-לָךְ; וְלִשְׁמֹר, כָּל-מִצְו‍ֹתָיו. וּלְתִתְּךָ עֶלְיוֹן, עַל כָּל-הַגּוֹיִם אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה, לִתְהִלָּה, וּלְשֵׁם וּלְתִפְאָרֶת; וְלִהְיֹתְךָ עַם-קָדֹשׁ לה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, כַּאֲשֶׁר דִּבֵּר

Today, Hashem your God commands you to perform these laws and statutes; to guard and keep them – with all your heart and soul. Regarding Hashem you have said today, that He will be a god to you; that you will walk in his ways, to keep his laws and statutes; and listen to His voice.

Hashem has said of you this day, for you to be a Chosen People for Him, as He has said to you; and you will keep His mitzvos. And He will place you supreme, above all the nations He made; for praise, honour and glory, that you would be a holy nation dedicated to Him, as was said. (26:16-19)

The first part relates to our commitment to the relationship, and the end, Hashem’s commitment. The transition though, is quite difficult: וַה הֶאֱמִירְךָ הַיּוֹם, לִהְיוֹת לוֹ לְעַם סְגֻלָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר, דִּבֶּר-לָךְ; וְלִשְׁמֹר, כָּל-מִצְו‍ֹתָיו – Hashem has said of you this day, for you to be a Chosen People for Him, as He has said to you; and you will keep His mitzvos.

The opening is clearly Hashem speaking of us, but the ending is clearly back to our commitment. How is adherence to Torah related to being called עַם סְגֻלָּה? Whose commitment is this about? And what is the supremacy granted as a result?

Rabbeinu Bachye teaches that being called עַם סְגֻלָּה – “chosen” – is not what it seems at face value. It is not a status we are born with; it is a title, an achievement, that we have to work towards.

In a similar vein, a man does not make the blessing שעשני איש the way a woman says שעשני כרצונו – because איש – to truly be a “man” – is what we spend our lives striving towards.

So too with circumcision, the first mitzva a newborn is party to, is a microcosm of the Jewish mission; perfecting what we have with what we are given, working towards the ultimate goal of perfection..

Rabbeinu Bachye says that the entire verse pertains to our commitment – לִהְיוֹת לוֹ לְעַם סְגֻלָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר, דִּבֶּר-לָךְ; וְלִשְׁמֹר, כָּל-מִצְו‍ֹתָיו – we just have to earn it.

So being chosen is in fact a bestowing of responsibility, but is in turn rewarded with being עֶלְיוֹן, עַל כָּל-הַגּוֹיִם – supreme over the other nations. What does this mean?

R Shamshon Refael Hirsch writes how when the responsibilities are met, the world becomes a better place. The world is damaged, and being a better person repairs it.

Adam was commanded to “conquer” the world, when he was still all alone. His conquest was through listening to God; this is how all the animals knew to come to him to be named – they perceived godliness in him.

The same with Yakov – the Torah emphasises how he left Beersheba and went to Charan. The former seems redundant – it should only matter that he arrived somewhere- and the answer is that his departure does matter. When someone righteous leaves or goes somewhere, the environment and atmosphere of the place fundamentally change.

There is a story told of a young Chafetz Chaim, who saw the ills of the world, and decided to change the world. Seeing that the task was too monumentally large, he changed his mind, and set out to change his community. After seeing that that too was impossible, he downgraded his ambitions again, and decided that if he could not make them better, he’d at least himself.

And by making himself better, he really did change the world.

R Hirsch teaches that by being better people, the world becomes a better place. There is famine, war, child slavery and kidnapping in the world, and while people attempt to deal with the symptoms, it is ultimately futile if humans aren’t more humane.

This is also what we mean when we make brachos, when we say אשר קדשנו במצוותיו; and what we mean we say אתה בחרתנו on Yomim Tovim – וקדשתנו במצוותיך.

The Torah assures us that perfection of the world comes through perfection of self.

When Ahron was instructed to light the Menora, we find that the Torah emphasizes something seemingly out of place:

דַּבֵּר, אֶל-אַהֲרֹן, וְאָמַרְתָּ, אֵלָיו: בְּהַעֲלֹתְךָ, אֶת-הַנֵּרֹת, אֶל-מוּל פְּנֵי הַמְּנוֹרָה, יָאִירוּ שִׁבְעַת הַנֵּרוֹת. וַיַּעַשׂ כֵּן, אַהֲרֹן–אֶל-מוּל פְּנֵי הַמְּנוֹרָה, הֶעֱלָה נֵרֹתֶיהָ: כַּאֲשֶׁר צִוָּה יְהוָה, אֶת-מֹשֶׁה – Speak to Ahron, and say to him; “When you rise to kindle the lights on the Menora, light seven,”. And Ahron did so; he lit the candles on the Menora, just as Hashem had commanded Moshe. (8:2-3)

Rashi notes that וַיַּעַשׂ כֵּן – that the person commanded did as directed, is not regularly found in the Torah; it is assumed that when God speaks to you, you do as told.Rashi explains that it appears here to praise Ahron.

The Sfas Emes takes the praise to mean that Ahron was meticulous to light the Menora every day himself, when in fact, it could have been done by any member of his family. That is to say, he retained the initial enthusiasm for the job his entire life – וַיַּעַשׂ כֵּן as though that were the day he was instructed. Later, we find this lesson lost:

וַיִּסְעוּ מֵהַר ה’ דֶּרֶךְ שְׁלֹשֶׁת יָמִים – They travelled from the mountain of God a three-day journey. (10:33)

The Gemara in Shabbos teaches that this alludes to the Jews straying from their closeness to Hashem. They literally left where God was.

Rashi notes that it was their departure from Sinai that cultivated their craving for meat – the manna was not enough. The Ramban compares their attitude to leaving Sinai to a child running out of school. They left Sinai – the place where they were exposed to God and the Torah – in excitement that the “class” was over. The Chasam Sofer explains that had they not thrown off the yolk of Torah and fled like a child running from school, they never would have developed their infamous craving for meat.

The Mishna in Avos says: “Whoever throws off the yoke of Torah, they place the yoke of drech eretz upon him,”. There is a fixed amount of input that must be channeled one way or another. Derech eretz here refers to physical desires. This catalyzed an unfortunate chain of events. The Jews were supposed to go straight from receiving the Torah into Eretz Yisrael. Yet, because of the attitude with which they left Mount Sinai, they developed their craving for meat. Because of their craving for meat, they were delayed for 30 days while many were lost to plague. This delay allowed the opportunity for Miriam to slander Moshe, causing a further delay of seven days while waiting for her purification. The episode of the spies followed, deduced from the juxtaposition of the episodes of Miriam next to the episode of the spies; due to which the fate of that generation was sealed. They were to die out over the course of the next 40 years, never to reach Eretz Yisrael.

It was during that time that Moshe Rabbeinu himself was denied the opportunity to enter Eretz Yisrael because of the incident wherein he struck the rock. Had Moshe Rabbeinu entered Eretz Yisrael, there never would have been a destruction of the Holy Temple, and the ensuing exile. History would have been drastically different. What emerges is that Judaism is not exclusively about learning Torah and doing mitzvos, regardless of one’s intentions and attitude. Chovos halevavos, duties of the heart and spirit, are critical. It is because of poor attitude to how we relate to Torah and mitzvos that we find ourselves in galus to this day.

We find that Yosef’s brothers harboured animosity to him almost from the beginning:

וַיָּבֵא יוֹסֵף אֶת דִּבָּתָם רָעָה אֶל אֲבִיהֶם – And Yosef brought evil tales to their father. (37:2)

Rashi explains he brought three issues he brought to his fathers attention. The first was that Leah’s sons allegedly mistreated Bilhah and Zilpah’s sons for being “slaves”, the second was that he suspected them of illicit, adulterous relationships, and the third was that they ate limbs of live animals.

Rashi notes how Yosef suffered in each of these three areas later on in his life. Having accused his brothers of taunting and mistreating “slaves”, he was sold into slavery himself. Having accused his brothers of forbidden relationships, he was challenged by Potiphar’s wife in this area. For accusing them of eating live animals; when he was sold, they slaughtered a goat and dipped his coat into it, which they then presented to their father, implying his death. They then ate it.

R Ezra Hartman points out an issue with this. Regarding the adultery and slavery, Yosef was the subject of the challenges – they happened to him, presumably to learn that he was wrong in these areas. However, the blood his coat was dipped in did not directly involve Yosef at all. Given that these occurrences appear to be lessons, what was Yosef supposed to learn from it if it didn’t happen to him?

R Chaim Shmulevitz explains that sometimes, people cannot concede that they were wrong. It hurts too much to admit to someone else they were right all along. Yosef saw how he was wrong, and was forced to accept that what he had reported to his father was not true, and had to suffer in silence and indignity. His humiliation at seeing he was wrong was the lesson to be learnt.

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.

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.

In the beginning of Devarim 29, Moshe does a wrap up of what the Jews went through on their journey through the desert:

וַיִּקְרָא מֹשֶׁה אֶל-כָּל-יִשְׂרָאֵל, וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם: אַתֶּם רְאִיתֶם, אֵת כָּל-אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה יְהוָה לְעֵינֵיכֶם בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם, לְפַרְעֹה וּלְכָל-עֲבָדָיו, וּלְכָל-אַרְצוֹ. הַמַּסּוֹת, הַגְּדֹלֹת, אֲשֶׁר רָאוּ, עֵינֶיךָ–הָאֹתֹת וְהַמֹּפְתִים הַגְּדֹלִים, הָהֵם. וְלֹא-נָתַן יְהוָה לָכֶם לֵב לָדַעַת, וְעֵינַיִם לִרְאוֹת וְאָזְנַיִם לִשְׁמֹעַ, עַד, הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה – And Moshe called all the Jews, and said to them: “You saw all that Hashem did in Egypt, with your own eyes, to Paroh, his servants, and his land. The great miracles and signs you saw. And Hashem didn’t give you a heart to understand, eyes to see, nor ears to hear, until this day. (29:1-3)

Rashi elaborates that עַד הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה has an undercurrent. In Devarim 31, Moshe writes the Torah in the form we have it, and give it to the Levi’im, who entrusted with the task of safeguarding and teaching Torah. Rashi says that עַד הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה refers to that event. What was the appraisal of their faculties, that on “this day”, Moshe praised the Jews?

Rash explains how when Moshe gave the Torah to the Levi’im, the Jews protested their being singled out for keeping it, with the worry that perhaps Levi would claim the Torah for their own, and exclude the other tribes. When Moshe saw this, he saw the the Torah was precious to them, and said עַד הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה.

R’ Leib Salomon has great difficulty with this. What was the protest going to be, exactly? It couldnt be that they were worried that perhaps the Levi’im would keep the whole Torah for themselves, how could they? Who would give ma’aser, among many other things?

R’ Matisyahu Salomon explains that the Jews were not worried about the Levi’im laying an exclusive claim to mitzvah performance, but rather, the capacity to be a Torah scholar, talmud Torah. When Moshe heard this, he understood how much the Torah meant to them.

R’ Matisyahu points out that “The great miracles and signs you saw” were not enough to persuade Moshe that they had לֵב לָדַעַת, וְעֵינַיִם לִרְאוֹת וְאָזְנַיִם לִשְׁמֹעַ – it was exclusively their desire and passion for Talmud Torah that precipitated this realisation.

Seeing miracles isn’t what makes someone a true servant of Hashem, it is the struggle, the slog, that comes with learning Torah that a Jew has his heart, eyes and ears.

The pasuk tell us:

 וְלֹא תַחֲנִיפוּ אֶת הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַתֶּם בָּהּ כִּי הַדָּם הוּא יַחֲנִיף אֶת הָאָרֶץ וְלָאָרֶץ לֹא יְכֻפַּר לַדָּם אֲשֶׁר שֻׁפַּךְ בָּהּ כִּי אִם בְּדַם שֹׁפְכוֹ – And you shall not deceive the land in which you live, for the blood corrupts the land, and the blood which is shed in the land cannot be atoned for except through the blood of the one who shed it. (35:34)

The word חניפה means flattery/deception/corruption/obfuscation. The expression seems highly odd in the context of the land.

R’ Moshe Feinstein draws a major distinction between the conventional wisdom of the world, and Jewish law. The world worries about peace and rights – if someone disturbs peace or rights, since the goal is peace, the person destroying it is therefore a target, as they are destroying the world as they see it. Countless wars are fought, with countless dead, because one nation has a claim to repairing and saving the world, or some other ideal.

For Jews, the Torah tells us “Do not murder.” – regardless of who – one may not kill another human being. Even someone who destroys the world is still taken care of by this.

What results from this is that someone who murders or wages war to ostensibly “save the world”, is יַחֲנִיף אֶת הָאָרֶץ – wherein the land takes precedence over a man. He is being murdered for the sake of preservation of the land, for peace!

The Torah tells us that the land is always secondary to the person – all land is worthless if the people on it aren’t upstanding individuals. חניפה is the disconnect between reality and an ideal – we must always know that we have to be real with ourselves, always trying to improve. This is what the pasuk means when it says וְלֹא תַחֲנִיפוּ אֶת הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַתֶּם בָּהּ.

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 →

One of the curses in the parsha is וְכָשְׁלוּ אִישׁ בְּאָחִיו – Each man will stumble over his brother (26:37)

Rashi remarks that the Torah is referencing tripping over the sins of our brothers. Rashi explains that this curse is the inverse of the famous maxim of כל ישראל ערבין זה לזה – all of Israel are accountable for one another.

R’ Yehoshua Hartman quotes the Maharal, who asks why this is the meaning, and not the literal translation.

The Maharal points out that if someone were to trip over someone on on the ground, it is not related brotherhood – as such, this is not what the pasuk means. When the pasuk says וְכָשְׁלוּ אִישׁ בְּאָחִיו – the tripping is because of the brotherhood – the tripping is over sin, due to the accountability that brotherhood engenders.

The root of the word word ערבין is the word ערב – meaning mixture – it is the same root as the word for tasty, evening, guarantor, Arab and eruv. R’ Ezra Hartman explains that these are all mixtures; An eruv mixes property rights; tasty is the cuisine that “mixes” when digested; evening is twilight, in contrast to בקר which means “differentiate”, in twilight things are hard to make out. The name for ערבי – Arab, is a mixture too. The pasuk in Bereishis says of Yishmael, their ancestor, that יָדוֹ בַכֹּל וְיַד כֹּל בו – his hand will be upon all, and everyone’s hand upon him (16:12). Today, we see this as terrorism. Terrorism has no borders – it is potentially everywhere, in a school, a mall, a bus, a train or a plane.

The Maharal shows how Rashi teaches us that כל ישראל ערבין – the nation is a unit, a brotherhood, a mixture accountable for one another – the pasuk assures us that we will stumble on our brother’s problems it if we do not help them, and therefore we must.

Why is there suffering in the world? More specifically, why does the Torah give the tochacha, the list of all the curses that will afflict the people if they do not keep the Torah properly?

