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בס"ד לע"נ:

שה בן ראובן ז"ל, חוה בת יקותיאל ז"ל שנעק"הממאיר בן מרדכי הלוי ז"ל, חנה ריטא בת שלמה ז"ל דוד בן אברהם ז"ל, אלטא פרידא בת אלימלך ז"ל אשר ענזיל בן חיים שלמה ז"ל, הינדא בת אברהס ז"ל

שמיני

Striking At the Heart of What the Jewish People are All About

This week's contains the tragic event of the death of Aharon's two oldest sons. At the height of the joy of the

dedication of the Mishkan, Nadav and Avihu were consumed by a 'foreign fire' which came down from Hashem and

killed them.

The Talmud says [Eruvin 63a] "Aharon's sons did not die until they issued a halachic ruling before Moshe their

teacher". There are different interpretations among the Sages exactly what Nadav and Avihu did to warrant this

terrible punishment. One of the opinions expressed in the Medrash and the Talmud was this teaching that they issued

their own ruling in front of their teacher.

According to Halacha, a student may not issue a ruling in the presence of his teacher. One who does so is deserving

of the death penalty. This is the interpretation given to the Biblical expression "they offered a foreign fire". The

crime was not the offering of the sacrifice per say; the crime was that they took independent action without

consulting with Moshe their teacher.

The Gemara in Eruvin further relates that Rav Eliezer had a student who issued a halachic ruling in Rav Eliezer's

presence. Rav Eliezer announced that this student would not live out the year -- which is exactly what happened.

If we think about this, it is very difficult to comprehend. What is so terrible about ruling on a halachic question in

front of one's teacher? We understand that there is a matter of honoring a Rabbi (Kavod haRav) or of a Torah

scholar. But it is difficult to understand that this should be a capital offense. Moreover, we also know the rule that a

Rabbi has a right to "forgive his honor" (Rav she'machal al k'vodo, k'vodo machul). A teacher can say "You do n0t

have to stand up for me". We would think that any time a student rules in front of his teacher, the teacher should

forgive. Why was Rav Eliezer not more compassionate? Why did he say with certitude that this student would die

within the year?

Apparently, in these situations forgiving (mechila) does not help. The teacher does not have the ability to forgive.

Why not?

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz, the Mir Rosh Yeshiva, zt"l, explains that the aveira [sin] of issuing a halachic ruling in

one's teacher's presence is a much more basic sin that merely not showing this teacher the proper respect.

The Talmud relates in tractate Chagiga (14a) that the prophet Isaiah came to the Jewish people before the

destruction of the Bais HaMikdash and he gave them 18 curses. He told them of the terrible things that would befall

them. Included in these things was that "there would not be found in Israel one versed in Chumash or in Mishna, in

Talmud or in Aggadah; there would be no Judges and no Prophets and no one capable of sitting in a Yeshiva." But

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the ultimate curse he gave them was that "... they shall behave haughtily, the youth against the elder and the base

against the honorable." [Isaiah 3:5].

We can somehow live with ignorance and with the absence of Prophets, but when does Klal Yisroel descend to the

deepest of pits? When do they hit rock bottom? When there is no honor given to elders. The reason for that is

because the Medrash says that Israel is compared to a bird. Just as a bird cannot fly without wings, the Jewish people

cannot exist without their elders. Elephants can exist without wings, cats can exist without wings, all animals can

exist without wings -- except birds.

The rest of the world can exist without their elders. For the Egyptians, the Romans, the French, the Americans, and

the Italians, it is nice to have elders -- but it is not crucial to their very being. But the Jewish people are not a Jewish

people without their elders. Just as a bird cannot exist without its wings, that which keeps Klal Yisroel afloat is its

elders.

Therefore, the curse of curses that Isaiah gave to the Jewish people before the Churban was that they will reach the

stage that the young people will be disrespectful to the elders.

This, said Rav Chaim Shmulevitz, is the terrible crime of issuing a ruling in front of one's teacher. When people

issue opinions and comment on every aspect of life or Halacha without consulting their elders, they are doing a

terrible injustice to all of us. They are stripping us of our Gedolim. That is the crime of Moreh Halacha lifnei Rabo,

making a ruling in front of one's teacher. It is not an affront to the Rebbi per say, it is something that strikes at the

heart of what the Jewish people are all about.

We are a nation of tradition. "Ask your father and he will tell you; your elders and they will say to you" [Devorim

32:7]. Without that tradition of consulting the elders, the Talmidei Chachomim, the older generation, we will not

exist. Therefore, when a student teaches a law in front of his teacher, he is stripping the Jewish people of something

that is essential to their whole being. For this reason, there is no forgiving on the teacher's part of this terrible sin.

And for this reason, the joy at the assembly of the Mishkan had to be dampened with the death of Aharon's two sons

-- because this lesson had to be learnt. We are not a nation without our elders.

White Noise

It was the last day of the Mishkan's inauguration. The joy was immeasurable, somewhat akin to the ribbon-cutting

ceremony of a cherished king's new palace -- in this case, a shrine to the glory of the King of kings and to the

splendor of His reign. But in a tragic anticlimactic sequence, the celebration went terribly wrong. The children of

Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, entered into the realm of the outer limits, the Holy of Holies, the Kodesh HaKedoshim.

They offered incense, something they assumed would surely bring joy to their Creator. But it was their own recipe.

Uncommanded, and uncalled for, something went terribly wrong. " A fire came forth from before Hashem and

consumed them, and they died before Hashem" (Leviticus 10:1-2). It's hard for us, here, to fathom the pain.

Remember that picture of a smiling schoolteacher and her fellow astronauts, waving in anticipation of another

successful mission on America's galactic pride and joy, only to be vaporized into a mist of memories plunging

toward the ocean in a disastrous fate? The beloved children of a beloved leader on a beloved day in a beloved

service were gone in an instant, from glory to death. Yet their own father did not react in open agony, rather only

through silence and acceptance. "And Aaron was silent" (ibid v. 3). That silence was not only commended, but

extolled. As a reward for that stoic reaction of acceptance, the next command in the Torah is offered directly to

Aharon without Moshe, who normally was the principal in receiving Heavenly directives.

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Yet despite the praise meted to Aharon for his silence, the nation is commanded to react in a diametrically opposed

manner. Moshe commands the nation, "the entire House of Israel shall bewail the conflagration that Hashem

ignited" (Leviticus 10:6). Aharon is praised for his silence, yet the nation is told to openly bewail the tragedy. What

is the difference?

Back in the 1800's, the Magid of Trisk and Reb Mendel of Vorke were dear friends living next to each other. But,

unfortunately Rav Mendel had to move to the other side of the forest, a distance of a half-a-day's walk. Seeing his

agony, Reb Mendel's sexton, Moishele, anxiously offered to make the three-hour trip each Friday to deliver

correspondence.

And so it went. Every Friday morning, Moishele would set out across the forest and deliver Reb Mendele's letter to

the Trisker Magid. He would wait for the Magid to read the letter and reply. Often it would take a while until the

Magid returned from his study, eyes red from tears, his quivering hand holding the magnificently crafted response in

a special envelope. Moshele would deliver the response to the Vorke Rebbe, and that letter, too, evoked the same

emotional response: tears of joy and meaning filled the Rebbe's eyes.

After a year as a faithful envoy, Moishele's curiosity overtook him. "What possibly can those letters contain? Would

it be so bad if I took a peek?" Therefore, one Friday he carefully opened the envelope -- without disturbing the seal.

He saw absolutely nothing. Just a blank paper rested between the walls of the envelope.

Shocked, Moshe carefully, placed the so-called letter back into the envelope and delivered it to the Trisker Maggid.

Like clockwork, the Rebbe went into the study, and a half-hour later, bleary-eyed and shaken, he returned a letter to

be delivered to his friend Reb Mendel of Vorke.

At this point, Moishele could not wait to leave the house and race back into the forest, where he would secretly bare

the contents of the envelope, hoping to solve the mysterious exchange.

Again, blank paper. Moishele was mortified. "Have I been schlepping six hours each week with blank papers? What

is this a game?" he wondered.

The entire Shabbos he could not contain his displeasure. Motzoai Shabbos, Reb Mendel called him in to his study.

"You seem agitated, my dear shammas," he asked. "What seems to be the problem?

"Problem?" he responded. "You know those letters I've been carrying. I admit it. I looked, this Friday. There was

nothing in them! They were blank! What kind of game is this?"

Reb Mendel, did not flinch. "The Torah," he said, "has black letters on white parchment. The black contain the

words we express. The white contains a message that is deeper than letters. Our feelings are often expressed through

black letters. This week, we wrote with the white parchment. We expressed an emotion that transcends letters."

It is very important to realize one cannot equate the reaction required by a mourner to that of the responsive

community. Not everyone is on the level to keep quiet. For those who can make their statement of faith and strength

through silence, that is an amazing expression. For the rest of us, who are not on that level, we must express our

sorrow and exclaim it in a human way as afforded by the dictates of Moshe.

Copyright © 2001 by Rabbi M. Kamenetzky and Project Genesis, Inc.

If You’re Not in the Mood of It

By Rabbi Label Lam

The sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire-pan, they put fire in the them and placed them. A fire came

forth from before HASHEM an alien fire that He had not commanded them. A fire came forth from before

HASHEM and consumed them, and they died before HASHEM. (Vayikra 10:1-2)

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Why were Nadav and Avihu worthy of dying? Did they not have noble intentions of coming close to HASHEM?

What can be better than that! King David had said, “As for me, being close to HASHEM is what’s good!” (Tehillim:

73:28) That’s the deepest and strongest desire within a person. What then did they do so wrong? The answer is easy.

It is stated in the verse openly, “that He had not commanded them”. They did what they were not commanded to do!

The Sefas Emes writes the following in the name of his grandfather the Chidushei Harim, “You can learn from this

that the main part of the doing of a Mitzvah comes from power of the Commandment within it. Nadav and Avihu

were spiritual giants of the world, and their intentions were based on the deepest secrets of unification. Even still,

because they were not commanded to do so they were punished. How much more so can the positive be inferred that

if one does a Mitzvah, fulfilling the Commandment of The Creator, even though he does not have such deep

intentions is he worthy of life…The main thing is to do the Mitzvos of The Holy One Blessed is He and this comes

to include even the simplest of people…this is what is meant by the statement we make when performing a Mitzvah,

“Who has sanctified us with His Mitzvos…”

One of the things that we ask for every evening is that HASHEM should remove the opposing force from in front of

us and from behind us. It is easy to understand why we want it removed from in front.

When the impediment or resistance is broken down then we can more easily do what has to done. However, what’s

the meaning or value of removing it from behind us. The answer is that that there are at least two types of Yetzer

Horas. One is a secular materialistic force that blocks us and stalls us and thwarts our spiritual ambitions. That’s the

one in front. Then there is another type. It is a “Frum Yetzer Hora”. Once we break through the first line of

resistance, it begins to push us from behind. It makes us stay up too late learning, so we don’t make Davening in the

morning. It seduces us with a thirst for spiritual feelings and inspirational experiences. It pushes us to run into the

Holy of Holies without permission. After all, who says doing a Mitzvah has to feel spiritually uplifting?!

This point really hit home one Shabbos morning when I was yet an unmarried Yeshiva student. I was in an old

Monsey Shul packed with fiery Neshamos. The walls were shaking from the thunderous clamor of voices. Everyone

was rocking a swaying with sincerity. The plain wooden floors and wobbly old benches were saturated with the echo

of decades of devoted learning and prayer in this landmark building. It was a scene to behold. At one point I just

decided, maybe out of laziness or maybe curiosity, to sit back and observe like a spectator, disassociated like an

anthropologist.

My posture caught the attention of a little boy from a family full of great- super children, real Tzadikim. This boy on

the bench, on the other side of the table was maybe seven years old. He asked me point blank, “You don’t know how

to Daven?!” I told him just as bluntly, “I do but I’m just not in the mood of it right now.” Then he responded to me

in an almost sagely tone, “Who says that HASHEM likes it better when you Daven when you’re in the mood of it!?

Maybe HASHEM likes it better if you Daven if you’re not in the mood of it!”

DvarTorah, Copyright © 2007 by Rabbi Label Lam and Torah.org.

Where Heaven Meets Earth

Purim is an intensely spiritual twenty-four hours, occupying a higher spiritual realm than even Yom Kippur The

elevated frame of mind that is meant to accompany this holy day is unparalleled in the Jewish calendar.

The challenge of embracing the spiritual while satisfying the physical is a reflection of the delicate tightrope we are

expected to walk throughout our lives-finding a harmonious balance between body and soul.

This is one of the major themes of this week's Torah portion.

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The first half of the Parsha describes the inauguration of the mishkan in which Nadav and Avihu, the two sons of

Aharon, meet an untimely, tragic end. In their great zeal to serve their Creator, they rushed into the Temple with an

offering which they were not commanded to bring-an act that invoked immediate Divine retribution.

The second major theme of this week's portion revolves around the various foods that are prohibited. The Torah

calls the ingestion of crawling, creeping insects an abomination that defiles the body and forms a barrier between the

soul and its heavenly source.

The juxtaposition of these two themes tells us much about our mission in life. We are not to live an ascetic life,

denying basic human needs to enable the soul to transcend the body. Nor are we to indulge the body in its every

physical whim. Instead, we are taught to achieve a singular marriage of body and soul that has the power to forge a

wholesome relationship with our Divine Source.

All of this is summed up in the last verse of the Torah portion in which Hashem instructs us to create a havdala,

separation, between the pure and the impure, between what we are permitted to eat and what we are not.

The great Torah sage, Rabbi Meir Shapiro, was once asked his impression of American Jewry after his visit to the

United States. In his incisive style he responded, "Here, they know how to make kiddush but they do not know how

to make havdala."

Yes, we are quick to embrace that which is sanctified, yet we are not as ready to abstain from that which is profane.

To make the division between right and wrong, pure and impure, is indeed one of the greatest challenges of our

time.

The current worship of "moral equivalence" and humanistic values that try to erase the distinctions between moral

and immoral, holy and profane, clears the way for all kinds of degenerate behavior. These hollow rationalizations

cannot stand the test of time.

The litmus of one's true humanity is the ability to create the wholesome marriage of body and soul where one first

makes "havdala," differentiating between that which is illusory and transitory and that which is real, solid and

eternal. Only then, will we be capable of making Kiddush and becoming a truly holy people.

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos

Sincerely

Rabbi Naftali Reich

Text Copyright © 2014 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

Hebrew Academy of Cleveland

Rabbi A. Leib Scheinbaum It was on the eighth day, Moshe summoned Aharon and his sons and the elders of Yisrael. (9:1)

Thrice daily, we recite the prayer, Al ha'tzaddikim v'al ha'chassidim v'al ziknei amcha Bais Yisrael

v'al pleitas bais sofreihem, "(May Your mercies be aroused) upon the righteous, upon the pious, upon

the elders of Your People, the House of Yisrael, upon the remnant of their sages." We must recite this

prayer with consummate kavanah, intention/devotion. Chazal understood the value to the Jewish

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People of these varied leaders, without whom we would not exist as a people. We rely on them, and

we are unable to function without them. Therefore, it is our obligation to pray for their continued good

health. Interestingly, in the text of the blessing, the phrase amcha Bais Yisrael, "Your People, the

House of Yisrael," is used only with regard to zekeinim, elders. We do not connect amcha Bais

Yisrael with chassidim or tzaddikim. Why is this?

Horav Matisyahu Solomon, Shlita, explains that a chassid or tzaddik is able to lead an insular life, far-

removed from the hubbub of the community. Not so the zakein, elder, to whom the community looks

for inspiration and guidance. He does not have the luxury of closing his door, shutting his phone,

making himself unavailable. He is "public property," the domain of Klal Yisrael. He does not live for

himself - he lives for Klal Yisrael.

The Mashgiach made this distinction when he eulogized Horav Elazar M. Shach, zl, referring to the

revered Rosh Yeshivah as Rabban shel kol Klal Yisrael, zakein shel Klal Yisrael, the quintessential

rebbe of all of Klal Yisrael and its elders. He represented the last remnant of the yeshivah world of

Pre-World War I days.

On the eighth day of the inauguration of the Mishkan, Moshe Rabbeinu summoned Aharon, his sons,

and the elders of Klal Yisrael. He instructed them concerning the korbanos that were to be brought.

Aharon sacrificed an eigel, calf, as a sin-offering, and a ram as a burnt-offering. The people sacrificed

a he-goat as its sin-offering. Toras Kohanim explains that Aharon's eigal, calf, was sacrificed to atone

for the sin of eigal, Golden Calf, while the people's he-goat atoned for their participation in the sale of

Yosef (when they slaughtered a goat and dipped Yosef's tunic in its blood). The Mashgiach explains

that mechiras Yosef is the source of all of the sins that occur between a Jew and his fellow man. Why

is it that these korbanos were offered specifically during the Chanukas ha'Mizbayach, the inauguration

of the Altar?

Horav Yosef Zundel Salant, zl, explains that the underlying sin of mechiras Yosef was that the

brothers did not seek counsel and sage advice from Yaakov Avinu, who was the living institution of

daas Torah, the wisdom as derived from Torah study. They should have consulted with Yaakov. He

was the preeminent leader of the generation. Likewise, when Klal Yisrael sinned with the Golden

Calf, they, too, did not bother to consult with the zekeinim. Had they first turned to them and listened

to their advice, they would not have built the Golden Calf. Had we listened to our zekeinim, history

would have been written differently.

Commenting on the term ziknei Yisrael, elders of Yisrael, the Midrash quotes Rabbi Akiva who

compares Klal Yisrael to a bird. As a bird cannot fly without wings, so, too, Klal Yisrael cannot

function without its elders. A bird without wings can live. It cannot, however, fly. It cannot soar.

Likewise, Klal Yisrael can exist without its elders. It cannot, however, grow. Klal Yisrael remains lost

on the ground, groping for a foothold, something that will catapult them upward. Without zekeinim,

we lose our ability to achieve greater and more profound levels of kedushah, holiness. Our elders are

the individuals to whom we look for direction, motivation and stimulation, so that we may grow

correctly in order to realize our individual inherent potential.

The Mashgiach notes that, with the passing of Rav Shach, we have lost: an institution; the preeminent

Torah giant and leader of our generation; the individual who personified yiraas Shomayim, fear of G-

d, at its apex; the daas Torah, wisdom of the Torah as expounded by our sages. Rav Shach was all of

these - and more. There is one point, however, that the Mashgiach feels must be emphasized in order

to truly capture the essence and depth of the tremendous loss of Rav Shach truly. Our generation

became orphaned! We are left bereft of the individual who represented the generation's "parent."