In this world, we have a body and a soul. The Yetzer Hara – the evil inclination – exists in the soul, and the Yetzer Tov – the positive inclination – exists in the body. Ideally, אִם בְּחֻקֹּתַי תֵּלֵכוּ וְאֶת מִצְוֹתַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ – the soul transcends the physical of the world, and the person becomes separate from the world, different, holy.

However, אִם בְּחֻקֹּתַי תִּמְאָסוּ – if the body sins, it comes to the fore, and it supersedes the soul, to the point where soul is almost strangled, as it were. If the soul were to die, the body would be no different to that of animal – lead by sense and impulse.

Suffering is an emergency safety measure that kicks in to avoid this. It minimises the physicality the body partakes in. It prevents the body from getting addicted to what will eventually destroy the soul. In this way, suffering cleanses us.

This applies to all suffering, including the Holocaust.

The victims were martyrs. Whatever they were in life, they were קדושים, holy martyrs, in death. They died על קידוש ה. The Gemara in Sanhedrin explains that in dying על קידוש ה, the victim becomes a figurative and actual korban, a sacrifice. All suffering is smaller degree of this, all suffering is in some way a קרבן לה. The Bluzhever Rebbe used to tell people to get a bracha from a Holocaust survivor for the very same reason.

All suffering reduces the domination of body over soul, of matter over mind,

People usually suffer most in their old age, toward the end of their lives. This is when they are older, and thus free from the sins of their youth. Hashem postpones suffering in the elderly in order that the person may greet his Creator in the most pure and direct way.

Parshas Behar and Bechukosai frequently appear together – Behar teaches about the Torah at Sinai, and Bechukosai is the blessings and curses. R’ Yaakov Minkus explains that they are together because they both take us to Har Sinai – Torah and suffering both.

Suffering removes the framework the Yetzer Hara operates and thrives in. It brings a person closer to Sinai and Hashem by breaking the hold his body has over his soul, purifying and cleansing him.

Regarding Shemitta, the sabbatical year, the pasuk says : וַיְדַבֵּר יְ־הֹוָ־ה אֶל מֹשֶׁה בְּהַר סִינַי לֵאמֹר – (25:1)

Rashi explains that in the same way that Shemitta was taught in detail at Sinai, all other mitzvos were taught in the same way.

Shemitta is a key mitzva, much like Shabbos, which is a reference point for other mitzvos. Through the performance of key mitzvos, we find a gateway to the performance of all others. The Sfas Emes explains that Shemitta here is truly the reference point for all mitzvos, utilising the above Rashi.

The pasuk (25:2) says כִּי תָבֹאוּ אֶל הָאָרֶץ – When you come to the land. The Torah says this many times in Chumash – that is to say that when the Jews get to Eretz Yisrael, the reason the land is given is to fulfil God’s will.

The way the Jews have freedom in the the land is solely in this way – through marginalising themselves and their egos, by subjugating themselves to Hashem. In the case of Shemitta, the subjugation manifests itself that we are told to refrain from working the land. The reason this is so is that people become enslaved by their work – it consumes them, and it becomes them. These people do not and cannot stop. The Sfas Emes explains that this concept enables us to serve Hashem – from being released from all consuming work, we can devote our strength to the same extent to His service.

This is why we were sent to Egypt, and why we were released. There must be a burden in order for us to realise how much we can carry – one the burden is removed, we can carry our faith freely. The Sfas Emes compares this to our eternal struggle with the Yetzer Hara, and why it starts immediately. In the same way, Eretz Canaan had to have idolatry and immorality to the degree that it’s inhabitants had to be destroyed, in order for it to become Eretz Yisrael, containing the Beis HaMikdash. This concept manifests itself freely.

The point of Shemitta and Shabbos is to bear witness that Hashem sustains existence anew every day. We say every morning that Hashem is ברוך אומר ועושה – Hashem says, and Hashem does. The Sfas Emes explains that Hashem said, and created something from nothing – but Hashem also does, every day, now that Creation exists, maintains it. 

The Sfas Emes develops this further, and says that the same is true of mitzvos. Every mitzva we do should arouse and inspire us – every day. The life we get from a mitzva’s performance should be anew each time, and the same with Torah. The Sfas Emes teaches us that the preparation and freshness, of everything, only serves to enable what comes after.

There is a very basic question one can ask about Olam Haba – the World to Come. It is our reward for being Jews, and as such, central to Jewish life. But if it so important, why doesn’t the Torah mention or discuss it anywhere?

The Maharal explains that the question is flawed. To promise something that is not empirically true or provable is cheap, and moreover, useless. The Rosh says that הרוצה לשקר ירחיק עדותו – about one who wants to lie, distance his testimony. We could be promised 72 golden cows, or similar, but the promise is essentially worthless, in the same way that a pop-up or scratch card assure you have won a billion dollars.

Hashem doesn’t have a problem telling us to keep the Shemittah, the Sabbatical year. It comes with a guarantee that for the farmers who keep it faithfully, the sixth year will yield a triple harvest – וְצִוִּיתִי אֶת בִּרְכָתִי לָכֶם בַּשָּׁנָה הַשִּׁשִּׁית וְעָשָׂת אֶת הַתְּבוּאָה לִשְׁלֹשׁ הַשָּׁנִים – I will command My blessing for you in the sixth year, and it will yield produce for three years. (25:21). There are countless stories even in recent years of farmers who have miraculously experienced a triple yield in spite of difficulties, such as drought, crop failure or insects plaguing neighboring fields. This is the strength of Torah.

It is no weakness in Judaism to not discuss Olam Haba. It is the strength of Torah to tell us about what is relevant in our lives, which Olam Haba is not.

קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ כִּי קָדוֹשׁ אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם – You shall be holy, because I, the Lord, your God, am holy. (19:2)

The Midrash in Vayikra Rabba points out that Hashem did not say “Be קָדוֹשׁ, like I am קָדוֹשׁ”, but rather, “Be קָדוֹשׁ , because I am קָדוֹשׁ”. Hashem cannot tell us to be like Him, as Hashem’s קדושה is greater than ours.

Rav Shach quotes the Rambam which explains that we are instructed to perform the mitzva והלכת בדרכיו (Devarim 28:9) – to emulate Hashem’s ways. It would seem that since the pasuk said אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם , the instruction was to be קָדוֹשׁ specifically because we are meant to attempt to be more spiritually inclined, which is what the Midrash addresses.

Rav Shach then contrasts this with a later halacha, which clarifies the previous one. The Rambam states that a person who removes himself from day to day life, refrains from eating meat or drinking wine, and has limited contact with people, is still following the wrong path, and it is forbidden to behave in such a manner.

As such, even though we are meant to emulate Hashem’s ways, we are incapable of being separate from existence in the way Hashem is. As the Midrash said; “Hashem’s קדושה is greater than ours.” Our ability to be קָדוֹשׁ is confined to this world, and it is only through this world that we can attain קדושה . R Shach thus explains that our attempts at והלכת בדרכיו with regard to קדושה is only because Hashem is קָדוֹשׁ , but we are incapable of being like Hashem.

The Aruch HaShulchan wonders why the subsequent pasuk is juxtaposed to אִישׁ אִמּוֹ וְאָבִיו תִּירָאוּ וְאֶת שַׁבְּתֹתַי תִּשְׁמֹרוּ אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם – Every man shall fear his mother and his father, and you shall observe My Shabbosos – I am the Lord, your God. (19:3)

The Aruch HaShulchan explains that in the Ten Commandments, כבד את אביך and שמור את יום השבת were followed by כאשר צוה ה – As Hashem commanded. The reason this is so is that the people who gave you life, cared for you, and made you as a person, are logically deserving of respect. Equally, a day off of work makes a lot of sense too! A rested, happy, worker is more productive. The pasuk therefore stresses that we are not to perform these actions as logical decisions, but rather, kasher tziva hashem.

[It is worth noting that the first set of Luchos did not contain these last few words. The first set of Luchos were made entirely by Hashem (as opposed to hewn from actually rock by Moshe, like the second ones). It seems that Torah learned from the first set of Luchos would never be forgotten, and the people would become like angels. This is why Moshe did not forget the Torah, and why his face shone when he came down the first time at Har Sinai. The first set of Luchos was meant for people who would become like angels – there was no need to tell them כאשר צוה ה.]

This is why the pasuk also attached כאשר צוה ה – through doing these mitzvos purely because כאשר צוה ה, and אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם ,we become קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ. This can be a reference point to us for all mitzvos – when we want to become קָדוֹשׁ, it is not purely through spirituality that we can do so, echoing what Rav Shach taught. By “taking a day off”, and observing Shabbos Kodesh, we become קָדוֹשׁ. This further brings the words of the Midrash to life, that “Hashem’s קדושה is greater than ours” – precisely because our קדושה is to be found in the physical,

(זאת התורה לעולה למנחה לחטאת ולאשם וגו’     (צו ז:לז

“This is the law of the burnt-offering, the meal-offering, the sin-offering, and the guilt-offering;” (Parshas Tzav 7:37)

The Gemara (Menachos 110a) extrapolates from this pasuk that one who toils in the parsha of the Korban Olah is considered as if he has brought a Korban Olah. One who toils in the parsha of the Korban Chatas considered as if he has brought a Korban Chatas, etc.

Rabbeinu Bachayei writes: “The idea [behind this Gemara] is that a person should contemplate and recognize the explanation of the Parsha [which he is learning] and to what it alludes. As a consequence of this, he will fathom and understand wonders from the Torah of Korbanos which will result in increased efforts in performing Torah and Mitzvos, and atonement for his sin as if he brought korbanos. For one cannot say that the intent [of this Gemara] is that a person should simply read the words of the Parsha without understanding them.

Similar to this, Chazal say [Gemara Brachos 4a]: ‘Anyone who says Tehila L’David [Ashrei] every day is promised to be a Ben Olam Habah.’ The intent being that by contemplating and recognizing what the pasukim teach and to what they allude, one will recognize the wonders of Hakadosh Baruch Hu and strengthen his heart with emunah in Hashem and His service, with which he will merit Olam Habah.”

Our great leader and sage, Rabbeinu Bachayei, student of the holy Rashba, has set down for us a significantly important cornerstone in our faith. The dissemination of this point is a mitzva. The Jewish religion is not one of superstitions. Rather, the objective is fairly simple: by doing what Hashem wants of us, like keeping the Torah and doing Mitzvos, we find favor in Hashem’s eyes and merit Olam Habah. And if not, chas v’shalom…

In Judaism there are no tricks or shortcuts or anything of that sort. On the contrary, practicing “segulas” makes Judiasm appear primitive and childish. The only reason why shaking a palm branch on Succos does not appear as such is because Hashem told us to do it. Had He not, but had there been some “tradition” that doing so would make the “shaker” wealthy or bring rain, this would not prevent him (not to mention the religion) from looking very foolish. Even when Chazal make statements that imply a guaranteed positive result to one who does or says a certain thing, Rabbeinu Bachayei is explaining to us that Chazal’s intention was in recognizing and working on the meaning behind the act or the saying. Avodas Hashem is just that: serving Hashem; it involves a cognizant (thinking and knowing) relationship, not just habitual acts.

Although there are certain things which can help our avoda (like looking into a siddur when davening to improve concentration), they are not “segulas” in the classic sense, but rather experience-tested methods which are basically guaranteed. A wilder example would be what Rabbi Akiva Eiger writes in his glosses to Shulchan Aruch (Yorah Deah 336:1): “The Maharil said, ‘We are forbidden to attempt any of the medical advice that is mentioned in the Talmud since we are unable to fully understand them. They will not be effective, resulting in criticism and mockery of the words of our Sages. This is not including the advice mentioned in the Gemara Shabbos (67a), the one who has a bone stuck in his throat shall bring from the very same type, that is to say the same type of bone, and place it on his forehead and say, ‘Chad chad nachis bula bula nachis chad chad.’ This incantation is guaranteed, therefore only this one are we allowed to continue to practice, and not a single one more.’” This tool is not simply “hocus pocus,” but rather an example of the medical knowledge of Chazal which even we are not inadequate enough to botch.

The bottom line is – we need to drum it into ourselves that the only way to serve Hashem is with full awareness and cognizance (see Isaiah 29:13-14 regarding “lip-service” in Avodas Hashem). If we do our part and try, Hashem will help us continue in the right path (see Menachos 29b בא לטהר מסייעין אותו). May we merit serving Hashem b’emes.

The parsha begins, “Eleh pekudei hamishkan, mishkan haedus asher pukad al pi Moshe…”. The Medrash refers this pasuk to the pasuk in Mishlei (28:20) “Ish emunos rav brachos”. The Sfas Emes explains that the Ish emunos is Moshe Rabbeinu and what the Medrash is telling us is that although counting something is not a siman brocha when the counting is done by an Ish emunos then brocha will be bestowed on the counted subjects.

The Kli Yakar in the beginning of parshas ki sisa explains the idea behind why one should not count and why counting brings ayin raah. When one counts something he is in essence giving this object its own individual importance, thereby creating additional awareness of it in shamayim. This awakens the debate as to the rights of the object, and all the relevant zechuyos and chovos are judged.

The Sfas Emes this week expounds this idea and with it beautifully explains the Medrash. All the good bestowed upon this world comes from a single higher source and as you distance from the source the good is diminished. From this shoresh hayachid hashmeymi branches out big then smaller and smaller branches, and the smallest furthest branch profits the least from the goodness supplied by those roots. When somebody counts something the individuality and importance that he applies to it separates it further from the source as it now has its own new identity. It is a new branch of its own. Before it was counted it was a part of the bigger branch, closer to the roots. This is why counting usually brings less brocha.

In many places the Sfas Emes explains that the root of the word emunah means connecting the subject back to its real true source. With this the medrash becomes beautifully clear. The medrash is explaining the pasuk as follows. Why does the pasuk mention that the counting was done by Moshe? Read Full Dvar Torah →

The opening pasuk in Parshas Vayakhel reads:

וַיַּקְהֵל מֹשֶׁה אֶת כָּל עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה ה’ לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם’ – Moses gathered the whole community of the children of Israel to assemble, and he said to them: “These are the things that the Lord commanded to do” (35:1)

The Nesivos Shalom points out how this is the sole instance where וַיַּקְהֵל is the first act in an episode, not a speech or instruction. What is the significance of gathering everyone?

Furthermore, this episode occurred directly after the Golden Calf, as Rashi notes that Vayakhel occurred the morning after Yom Kippur, when Moshe returned with the second luchos. It is likely that his first public appearance upon his return would include a notable message to the people regarding the bridge between G-d’s wrath and appeasement. What was said or done that addressed their sin?

The Noam Elimelech explains that the duty to perform a mitzvah stems from the way in which it was given – to the entire nation. A corollary is that when a person sins, it stems from a desire to break apart from the nation, albeit momentarily. But a person who has sinned can still perform a mitzvah, by rejoining the people. The reason that the tzibbur, the collective, is safe is from the Yetzer Hara is simply that an individual does not stand out in a crowd.

Moshe argued that the Golden Calf should be attributed to rogue individuals, rather than the entire nation. As explained by the Noam Elimelech, what motivates sin, is a desire to act as an individual – as such, how could the nation be held accountable, regardless of how many had indeed sinned?