Horav Chaim Shmuelevitz, zl, explains that the concept of being orphaned does not mean that no one

is taking care of the orphan or that he is alone in the world with no one to fend for him. This is untrue,

since we are blessed with a number of social services and chesed organizations who do nothing but

look out for and address the needs of those unfortunates who are alone. An orphan is someone who

has no one who knows about his unique needs. A mother knows what her child needs. She is acutely

aware of what makes her child sad and what cheers him up. A father battles to the point of self-

sacrifice to see to it that his child's needs are satisfied. Thus, a child who is left bereft of his parents is

an orphan, despite all of the wonderful people who reach out to him. He has people who care about

him, but he does not have his parents - who know what he needs and what makes him happy. No

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organization can replace a parent. With the passing of Rav Shach, our generation lost the one

individual who knew and understood our needs, who cared and fought for us, who loved each and

every Jew like his own child - yet would not compromise on the integrity of our mesorah, heritage,

regardless whom he was compelled to challenge. He was a father and mother, a loving parent. This is

what zekeinim, elders, represent, and this is why we as a nation cannot function without our zekeinim.

Aharon raised his hands towards the people and blessed them… and they blessed the people - and the

glory of Hashem appeared to the entire people. (9:22,23)

A person can follow all the rules, do all that is expected of him; yet, without that special blessing, that

prayer, that everything he has done find favor in the eyes of Hashem, it could all be for naught. Klal

Yisrael had done it all, executed everything in accordance with the direction of Moshe Rabbeinu; still,

the Shechinah, Divine Presence, had not reposed upon the Sanctuary. Something was missing. Only

after they received the blessing of Moshe and Aharon did the work achieve fruition, and Hashem's

Shechinah reposed on the Mishkan.

One can have the correct and proper intentions; his goals may be lofty and noble, but he still requires

a blessing that his endeavor will increase kavod Shomayim, the glory of Heaven. Throughout the

millennia, the gedolei Yisrael, Torah giants, would pour out their hearts in profound weeping when

they established a makom Torah, a place which would serve as a bastion of Torah study. They prayed

for its success, because they knew that, without the Heavenly blessing, their work would be rendered

futile.

Horav Ephraim Zalmen Margolis, zl, established a yeshivah in his city, Brody, which was in the Lvov

district of (then) Austria/Poland. While it was a good yeshivah, it nevertheless did not achieve the

fame or success that was enjoyed by Yeshivas Volozhin. Once, Rav Ephraim Zalmen met Horav

Chaim Volozhiner, zl, founder of the Volozhiner Yeshivah. After comparing notes, he asked Rav

Chaim what could be the reason that the success of his yeshivah was limited.

Rav Chaim asked him, "What did you do on the day that the yeshivah was dedicated? How did you

celebrate the milestone event?"

"We arranged a large, festive meal, accompanied by a band and much sensation and festivity," replied

Rav Ephraim Zalmen.

"When we dedicated the Volozhiner Yeshivah," Rav Chaim said, "we decreed a fast and recited

Selichos, accompanied with great emotion and weeping. Indeed, anything for which tears is part of its

foundation will endure."

When the Ponevezer Rav, Horav Yosef Kahaneman, zl, laid the foundation stone for the Yeshivas

Ponevez in Bnei Brak, he was suddenly overcome with extreme emotion, and he broke down crying.

Everyone in attendance was moved by this expression of emotion. The Chazon Ish, zl, told him,

"When one initiates a Torah project with liquor and sweets, there is a question of whether it will

succeed or not. When one 'sows with tears,' he is assured that he will 'harvest with joy.'" Tears are the

guarantee of success, because it is an indication of the sanctity of the project.

åéàîø îùä àì àäøï äåà àùø ãáø ã' ìàîø á÷øáé à÷ãù åòì ôðé ëì äòí àëáã åéãí àäøï

And Moshe said to Aharon: Of this did Hashem speak, saying: "I will be sanctified through those who

are nearest Me; thus, I will honored before the entire people", and Aharon was silent. (10:3)

Horav Shlomo Levinstein, Shlita, relates that he heard from Rav Eliezer Yehudah Finkel, son of

Horav Eliyahu Baruch Finkel, zl, that the Rosh Yeshivah told him the following thought two weeks

prior to his petirah, untimely passing. The thought is a powerful insight into Aharon HaKohen's

reaction - or better, non reaction, to the tragic death of two of his sons, Nadav and Avihu. Rashi

observes that following the tragedy, Moshe Rabbeinu rendered a powerful eulogy for his nephews.

Moshe said to Aharon, "My brother, I knew that Hashem would sanctify His Sanctuary with His

beloved close ones. I figured that it would be either me or you. Now, I see that they are even greater

than you and I." Now that Moshe, the leader of Klal Yisrael, had spoken, it would have made sense

that the next eulogy would be delivered by the father of the deceased. He should have spoken about

their history, relating that, at a young age, it had already been apparent that Nadav and Avihu would

grow into Torah leaders of unparalleled greatness. Yet, Aharon did nothing. He remained silent, mute.

How are we to understand this?

This question is not about Aharon's silence as a reaction to the tragedy. His response is explained as

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the penultimate level of accepting Hashem's decree. He manifested total acquiescence; he had

reaction; he was mute. Now we wonder why he did not eulogize his sons. A eulogy is an intellectual

appreciation of the life and character of the deceased. Why did Aharon not pay his sons their kavod

acharon, last respects, as befitting personages of such unprecedented spiritual stature?

Rav Eliyahu Baruch explained that, indeed, Moshe presented a powerful and inspiring eulogy for his

nephews. As great as his eulogy was it paled, however, in comparison to the one rendered by their

father, Aharon. When did Aharon deliver his eulogy? Of what did it consist? His eulogy was silence!

When one is silent at a time when speaking is appropriate - and even recommended - the silence

becomes that much more compelling. When one speaks, the laudatory comments he is about to say

are secondary to the words that he actually expresses. When one is silent, however, has no

restrictions, no limitations, to his eulogy. Everything that one can conjure up in his mind is included

in the poignant silence.

Moshe was unable to remain silent. For the quintessential leader of Klal Yisrael to remain silent

would have represented a taint, an insult, to the memory of the venerable deceased. People might have

wrongfully thought that he was upset with Nadav and Avihu. Aharon, their father, had the opportunity

to express himself in the most glowing terms. Yet, he did not. This constituted the greatest hesped,

eulogy.

Two weeks later, at the funeral of the Rosh Yeshivah, his son recaptured this Torah thought. The most

compelling eulogy is silence, the internalization of the greatness of the deceased.

The Zohar HaKodesh (cited by Maayanei HaChaim) writes, Kol bechiah d'lo yachil l'mirchash

b'sifsosai - zu hee ha'bechiah ha'shleimah, "All weeping which is not/cannot be expressed vocally -

this is the complete (perfect) weeping." Such weeping will (more readily) generate a positive

Heavenly response. Likewise, explains Horav Chaim Zaitchik, zl, joy which is so great, so intense, so

overwhelming that one cannot possibly restrict himself to verbal expression, this is the most complete

"expression" of joy.

Expressions of joy and grief communicate powerful emotions. Once they have been externally

expressed - vocalized, articulated, put to words - they compromise some of their compelling nature.

When one is speechless - he has achieved the ultimate, most profound, most complete level of

emotion. [A short note of addendum: not all silence is positively significant. In some cases, silence

denotes depression, denial, or the lack of being in touch with one's emotions.] Contained emotion,

controlled emotion, demonstrates perfect harmony, an achievement of perfect balance, whereby the

person is able to soar to much loftier heights of emotion.

Body language has greater profundity and is more compelling than verbal expression. Rav Zaitchik

quotes the Talmud Sanhedrin 58b, in which Chazal state that one who raises his hand to strike his

fellow is considered to be a rasha, wicked person, even though he has not struck him. This is

supported by the pasuk in Shemos 2:13, in which Moshe Rabbeinu refers to the Jew who raised his

hand to strike his fellow as a rasha, "He said to the wicked one, why would you strike your fellow?"

He had not yet struck him, but his nefarious intention was clear. Likewise, in the battle against

Amalek, when Moshe raised his hands, Klal Yisrael began to overpower the enemy. Moshe prayed

with his entire body - every fiber of himself petitioning Hashem on behalf of the Jewish People. What

Moshe did not express with his lips, he expressed with his "body language." The hands and the

movements of the body are agents of the heart.

Following the song of gratitude to Hashem, Moshe and the Jewish men and, after the Splitting of the

Red Sea, Miriam and the other women, took tambourines and expressed their shirah, song, via the

medium of instruments. Why did they not sing? Horav Yehonasan Eibeshutz, zl, explains that it is

forbidden to hear the sound of a woman singing; thus, the women expressed their gratitude with

tambourines. In an alternative approach, Rav Zaitchik explains that the women sensed even greater

joy than did the men. First of all, women are by nature more sensitive than men. Thus, their feelings

of gratitude were greater. Additionally, Pharaoh subjected the women to performing a man's job,

which represented greater physical difficulty. Furthermore, from a spiritual/moral perspective, Egypt

presented a greater challenge for the women than for the men. Therefore, their expression of gratitude

exceeded that of the men. They used tambourines, because they felt gratitude that was beyond words.

When Hashem took his sons from him, Aharon HaKohen was able to maintain total emotional

9

composure. The tragedy was great; the grief was profound; the expression of grief was restricted to

containment within the parameters of "self." Aharon internalized the tragedy in such a manner that no

external manifestation portrayed his inner sorrow. This represented control at its apex.

The challenge of confronting the inevitability of death is overpowering. We refuse to take serious note

that life as we know it on this physical world is one day going to come to an end. The mention of

death brings concern, fear and even hysteria. We would much rather go on believing in the delusion

that life goes on forever - or He does not mean "me." This attitude is understandable, since we are

dealing with the unknown - something which raises our insecurity quotient. There are, however,

unique individuals of outstanding character and clarity of purpose, who transcended these emotions,

who confronted death with readiness and complete lucidity. They did not view death as an end, but as

a beginning of a new and "real" life. This was the consciousness that permeated the Torah mindset of

the residents of Kelm, Lithuania. This was a Jewish city wholly centered and focused upon its

yeshivah which was called the Kelm Talmud Torah, and the yeshivah was the manifestation of its

founder and leader, Horav Simcha Zissel Ziv, zl, popularly known as the Alter of Kelm. The

yeshivah's goal was to become a unique dwelling place for truth and character improvement. Its

students reflected the epitome of these qualities.

Our episode focuses on the Alter's son and successor, Horav Nochum Velvel, zl, who died an

untimely death, leaving an irreplaceable void in the yeshivah and its attending community. Rav

Nochum Velvel was well-known as a saintly person, a primary student of his revered father. During

the closing days of his short life it was evidenced that this unique person possessed a soul that soared

in the Heavens. In Mussar circles it was said, "It is k'dai, worthwhile, to come from the greatest

distance to witness the last days of Rav Nochum Velvel, to learn how one should behave when he is

leaving this world."

His last illness took a terrible and painful physical toll on him. He underwent difficult and

excruciating therapies. Yet, he remained calm, completely composed, experiencing the ordeal with

acceptance and equanimity. His gentile physician informed him that his days were numbered - the end

was near. Rav Nochum Velvel stoically accepted his G-d-given fate. Indeed, when he queried the

physician why he had broken protocol to inform him of his impending death, the doctor replied, "I see

that you perceive death as the transport from one world to the next."

On his last night of mortal life, Rav Nochum Velvel delivered a shmuess, ethical discourse. His theme

was the well-known statement, "The day of death is preferable to the day of birth." It was not the first

time that he had addressed this subject, but, at this time, he added, "It is particularly beneficial for a

person to contemplate this concept at the time of death. This is the thought that comes to me, now, in

my final hours."

Rav Nochum Velvel's mind was clear until the final moments, as he directed his family concerning

how to conduct themselves during the funeral and, afterwards, during the shivah. He commanded

them not to be pained by his passing and stipulated that his wife and daughter, who had difficulty

walking, should not have to walk when accompanying the bier to the cemetery. To ensure their

compliance, he ordered a carriage to be at their disposal. He also instructed that, on the Shabbos

following his passing, the family should take extreme care when eating. He feared that, due to their

preoccupation with their grief, they might be careless with regard to the bones.

A person who lives his mortal life with such spiritual consciousness can truly view his day of death as

preferable to his day of birth.

To distinguish between the contaminated and the pure, and between the creature that may be eaten

and the creature that may not be eaten. (11:47)

Due to the spiritual repugnance associated with maachalos asuros, forbidden foods, they affect and

compromise the Jewish consciousness, which is particularly sensitive to spiritual incursion. Thus, a

Jew whose body has been satiated and nourished on tarfus, unkosher, unclean foods, lacks the

spiritual finesse and ethical/moral qualities inherent to Jews who are spiritually refined. Throughout

the millennia, Jews have sacrificed themselves to remain loyal to the Torah's code concerning the

laws of kashrus, maintaining a strong degree of personal stringency in adhering to its halachic

demands. The following episode demonstrates how a grandfather's fidelity to the laws of kashrus

impacted the spiritual renaissance of his grandson, some sixty-years later.

10

The story begins during the closing days of World War II in one of Germany's infamous death camps.

The Nazis realized that the end was near. They could almost smell the Soviet tanks approaching what

used to be their fortress of security. The Nazis quickly began to prepare for their escape. The

commandant of the camp was especially vicious in his virulent hatred of the Orthodox inmates of the

camp. To be compelled to run like a frightened animal was sufficient humiliation for him, but, being

relegated to run while allowing the hapless Jews to continue living was too much for him to tolerate.

He could not allow them to emerge victorious from the camp. He ordered the guards to assemble all

of the Jews, so that he could complete the job he had begun. He did not seem to care about his

personal safety - if it meant persecuting and murdering Jews. He looked for the one Jew who had been

a constant thorn in his side. Rav Shraga Moskowitz, zl, had already been an old man when the war

broke out. Five years later, his body was aged and broken, having suffered every physical indignity to

which the diabolical animals in the guise of men could subject him. He had once been a distinguished

Rosh Yeshivah in Hungary, a beloved mentor to thousands. Even during the war he guided and

inspired others, while his own meticulous observance of mitzvos was unwavering.

The commandant made Rav Shraga get down on his knees. He stood before him with a fork of

unkosher meat in one hand - and a loaded gun pointed at the Rav's head in the other hand. With anger

borne of cruelty, he screamed, "The war is over. I am sure that if you will want to return to your

family, you will be able to do so. You may leave now - if you will eat this slice of meat. Otherwise,

you will die right here. You have one chance - one choice. What will it be?"

Rav Shraga looked up at the commandant and, with a half-smile on his face, said, "Throughout my

internment in this camp, I have been observant of every one of the Jewish laws of kashrus. At times,

when stretched to the point of exhaustion, indeed, even when my life was in danger, I refused to eat

non-kosher food. I will not succumb to your threats now. My allegiance to G-d is stronger than my

fear of death."

The German commandant saw that he had lost the battle. The spiritual commitment of the Jewish

rabbi was greater than his fear of death. The Nazi pulled the trigger, and Rav Shraga was martyred al

Kiddush Hashem, sanctifying Hashem's Name in his last moments of mortal life.

The story does not end here. It continues some sixty-years later when a successful businessman was

calmly sitting in his well-appointed office in downtown Tel Aviv, and the phone rang. It was his wife

with a request. She was running late and did not have time to prepare dinner. Could he stop by the

restaurant and pick up dinner? It was a simple request, since the restaurant was right around the corner

from his office.

The man finished his day's work, locked his office and proceeded to the non-kosher restaurant which,

in the past, had provided him and his wife with many dinners. He waited in line as the customers were

picking up their non-kosher dinners. Suddenly, out of the blue, this man remembered the story his

parents had often related, the one about his saintly grandfather who had rather taken a bullet to the

head than eat non-kosher food - and here he was waiting in line to purchase non-kosher meat!

He was not alone, as the restaurant was filled with like-minded, non-practicing Jews gorging

themselves with non-kosher delicacies. Something was terribly wrong - either he and all of the other

customers were not normal, or his grandfather had been insane. One perspective was very, very

wrong. He left the store. Some spark of "normalcy," an inspiration going back sixty-years to the

moment when his grandfather gave up his life, took hold of him and guided him back to the

observance which he had rejected earlier in life.

Everyone has a history, ancestors who in the past made the ultimate sacrifice to remain committed

Torah Jews. Why do so many turn their backs on them? Sadly, when we view the future without

guidance refracted through the prism of the past, the result is a myopic and jaundiced perspective.

Va'ani Tefillah Emes ve'emunah chok v'lo yaavor. True and faithful, it is an unbreachable decree.

Two terms: Emes - true, emunah - faithful, have the same root, but represent different forms of belief.

Emes is absolute truth. We accepted the Torah with clarity of vision in the sunshine of our history, as

our nation stood at Har Sinai and witnessed the Revelation during its nascency. This was a time of

gilui Shechinah, the Divine Presence was revealed for all to see. Throughout the darkness of our exile,

we maintained our emunah, faith, in Hashem, although His Divine Presence was covert, veiled from

11

our eyes.

Horav Shimon Schwab, zl, explains that during the period of hester panim, when Hashem's

Countenance is concealed from us, our emunah, faith, in Hashem is based upon the emes, truth, to

which our ancestors were privy at Har Sinai. We believe that the emes of Torah is chok v'lo yaavor,

an unbreachable decree, and will never disappear. While some of the mitzvos may appear to be

outdated, archaic, or difficult to understand, it has no bearing on our commitment to the Almighty and

His Torah. We believe b'emunah shleimah, with perfect faith, in the absolute truth of the Torah -

despite, at times, our inability to clearly understand the mitzvos. This is what is defined as Kabbolas

Ol Malchus Shomayim, accepting upon oneself the yoke of the Heavenly Kingdom - which is the

central theme and message of Krias Shema.

Dedicated

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in memory of his father

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To Live As A Jew

A significant part of this week’s parashah is devoted to listing or describing the animals, birds and fish which are or

are not kosher. The parashah concludes: “To distinguish between the contaminated and the pure, and between the

living thing that may be consumed and the living thing that may not be consumed.” R’ Moshe Yehoshua Hager z”l

(1916-2012; Vizhnitzer Rebbe) asks: For the sake of parallelism, shouldn’t the second half of the verse have been

reversed--“the living thing that may not be consumed” paralleling “contaminated” and “the living thing that may be

consumed” paralleling “pure”? [As written, the pasuk seems to have the pattern A-B-B-A instead of A-B-A-B.]

R’ Hager explains: In addition to its literal, halachic meaning, the verse may be interpreted as follows [giving it an

A-B-A-B pattern]: Who is contaminated? One whose life force is derived from consumable belongings. Who is

pure? One whose life force is not derived from consumable belongings, but rather from spiritual acquisitions.

In this light, he continues, we can understand the mishnah (Avot, ch. 4): “Against your will, you are alive.” Who is

truly alive? One who approaches material pleasures unwillingly.