So Moshe pleaded on their collective behalf, and Hashem relented to Moshe’s prayers. On his return, the very first action he takes is וַיַּקְהֵל – he gathers the individuals into the collective tzibbur he had interceded on behalf of. Hashem’s wrath had been assuaged, and through וַיַּקְהֵל. This is what makes וַיַּקְהֵל unique – it is the introduction of the concept of כח הצבור – a team greater than the sum of its parts.

This has many parallels to the underlying concepts of all actions requiring a minyan.

Moshe told them laws Hashem transmitted לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם – “to make/do them” – but the instructions are about Shabbos; not to light fire, and not to work. How is not doing something called לַעֲשֹׂת – to do?

The Nesivos Shalom reads this back into the pasuk, that לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם isn’t discussing Shabbos at all. G-d’s command to Moshe was לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם – to make them, the Jews, into a collective – וַיַּקְהֵל.

This is why the two mitzvos instructed post-Eigel were to keep Shabbos and build a Mishkan – both are incumbent on the nation as a collective, incontrast to lulav, tefila, tzitzis. The Midrash in Bereishis Rabba says “שאמרה הק”בה לשבת – כנסת ישראל בן זבוגך” – Hashem said to Shabbos: “The כנסת ישראל is your pre-ordained”. כנסת ישראל is the Jewish national consciousness, a supersoul, a multitude that becomes a single unit.

The collective mitzva is the tikkun – the rectification – for the rash actions of the thousands of individuals.

The Mishkan rectified the sin of the Golden Calf in a similar vein, in that every individual was required to make donation – were several wealthy individuals to fund the entire Mishkan project on their own, the Mishkan would not have served it’s purpose. The construction bound the people together, and is quite reasonable to suggest that their donation purchased a small share in the Mishkan.

The following are other examples of this concept:

- We can develop this idea further, and attribute the collective/individual argument to the incident with the spies, that resulted in the 40 year wandering in the desert, and the whole generation dying out. The Torah in Parshas Shelach elaborates that all the spies were leaders of their respective tribes; indeed, they were the representatives of the people, and this is why they were sent. This could not be repaired, as apart from being the people’s representatives, the people were the ones who sent them, as it says: שְׁלַח לְךָ אֲנָשִׁים – send for yourself (13:2). The people could not be absolved of this.

- Furthermore, we can say the same of Korach. His Weltanschauung – his worldview – stemmed from the ideology that every individual had unlimited freedoms, and everyone could aspire to the same greatness – he said that “כולם קדושים” – that each individual alone could achieve this, and not that the nation itself was the source of the קדושה. His reasoning was that the nation was formed of individuals, and that nothing was to be gained from unity. Korach’s denial of the power of the tzibbur precluded Moshe’s prayers from helping him, and he was absorbed into the land.

- The same can be said of Purim, that Haman challenged the idea of Jews as a nation, and the solution in Esther 8:11 was לְהִקָּהֵל וְלַעֲמֹד עַל-נַפְשָׁם – to gather and stand for their lives. This is a direct parallel to the Eigel, wherein here too the people faltered and attended Achashverosh’s feast, which set the whole story into motion. Only through the tzibbur could they find redemption.

- The theme keeps recurring, with Pesach too. The Korban Pesach can only be eaten as part of a חבורה – a group. This was the mitzva through which the people were saved – they were at the lowest rung of the 49 levels of impurity, and this could only be remedied by the כח הצבור – and this unity carried them through Yetzias Mitzrayim, the Yam Suf, and Har Sinai, as Rashi quotes a famous Mechilta that says they encamped כאיש אחד בלב אחד – as if they were one man, with one heart, the perfect metaphor for perfect unity.

- We refer to Hashem as our father, but He is not physically our father, rather, He is conceptually our father. If we choose to be part of His people, then He is indeed our father, but if, Heaven forbid, one does not perceive himself to be part of the people, how can he lay claim to Hashem being his father? We say in the Amida every day: ברכנו אבינו כולנו כאחד באור פניך – the Nesivos Shalom explains that when we are כולנו כאחד, only then will we see ברכנו אבינו.

The pasuk says דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִקְחוּ לִי תְּרוּמָה מֵאֵת כָּל אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר יִדְּבֶנּוּ לִבּוֹ תִּקְחוּ אֶת תְּרוּמָתִי – Speak to the children of Israel, and have them take to Me an offering; from every person whose heart inspires him to generosity, you shall take My offering. (25:2)

The Midrash says that this pasuk is the same as the pasuk in Mishlei 4:2 כִּי לֶקַח טוֹב, נָתַתִּי לָכֶם; תּוֹרָתִי, אַל-תַּעֲזֹבוּ – For I gave you good teaching; forsake not My instruction.

The Midrash explains that this means that when we were given the Torah, Hashem was included as part of the deal, as it were. There is a parable here to which we can relate.

A powerful king had an only child, the princess. Read Full Dvar Torah →

Why does Parshas Mishpatim begin with the laws of an עֶבֶד עִבְרִי – a Hebrew servant? What is the significance of this topic that marks it out as the first of the laws after receiving the Torah?

The Gemara in Bava Metzia 10a introduces a key concept to Jewish law; that a hired worker can stop in the middle of the job for whatever reason he chooses, so long as he compensates the lost labour, ensures a replacement etc. He cannot be made to work. This is in contrast to an עֶבֶד  who is a slave, and is bound to his work.

The psukim say: כִּי תִקְנֶה עֶבֶד עִבְרִי שֵׁשׁ שָׁנִים יַעֲבֹד וּבַשְּׁבִעִת יֵצֵא לַחָפְשִׁי חִנָּם - Should you buy a Hebrew servant, he shall work [for] six years, and in the seventh [year], he shall go out to freedom without charge. (21:2)

וְאִם אָמֹר יֹאמַר הָעֶבֶד אָהַבְתִּי אֶת אֲדֹנִי אֶת אִשְׁתִּי וְאֶת בָּנָי לֹא אֵצֵא חָפְשִׁי – But if the slave says, “I love my master, my wife, and my children. I will not go free,” (2:5)

וְהִגִּישׁוֹ אֲדֹנָיו אֶל הָאֱ־לֹהִים וְהִגִּישׁוֹ אֶל הַדֶּלֶת אוֹ אֶל הַמְּזוּזָה וְרָצַע אֲדֹנָיו אֶת אָזְנוֹ בַּמַּרְצֵעַ וַעֲבָדוֹ לְעֹלָם – his master shall bring him to the judges, and he shall bring him to the door or to the doorpost, and his master shall pierce his ear with an awl, and he shall serve him forever. (2:6)

There is a basic rule in the Gemara that the term “עֶבֶד” alone demarks a Canaanite, a slave, which is a permanent service, whereas an עֶבֶד עִבְרִי is a temporary status, which is why it must be specified.  My rebbi pointed out to me that when he begins his service (21:2), he is an עֶבֶד עִבְרִי whereas after the allotted time has passed at which he is meant to go free, should he remain to say, he has become an עֶבֶד – a slave, with no עִבְרִי – the Jew has become a Canaanite slave. Although this is not halachically accurate, this is certainly hashkafically accurate.

But what has he done that is so reprehensible, that he is pierced, a form of branding of property? Read Full Dvar Torah →

א: וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם

1. And these are the ordinances that you shall set before them (21:1)

The Yalkut Shemoni in the beginning of this week’s Parsha quotes Rav Alechsandri who gives a parable for this week’s Parsha. Two men, who hate each other, are leading their donkeys who are carrying large loads, along the way. One donkey stops walking, and crouches down, (for its load was too heavy) while the other (man and donkey) passes him by. The one who passes says, ”It’s written in the Torah (23:5), ‘Perhaps you will see the donkey of someone you hate lying under its burden, will you refrain from helping him?’ Immediately, the man returns and helps his brother unload his donkey. The man who is being helped thinks to himself how a moment ago they hated each other and now he is helping him! It must be that they aren’t really enemies at all! They then make peace with each other and all hatred is lost.

This is the meaning to ‘And these are the judgments’. Hashem knows what is moral and ethical, and what it takes to make this world a better place. We just have to do and learn His mitzvos and the rest will fall into place on its own.

There are a lot of different mitzvos in this week’s Parsha, so choosing one was very difficult, but here goes.

‘When you will lend money to my people, to the poor person who is with you, do not act towards him as a creditor; do not place interest upon him. If you will take your fellow’s garment as security, until the sun sets you shall have returned it to him. For it alone is his covering, it is his garment for his skin; in what will he lie down? So it will be that if he cries out to me, I shall listen, for I am compassionate’. (22:24-26)

Here the Torah teaches us three mitzvos. To lend money to poor people, not to act as a creditor when you know he has nothing to pay you with, and not to lend money with interest. The Kli Yakar points out that we refer to this pauper with three different names. In the beginning we call him in the name of ‘my people’, then we call him ‘the poor person who is with you’, then lastly we say ‘your fellow’s garment’. Why do we change his name and not just refer his to the poor person the entire time? Answers the Kli Yakar that the Torah was telling us three reasons why we are required to lend money to a poor person.

1.  Since he is part of ‘my people’, that is Hashem’s people. Hashem is the King and whoever gives money and food to the King’s men has a guarantee that the King will pay him back. Thus the Pasuk, ‘Malveh Hashem Chonain Dal’, that he who gives to poor people is considered as if he lent to Hashem.

2. The Gemara relates how Turnus Rufus asked R’ Akiva that if Hashem loves us so much why does our nation have poor people? R’ Akiva answered that it’s so that we can give Tzedakah which will save us from the Din of Gehinnom (hell) (See Gemara Bava Basra 10a for the rest of the discussion). If Tzedakah is so powerful that it could even save a person from the Din of Gehinnom then we see that the poor person does a lot more than the giver. The giver gives money (i.e. Olam Hazeh – this world) for only a small part of this poor person’s life, whereas the poor person gives this giver Olam Haba – the world to come – which is an immeasurable reward. Therefore the Torah’s second lashon of this pauper was, ‘to the poor person with you’. Why was this person poor? So that you could give Tzedakah and go to Olam Haba. Thus he is ‘with you’, meaning this poor person is here for your merit.

The Kli Yakar says that with these two reasons, we can now understand the next two mitzvos in the Torah.

Why should one not act like a creditor towards the pauper? We use reason number one, that since a person should be secure that Hashem is going to pay him back for that which he lent, he must then not act like a creditor thus proving he doesn’t believe Hashem is going to end up paying him back.

Why can a person not take interest for his loans? We use reason number two, that the poor person already gave him a pass through the Din of Gehinnom and now this person wants to make even more money from his loan? He is poor to help you become righteous, and you want to take advantage of him by making more money?

3. If we are dealing with a person who lacks faith that Hashem will pay him back and will therefore ask for a collateral, the end result that he will be will be borrowing his ‘fellow’s garment’. Meaning that he will be this poor man’s ‘friend’ in poverty. So what does Hashem say to this person? ‘If you stray off the straight path you can always come back.’ Give the man back his cloak before ‘the sun sets’.

There is a valuable lesson to be learned from the Mitzvos commanded in this week’s Parsha.

The Mishna in Pirkei Avos says: אם אין תורה, אין דרך ארץ; אם אין דרך ארץ, אין תורה – without Derech Eretz there can be no Torah, and without Torah there can be no Derech Eretz.

Rabbeinu Yonah explains that the first time there is a reference to Derech Eretz it means the basic and essential practices that anyone must be in possession of in order to learn Torah. This is the meaning that most people recognize today.

But the second time Derech Eretz is referenced it means a new kind of Derech Eretz. One that is rooted and sourced in Torah alone, about which we say “without Torah there is no Derech Eretz”.

What is the Derech Eretz of Torah? R’ Elya Lopian brings two example from our Parsha:

Within the laws regarding an עבד עברי – a Jewish servant – there is an obligation on the master’s part to address all the servant’s needs in the same regard that he would address his own needs. This is exemplified in a classic case: if there were only one mattress in a household, the servant would take precedence over the master. This is what the גמרא  in Kiddushin means when it says ‘קנה לו עבד עברי קנה אדון לעצמו’ – ‘one who acquires a servant has acquired a master over himself’.

With regard to ourselves, if one were to enter a house and saw two people sleeping, one on a mattress and one the floor, a sensible person would surely understand that the person asleep on the mattress is the master and the person sleeping on the cold, hard floor is the servant.

The Torah teaches us that this is not so, that the reverse is true. The master is obligated to give his sole mattress to the servant. It must be pointed out who exactly an עבד עברי is. This is a degenerate man who has brought himself into the situation he is in, he has robbed and stolen, and being unable to return his ill-gotten gains, has had sell himself to pay back his debts. For this man we are obligated to give up our beds.

R’ Elya Lopian explains that such Derech Eretz is uniquely a Torah sourced Derech Eretz. No other wisdom would generate such ethics for such a man.

The second example is:

ח:  אִם רָעָה בְּעֵינֵי אֲדֹנֶיהָ אֲשֶׁר [לא] לוֹ יְעָדָהּ וְהֶפְדָּהּ לְעַם נָכְרִי לֹא יִמְשֹׁל לְמָכְרָהּ בְּבִגְדוֹ בָהּ

ט: וְאִם לִבְנוֹ יִיעָדֶנָּה כְּמִשְׁפַּט הַבָּנוֹת יַעֲשֶׂה לָּהּ

8. If she is displeasing to her master, who did not designate her [for himself], then he shall enable her to be redeemed; he shall not rule over her to sell her to another person, when he betrays her. 9. And if he designates her for his son, he shall deal with her according to the law of the daughters [of Israel]. (21:8-9)

Rashi explains that it not only instructs the master to marry her, or let his sons marry her, but its actually a commandment – a mitzvah.

אשר לא יעדה: שהיה לו ליעדה ולהכניסה לו לאשה, וכסף קנייתה הוא כסף קידושיה. כאן רמז לך הכתוב שמצוה ביעוד ורמז לך שאינה צריכה קדושין אחרים

Who had not designated her as his wife: that he should have designated her and should have married her. The money used for her purchase serves as the “money” for executing the marriage. Here the Torah implies that it is a mitzvah for him to marry her. It [also] indicates to you that she requires no other marriage ritual.

The Jewish maidservant refers to the daughter of a man who has sunk from depth to new depth, and ended up in the terrible situation of having to sell his daughter as a maidservant as he can not afford to support her or whatever the reason. Specifically regarding this מיוחסת – “girl of such “noble” descent” – does the Torah instruct the man, who may really be of noble descent, to marry this girl or allow his sons to?

To what degree are we instructed to do so?

R’ Elya Lopian explains further: This girls’ world has been destroyed, and she is in turmoil and despair. She has been sold into slavery by her own father, and has no hope of finding the man she is to marry the way other Jewish girls would do. Therefore the Torah worries for her despair, and so obligates the master to rescue her from the danger that she has for the rest of her days, and marry her.

No cultural or academic pursuits would point one in these directions and draw these conclusions. You won’t find similar ethics elsewhere, only Hashem’s Torah could produce them. This is the “Derech Eretz of Torah”.