R’ Hager adds (in the name of R’ Mordechai Chune Fuchs, a famous chassid of R’ Hager’s grandfather): Some

people are alive, while other seemingly living people merely exist. An example of the latter is one who is most alert

when sitting in front food, but who consistently nods off during prayers. A truly living person is one who has his

priorities in order. (Kuntreis Sichot U’maamarei Kodesh 5732-5734, p.64)

12

******** “Moshe said to Aharon: Of this did Hashem speak, saying, ‘I will be sanctified through those who are

nearest Me, thus I will be honored before the entire people’.” (10:3)

R’ Yaakov Kranz z”l (1741-1804; the Dubno Maggid) explains that this verse contrasts Hashem’s expectations of

the righteous with His expectations of the “ordinary” Jew. Those closest to Hashem are held to a standard that

measures whether they sanctify Him through every deed; if they do not, they are judged harshly, as Aharon’s sons

Nadav and Avihu were. In contrast, “ordinary” Jews are measured by whether they honor Hashem by adhering, at a

minimum, to the letter of the law.

R’ Kranz explains further that there are three reasons for why G-d holds the righteous to exacting standards. The

first may be understood by means of a parable: Two subjects of a king committed the same offense against their

ruler. One offender was a peasant while the other was one of the king’s advisors. Wouldn’t we expect the king to

judge his advisor more harshly, because the advisor should have had a greater reverence for the king after being

granted access to the throne? Similarly, one who has been blessed with closeness to Hashem is held to a higher

standard than is one who is distant from Hashem.

Second, one who is close to Hashem is viewed by others as a role model. When he sins, he not only violates the law,

he causes others to do so. This is not true when an “ordinary” Jew sins.

Third, R’ Kranz writes, not all neshamot / souls originate from the same “level.” Those that come from a higher

source are more delicate, so-to-speak. Therefore, they are more prone to being damaged by even minor sins, just as a

delicate piece of equipment is more susceptible to damage from minute dust particles and just as a white garment is

more susceptible to permanent damage from small stains. This is alluded to by the verse (Kohelet 1:18), “For with

much wisdom comes much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases pain.” (Sefer Ha’middot: Sha’ar

Ha’yirah chapter 12)

Also from the Dubno Maggid:

“Do not drink intoxicating wine, you and your sons with you, when you come to the Ohel Mo’ed / Tent of

Meeting . . .” (10:9)

The Bet Hamikdash was the paragon of beauty, a joy to the whole world (paraphrasing Eichah 2:15). A kohen who

drinks wine before entering the Temple acts as if he needs an external stimulus – a foreign fire – to kindle joy in his

heart when performing the sacred service. According to the Talmudic sage Rabbi Yishmael, this was the sin of

Aharon’s sons, Nadav and Avihu. (Kol Rinah Vy’shuah to Esther 1:10-12)

********

Pesach The following is a letter written by R’ Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler z”l (1892-1953; rosh kollel in Gateshead,

England, and mashgiach ruchani in the Ponovezh Yeshiva in Bnei Brak) to an unidentified recipient. It is

printed in Michtav M’Eliyahu: Kovetz Igrot, p.129.

I received your precious letter with your invitation to come visit you and to participate in the Pesach Seder with you.

Thank you very much for your invitation. However, I am unable to accept it. With G-d’s help, I will celebrate the

holy festival and arrange the Seder where I live.

It would seem that, just as it is impossible to invite a ben Torah [loosely translated: “one whose values are derived

from the Torah”] to visit a friend for the Ne’ilah prayer on Yom Kippur, so, it seems to me, it is impossible to make

a “visit” out of the holy Seder. [The Seder is an occasion to internalize, not a time to be outward-looking.] Fortunate

is one who focuses and arranges the Seder within his heart. The Exodus is the source of the Jewishness within us.

The Seder must make a convert of our inner selves, which have left their original domain and become animal-like,

grossly material. More than that, our inner selves have ceased being Jewish. Woe to our hearts that are lost within

our inner selves.

A related thought:

R’ Shalom Noach Berezovsky z”l (1911-1980; Slonimer Rebbe in Yerushalayim) writes: As applied to some people,

the title “Jew” is no more than an accident of birth. Such a person’s Jewishness is not part of his essence; though he

fulfills all of the mitzvot, he is doing nothing more than “acting” Jewish. To really be a Jew means that one’s

Jewishness is embedded in the essence of his being, in his innards, his mind, his heart, and all his limbs. We read in

Megillat Esther [about Mordechai], “There was a Jewish man . . .” [instead of, “There was a Jew”]. His whole

personality was Jewish--his beliefs and his outlooks were Jewish, his feelings and aspirations were Jewish; even his

physical desires were Jewish, i.e., they were under his control. We read (Vayikra 18:3), “Like the deed of the land of

Egypt in which you dwelled--you shall not do, and like the deed of the land of Canaan to which I bring you--you

13

shall not do, and do not follow their traditions.” This means that those things which you are permitted to do, you

should not do the way an Egyptian or Canaanite would do them.

A true expression of these feelings can be found in the journal entry that the Piaseczna Rebbe Hy”d [R’ Klonimus

Kalman Shapira z”l; 1889-1943] wrote upon turning 40: “What can I accept upon myself? To study more? I believe

that I don’t waste any time currently. To distance myself from physical desires? Thank G-d, I’m not subjugated to

them, G-d forbid. What is lacking in me? Simply to be Jewish. I appear to myself to be a perfectly painted picture of

a human being, which lacks only a soul.” [The Slonimer Rebbe continues:] Tzaddikim say that when one recites the

blessing, “He did not make me a gentile,” he must examine himself to see whether any part of himself is in fact

gentile-like. (Netivot Shalom, Vol. I p.18)

******** Memoirs

R’ Yaakov Emden (1697-1776) is well-known for his notes on the Talmud, his halachic writings, and his

siddur commentary. One of R’ Emden’s lesser known works is his autobiography, Megilat Sefer. In this

selection, R’ Emden explains what compelled him to write an autobiography.

Before I begin to tell the story of what happened to me, I will declare truthfully that I have not done this to publicize

myself and my praises, for I know that I am lacking good deeds--devoid of Torah, devoid of wisdom, devoid of

greatness with which to glorify myself. Would that my writing not reveal my shortcomings! However, those who

know me know that I have chosen the path of humility for, since the day that I have attained understanding, I have

recognized my own worth and blemishes. Therefore, it doesn’t matter to me [if my writing reveals my

shortcomings], for I love only the truth.

There are three reasons why I have arrived at this point, i.e., to write an autobiography. [First,] I don’t want to

refrain from informing my descendants all of my affairs to the extent possible (and, if I can’t tell all, then at least

what I remember at the moment). [Second,] the strongest reason that led me to this is to reveal Hashem’s kindness to

me since my youth. Though many have persecuted me, they have been unable to defeat me. If it could all be

described, it would not be believed that a person could suffer one-thousandth of what I have undergone . . . From all

of them, Hashem saved me . . . The numerous wonders that He did for me, the lowly among the thousands of Israel,

I wish to reveal to later generations.

Third, [my intention is] so that the light of my guiltlessness will shine like the sun and I will not remain under a

cloud [in the face of] “the lawless who have robbed me; they now surround me as my enemies in their very souls”

[paraphrasing Tehilim 17:9], slandering me to humiliate me in the eyes of the inhabitants of the land. They wish to

destroy me with the curses in their hands, with their lies that have been disseminated in every corner. There is no

doubt that the publications containing their attacks will remain in the world for some time. [Ed. note: Such

pamphlets still exist.] Therefore, of necessity, I must clarify my deeds before G-d and man.

The editors hope these brief 'snippets' will engender further study and discussion of Torah topics ('lehagdil Torah

u'leha'adirah'), and your letters are appreciated. Web archives at Torah.org start with 5758 (1997) and may be

retrieved from the Hamaayan page.

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memory of a loved one. The low cost of sponsorship is $36. Donations to HaMaayan are tax-deductible.

Developing Haskel

“I want to learn,” he said, “but I don’t want any of that commandment stuff.” The outreach professional just smiled

patiently, having heard such lines before, and having witnessed how, after a year, maybe less, such people end up

pursuing the “commandment stuff” with a vengeance.

14

“So, why did you change your mind?” he asked the student, six months later. “Why did you decide to start doing . . .

what did you call it back then . . . ‘commandment stuff’?”

The young man thought for a moment, and then said, “The more I learned, the more it made sense, and the more it

made sense, the more I felt I had to do it. Learning about a commandment can only take you so far. Then you have

to do it to actualize it and really understand what it is that you learned.”

What he was really after is called Haskel, from the word seichel, which means mind. Haskel, therefore, refers to a

level of consciousness on which a person becomes mindful of an idea, to the extent that it becomes an axiom of his

perspective on life. On such a level, violation of the idea is a violation of self.

This is different from Dayah and Binah, two lesser levels of awareness, which mean knowledge and understanding

respectively. Dayah is really just awareness of an idea, before one actually begins to understand its meaning or role

in life, something that is a function of Binah, or understanding.

However, how many smokers stop smoking just because they understand how dangerous it is to smoke, or people

cut back on sweets after watching a movie about the risks of obesity? Not enough. Understanding something or even

its consequences alone is not necessarily enough to change a person’s path in life.

A heart attack or something similar, God forbid, does changes lives. To intellectually confront death lacks impact; to

experientially confront it is real enough to cause a person to identify their errant behavior with catastrophic results.

This has the capacity to change a person’s life, and to force them to take responsibility for their actions to the point

of biting the bullet and quitting what they should have quit a long time ago, or to start doing that which they should

have begun doing a while back.

This is the level of Haskel, or Da’as. It is the level of intellectual realization on which an idea merges with one’s

mindset. A person has a difficult time living with himself if his life runs contrary to the concept, which is what

forces a person to eventually do teshuvah, even if he might be able to get away with what he has done.

If he doesn’t, then he has to shut himself down emotionally, which can and usually will have extreme consequences,

such as, at best, becoming a hypocrite, and at worst, a sociopath. When that happens, a person can do just about

anything without any real sense of remorse, making him a danger to society and himself.

It is only on the level of Haskel that ideas become part of reality, and they make life exciting. Ideas that are based in

truth, when implemented, impact us and the world in which we live. The more truth-based they are, the greater the

impact they will have, some of which is visible to us, much of which takes place in spiritual realms beyond our

ability to perceive.

This can be both exhilarating and dangerous at the same time. If the idea being actualized is implemented at the

wrong time, or even in the wrong place, it can damage the world and the person responsible. The intention can be

good, and the act great, but if the conditions are wrong then the impact is wrong and destructive.

There is no question that Nadav and Avihu, the two eldest sons of Aharon HaKohen, were great people. They

learned their Torah directly from the mouth of their uncle, Moshe Rabbeinu, and they had been sanctified for their

roles in the Mishkan. If they suffered from anything, it was a little too much religious fervor, too great a desire to

achieve Haskel on some of the holiest ideas known to mankind.

They had been trained to connect to God. They knew things that others did not, and could not. Officiating in the

Mishkan required more than obedience and a memorization of responsibility. It required a deep and profound

understanding of what was supposed to be accomplished, and how. If they had been drunk on anything, it was on all

of the sublime knowledge they had been exposed to in a very short period of time.

It was only natural for them to want to become unified with that knowledge, to experience what they had already

gained on the levels of Dayah and Binah on the level of Haskel. And, in time, they would have done exactly that,

with the permission of God, just as Adam HaRishon would have been permitted to eat from the Aitz HaDa’as Tov

v’Rah on the first Shabbos, had he waited for Divine permission to do so.

For, God does not create knowledge and then keep it away from man. What we are not supposed to know at all we

do not know about. What we are told about is something that we can know, but only at the right time, when we’re

ready to know it, and when history is ready for us to learn it. To jump the gun is to bring about exactly the opposite

of what the knowledge is meant to do: bring us closer to God, and make life a Godly experience.

This is also true of levels of knowledge as well. We may already know about something on the level of Dayah and

Binah, but not yet on the level of Haskel. As hungry as we may be to make that leap of knowledge experience, and

we should be, we have to be careful to not emotionally bite off more than we can chew at the time.

However, I suspect that such mistakes are not the norm, and that they rarely happen. I believe that the majority of

the time people are ready for higher levels of knowledge, or at least could be, but they do not pursue them. Instead,

15

they accept their current level of understanding and intellectual appreciation, and intellectually, and therefore

emotionally, stagnate.

We are now into the period of Sefiras HaOmer, the goal of which is to develop a leiv tov—good heart. The 32 days

from Pesach to Lag B’Omer is for developing a heart (the gematria of leiv, or heart, is 32), so-to-speak, and the 17

days after Lag B’Omer, the gematria of tov, or good, is for transforming our hearts into good hearts, as it says:

He [Rebi Yochanan] said to them [his students], “Go out and discern which is the best way to which a person should

cling.”

Rebi Eliezer said: “A good eye (i.e., be tolerant of others).”

Rebi Yehoshua said: “A good friend (i.e., he should be one and have one).”

Rebi Yosi said: “A good neighbor [from whom he can learn good traits].”

Rebi Shimon said: “One who considers consequences [of his actions].”

Rebi Elazar said: “A good heart [that will lead him to all of the above].”

He said to them, “I prefer the words of Elazar ben Arach over your words, for included in his words are your

words.” (Pirkei Avos 2:13)

If ever there is a time of year to achieve a good heart, it is now. Ultimately speaking, it is about becoming real with

truth, which means knowing what you know not just on the level of Dayah and Binah, but on the level of Haskel as

well. That is when a person has a difficult time acting contrary to what he knows is the Godly way to behave.

Over the next few weeks, we’ll discuss this a bit more, b”H, in time for Shavuos. In the meantime, a good starting

point is getting clear about what life is truly about, and where your way of life reflects that knowledge, or deflects it.

Text Copyright © 2013 by Rabbi Pinchas Winston and Torah.org.

High Standards

The Torah itself records the reaction of Moshe to the tragic deaths of the sons of Aharon. Moshe tells his grieving

brother that the Lord had informed him, “that I will sanctify My name through those who are nearest to Me.”

Therefore even though the harsh judgment against Aharon – the dramatic and unexpected deaths of his two elder

sons, Nadav and Avihu – dominates the mood of the moment, there is a subtle message of consolation and

explanation that Moshe offers to his brother.

And that perhaps is one of the reasons that Aharon remained silent in acceptance of the fate that befell him and his

family. Aharon apparently realized that there was a higher purpose also involved in these events – the sanctification

of God's name and a warning against tampering with the ritual services of the Tabernacle/Temple/Mishkan – and

this realization motivated his silence.

It is very difficult for us ordinary mortals to appreciate the nature of this means of sanctification. We tremble at

having to think of God's sanctification and the ennobling of God's name in the world when we are forced always to

think of death and human tragedy. We much prefer to think of God's greatness in terms of charity, compassion,

comfort and consolation.

Yet, as mortals who possess an eternal soul, we all realize that death and tragedy are all part of life – unavoidable

parts of life that we all experience and must deal with. Thus Moshe’s words to his brother regarding death and

tragedy are really addressed to all of us as well. That is the reason they appear in the Torah, whose words are

directed to all humans for all time.

Those who are closest to God in their physical lifetime are treated specially and uniquely by Heaven for good or for

better. This is a partial insight into the overall pattern of challenge and difficulty that is the leitmotif of Jewish

history. The Jewish people are special and being special carries with it great burdens and responsibilities. Even small

errors of judgment or weakness and deviation of behavior can carry with it grave and lasting consequences.

16

As such, all Jews should feel that every action and pattern of behavior that becomes part of their lives is scrutinized,

judged and brings forth reaction from God and humans. Nothing that happens in God's world is ignored or even

forgotten. We are held to high standards. We are tight-rope walkers and there is no real safety net stretched out

beneath us.

We all realize that a hurt inflicted upon us by a family member or close friend pains us much more deeply than from

a similar hurt suffered by us from a stranger or even an enemy. Those who are closest to us are the ones that can hurt

us the most. And that also is part of the message that Moshe told his brother. Since we are so close to God, Heaven

is more pained, so to speak, by our shortcomings, insults and deviations from His path of instruction for us.

So our relationship to God is one of particular favor but also one of great challenge and responsibility. Simply by

realizing this do we enhance our own holiness and help sanctify God's name.

Shabat shalom

Sfas Emes, Zechuso Tagein Aleinu, Parshas Shemini, 5631

It helps to begin with some background information.. This ma'amar is built on an insight that the Sfas Emes had

from his grandfather. The Chiddushei HaRim offered a comment based on an explanation that the Toras Kohanim

gives on a pasuk in our parsha. (Note: Toras Kohanim is a classic commentary -- from Tana'itic times -- on Sefer

Vayikra.). Because of its layer-upon-layer structure, to understand this ma'amar, we must first see the pshat pashut

(simple/surface understanding) of the pasuk that the Toras Kohanim presents. Then we can proceed to the (very

different) reading of the pasuk that the Sfas Emes and his grandfather offer.

Early in the parsha (Vayikra 9: 6), the Torah tells us: "Zeh hadavar ta'asu veyeirah aleichem kevod HaShem."

(ArtScroll: "This is the thing that HaShem has commanded you to do; then the glory of HaShem will appear to

you.") The Sfas Emes quotes the comment of the Toras Kohanim on this pasuk: "Oso yeitzar hara ha'aviru

mile'vavchem, ve'siheh'yu kulchem be'eitza achas le'shareis lifnei HaMakom. Kesheim shehu yechidi ba'olam, kach

tiheyeh avodaschem meyuchedes lefahnav. Ah'sisehm chein? Veyeira aleichem kevod HaShem."

(That is: "Rid yourselves of that evil inclination and be united in your service [of HaShem]. [Further,] just as there is

only one HaShem, so, too, shall your service be totally unique and single-minded. If you achieve that quality in your

service, you will have access to the glory of HaShem.")

As you see, the Toras Kohanim is working with the pasuk's word "zeh". And the Toras Kohanim reads "zeh" as:

"this -- and only this -- shall you do." I suggest that this reading leads the Toras Kohanim to see the pasuk as a

warning against two specific evils. One pitfall to avoid is factionalism . The Toras Kohanim voices its concern about

divisiveness with the words: "vesiheyu kulchem be'eitza achas" ("and be united"). That "eitza achas" follows from

the pasuk's word: "zeh" -- this and only this -- way shall you proceed.

The other danger against which the Toras Kohanim cautions is ambivalence -- i.e., being of two minds about our

relationship with HaShem. We see this admonition in the use of the plural in the word "levavchem" (your 'hearts').

And again we see the Toras Kohanim is working with the word "zeh." That is, this -- and only this - shall be your

avoda; i.e., be single-minded in your relationship with HaShem.

So much for the pshat pashut (simple/surface meaning) of the Toras Kohanim's comment. Citing his grandfather, the

Sfas Emes offers a different reading . The Sfas Emes focuses on the word "ta'asu" - "you shall do". The Sfas Emes

explains. The Torah is commanding us to do all our "asiyos" -- our physical actions -- as "asher tziva HaShem" :

with an awarerness of HaShem's Presence. In reality, everything in this world conveys a message of HaShem's

Presence. For we know something about that 'everything' -- namely, "Hakohl bara lichvodo". ("Everything that

HaShem created was to proclaim His glory") . Thus, if only by implication, analogy, or allegory, accurate perception

of reality can enable us to perceive HaShem's Presence. Hence, it should be feasible to live our lives in a constant,

interactive relationship with HaShem.