As the newly liberated Jews flee Egypt, their former captors gave chase:

וּפַרְעֹה הִקְרִיב וַיִּשְׂאוּ בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת עֵינֵיהֶם וְהִנֵּה מִצְרַיִם נֹסֵעַ אַחֲרֵיהֶם וַיִּירְאוּ מְאֹד וַיִּצְעֲקוּ בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל ה – Pharaoh drew near, and the children of Israel raised their eyes, and Egyptians were pursuing them. They were terrified, and they cried out to the Lord. (14:10)

Although the Torah clearly intends to mean that he drew near i.e. that he and his army approached, it doesn’t actually say that at all. It says הקריב – a word used for sacrifices, meaning “he brought near”. The Medrash says that Pharaoh was indeed מקריב – what he “brought near” was the Jews, closer to Hashem.

Why does the Torah attribute such credit Pharoah and what is it he did which deserved such high recognition?

There is a Midrash that teaches that prior to the Jews leaving Egypt, there was a debate in Heaven as to whether they should be allowed to leave. The prosecution and defense, the Kategor and Sanegor, would keep going in circles; “The Egyptians worship idols,” was countered with “So do the Jews!” – no redeeming quality could be found in the Jews favour.

The decisive factor in allowing their departure to occur was the faith placed in Hashem through deciding to follow Moshe.

Egypt recognised that their departure would be a massive loss and pursued them. Suddenly, the Jews faith evaporated:

וַיֹּאמְרוּ אֶל מֹשֶׁה הַמִבְּלִי אֵין קְבָרִים בְּמִצְרַיִם לְקַחְתָּנוּ לָמוּת בַּמִּדְבָּר מַה זֹּאת עָשִׂיתָ לָּנוּ לְהוֹצִיאָנוּ מִמִּצְרָיִם – They said to Moshe, “Were there no graves in Egypt that you have taken us to die in the desert? What have you have done by taking us out of Egypt!?” (14:11)

Their attachment to Moshe was severed, their faith gone. They cried out to Hashem but didn’t mean it – the entire episode demonstrates a lack of belief in God’s providence.

Moshe prays for assistance, and Hashem replies: מַה תִּצְעַק אֵלָי – What are you crying out to me for? Now is a time for action! This is וּפַרְעֹה הִקְרִיב – Pharaoh brought the Jews close to Hashem; but to the exclusion of Moshe from the equation. It is no praise at all.

So Hashem responds:

וַיֹּאמֶר ה אֶל מֹשֶׁה מַה תִּצְעַק אֵלָי דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִסָּעוּ – The Lord said to Moshe, “Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the children of Israel and tell them to go!”. (14:15)

Their salvation was not going to be based on Moshe’s prayers, or theirs, as that wasn’t the problem.

Moshe’s authority had to be re-established, so Hashem gave him the solution: דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִסָּעו – their salvation would be as it was on leaving Egypt – through displaying faith their leader.

As the Pasuk says upon their entering the Red Sea: וַיַּאֲמִינוּ בַּה’ וּבְמֹשֶׁה עַבְדּוֹ – They believed in Hashem and His servant Moshe. (14:31).

The Ksav Sofer at the Hesped of his sister told the following story:

Beruriya (wife of the Tanna R’ Meir) had two children whom their father R’ Meir loved very much. One day when R’ Meir was in the Bais Medrash both the children passed away and Beruriya placed them on their beds and covered them with a sheet. When R’ Meir came home from his studies he asked his wife where his children were. Afraid that the news of the passing of his two beloved children would cause too great a harm to her husband, Beruriya told him that they were probably out the house.

While feeding her husband supper she asked, ‘Rebbe, I have a question.’ R’ Meir indicated that she proceed. She went ahead and asked, ‘If someone gave me a deposit to keep safe, when the time is done do I have to give it back to the rightful owner’? Answered R’ Meir, ‘of course you do!’.

Beruriya then got up, took her husband’s hand, brought him to the room and showed him his two sons. R’ Meir fell on the floor and started crying excessively. Beruriya then said to R’ Meir, ‘My husband, did I not just ask you what to do with a deposit and you answered me that I must give it back to the owner? So too Hashem gave us our children, but when he wants them back we have to give them’. With the words of his Aishess Chayil (woman of valour) , R’ Meir was comforted.

The Ksav Sofer explains that R’ Meir was afraid that his children died early because of his sins and if not for him his children would still be alive. Beruriya needed to comfort R’ Meir and let him know that it wasn’t because of his sins rather simply that their time in this world was done and they accomplished whatever it was they needed to accomplish.

The Ksav Sofer finishes off saying that one must realize that when anything bad happens to an individual it is really still within the Chasdei Hashem (G-d’s kindness). According to our sins we may well deserve much worse, but G-d with his compassion lightens the burden and only gives us a small amount of punishment based on what we can handle.

The Midrash in this weeks Parsha writes that if not for the 22 years of Yosef being in exile, (which caused everyone to have a massive Tikun [rectification] because, as a result, Yosef passed the greatest of tests, and all the brothers did Teshuva.) Yaakov would have been brought down to Egypt in chains and the exile would have started then. But, since Yosef was in Egypt and became King, it led to Yaakov being brought down through his own choice, and the exile of Egypt was able to be delayed.

After Yaakov came to Egypt he clearly saw that the pain and suffering that he had had for 22 years was truthfully the Chasdei Hashem, and that everything had worked out for the best. Ultimately, Hashem knows what’s best for us, it’s up to us to believe in Him.

 ב. וְהָיָה אִם בִּן הַכּוֹת הָרָשָׁע וְהִפִּילוֹ הַשֹּׁפֵט וְהִכָּהוּ לְפָנָיו כְּדֵי רִשְׁעָתוֹ בְּמִסְפָּר . 

‘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.’

ג. אַרְבָּעִים יַכֶּנּוּ לֹא יֹסִיף פֶּן יֹסִיף לְהַכֹּתוֹ עַל אֵלֶּה מַכָּה רַבָּה וְנִקְלָה אָחִיךָ לְעֵינֶיךָ

‘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.’ 

This is the famous parsha of malkos (flogging or lashes).

The  Gemara in Makkos 22a asks “How many times do we flog the receiver? – Because the passuk writes, “be’mispar arboim” (in the number 40) and so we understand that  the number must be close to 40 – therefore we give him 39 strokes.  However, R’Yehuda follows the line of the pasuk and says that he receives 40 strokes for a complete flogging.
When the Chiddushei Ha’rim was young, a man asked him the following question: Is there a chance that one day a person will receive the same amount of lashes according to both R’Yehuda and the Chachomim ?

 The young bochur gave a brilliant answer: A Shliach Beis Din  (someone who works for the Beis Din and carries out the punishments)  transgressed 39 issurim in the Torah and therefore deserved 39 floggings. However, before receiving his punishments, he was still doing his job in Beis Din and was flogging someone else. He gave the person 40 strokes. Now, according to R’Yehuda, who says that a person receives 39 strokes, this Shliach Beis Din has given too many, therefore he has transgressed the issur of  “Lo Yosif Le’hakoso”(in passuk 3), and he now must receive a further set on top of the 39 he deserves already. So, altogether, he is obligated to receive 40 sets of 39 strokes.

According to the Chachomim, who says that a person receives 40 strokes, this Shliach Beis Din has not given too many, and therefore, he is obligated to receive his original 39 floggings, each consisting of 40 strokes. When calculated it works out that 39 floggings times 40 strokes = 40 floggings times 39 strokes; so according to both R’Yehuda and the Chachomim, he receives the same amount.

 Upon hearing this answer, the man was so impressed with the sheer genius of the young man that he took the Chiddushei Harim to be his son-in-law.

On that note – Good Shabbos! 

י. כִּי תֵצֵא לַמִּלְחָמָה עַל אֹיְבֶיךָ וּנְתָנוֹ יְ־הֹוָ־ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּיָדֶךָ וְשָׁבִיתָ שִׁבְיוֹ

10. If you go out to war against your enemies, and the Lord, your God, will deliver him into your hands, and you take his captives
יא. וְרָאִיתָ בַּשִּׁבְיָה אֵשֶׁת יְפַת תֹּאַר וְחָשַׁקְתָּ בָהּ וְלָקַחְתָּ לְךָ לְאִשָּׁה:
11. and you see among the captives a beautiful woman and you desire her, you may take [her] for yourself as a wife. Rashi says:

 יאולקחת לך לאשה: לא דברה תורה אלא כנגד יצר הרע. שאם אין הקב”ה מתירה ישאנה באיסור. אבל אם נשאה, סופו להיות שונאה, שנאמר אחריו (פסוק טו) כי תהיין לאיש וגו’ וסופו להוליד ממנה בן סורר ומורה, לכך נסמכו פרשיות הללו -

You may take [her] for yourself as a wife: [Not that you are commanded to take this woman as a wife,] but Scripture [in permitting this marriage] is speaking only against the evil inclination [, which drives him to desire her]. For if the Holy One, blessed is He, would not permit her to him, he would take her illicitly. [The Torah teaches us, however, that] if he marries her, he will ultimately come to despise her, as it says after this,“If a man has [two wives-one beloved and the other despised]” he will ultimately father through her a wayward and rebellious son. For this reason, these passages are juxtaposed.]

The Rambam says that the pasuk’s instruction of ‘yefas to’ar‘ is a mitzva. Not just a heter (permit), Even if it is in a voluntary way ie and not milchemes mitzva.

We have two questions on the above pesukim:

Q1. The Gemara in Pesachim says ‘shluchei mitzva einam nezokin‘ – ‘people on the way to perform a mitzva are not harmed.’ So, how do we reconcile this gemara with the fact that according to the Ramban he is doing a mitzva, yet according to Rashi he will suffer  because he will hate her and that any child from this relationship is destined to become a בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה?

Q2. ‘לא דברה תורה אלא כנגד יצר הרע’ If it is indeed a mitzva like the ramban said, how is it connected to the yetzer hara? We know that mitzvos are for the side of the יצר טוב!

There are two answers that work together to answer the questions.

Firstly, the torah is guiding us even בשעת הירידה. It says that in a time when we are about to stumble, Hashem doesn’t leave us out in the proverbial cold – ‘we are permitted to take her for a wife.’ Note that it does not say ‘marry,’ and after 30 days of having her in the house, with a shaved head, unkempt, mourning and in sack cloth, the man will in theory realise who exactly he has in his house and will send her home after 30 days.

Secondly, כנגד יצר is in the here and now.  We have explained before that the יצר הרע is identified as impulsive and  so the torah permits this indiscretion, on the proviso that he gets rid of her after 30 days. If he marries her after the 30 days the יפת תואר‘s ‘loophole’ has expired, and he is, in fact, committing a sin and as a result, as mentioned above, he will have a ‘rebellious son.’

This dual concept is referred to in Rashi’s explanation – “אם נשאה, סופו להיות שונאה” – in the 30 days he is doing a mitzva, he is indeed not harmed – but after 30 days he is not a שליח מצוה. Hashem is both helping us and testing us and then telling us the consequences of failing the test.

רְאֵה אָנכִי נתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה - Behold, I am giving before you today a blessing and a curse. (11:26)

Q1. Why does the posuk start singular (רְאֵה) and turn plural (לִפְנֵיכֶם)?

Q2. Why does posuk say אָנכִי - ‘I’. Who else would be speaking?

Q3. Why does it say נתֵן - ‘giving’, should say נתתֵיֵ - ‘I have given’?

Q4. Why does it say לִפְנֵיכֶם - ‘before you’, and not לכֶםִ - ‘to you’?

Q5. What is the word הַיּוֹם, today, doing in the posuk?

The Gra explains that this posuk refers to a person trying to do teshuva and repent for past actions, all the while being tormented by his yetzer hara. The yetzer hara is that niggling doubt at the back of your head when doing something. It tells you ‘How can you fix that? You’ve done it for so long, its natural, you’re used to it! How are you possibly going to choose the correct path and to teshuva?’ Hashem assures us that נתן, He is ‘giving’ us the choice so that whenever we decide to repent, Hashem is right there offering you the opportunity. Effectively, it’s never too late.

Another tactic our yetzer hara uses to scare us off doing teshuva is to remind you of all your past misdeeds and flaunts them, taunting ‘Look what you’ve done! Look how much you’ve done! What hope do you have?’ So Hashem tells us that once you do teshuva it will change – הַיּוֹם - ‘today’. A Baal Teshuva is like a newborn child, everything in the past is gone, and all that he is being accounted for is the present, the ‘today’.

After being accustomed to the yetzer hara, a man will say ‘But how can I change and not sin any more? It is beyond my ability to battle and beat the yetzer hara, hence I am forced to listen to it blindly’ Hashem tells us, אָנכִי - ‘I’ am giving you the opportunity to conquer your yetzer hara. In essence Hashem is saying ‘I am with you; you need not be afraid of anyone or anything else.’ And this parallels what Chazal say:Yitzro Shel Adam Misgaber Alav Bechol Yom Veilmalai Hakadosh Baruch Hu Ozer Lo, Aino Yuchal Lo – “The evil inclination of a man strengthens himself upon a man each day and desires to destroy him, and if G-d wouldn’t help him he would not be able to defeat him”

A further dilemma one may have is with regard to choice: ‘Perhaps the yetzer tov isn’t so good, so why follow the unknown?’ The posuk tells us, אָנכִי נתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם, Hashem wont help us make the choice, it is up to us to exercise our בחירה – (free will). The way to distinguish between the yetzer hara from yetzer tov is to act as a businessman with a large stock of commodities to sell. Will he take the first offer that comes his way? or will he survey the market, get quotes, and deliberate what price to sell at and which clients to sell to? An impulsive action will be detrimental in his case and ours too. If we wait a few days and on review, we still think something is a good idea, then it’s a positive sign that this is the yetzer tov’s instruction.

The final and most frequent dilemma a person seeking to do teshuva faces is ‘How can I break the trend on my own? I look around and everyone around me does as they please, is it possible for me to swim against the current?’ The posuk tells us ‘רְאֵה‘, in the singular. You judge yourself on an individual level with the framework I (Hashem) have given you alone, and don’t make a cheshbon for everyone else.

When Moshe recounts to the people in his repetition of the Torah, he tells them how each Jew is important:

וְהָיָה עֵקֶב תִּשְׁמְעוּן אֵת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים הָאֵלֶּה וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם וְשָׁמַר ה’ אֱלֹ-ךָ לְךָ אֶת הַבְּרִית וְאֶת הַחֶסֶד אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ – It will be because you heed these ordinances, keep and perform them, that the Lord your God will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers. (7:12)

Moshe addresses the audience but changes from תִּשְׁמְעוּן, the plural, to לְךָ, the singular. Why?

There is a famous story in Gemara Shabbos. A non-Jew approached Shamai and offered to convert if Shamai would teach him all of Torah while he was standing on one leg. Interpreting the gentile’s words as mockery, Shamai threw a piece of rubble from a building at him. He approached Hillel and put forward the same request. Hillel said, “Love your neighbor as yourself. The rest is commentary, go study.”