Note that the Sfas Emes is saying something very different from the familiar: "Kohl ma'asecha yiheyu lesheim

shamayim" In that standard principle we are told: "Let everything you do -- your eating, your sleeping, etc. -- and as

the Ba'al Shem Tov added -- even your Torah study and your tefila -- be to serve HaShem".

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The Sfas Emes is telling us that HaShem is present in all creation. But the Sfas Emes is also fully aware that

HaShem's Presence is hidden. From these two facts of life, the Sfas Emes draws a powerful conclusion: that we bear

a responsibility to reveal to the world that HaShem is really there. How do we do it? By being aware in our

mundane, everyday activities of HaShem's Presence. In other words, we are all called to perceive HaShem's

Presence -- not in remote mountains nor in isolated Bah'tei Medrash -- but "toch ha'asiya mamash". Thus, "zeh

hadavar ta'asu " is telling us to be aware of HaShem while we go about our normal human activities.

The Sfas Emes concludes: by so doing we can reach a state in which "Ve'yei'rah aleichem kevod HaShem" (the

glory of HaShem will appear to us.) You may ask: what is so wonderful about that? The answer is straightforward.

Living one's life with a constant sense of being in the Presence of HaShem must truly be wonderful.

Text Copyright © 2005 by Rabbi Dr. Nosson Chayim Leff and Torah.org.

A Tumah Primer 1

Add one more distinction to the already dizzying number of details you know about tumah: prepositions count.

It is no accident that the Torah warns us to keep away from some kinds of tumah with a “bais,” and others with a

“lamed.” In some cases we are admonished against becoming tameh in or by these activities. Here, the Torah uses a

“bais” in presenting the odious object or activity. In regard to a different class of objects, the Torah distances us

from tumah that comes about through them, meaning by meeting up with them, and the impression they leave upon

us..

The distinction is clear. Some things – notably forbidden foods and illicit relations – concretely change us for the

worse, by our making them part of ourselves, or committing immoral acts with them. Other objects need to be

avoided only because of the mental associations we make with them, the trains of thought they set off in us. We

avoid them not for what they are, but for what they get us to think about.

In our parshah, the Torah lists many animals forbidden to us as food. It lists large animals, fish, birds, winged

insects, and small crawlers. This anti-menu is interrupted by a long consideration of tumah produced by contact with

the bodily remains of some of the items on that list. These forms of tumah are all part of the second class. They

function through their mental associations – and only in the context of entering the Mikdosh and functioning within

the requirements of its offerings. The Torah in effect warns that contact with various dead animals sets us thinking

in a manner that is inconsistent with the essential message of the Mikdosh – striving to achieve the highest spiritual

plane available to Man. This kind of tumah is decidedly impermanent. Because it is symbolic, we feel its impact

only when it is immediately associated with the Mikdosh, in time and in place. With the passage of time (שמש) ברעה

and by experiencing a countervailing message (immersion in a mikvah), the negativity is tamed, and we revert to our

previous position.

The two classes of tumah are intertwined because they work in concert. Concrete-tumah laws won’t work to make or

keep us holy without contact-tumah laws. Modifying our diet, eschewing certain foods, will make it easier for us to

become holy, but they will not confer holiness upon us alone. Real spiritual progress comes only when we become

constantly and incessantly preoccupied with growth (symbolized by the Mikdosh and all its activities), when we

become discerning and selective about absolutely everything with which we come in contact, and question how that

contact will affect our inner lives. Practicing the laws of contact-tumah makes us do just that.

In general, the laws of contact-tumah keep us away from the most insidious message of Death. When we witness

death, we are likely on some level to absorb the idea that we are nothing but material, programmed to live and dies

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by random laws of Nature. If we are nothing but dross of an unseeing universe, then we enjoy no moral freedom to

make choices and assume responsibility for our inner lives and stature. Contact-tumah applies to the large animals

(mammals) that we most resemble, and eight of the smaller animals (mammals again – at least those we can

identify) that live in closest proximity to Man. It does not apply to animals that live in different realms, like the fish

of the sea and the birds of the air[2]. These laws apply only to objects that are part of the realm in which Man most

often exercises his power to choose his moral station. They do not apply to things still rooted to the earth, to things

that have not been selected by Man for his use. They apply specifically to the objects through which Man expresses

his personality and his endeavors – his food, his clothing and the utensils he uses.

The details of these laws support the idea that we deal here with symbolic, rather than concrete, changes within us.

For example, containers represent possessions; pots represent food preparation; tools represent our labor.

(Interestingly, even forbidden foods, which are permitted only to non-Jews, are bound by the laws of contact-tumah.

This can only mean that the message of Mikdosh aims to transform not only Jews, but all of mankind. The ethic that

treats food as entertainment, or sensory stimulation, or even survival falls far short of the mission of the Torah. One

day, the striving for spiritual elevation symbolized by the Mikdosh will succeed in imparting a sense of holiness and

elevating the mundane to all humankind.)

One could see contact-tumah as an academic exercise to all but the Kohanim who served in the Mikdosh. The rules

of tumah and taharah impacted only aspects of life associated with the Temple and its offerings, we would think, and

all others could look at these laws as a curiosity. Two arguments belie this assessment.

Firstly, the impact of these laws was felt far beyond the Kohanim, and far beyond a much larger group who

practiced them voluntarily. There are references in the early seforim of Nach[3] that show a larger group of people

who recognized that these laws were an important educative tool for people aspiring to spiritual growth. Many

ordinary people treated their daily, mundane food as if it were subject to the rules that govern offerings, and

therefore governed by the same requirements of staying tahor. In time, these people were referred to as Chaverim,

members of an open society pledged to treat the ordinary as if it were holy. Because they had to avoid much of what

others enjoyed without special vigilance, they came to be called Perushim, those who “stayed away” from the things

and people that all others made part of their lives. It is likely that some of our greatest leaders and prophets sprang

from the early formulations of this group in the infancy of our people. It is much more likely that this was true than

that they simply appeared in a vacuum.

(The Perushim – or Pharisees as the Western world calls them – would be mocked and scorned by those who turned

their message on its head, in an attempt to contrast them negatively with the founder of their religion. The word

Pharisee became synonymous with hypocrite. Ironically, it was the Perushim who had the keenest eye for spotting

hypocrisy and criticizing it. To the real Perushim, the mechanics of taharah was only one aspect of the life they

attempted to lead, which involved a complex prescription for moral excellence. They detested hypocrisy, and

ferreted it out of hiding. Several caricatures in one passage in the Gemara demonstrate this[4]. They had strong

words for the pious chasid, who cared more for his own purity than for human life; for the young woman overly

zealous in her devotions; to the widow who showed off her “frumkeit;” to the self-appointed Torah decisors who

lacked the depth to do the job. All of these, claimed the Gemara, are destroyers of the world.)

There is little question that the laws of contact-tumah helped shape the progress of a core group of spiritual climbers,

and that their gifts and talents spilled over to enrich the rest of our people.

There is a second argument for the impact of these laws on non-Kohanim. The Mikdosh did reach out to the

common man, who had to deal with issue of tumah and taharah in regard to terumah, ma’aser, etc. Moreover, three

times a year, everyone came to Yerushalayim, where they were expected to present themselves in a state of taharah

at the Mikdosh. To ready themselves for this experience, they had to practice the laws of tumah, making themselves

conscious of their every move and its relation to Hashem. Picture the weeks before a holiday, and the spirit that had

to come over every Jewish man and woman! All work and craftsmanship was fixed in their minds as relating to a

Divine purpose, saturated with a sense of moral freedom. The simple tools of each Jew’s trade became halachically

important entities, since they had to be guarded against tumah or conveying tumah. Living under the requirements of

taharah for even this brief period banished so much commonness and degeneration that had accumulated in the

months that preceded!

One aspect of this beautiful way of life remains, millennia after the destruction of the Temple. The Gemara[5] tells

us that the first step in joining the Chaverim was precision in the laws of netilas yadayim[6], washing hands before

eating ordinary food. Each time we wash for bread, we participate in part in this great system that made our

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ancestors conscious of the great gift of moral freedom, and our obligation to be discerning about each and every

interaction between ourselves and the world around us.

1.Based on the Hirsch Chumash, Vayikra 11:24,46

2.With the single exception of the carcass of birds that are tehorim – and only העילבה תיבב

3.See Shmuel I 20:26 and 21:6

4.Sotah 22B

5.Bechoros 30B

6.So it is understood by Rashi and Rambam, Temai’ai Mishkav u-Moshav, 10:1-2

You Shall Sanctify Yourselves and You Will be Holy1

The coda to the parshah of forbidden foods is as mysterious as it is elegant. “I am Hashem your G-d, and you shall

sanctify yourselves and you will be holy, because I am holy.” This enigmatic formula is important enough to appear,

in one form or another, in regard to other areas, such as forbidden relations and avodah zarah.

Why do these very different subjects all require this formula? Why does the formula itself include an apparent

tautology – you shall sanctify yourselves and you will be holy? Why does the Torah provide a reason for the

commandment to be holy (“because I am holy”), and how does that reason explain anything at all? It seems to say

that if G-d is holy, we should become as well, since it is proper to become what He is. But can human beings

become what He is?

Ramban provides the insight to unravel the mystery. Where the Torah’s attaches the prohibition of eating from an

animal that is a terefah, to the words “People of holiness you shall be,” Ramban2 comments, “I desire that you be

people of holiness, so that it you will be fit for you to cling to Me Who is holy. Therefore, do not make yourselves

abominable by eating detestable things.” In other words, Hashem desires that Jews cling to him, and provides

guidance to us to avoid foods which result in the soul become coarser, and which block the acquisition of holiness.