What was the premise of the man’s request? Clearly, the request to learn Torah on one leg is absurd, let alone to ask it of the greatest rabbis of the era. Hillel’s response is curious too. How does his answer incorporate mitzvos such as Shabbos, tefillin, bris mila, mezuzah etc.?

It is said in the name of the Arizal that every Jew must perform every single one of the 613 mitzvos, or their soul returns in another form, a gilgul, to complete what is missing. But it is impossible to accomplish all 613 mitzvos; many are mutually exclusive. Some are specific to gender, age, caste eg Kohanim and Leviim, kings, during the time of the Temple etc. Does this mean that everyone comes back as a gilgul many, many times so that they could fulfill each and every mitzva in the Torah?

This was precisely what the gentile was asking – teach me Torah on one רגל – in one lifetime, with no gilgul. רגל can mean “time” as seen when Bilam strikes his donkey: וַיִּפְתַּח ה’ אֶת פִּי הָאָתוֹן וַתֹּאמֶר לְבִלְעָם מֶה עָשִׂיתִי לְךָ כִּי הִכִּיתַנִי זֶה שָׁלֹשׁ רְגָלִים: The Lord opened the mouth of the donkey, and it said to Bilam, “What have I done to you that you have struck me these three times?” (22:28) Alternatively, Kabbalistic interpretation aside, he simply wanted to perform all mitzvos, resulting in the same difficulty that an individual cannot possibly do so. Shamai beat him with construction material. This alludes to a building, that has many floors. Without multiple components, it’s not a building. Torah has many levels, and many mitzvos. Without them all, the soul is incomplete.

Shamai was telling the gentile that the Torah cannot be actualised in a single lifetime; it is paradoxically impossible to fulfill each and every mitzva.Hillel proposed an answer through unity. His directive of וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ meant that once unity was achieved, the rest of the Torah would follow. The benchmark of unity is כאיש אחד בלב אחד – one man with one heart. It is not a man’s that have shoes, but the man. Similarly, of one Jew performs a mitzva, the entire nation tap into the mitzva. With three simple words, Hillel explained to the gentile how to perform Torah directives.

Back to Moshe’s speech, he says וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם וַעֲשִׂיתֶם – keep and perform them in the plural form, which is said to the entire nation. But nonetheless, in spite of the inability of being able to actually do them all, וְשָׁמַר ה’ אֱלֹ-ךָ, Hashem will protect you – the individual. That is, each person should keep what they are able, and will be rewarded as such. This explains why it was necessary to be united at Sinai; without unity, there would be no point in receiving a Torah that could not be fulfilled. R Yitzchak Lande points out that the Torah switches from plural to singular many times, because although there is a communal responsibility, this doesn’t assuage the individual’s duty to pitch in – even if the job is done!

Everyone has to pull their weight – Jewish unity will ensure each individual gets included in what they can’t manage.

Adapted from a shiur by R’ Shlomo Farhi

The Gemara relates a story about a gentleman called Nachum. He was a man who had a a difficult life, but whenever something bad happened, he would say “Gam Zu L’Tovah – this also is for the good”, and this is what he later became known as – Nachum Ish Gam Zu. But why does the Gemara call him Nachum Ish Gam Zu, literally, “Nachum Also”? He was famous for saying “Gam Zu L’Tovah” yet he is not called “Nachum Ish Gam Zu L’Tovah”! One would think that “L’Tovah” would be the key part of what he is remembered as, as opposed to the seemingly extraneous ‘also’.

To understand the answer, we must be aware that there is a fundamental misunderstanding with regard to what he did, and consequently what he is remembered for until today. He wouldn’t pass a car crash and point and say it was “l’Tova” – one cannot label an inherently bad thing as “good”. “Good” is clearly not an applicable adjective. The depth behind his words is as follows: What he did was recognise the masterplan of Hashem, and the web in which events in our lives unfold. He attempted to see the bigger picture, the greater good which is hidden from our direct sight. That web, that bigger picture, is l’tova. Parts of it may not be, or may not obviously be but in recognising that bad events are part of a good web, we should be able to say  ”Gam Zu L’Tovah!” So in fact ‘Gam Zu’ – his ability to see that this is “also (one more event)” is the key part of what Nachum said – it is the mechanism by which he could label bad as “also” being good. Not just “L’Tovah”.

It take a great inner strength to truly be able to say, in the face of a bad event ‘this too shall pass’ and to really believe in the bigger picture and the greater good. But by working on that strength, we will be able to get to the stage where we can say, as Nachum did, Gam Zu L’Tovah – This too is for the good. The word ‘also’ is the very mechanism that allowed him (and resultantly us) to state something was ‘L’Tovah’.

Matos, 31:14 says, וַיִּקְצֹף מֹשֶׁה עַל פְּקוּדֵי הֶחָיִל שָׂרֵי הָאֲלָפִים וְשָׂרֵי הַמֵּאוֹת הַבָּאִים מִצְּבָא הַמִּלְחָמָה: Moshe became angry with the officers of the army, the commanders of thousands and the commanders of hundreds, who had returned from war. The following verse continues, וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵיהֶם מֹשֶׁה הַחִיִּיתֶם כָּל נְקֵבָה: Moshe said to them, “Did you allow all the females to live?

From the first verse, we know that Moshe is angry and it is therefore logical for us to assume that he would be the one speaking the the next verse? Why specify that it was Moshe who spoke?

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin tells us that if one is angry, he should refrain from speaking until the anger settles. The long pause between vayiktzof and vayomer indicate a different/new person (as it were) due to break.

Rav Elya Lopian would never punish a talmid (student) at the time of an incident. He once waited two weeks to deal with a particular incident.

The Alter of Kelm had an “angry suit” that he would change into each time he was angry, delaying reaction and allowing himself to calm down

The Peleh Yoietz tells us that keeping quiet when angry is like pouring water on the base of a fire. It extinguishes the flame at its source.

Rav Yechiel Meir of Zlotchov had special tefillin (phylacteries) from his father. People wanted to buy these special tefillin from him, and bid huge amounts of money to have the the merit of possessing them. One Succos there were no esrogim (citrus fruit used as one of the four kinds) to be found in their town. After searching desperately, he heard that a man in another town had a spare esrog. He sold his tefillin and bought the esrog. When he returned home and told his wife what had happened, she became furious and as a result, she broke the esrog. Rav Yechiel Meir stayed calm. When asked how he was able to stay calm, he replied, “I lost my tefillin and I lost my esrog; I will not lose my shalom bayis (marital harmony) as well.” That night, his father appeared to him in a dream and told him that in shomayim (the heavenly spheres), his shalom bayis was worth much, much more than the tefillin or the esrog.

A childless couple once came to Rav Chaim Kanievsky begging for a brocha (blessing) for children. They had been childless for many years and there was no other solution except Divine Intervention. Rav Chaim told them that he couldn’t bless them. Devastated, they asked what else they could do. Rav Chaim told them to get a brocha from someone who had been publicly embarrassed and did not respond. Many months passed and they were still not successful in tracking such a person down. Two years later they attended a wedding. At the wedding, the host started shouting at a guest invited by other side, in middle of the crowded hall. Seeing their chance, the couple ran over to the person being shamed and begged him to keep quiet. When things calmed down, the couple broke down in tears and begged the shamed person to bless them with children. Nine months later, twenty four years after their marriage, this couple was blessed with a child.

Controlling ones temper is an extremely crucial tool that is a life-long struggle for most. Still, one must never give up; each time he succeedes in controlling his temper and holds back from retorting, it makes it easier for him the next time around, not to mention the mountain of reward he will reap, both in this world and the next.

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Pinchas 25:11, פִּינְחָס בֶּן אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן אַהֲרֹן הַכֹּהֵן הֵשִׁיב אֶת חֲמָתִי מֵעַל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּקַנְאוֹ אֶת קִנְאָתִי בְּתוֹכָם וְלֹא כִלִּיתִי אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּקִנְאָתִי: Pinchas the son of Elazar the son of Aaron the kohen has turned My anger away from the children of Israel by his zealously avenging Me among them, so that I did not destroy the children of Israel because of My zeal.

Rashi comments, פינחס בן אלעזר בן אהרן הכהן: לפי שהיו השבטים מבזים אותו, הראיתם בן פוטי זה שפיטם אבי אמו עגלים לעבודה זרה והרג נשיא שבט מישראל, לפיכך בא הכתוב ויחסו אחר אהרן: Pinchas the son of Elazar the son of Aaron the kohen: Since the tribes were disparaging him, saying, Have you seen the son of Puti, whose mother’s father [Jethro] fattened (פִּטֵּם) calves for idols (See Rashi, Exod. 6:25), and who killed a chieftain of an Israelite tribe? For this reason, Scripture traces his pedigree to Aaron.

Rav Yonasan Eibshutz raises a question on this Rashi. Why were they making fun of him? Weren’t they aware that Zimri was, in fact, chayav misah (deserving of death)?

He answers that they accepted that Zimri was chayav misah, but the reason they had not gone ahead and killed him themselves, was because they said, “If a great man kills him, then there’s no kiddush Hashem (sactification of God’s name); we’re great and you’re not, so we let you kill him”. The Torah disagrees with them and tells us that he actually was great. The Torah goes on to say that they were just using it as an excuse and after 120, they will have nothing to say.

Yirmiyahu 1:6, 1:7 states, וָאֹמַר אֲהָהּ ה’ הִנֵּה לֹא-יָדַעְתִּי דַּבֵּר כִּי-נַעַר אָנֹכִי: And I said, “Alas, O Lord God! Behold, I know not to speak for I am a youth. וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֵלַי אַל-תֹּאמַר נַעַר אָנֹכִי  כִּי עַל-כָּל-אֲשֶׁר אֶשְׁלָחֲךָ תֵּלֵךְ וְאֵת כָּל-אֲשֶׁר אֲצַוְּךָ תְּדַבֵּר- And the Lord said to me; Say not, “I am a youth,” for wherever I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak.

R Nosson Vachtvogel comments, “How many gedolei hador (Torah giants) have we lost, how many tzadikkim (righteous people) have we forfeited, because they didn’t hear al tomar naar onochi.”

We need to remember the concept of ‘bishvili nivra ha’olam’. Each person should think that the world was created just for him and all the other people, and everything around him, was created for the sole purpose of populating his world.

Gemara Gittin, 56 says, Reb Zecharia Ben Avkulos’ humility caused the destruction of second temple. Bar Kamtza, looking for revenge against the Jewish people, told the ceasar that if he (the ceasar) sent an animal to the Jews as a gift, they would refuse to bring it as a korban (offering to God). The ceasar, skeptical, sent an animal as a gift to the Jews, and told them to bring it as a korban. Bar Kamtza damaged the lip of the animal so that it would be invalid to be brought as an korban, and Reb Zecharia refused to bring the imperfect animal as a korban. They couldn’t kill Bar Kamtza even though he would tell the ceasar that the Jews rejected his offering. The Rabbis didnt step up and give orders to accept the offering or reject it and have Bar Kamtza killed. The quiet ‘sitting back, doing nothing’ caused the destruction.

There is a time and place for everything. There is a time to be humble and keep your opinion to youself, and there is a time to stand up and be counted.

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.
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אֵלֶּה שְׁמוֹת הָאֲנָשִׁים אֲשֶׁר שָׁלַח מֹשֶׁה לָתוּר אֶת הָאָרֶץ וַיִּקְרָא מֹשֶׁה לְהוֹשֵׁעַ בִּן נוּן יְהוֹשֻׁעַ – These are the names of the men Moses sent to scout the Land, and Moses called Hoshea the son of Nun, Joshua. (13:16)

The incident of the Meraglim occured on their return from Canaan on the 9th of Av, and was the precursor for all Jewish tragedies on that day, as the Gemara in Taanis (29a) explains that when the Jews began to cry at the “reports”, Hashem pledged “Since you cried for no reason, I will designate this day as a day of crying for all generations”. All tragedies that occured on 9th Av are resultant from this episode.

Moshe sensed that they would return bearing a bad report, and changed his disciple Hoshea’s name to Yehoshua, and prated for him.

The Zohar reveals to us that what caused the Meraglim (who were the nesi’im, princes of their respective Tribes) to sin, was their fear of losing their positions of influence and leadership on entry into Israel. The perceived threat to their authority distorted their vision of Israel, and everything they saw was misinterpreted and fell under the shadow of their negativity.

This Zohar leads us to a difficult question. We read in Parshas Behaloscha that when Eldad and Medad started prophesying, Yehoshua exclaimed that they should be imprisoned – he was distraught at the mere suggestion that he was worthy enough of being the leader.
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All of our Yomim Tovim are celebrated to commemorate an important incident that happened in our rich Jewish history. Every Yom Tov, and Shabbos too is established to celebrate and remember something.

On Pesach we remember our redemption by eating Matza, Maror, drinking four cups of wine, and telling the story of our redemption. On Succos we remember the Clouds that protected the Jews in the desert, by moving out of our homes and into huts. Why is there no special mitzvah to remember the events of Shavuos? After all, it is the day we received the Torah – and our identity.

Rav Ahron Kotler answers that a remembrance reminds of something that one can forget, and therefore needs external reinforcement. However, the Yom Tov of Shavuos wasn’t a one-off event; the giving of the Torah is constant, as it says בכל יום יהיו בעיניך כחדשים – each day, it should be as if the Torah is new to you. There is nothing to commemorate, if we are in the middle of the event itself!

Here’s a story to illustrate this point. In the town of Dvinsk, resided Rav Meir Simcha, and the Rogatchover Gaon. Their respect for each other was exemplary, even though each one was a rav of a different community. Once, Rav Meir Simcha wanted to compliment his peer, who was universally acclaimed as the genius of that generation. “People say that the Rogatchever has a photographic memory”, announced Rav Meir Simcha, “I say, not at all. How could we consider someone who reviews the entire Torah every day with having a photographic memory? It’s not down to memory at all, he just learned it that day!”

A woman accused of adultery without evidence is put through an ordeal, wherein she is made to drink an odd concoction:

וְלָקַח הַכֹּהֵן מַיִם קְדֹשִׁים בִּכְלִי חָרֶשׂ וּמִן הֶעָפָר אֲשֶׁר יִהְיֶה בְּקַרְקַע הַמִּשְׁכָּן יִקַּח הַכֹּהֵן וְנָתַן אֶל הַמָּיִם – The cohen shall take water in an earthen vessel, some earth from the Mishkan floor, the kohen shall take and put it into the water. (5:17)

וְכָתַב אֶת הָאָלֹת הָאֵלֶּה הַכֹּהֵן בַּסֵּפֶר וּמָחָה אֶל מֵי הַמָּרִים – Then the kohen shall write these curses (containing God’s name) on a scroll and erase it in the bitter water. (5:23)

To recap, the ingredients she is made to drink are water, earth, and the ink of God’s name. Is there any significance to these components?

The Mishna in Avos (3:1) says:

עקביה בן מהללאל אומר, הסתכל בשלושה דברים, ואין אתה בא לידי עבירה–דע מאיין באת, ולאיין אתה הולך, ולפני מי אתה עתיד ליתן דין וחשבון: מאיין באת, מליחה סרוחה. ולאיין אתה הולך, למקום רימה ותולעה. ולפני מי אתה עתיד ליתן דין וחשבון, לפני מלך מלכי המלכים הקדוש ברוך הוא – Akavia the son of Mahalalel would say: Reflect upon three things and you will not come to the hands of transgression. Know from where you came, where you are going, and before whom you are destined to give a judgement and accounting. You came from a putrid drop of liquid – correlating to water; where you are going – the grave, a place of earth; and before whom you are destined to give an accounting – before the supreme King of Kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.

This clearly correlates to God’s name. The Torah is like a prism – different parts reflect different levels, layers and sections, but they contain the same blueprint.

Sefer Bamidbar opens with a Jewish national census.

Rashi explores the function and timing of a census, and explains that Hashem counted the Jews three times over a year and two weeks, because they were dear to Him; particularly after the Golden Calf, לידע מנין הנותרים – to know the number of the survivors. 0.5 percent of the Jews perished after the sin of the eigel, which means that 99.5 percent ‘survived’.

Why does Rashi use the word ‘survivors’ if the vast majority of the Jews did not perish?

Are people who don’t die on the way to work considered “survivors” when they get home?

It’s not the same; because all Jews are connected – like a puzzle. A puzzle is never complete unless all the pieces are in place, forming a picture. The Jews are incomplete unless all the Jews are included. Every Jew matters.

The Jews were not counted at Matan Torah – most critically important day in history. G-d revealed His reality to us, all of us – all the past, present and future generations of Jews are considered to have been at Sinai. Yet on the most significant day, on the day the relationship between God and his people was at its absolute peak, we were not counted. Why? The Torah records that the Jews assembled at Sinai כאיש אחד בלב אחד – like one man with one heart.

There is a very logical principle that אין מנין באחד – that you don’t count to one. Things that are clearly unique don’t lend themselves to numerical speculation. The question “Where do you live?” implicitly assumes that you have one address. Whilst our souls may have been there, did we ever have the option of saying no? Why should we be be obligated a commitment the first generation of Jews made?

When a family converts to Judaism, the children are asked at their bar/bas mitzva if they want to continue being Jews. If they say no, which they can, then they are no longer Jewish and not bound to Judaism. Why aren’t born Jews offered a similar choice?

The reason it sounds like a good question is that we are all influenced by western culture, where the individual is the epicentre of existence. But this is a mistake. Hitler’s policy did not discriminate between religious or secular. Hitler also used the concept of collective responsibility. If one Jew stepped out of line, be it stealing, practising Judaism, escaping, or disrespecting a Nazi, all the Jews in that camp, city, or ghetto were punished. That concept comes straight from the Torah.

Collective acceptance obligates everyone. Our primary identity is our Judaism. We are Jews who speak English, and not English speakers who happen to be Jews. You, and every single Jew you meet, are worthwhile. No matter the background, mistakes, ability, age, or anything. No one can ever take that away from you, nor you from anyone else. If you ever meet a Jew in a strange place, make sure to start a conversation!

The princes of each tribe are identified in the census of the nation. But the lists are not identical, when they probably ought to be:

לְגָד אֶלְיָסָף בֶּן דְּעוּאֵל – For Gad, Elyasaf, son of De’uel. (1:14)

וּמַטֵּה גָּד וְנָשִׂיא לִבְנֵי גָד אֶלְיָסָף בֶּן רְעוּאֵל – The prince of the children of Gad was Elyasaf, son of Re’uel. (2:14)

His fathers name has changed. Why?

It is important to note that the names of the Nesi’im are not listed for historicity – all are written for deep rooted reasons – what follows is just one.

The Chida explains that the tribe of Gad merited Moshe Rabeinu being buried in their portion, as they kept silent in the face of Reuven’s instructions. Reuven and Gad were encamped next to each other, and Reuven was “Rosh HaDegel” – leader of their formation, in charge of all camp movements. Reuven was a firstborn of Leah, as was Dan of Bilhah, and both tribes were “Rosh HaDegel”, whereas Gad, a firstborn Zilpah was overlooked. The tribe of Gad did not protest to Moshe that they weren’t given this privilege, and as such merited for Moshe buried in their portion.

This trait is characterised in the saying of R’ Shimon Ben Gamliel in Pirkei Avos לא מצאתי לגוף טוב אלא שתיקה – I’ve not found anything better for the body than silence. Self sacrifice in the interest of the greater good was prevalent in Moshe’s personality too. Moshe is occasionally referred to as ריע א-ל – friend of G-d – the name of the ancestor of the Nasi of Gad – רְעוּאֵל.

There is a story told about the Sdei Chemed, who was already known for his diligence and sharpness as a young man. There were two young men who attempted to get into the yeshiva he studied in, but were rejected. Feeling bitter, one of them hatched a plot to get back at the institution, by disgracing its star student, the Sdei Chemed. The Beis Midrash was prepared every morning by a local village lady. Knowing that the Sdei Chemed was there by sunrise every morning, the plotter offered her money to falsely accuse the Sdei Chemed of molesting her one morning. She flatly refused, insisting that she would lose her job and income. The plotter assured he’d hire her if she lost her job, to which she agreed. Word got out that the Sdei Chemed had “molested” this woman, and the whole town was in outrage and uproar.

Knowing the Sdei Chemed’s character, the Rosh Yeshiva was adamant and refused to believe her, and she lost her job, and would hear no more of the matter. Not days after the incident, the plotter who had paid off the woman passed away. She saw the young man had gotten his come-uppance, and he had died without getting her anew job. Tearful and contrite, she approached the Sdei Chemed on his way home and begged forgiveness, and told him the truth of what had happened, and asked that he go to the Rosh Yeshivah and try to get her old job back. The Sdei Chemed accepted her apology on the spot; “I have no problem helping you get your old job back, I’ll sort that out. But I forbid you from disgracing the memory of the deceased by mentioning his involvement!”

Chazal say המעביר על מדותיו, מעבירים לו כל פשעיו. Overlooking personal inconvenience to preserve what’s right is a phenomenally difficult thing to achieve, but its worth it.

When the Torah discusses Shavuos, it says: וְהִקְרַבְתֶּם מִנְחָה חֲדָשָׁה לַה – You shall bring a new mincha offering to Hashem (23:16)

The Torah never refers explicitly to Shavuos or Rosh Hashana by their primary themes; Shavuos being the anniversary of receiving of the Torah and Rosh Hashana being the day of judgement. Why does the Torah overlook this?

The Kli Yakar explains that the answer for both is the same; learning Torah each day is a new experience, bringing a new understanding and deeper insight with it. A person cannot learn the Torah as a monotonous rote study with no freshness or renewal. It is incumbent upon each of us to feel each day as though this were the day we received the Torah at Sinai. Hashem did not see fit to call the day we receive the Torah one particular day a year; as each and every day we are able to receive the Torah from Sinai. Therefore the Torah limits the description of Shavuos to a day where “you shall bring a new mincha offering to Hashem” – because calling it the day we received the Torah is a disservice to the Torah and our responsibilities.

Similarly, Rosh Hashana described as a Yom Teruah – a day of blowing the Shofar. It is not called Judgment Day because we cannot feel as though we are held accountable for our choices and actions on just one day a year; as must though we could act as we pleased all year round, with intent to makes amends on Rosh Hashana. Not so. Rather, every day needs to contain the awareness and responsibility that our actions are scrutinized.

The Sforno gives an intriguing explanation for the absence of the mention of Matan Torah on Shavuos.

Matan Torah was not simply a stage on which the Bnei Yisrael received the Torah and were subsequently expected to follow its laws. Matan Torah was intended to be a stage where Klal Yisrael reached the zenith of spirituality, the absolute peak humanity was capable of reaching.

When Klal Yisrael clamoured for an idol, the Golden Calf, they made ultimate purity untenable. It was out of reach, lost. The first Luchos were lost forever, and with them the capabilities that we would never have an opportunity to achieve on our own. It is said that the first Luchos were literally unforgettable – no Torah would ever have been forgotten.

Matan Torah did not run not as expected, in effect we never had the complete Matan Torah, therefore the Torah cannot refer to Shavuos as “the day we received the Torah”.

The Parsha begins with elaborations on laws pertaining to human purity:

דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לֵאמֹר אִשָּׁה כִּי תַזְרִיעַ - Speak to the children of Israel, saying: If a woman conceives…. (12:2)

Rashi comments:

אשה כי תזריע : אמר ר’ שמלאי כשם שיצירתו של אדם אחר כל בהמה חיה ועוף במעשה בראשית, כך תורתו נתפרשה אחר תורת בהמה חיה ועוף – If a woman conceives: Rabbi Simlai said: “Just as in the Creation, man was created after all domestic animals, wild beasts, and birds, so too, the law [concerning the cleanness] of man is stated after the law [concerning the cleanness] of domestic animals, wild beasts, and birds.”- [Vayikra Rabbah 14:1]

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 38a) explores why the creation of man followed the creation of birds and beasts. It concludes that “אחור קודם צרתני – you were formed first and last” (Tehillim 139:5). What does this mean? If a man is worthy, we say he preceded Creation, but if he is a sinner, we say that even a mosquito was created before him, so he has nothing to be arrogant about, given that even minuscule entities such as the mosquito were created before him.

However, this is difficult to comprehend – “If a man is worthy, we say he preceded Creation” – if we examine the reality, man was created last, on the 6th day of Creation, so how are we to understand the Gemara?
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At the inauguration of the Mishkan, there was a handover process where Moshe gave the post he had filled for 7 days to Ahron, where Ahron offered sacrifices on the Mizbeach on the Jews’ behalf.

וַיִּשָּׂא אַהֲרֹן אֶת [ידו] יָדָיו אֶל הָעָם וַיְבָרְכֵם וַיֵּרֶד מֵעֲשֹׂת הַחַטָּאת וְהָעֹלָה וְהַשְּׁלָמִים – Ahron lifted up his hands towards the people and blessed them. He then descended from preparing the sin offering, the burnt offering, and the peace offering.

וַיָּבֹא מֹשֶׁה וְאַהֲרֹן אֶל אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד וַיֵּצְאוּ וַיְבָרֲכוּ אֶת הָעָם וַיֵּרָא כְבוֹד הֹ’ אֶל כָּל הָעָם – And Moshe and Ahron then went into the Tent of Meeting. Then they came out and blessed the people, and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people. (Vayikra 9:22-23)

There seem to be two distinct blessings; both before and after going into the Tent of Meeting.

The pasuk seems to emphasise וַיֵּרֶד – that Aaron descended, but what else would we expect? At no other service does the Pasuk tell us he descended, only this one. No blessings were given from on top of the Mizbeach, so he would have already descended when he blessed the people. So for וַיֵּרֶד to not be out of place, it cannot refer to a physical descent.

Rashi explains that the first blessing was Birchas Kohanim, and the second was וִיהִי נֹעַם אֲדֹנָי אֱלֹהֵינוּ עָלֵינוּ וּמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֵינוּ כּוֹנְנָה עָלֵינוּ וּמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֵינוּ כּוֹנְנֵהוּ - May the pleasantness of the Lord our God be upon us and our handiwork (…?…).

So what of Ahron’s descent? Ahron experience an emotional descent – his joy fell into sadness.

There is a Kri/Ksiv, which is where a word is pronounced differently to how the spelling would indicate. We read “yadav”/יָדָיו - his hands, plural, but the word written is “yado”/ידו –  his hand, singular.

Aaron’s first offering was not accepted in Heaven, as he felt accomplished that  by his own hand (ידו) he had reached the position he held. He lost sight of the fact that his hands were meant to serve the people (יָדָיו).

When he saw his offering rejected, וַיֵּרֶד - he literally “became down”,i.e. miserable, at which point Moshe, who had already performed the duties for 7 days, came and showed him how to do the service properly . When they came out again, they blessed the people again - וּמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֵינוּ כּוֹנְנָה עָלֵינוּ וּמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֵינוּ כּוֹנְנֵהוּ – that only when we understand that our hands don’t work except to serve G-d can we work properly; precisely what Ahron had just learned.

It is worth noting that even performing the actions correctly was not enough for the service to be accepted; even the intentions had to be perfect too.

My zaide says that we say in davening each day הללוהו בנבל וכנור - they praise Him with a guitar and harp. Why is a harp called נבל - from the same root as the word “corpse”, used as a rather rude word? My zaide explains that a harp makes such a beautiful sound it makes other instruments sound bad in comparison. The inherent negativity in a harps makes it disgraceful – Chazal teach that someone who gains honour at someone else’s expense has no portion in the World to Come.

To be truly perfect, it is imperative not just that the right thing be done, but that it be done the right way.

The Pasuk says צַו אֶת אַהֲרֹן וְאֶת בָּנָיו לֵאמֹר זֹאת תּוֹרַת הָעֹלָה - Command Aaron and his sons, saying, This is the law of the burnt offering. (6:2)

But there is a problem with this – the Pasuk is not talking about the olah at all! It’s talking about burning the cheilev (fats) etc, that are not burnt with the rest of the korban, and this is done at night. It is hardly תּוֹרַת הָעֹלָה !
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In the Haggada, the Rasha asks a question, and the father rebukes him, and the Haggada remarks that the father should הקהה את שניו – knock out his teeth – and rebuke him that אלו היה שם לא היה נגאל – if he had been in Egypt at the time, he would not have been redeemed.

What do his teeth and potential non-redemption from Egypt have to with each other, as part of a cogent reply?

R’ Shlomo Freshwater explains that prior to Matan Torah, people who were evil stayed that way – Yishmael, Esav, all the Jews who died during the 9th plague. Before Matan Torah, the only people God would choose to save were the people who chose God.

After Matan Torah, this changed – Hashem had chosen us unconditionally! This enabled everyone to be saved – even if they weren’t righteous – and any and everyone could do teshuva, as opposed to falling by the wayside like Yishmael, Esav etc.

So what the father tells his son is that if he had been in Egypt, he simply would not have had the merit to be redeemed. But after Matan Torah, anyone can do teshuva – even a Rasha! But a puzzle remains – we just have to “knock out his teeth” – what does this mean?

רשע is gematria 570. If we “knock out” שניו – gematria 366 – we are left with 204. What is gematria 204?

צדיק!!

The 4 sons are meant to be allegorical, but clearly this section of the Haggada is an inpirational piece about teshuva – no matter what we have done, we can always make amends, we just need to want it and remove the negativity.

Looking at the 15 steps of the Seder, ורחץ – “and we wash our hands” – is out of step with the rest. It is evidently linked to the previous step of Kadesh, hence the conjunctive “and”. But this results in a problem – the order makes no sense!

A doctor sanitises his hands before seeing a patient – similarly shouldn’t we cleanse ourselves of the negative, symbolised by washing our hands, before sanctifying ourselves with positive, through kiddush?

The same can be asked about Matza and Maror; shouldn’t we get the negative slavery out of the way before commemorating the positive liberty?

R’ Moshe Feinstein answers counterintuitively that sometimes we are in so deep that we can’t cleanse ourselves of negativity. We have to jumpstart the process of growth by diving in and doing positive acts despite the fact we still have negative baggage. Then we build up the spiritual strength to be able to cleanse ourselves of and be rid of that baggage – which is exactly what happened in Egypt.

There is a Chassidic analogy of a man with dirty boots in a muddy field. He must walk to the end of the field before he can clean his boots; stopping in the middle to wipe his boots is a exercise in futility.

This is an exceptionally deep parable, but on a basic level, what it means is that when we have a problem that we can’t avoid, the proverbial “dirty boots”, we must change the situation we are in, by “leaving the field”. Once we have changed and developed, when we find ourselves with “muddy boots” we will no longer be in the “muddy field”. People can look at the world as a muddy field and wonder how they can have faith when there is so much evil, in the world. The answer is that the muddy field isn’t the problem – their boots are bringing mud everywhere!

The reason we start the Seder in this way is to show us that we just need to take the initiative – Kaddish – and then ורחץ – we will be cleansed!

In the Hagada, one of the four questions asked is that שבכל הלילות, אנו אוכלין חמץ ומצה, הלילה הזה כולו מצה – Why on other nights do we eat chametz and matza, whereas tonight we only eat matza?

The Abarbanel explains that this question has an additional subtle nuance to it. The Korban Pesach is essentially a Korban Toda, a thanksgiving offering, for having been saved. With an ordinary thanksgiving offering, the sacrifice is brought with chametz loaves and matza crackers as part of the offering. The question therefore becomes; why is the thanksgiving offering on Pesach only supplemented with matza?

The Chasam Sofer explains that chametz is a metaphor for negativity. It is symbolic of the inflation of the ego, among other things. Matza is synonymous with the positive and pure – it is representative of things the way they ought to be, in their simple, distilled, natural state.

When we offer a regular thanksgiving sacrifice, we are thanking Hashem for the good He has done, but equally, the bad from which we learn to appreciate the good.

But on Pesach there is no such thing as bad; even being enslaved served a “good” purpose – it certainly wasn’t a punishment for anything the slaves had done! If the Jews could achieve perfection without going through Egypt, they wouldn’t have had to – therefore it served a constructive purpose. The purpose was so that when they were offered the Torah the Jews would be able to understand and accept the concept of service – they had been pushed to the limit and beyond in Egypt; they could do the same for Hashem. We answer how Pesach is a night where כולו מצה – there is no such thing as bad, there is only good.

The Chafetz Chaim wonders why Moshe was unable to build the Menorah, a problem he had not had when building everything else, and had to ask many times for the instructions to be repeated. The answer parallels the above. The Menorah is compared to to the Torah – hence the phrase “the light” of Torah – and it’s eternity. Moshe’s problem was that he did not understand how he could make something that was meant to reflect the infinite and eternal. Homiletically, how could the Jews keep the Torah forever? Wouldn’t there be evil? Exiles, wars, Holocausts, Inquisitions, expulsions and pogroms?

Hashem’s answer to Moshe illustrates this concept perfectly. “Put it in the fire, and see what comes out”. In reality, there is no negativity, and challenges are not bad. It is only a trial from which there is potential to grow. Adversity builds character.

נְדָבָה בַּבֹּקֶר בַּבֹּקֶר….gifts every morning” (36:6)

The Sfas Emes explains that sharing and giving has to be our first instinct, at the beginning of every day.

The Vilna Gaon expounded further on this point. The final bracha in Tfilas HaShachar is Hamaavir Sheina – Who removes sleep from our eyes – and what follows is the Yehi Ratzon – May it be Your Will – that lists various mitzvos we would like to be able to do. We do not pause between them to say Amen. The Vilna Gaon explains that we must start as we mean to continue – we thank Him for removing sleep from our eyes, and immediately pray for opportunities to do mitzvos.

There is a story told about R’ Meir Schapiro, who was fundrasing for his yeshiva in pre-war Europe. He had made his way through a new town, and heard stories about a man who lived there, who was fabulously wealthy. He knocked on the door, and requested to meet with the gentleman. He was informed that the gentleman was asleep, so R’ Meir requested to come inside and learn, until the owner arose. When he finally did wake up, he flatly refused to donate to the yeshiva, and R’ Meir gave a sad smile, and said “You shouldn’t have woken up then. I understand this pasuk now”.

The emphasis on every morning is a clear lesson for us that we must strive to help, share and give at every opportunity, even (especially?) at times that are inconvenient.

This week’s Parsha begins by detailing the garments that the Kohen Gadol would wear when serving in the the Beis HaMikdash.

וְיִרְכְּסוּ אֶת הַחֹשֶׁן מִטַּבְּעֹתָיו אֶל טַבְּעֹת הָאֵפֹד בִּפְתִיל תְּכֵלֶת לִהְיוֹת עַל חֵשֶׁב הָאֵפוֹד וְלֹא יִזַּח הַחֹשֶׁן מֵעַל הָאֵפוֹד
- And they shall fasten the breastplate by its rings to the rings of the apron with a blue cord, so that it may be upon the band of the apron, and the breastplate will not move off the apron. (28:28)

Why is the Torah particular that there should be no separation between the choshen and the eiphod?

There is a Gemara in Erchin 16a that explains how each of the garments that the Kohen Gadol wore would atone for a different sin. The eiphod atoned for idol worship, while the breast-place atoned for dishonesty in monetary matters (judicial and business).

R’ Moshe Feinstein (biography here) answers our question with a very sharp piece of mussar. He explains that someone who worships idols does not believe that Hashem controls the world. This is obvious. But he adds something surprising – that someone who is prepared to distort monetary matters is guilty of the same crime! How is this so? Distortion and dishonesty regarding monetary matters shows that a person thinks that he has the ability to add to a person’s wealth, and more than that, he truly believes no-one knows, or otherwise he would never do such a thing. He thinks that through his illegitimate behaviour he can control financial affairs, but what he fails to realise is that this is not in his power. Only Hashem can influence and control the financial status of a person.

R’ Moshe Feinstein explains that the root of both sins is the same – a belief that Hashem lacks control over the world. Therefore, since they are inherently similar, the Torah specifies that they are inseperable.

Courtesy of R’ Kirsch from the JLE – thanks!

In the part of the Parsha that discusses the way one should treat others, the monetary law mentioned explains that one must take care of the needy. The pasuk (22:24) says אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה אֶת עַמִּי אֶת הֶעָנִי עִמָּךְ…… – When you lend money to My people, to the poor person with you….

There is a slight difficulty in interpreting the word עִמָּךְ - with you – in the context.

The Alshich explains that money is not ours, it is merely deposited with us by G-d. We are given the privilege of having money in order to share it with people who are less fortunate. He explains that the pasuk is telling us that אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה אֶת עַמִּי – when we lend money – אֶת הֶעָנִי עִמָּךְ - it belongs to the poor, it just happens to be with you. This is a lesson we can certainly take on board, that nothing is really “ours”, and we should therefore take great responsibility and care of it.

The Vilna Gaon explains that the pasuk is alluding to a standard monetary law: loans are done before witnesses to prevent unscrupulous activity, whereas charity is done in solitude, and no-one needs to know. אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה – When you lend money - אֶת עַמִּי – do so before My people – אֶת הֶעָנִי – the poor however – עִמָּךְ - do it alone. This is certainly the correct way to give charity – in secret.

The Kli Yakar explains that when a person gives charity or a charitable loan, all good deeds and benefits resultant from it are credited to the person who financed the good deeds and actions. אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה אֶת עַמִּי אֶת הֶעָנִי - If you lend/give money to my people or the needy – עִמָּךְ (all the merits that result) are with you too!

We can certainly incorporate all these ideas when we give charity, that the money is not ours to begin with, that we should do it in secret, and that the merit of charity does not stop once you’ve given it, you still receive all resultant merits performed as a result of your kindness.

In the memory and zchus of the members of the Saba family who died last week

The following is one I came up with last week, and I didn’t think it was too great, but some people told me to wrote it anyway. Since the Parsha is still about Moshe and Egypt I hope it won’t matter that it is a week late.

אמר לו הקב”ה חבל על דאבדין ולא משתכחין הרי כמה פעמים נגליתי על אברהם יצחק ויעקב באל שדי ולא הרהרו על מדותי ולא אמרו לי מה שמך אמרתי לאברהם (בראשית יג) קום התהלך בארץ לארכה ולרחבה כי לך אתננה בקש מקום לקבור את שרה ולא מצא עד שקנה בד’ מאות שקל כסף ולא הרהר על מדותי אמרתי ליצחק (בראשית כו) גור בארץ הזאת ואהיה עמך ואברכך בקשו עבדיו מים לשתות ולא מצאו עד שעשו מריבה שנאמר (בראשית כו) ויריבו רועי גרר עם רועי יצחק לאמר לנו המים ולא הרהר אחר מדותי אמרתי ליעקב (בראשית כח) הארץ אשר אתה שוכב עליה לך אתננה ביקש מקום לנטוע אהלו ולא מצא עד שקנה במאה קשיטה ולא הרהר אחר מדותי ולא אמרו לי מה שמך (Sanhedrin 111a)

There is a Gemara in Sanhedrin (brought above if you are that way inclined), that explains that G-d got angry when Moshe asked His name, as the Patriarchs had diffculties, yet did not question G-d. Rashi in 6:9 quotes it. When Abraham sought to bury Sarah, he could not bury her until he bought a plot for a very high price from Efron. Similarly, with Isaac, he sought to use wells his own father had dug and was not allowed to by the local shepherds. And also with Jacob, “And he bought the part of the field where he had pitched his tent from the sons of Hamor” (Gen. 33:19).

These are the examples used of Moshe’s ancestors not questioning the nature of G-d. But these would seem to be bad examples. If you want to tell me about faith, tell me about the Akeida, he binding of Isaac! Abraham was promised children through Isaac yet was told to murder him. Isaac was told absolutely nothing by G-d, yet did not question anyone and told his father to bind his hands so he would not struggle. Tell Moshe how Jacob reacted to the incidents with Joseph! These are all exceptionally mundane stories, that all happen to be about money and land (that was theoretically theirs already since it had been promised?).

There was a great tragedy last week in Mexico referenced above, and it was very distressing and I was very upset about it for various reasons. I was quite surprised when I stumbled across an excerpt from the Sefer Hachinuch – “A man should know and take to heart that all that happens to him from good to bad is intended to happen to him from Hashem, and from the hand of man…nothing will happen except His will” (Hilchos Nekama).

I was amazed that I found something so relevant to what I needed to hear at that moment, and when I thought of the original question, why bother to talk about the mundane. The Chinuch quote answers it perfectly. It’s relatively easy to accept that all things come from G-d. But when the bad happens to involve another persons free will and choice to cause harm, it is suddenly not the hand of G-d any more, it becomes a problem and someone has wronged you.

The Akeida tells us how Abraham had faith, but that is all! G-d spoke to him, there was nothing to question! But when he gets home having passed his test, his wife is dead. And when he attempts to bury her, he is heckled by Efron. Isaac is thirsty, and can’t use wells his own father dug. Yakov needs to pay to pitch a tent.

It is with these examples that we see how much faith they really had. When we know someone is watching, or that we are being tested, we put on the best display of our efforts as possible. But these are inaccurate. The true gauge of faith is in the mundane, where we think we are alone.

Shemos starts by explaining how Yakov’s children thrived in Egypt, and only once the brothers had died, did the slavery begin. It then continues with the process of how the enslavement began.

Before Moshe is introduced, the Torah tells us:

וַיֵּלֶךְ אִישׁ מִבֵּית לֵוִי – A man of the house of Levi went…

This man is Amram, Moshe’s father, and the leader of the Jews at the time. But why doesn’t the Torah start with the part that matters; Hashem contacting Moshe the shepherd? Would it not make more sense to say, “A shepherd of the house of Levi, called Moshe…”?

From the Torah’s description of Moshe’s early life, perhaps there is a subtle description of his nature and personality, that directly led to his selection as being suitable to lead the Jews out of Egypt.

When Moshe is first found by Batya, she says “ וַתִּרְאֵהוּ אֶת הַיֶּלֶד - and she saw him the child“, but then the next words are “וְהִנֵּה נַעַר בֹּכֶה – and behold, he was a weeping lad“. He went from being a baby to a lad (a term to describe someone older). Various commentators note that it was a mature cry i.e. a cry for others, his suffering brethren, that subsequently led her to conclude “ מִיַּלְדֵי הָעִבְרִים זֶה- “This is one of the children of the Hebrews.” (2:1)

We must note that it is clear that although he grew up in an Egyptian palace, and Batya was like a mother to him, he knew that he was a Jew, as we are told ” וַיְהִי בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם וַיִּגְדַּל מֹשֶׁה וַיֵּצֵא אֶל אֶחָיו וַיַּרְא בְּסִבְלֹתָם וַיַּרְא אִישׁ מִצְרִי מַכֶּה אִישׁ עִבְרִי מֵאֶחָיו – Now it came to pass in those days that Moshe grew up and went out to his brothers and looked at their burdens, and he saw an Egyptian man striking a Hebrew man of his brothers“ (2:11). Rashi points out that looking at their burdens distressed him as it was his own brothers suffering, and yet he was a prince of Egypt!

This undoubtedly placed him in turmoil. Here he was, an Egyptian prince, yet he empathised with Hebrew slaves, who were his brothers. He was neither an Egyptian, nor a Jew.

We are told how he noticed his brothers suffering, and intervened when he saw a Jew being abused:

וַיִּפֶן כֹּה וָכֹה וַיַּרְא כִּי אֵין אִישׁ וַיַּךְ אֶת הַמִּצְרִי וַיִּטְמְנֵהוּ בַּחוֹל – He searched this way and that way, and he saw that there was no man; so he struck the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.” (2:12).

He made the decision to stand with his brothers, and murdered an Egyptian, which inevitably meant that he had cut himself off from those that had nurtured him.

R’ Nathan Lopez Cardozo explains how this pasuk describes the conflict Moshe had. “Moshe searched (within himself), this way? (Egyptian?); that way? (or Jew?) and saw there was no (complete) man (i.e. he was neither). So he struck the Egyptian (within himself) and hid him in the sand.”

Whether or not he actually killed an Egyptian police officer, he chose to side with the Jews, thereby alienating Egyptian society culture within him, as he would be rejected by them (for siding with the Jews and/or for murdering a police officer)!

The point we can draw from this is that Moshe’s past made him into who he was. He was a product of Egypt, and he knew Egypt. In a way, he was Egypt! And he made the choice to become a Jew and severed his ties with Egypt, and this choice made him who he was. It is telling that G-d only speaks to Moshe after these events unfold.

When the brothers apologise to Yosef, he rebutted this by saying אַל תִּירָאוּ כִּי הֲתַחַת אלֹהִים אָנִי – “Don’t be afraid, for am I instead of God?” (50:19). It is unclear what exactly he means, but certainly he is not annoyed.

The Baal Haturim suggests that this is is poetic justice as this is precisely what his mother had been told when she begged for children from their father, at which point he said “הֲתַחַת אֱ־לֹהִים אָנֹכִי אֲשֶׁר מָנַע מִמֵּךְ פְּרִי בָטֶן - “Am I instead of God, Who has withheld from you the fruit of the womb?” (30:2)

The Maharil Diskin wonders why a simple yes/no answer isn’t enough, and we can (and have) explained that he did not actually forgive them, but did not say this. We can look deeper into his words: In Parshas Matos (30:7-9) the pasuk describes a woman who makes a vow, but then her husband annuls it. In an event where she did not know he had annulled it, and she thinks she is deliberately breaking it, the pasuk says “והֹ יִסְלַח לָהּ – “…and the Lord will forgive her.” This is astounding – she has technically done absolutely nothing wrong – her vow had been annulled at the time of her actions, and yet there is a certain something that requires forgiveness! And the same thing was true here:

The brothers thought they had committed a horrendously evil act to their brother, and even though circumstantially it turned out for the best in the end, and the family were reunited – just as in the case of a woman who circumstantially did nothing wrong – there was still a certain something that required forgiveness. The Maharil Diskin suggests an alternate explanation to that which the Baal Haturim suggested, that this is exactly what Yosef was saying here.  Due to the turn of events they had done nothing wrong, but he was not in the place of Hashem, because as we said by the woman, they needed G-d’s forgiveness.

In layman’s terms, the ends do not justify the means. Yosef was telling his brothers that they were only circumstantially sorry.

Rabbeinu Bachaye  shares a frightening thought that is brilliant. He takes the concept of Yosef not forgiving his brothers a step further, and suggests that this resulted in the Asara Harugei Malchus, one of the greatest tragedies in Jewish history, and one died in lieu of each of the group who’d sold Yosef. Yaakov was not told, as an oath was made as a group of 10 (a minyan) to not tell him, and such an oath cannot be annulled.

But why were there 10 martyrs then, as there weren’t 10 men present at the sale? Binyamin was not there, Reuven had gone home, and we can’t include Yosef as part of such a minyan? There is a concept that a minyan can take place with 9 as Hashem joins in – Hashem was the 10th member of this group.

R’ Shamshon Ostropolier points out that we can expand the pasuk in Bechukosai - וְכָל מַעְשַׂר בָּקָר וָצֹאן כֹּל אֲשֶׁר יַעֲבֹר תַּחַת הַשָּׁבֶט הָעֲשִׂירִי יִהְיֶה קֹּדֶשׁ לַהֹ – Any tithe of cattle or flock of all that pass under the rod, the tenth shall be holy to the Lord” (27:32)- and there is a deeper meaning to this pasuk, in reference to Rabbi Akiva - וכי למא מת עקיבא, שהוא רואה בקר וצאן הכֹּל אֲשֶׁר יַעֲבֹר תַּחַת הַשָּׁבֶט הָעֲשִׂירִי יִהְיֶה קֹּדֶשׁ לַהֹ – Why did Akiva die? He was just a shepherd! When he passed under the staff (judgement?) he was the tenth, holy for G-d.

There is another allusion to this in Parshas Vayigash (45:15), that “וַיֵּבְךְּ עֲלֵיהֶם – and he cried on them” – we can break up עֲלֵיהֶם and read it על י ה”םfor the ten Harugei Malchus.

Scary. So not that any of us are like Yosef and his brothers, but it’s clear that we should be more forgiving to people for what they may do to us.

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 Midrash that says that when we eventually go up to Heaven and are put on trial to account for our lives, we will be as embarrassed as the brothers were in front of Yosef. The Beis Halevi shares a marvellous idea on this.

On a superficial level, we can understand this Midrash by simply saying that we cannot bluff someone who sees the bigger picture. The brothers claimed that their brother was not with them, but Yosef knew why he wasn’t really with them, and when he revealed himself to them, they actually died of embarrasment according to some commentators. Even if we don’t learn this, it’s clear what the metaphor is trying to portray. There was nothing they could say.

But we can look at it in a deeper fashion, and admire the nobility Yosef displayed. For one: וְלֹא יָכֹל יוֹסֵף לְהִתְאַפֵּק לְכֹל הַנִּצָּבִים עָלָיו וַיִּקְרָא הוֹצִיאוּ כָל אִישׁ מֵעָלָי וְלֹא עָמַד אִישׁ אִתּוֹ בְּהִתְוַדַּע יוֹסֵף אֶל אֶחָיו – Now Yosef could not bear all those standing beside him, and he called out, “Take everyone away from me!” So no one stood with him when Yosef made himself known to his brothers.

On which Rashi remarks that whatbYosefncould not bear was that some Egyptians would stand beside him, and hear his brothers being embarrassed when he would reveal his true identity to them.

We must not forget that at this point, from the brothers perspective at least, they had been harrassed and interrogated by a foreign ruler, and they had him on their own; he was unguarded. There was every possibility they’d have murdered him and escaped (Shimon and Levi in particular had a track record…), but he could not bear to embarass them publicly.

But moreover, from 44:20, Yehudah explains that they have an old father and attempt to explain that they did not want to bring Binyamin to Yosef for their fathers sake.

וַיֹּאמֶר יוֹסֵף אֶל אֶחָיו אֲנִי יוֹסֵף הַעוֹד אָבִי חָי וְלֹא יָכְלוּ אֶחָיו לַעֲנוֹת אֹתוֹ כִּי נִבְהֲלוּ מִפָּנָיו – And Yosef said to his brothers, “I am Yosef. Is my father still alive?” but his brothers could not answer him because they were startled by his presence.

The Beis Halevi points out that the first thing he said to them after telling them who he was, was “is my father still alive?”. Clearly he knew Yaakov lived, as Yehudah had spoken at length about him. The fact he asked this question regardless is telling, heartrending and completely ironic. It means “Is he not my father too? Was he not alive back then for you to not have abandoned and disowned me? Is he only alive to you now?”. And they could not say anything, because of course he was right, their hypocrisy had been revealed, which caused them to die of embarrassment, whether we take that literally or figuratively. This is tochacha in its true form (tochacha, usually translated as rebuke, is a form of the word l’hochiach, to prove).

There was nothing they could say, but instead of shouting at them he simply said גְּשׁוּ נָא אֵלַי וַיִּגָּשׁוּ – “Please come closer to me,” and they drew closer (45:4). He hugged them all, and it is simply unfathomable for any of us to have acted in such a way, even when faced with lesser evils than he’d suffered, and it is no small wonder we call him Yosef HaTzaddik with character traits such as these.

The Beis Yosef famously questions why we celebrate 8 days of Chanuka and not 7, seeing as there was enough oil for a day, meaning the benefit from the miracle was 7 days worth.

R’ Yaakov Hillel quotes Rashi on the pasuk where Leah gave birth to her fourth child, (29:35) that is based on a Midrash: הפעם אודה: שנטלתי יותר מחלקי, מעתה יש לי להודות – This time, I will thank: since I have taken more than my share. Consequently, I must offer up thanks.

Bizarrely, the Midrash identifies Leah as the first person to truly praise God. Bizarrely, because many before her thanked and praised God, for example Avraham at the Akeida and Noach after the flood.

The basic understanding of her thanks indicate that her rationale was that each of Yakov’s wives would be mother to 3 of the 12 tribes, and since she had exceeded her fair share, she was grateful for the extra good G-d had done to her. R’ Hillel tells us this is not so.

She did not express thanks solely for the extra, but everything overall. By receiving more than she felt she was due, it contextualised everything she’d been given until then. She realised that she was wrong to calculate or expect anything at all; we can’t second-guess G-d. She realised she was wrong to have assumed that 3 was her “fair share”.

What is natural, what we take for granted and makes sense, is still a miracle.

This is a massive concept, and internalising will change the way you see everything.

Why do we expect to be able to walk tomorrow, to see, to live, to be free, to be well? We are so overly familiar with exceptional processes that we view the incredible as simply “natural”.

There is an amazing Gemara in Taanis 25a about the righteousness of R’ Chanina ben Dosa that illustrates this point. He came home one Friday night and saw his daughter crying, and inquired why. She informed him that she had lit a lamp for Shabbos, that she had thought was filled with oil, but was in fact filled with vinegar, and she was weeping that they would have no light for Shabbos when the wick reached the vinegar, at which point it would extinguish. The reply: “מי שאמר לשמן וידלוק הוא יאמר לחומץ וידלוק” תנא היה דולק והולך כל היום כולו עד שהביאו ממנו אור להבדלה – “He who said that oil should burn will also say to vinegar to burn.” And the lamp burned the entire following day until they lit a Havdala candle from it. This story speaks volumes about how skewed our perceptions are: nature is not natural.

R’ Hillel explains that we celebrate the “extra” day of Chanuka to teach us something that seems so obvious that we don’t see it – that we must be thankful for every single thing we have and do.

The way of a Jew is “מודה אני” – to be thankful. The first thing a Jew is meant to do in the morning is thank Hashem that they woke up. Sometimes people don’t wake up – I take this opportunity to thank you Hashem. Some people can’t walk; paralysed suddenly, after a lifetime of mobility. Thank you Hashem that I am not one of them.

When we realise that not only are the “miracles” miracles, but everything in between – וְעַל נִסֶּיךָ שֶׁבְּכָל יוֹם עִמָּנוּ, וְעַל נִפְלְאוֹתֶיךָ וְטוֹבוֹתֶיךָ שֶׁבְּכָל עֵת, עֶרֶב וָבֹקֶר וְצָהֳרָיִם – then we’re really on our way to true praise of HaShem, and a better understanding of Hashem as the constant Creator.

It is poignant to recognise that we are called יהודים, and the leader of the Maccabi revolution was Yehuda. Being grateful to God, as well as the people around us is the lifeblood of our people.

ויאבק איש עמו עד עלות השחר…ותקע כף ירך יעקב בהאבקו עמו – ‘and a man wrestled with him until dawn…and his hip-socket was dislocated when he wrestled with him.’

Once we are told that “a man wrestled with him”, isn’t the repetition – “when he wrestled with him” a little redundant?

The Ksav Sofer points out that Rashi gives two interpretations on the word ויאבק: firstly, the word is from אבק - dust – that they kicked up a lot of dust through their movements. Or שחבקו ואבקו בזרועתיו – that they were embracing with their arms (which is also an essential part of wrestling, of course).

The first interpretation is in line with the way that enemies fight with each other, whereas the second has echoes of the way that friends embrace. This is precisely what Chazal mean when they discuss Maaseh Avos Siman LeBonim. (This is a principle that ancestors leave imprints that repeat for their descendants)

There are two ways in which the enemies of the Jewish people try to bring them down (as is famously noted by Chazal in a number of a places – מיד אחי מיד עשו – he needed to be saved from both aspects of Esau as we are about to discuss). The first is by harsh decrees, pogroms, crusades etc. But what happens when they try this? You only need to hear what the Mossad agent who caught Eichmann (according to some – Isser Harel) stated that Eichmann said upon his capture - שמע ישראל ה’ אלקינו ה’ אחד – Shema Yisrael!

When questioned about how he knew this, he testified- as did many other Nazis, that it didn’t matter which type of Jew was in the gas chamber, this was the constant phrase on the lips of those holy martyrs. When oppressed, the Jew gets closer to G-d. This doesn’t work for our enemies. So they try another way – they befriend us, influence us, try to make us one of them. Through this, says the Ksav Sofer, they make us be פוסח על שתי סעיפים – straddling both worlds, so that we have one foot in both worlds and thereby are not totally part of either one, making us unable to walk properly…hence the limp This is the second interpretation of Rashi – because the initial wrestling did not work in overcoming us, they resort to the embrace. Unfortunately, history has shown the second method to be deadlier, as it distances us from G-d. Through this ותקע כף ירך יעקב – the point of the Bris is dislocated!

Amazingly, what follows is ויזרח לו השמש – the sun shone for him – i.e. after the dark period which equates to the harsh treatment of Galus, they attempt the sunshine or friendly treatment. This is the bit that damages us the most and we are פוסח על שתי סעיפים – in two places. And – this is the best part – it is this which indicates the inability to walk properly, or the limp. What are the words which follow ויזרח לו השמש? That he had a limp on his hip, the area of the Bris that signifies are relationship with G-d!

Incidentally, this explains the reason he asked to be saved “miyad achi miyad Eisav“, on the one hand the destroyer, on the other, his brother, how could he resist?

The Pasuk says “ה. וַיִּשָּׂא אֶת עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא אֶת הַנָּשִׁים וְאֶת הַיְלָדִים וַיֹּאמֶר מִי אֵלֶּה לָּךְ וַיֹּאמַר הַיְלָדִים אֲשֶׁר חָנַן אֱ־לֹהִים אֶת עַבְדֶּךָ – And he (Esau) lifted his eyes and saw the women and the children, and he said, “Who are these to you?” And he (Yakov) said, “The children with whom God has favored your servant.” (33:5)

Esau wasn’t a fool, he knew Yakov had his family and entourage with him. This is obvious, as he brought a small army with him to kill them all. So why then, does this conversation take the form of a chance meeting, as if it weren’t apparent who they were and what their connection to Yakov – the head of the family, was?

Clearly, there is something else afoot. The Chafetz Chaim says that Esau saw something different in these children, and he was correct for identifying this difference. They were the first Jewish children – we are Bnei Yisrael, and Yakov’s children were the first of the lot! He saw a difference in them from other children he’d encountered, and we need only look at Yishmael and Esau themselves to see how children behaved in that society, so naturally Yakov’s children owuld act differently.

The Chafetz Chaim explains that the answer to what made them different is in Yakov’s answer. He answered “אֲשֶׁר חָנַן אֱ־לֹהִים אֶת עַבְדֶּךָ – with whom God has favored your servant”. Why did it not say the normal word for giving – נתן, instead it says חָנַן. The Chafetz Chaim teaches us that there is something else to be learned here that what made these children different was the merit of חָנַן- the Roshei Teivos of the 3 Mitzvos only women can perform – חלה ,נר , נידה – the laws regarding the seperation of Challah, lighting Shabbos candles, and family purity. Yakov said within his reply to his brother what made his children special, that his wives observed these laws.

There are other interpretations of the נר part of observance, which just translates as light. The Sforno explains it to mean the light of Torah – it is a mother’s obligation to ensure her children know Torah – “v’al titosh Toras imecha“. How do we see this? There is a Gemara in Niddah which says that every baby in its mother’s womb has 2 things – an angel that teaches the baby the whole Torah, which it forgets at birth when the angel taps its lip, and a light above its head. We don’t see babies born with lights above their heads, so what does this mean? This means that the mother provided the circumstances through which the light of Torah shone on the child before its birth, and the mother is meant to nurture this “spark” into a full blown flame throughout the child’s life.

There is a short story told about R’ Yaakov Galinski and the Chazon Ish circa 1953, that explains us what the light of Torah does. They were walking together in the street at night, and were walking under streetlights. The Chazon Ish said “Wow!” every time he walked under a light, and his student, R’ Yaakov asked what was going on. The Chazon Ish obliged, and explained a phenomenal lesson. We are not meant to be arrogant people, but how does one work on this character trait if it is innate? The further away from the streetlight/light of Torah we are, the bigger your shadow appears. The closer we get to the streetlight/the light of Torah, the smaller we realise we actually are.