The seforim hakedoshim provide the larger context to this thought. The ultimate purpose of all mitzvos, they

emphasize, is to bring an individual to devekus. Should a person observe the entirety of Torah and mitzvos but fail to

attach himself to HKBH, he is deficient in achieving the purpose of all the mitzvos.

This, then, is the fuller meaning of our passage: Sanctify yourselves by eschewing all things that distance you from

Me. Avoid all things that distance a person from Me, that make you coarser and more material, that lead you away

from Me, rather than assist you in clinging to me. You shall be holy because I am holy. By reason of that holiness, I

cannot abide things that oppose kedushah and distance people from Me; in order to refine yourselves to the utmost,

you are to eat only refined foods.

As we stated above, the Torah employs a similar formula regarding kedushah in regard to both illicit relations and

avodah zarah. Both of these transgressions inevitably drive a person further away from Hashem, distancing him

from the goal of intense closeness to Him.

The centrality of devekus in the mitzvah system leads to a different understanding of a familiar story. The potential

convert who came to Hillel asked for a synopsis of Torah that he could absorb while standing on one leg. Hillel

accepted the challenge, and offered his famous summary: What is distasteful to you, do not do lechavrecha.3 The

Magid saw in this last word a form of lechavrusecha, i.e. your ability to associate and bond with Hashem. Hillel told

his interlocutor that the purpose of Torah, simply put, was to create real attachment between Man and his Creator.

All the rest is commentary.

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Another passage in Ramban offers yet greater insight into this principle. At the beginning of Kedoshim4 he famously

warns us not to become “disgusting with the sanction of the Torah.” The exhortation towards kedushah comes after

a detailed listing of illicit relations. The message is clear. Beyond the restrictions that are legally fixed and

normative to all, the Torah expects us to firmly integrate kedushah into all our behavior, including activities that are

permissible, and violate no clear stricture. We note that the same structure applies to our parshah. The statement

about kedushah serves as an abstract of the section on forbidden foods. It is placed, however, precisely in the same

position as the kedushah passage attached to the section on illicit relations – right at the end. Here, too, the

implication is that we are to understand that the complex system of forbidden foods is only a beginning, a platform

common to the entire community. Besides the strictly forbidden, we must find ways to elevate, to sanctify the

permissible food that we eat as well.

Chazal5 uncover another element in the verse that provides the title to this piece. “When a person sanctifies himself

a little, they [i.e. the heavenly hosts] sanctify him a great deal.” The Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh tells us6 that

forbidden foods defile us even when consumed inadvertently. Their potency leaves their mark even without any

intent to transgress. A person will not be punished for inadvertent transgression as he would for deliberate

transgression, but his neshamah will be marred nonetheless. This is the “great” sanctification that is provided by

heaven. When a person is careful to consciously avoid vile matters that are within his power, Heaven protects him

against things that are not within his power.

Alternatively, the berachah the gemara speaks of can be understood in the light of the distinction the Ramchal

makes7 between the levels of taharah and kedushah. The former deals with completely avoiding anything with

negative impact; the latter turns pedestrian objects into holy ones, enabling all ordinary objects and events to bring

nachas ruach, as it were, to HKBH. Ramchal cautions us that this level cannot be attained by us directly. Rather, we

can only begin the process. Its completion is a Divine gift to us. This, too, is part of “You shall sanctify yourselves

and you will be holy.” When you begin the journey towards kedushah, Hashem will carry you the rest of the way.

Chazal8 apply a familiar pasuk to eating the korban Pesach. “The ways of Hashem are straight. The righteous walk

in them, and sinners stumble over them.”9 Two people partake of a korban Pesach, side by side. One eats for the

sake of Heaven; the other gorges himself. The former is the tzadik of the verse, while the latter is the sinner. Why do

they apply this verse specifically to eating the Pesach, rather than to any and all eating, if everything can be

transmuted to kedushah? What Chazal are saying, it would seem, is that it is hard to conceive of a greater sin than

spurning an opportunity to eat the very food in front of him for the sake of the mitzvah of Pesach, instead turning his

eating into the opposite of the experience for which it was designed!

A Jew must understand that he is obligated to believe that Hashem’s announcement, “You will be to me a kingdom

of priests and a holy nation,”10

means that he has the ability to get there. A Jewish neshamah is likened to a

diamond. If it falls into the mud, its internal luster is never lost. You must merely lift it up, remove the dirt, and it

will shine as brilliantly as before. 1 Based on Nesivos Shalom pgs. 44-48

2 Shemos 22:30

3 Usually translated (following Rashi Shabbos 31A) as either “to your (human) friend,” or “to your (Divine) Friend.”

4 Vayikra 19:2

5 Yoma 39A

6 Vayikra 11:43

7 Mesilas Yesharim, ch. 26

8 Nazir 23A

9 Hoshea 14:10

10 Shemos 19:6

Text Copyright © 2008 by Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein and Torah.org

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Chilling Out1

Moshe said: This is the thing that Hashem has commanded you to do. Then Hashem’s Glory will appear to you.

We struggle to find the purpose of Moshe’s exhortation. The people had already responded to Moshe’s instructions.

The parshah of inauguration had been prepared and assembled; all that remained to be done was their offering. What

was Moshe asking of them?

Chazal clearly were concerned with this problem when they authored this comment: “Moshe said to Yisrael,

‘Remove that yetzer hora from your hearts, so that you will all be reverentially of one mind and purpose, to minister

before Hashem. Just as He is Singular in the universe, so shall your service be unified before Him. Why? Because

‘Hashem your G-d is the G-d of the powers and the Lord of lords [2]. ’” This explication, however, is even more

difficult to understand than the verse it attempts to elucidate!

Here is what it means. Already in the days of Moshe, groups of people whose love for Hashem led them to act in a

manner transgressing limits prescribed by the Torah. (We will later see a blatant example of this in the behavior of

the two hundred and fifty [3] who so desired the connection with Hashem they expected would come through the

avodah of the ketores, that they risked their lives – and ultimately paid that price – against overwhelming odds. They

were all completely righteous, and yet still wrong. They “sinned against their souls [4]” by offering their very lives

to evidence their intense love of Hashem and achieve even more of it. They did this even though they contravened

the expressed will of the Torah that only Kohanim offer the ketores. They apparently thought that individuals were

not barred from finding their own ways to show their devotion to Hashem, entirely outside the demands of the

Torah.

Moshe understood that similar sentiments were already brewing in various parts of the population, although these

feelings had not yet burst out in open expression. Moshe wished to suppress their passion, and proactively deal with

a nascent problem before it got out of hand. He recognized that the events of this special, final day in the period of

the Mishkan’s inauguration would inflame those dangerous feelings. People wanted to draw close to the Shechinah

as they watched it manifest its closeness to them as a fire that descended from Heaven. Moshe could tell that some

people were prepared to act unilaterally and precipitously to invent home-grown ways of achieving spiritual

elevation and connection with Hashem.

Moshe therefore cautioned them to “remove that yetzer hora” from their hearts. No matter how lofty their objective,

if it was not part of Hashem’s expressed Will, it has to be seen as a form of yetzer hora! Moshe expands upon this

thought by adding, “Just as He is Singular in the universe, so shall your service be unified before Him.” In other

words, it is fitting that Hashem’s people share a common form of service. If it would be proper for each person to

serve Hashem differently according to the depth of passion and excitement that he felt in his heart, many different

Torahs would be generated, rather than the one Torah that is suitable in serving the One G-d.

Moshe bolsters his plea with a proof text that doesn’t seem to prove his point. “Hashem your G-d is the G-d of the

powers and the Lord of lords.” Moshe’s intent becomes apparent in the end of the pasuk. “The great…G-d Who

does not show favor, and Who does not accept a bribe.”

What could we offer Hashem as a bribe? Money? Is there anything that does not already belong to Him? Do we

pledge to multiply our righteous acts? Whatever we are capable of doing we are obligated to do! Such a pledge

doesn’t offer Hashem anything that is not already owed to Him – and therefore cannot be considered a bribe. The

only item we can offer Him that He makes no claim upon is our very existence. We can offer Him our lives when

He does not ask for them, as a sign of our devotion and our eagerness to become joined with Him. Yet He does not

take any pleasure, as it were, in such sacrifice. Moshe throws cold water on any such enterprise by terming such

behavior “bribes” that He does not accept.

Chazal [5] understand the phrase “This is the thing/davar” as a double entendre. Davar means not only “thing,” but

“word.” They derive from this that Moshe read the actual words of this parshah to the Jewish people. But if we are

to understand the phrase as referring to a presentation of the verbatim instructions of Hashem, we must accordingly

22

tweak our reading of the next phrase: “that Hashem has commanded you to do.” How can we “do” a group of

sentences, a section of text?

We can show similar constructions elsewhere. In each case, “doing” text means exactly comprehending the intent

and message of that text, and acting upon it. This, too, was part of Moshe’s message to Klal Yisrael on the eighth

day of the milu’im. Sensing the anticipation and eagerness of his people for the service of korbanos and the spiritual

benefits they believed they would glean from the indwelling of the Shechinah, it fell to Moshe to put things in

perspective. He presented the parshah to them as he had heard it, and then urged them to “do” that parshah, i.e. to

accurately digest all of its details, lessons, and implications, and act upon them. Then and only then “Hashem’s

Glory will appear to you.”

The message is that when the kernel idea behind korbanos is understood fully in the manner that it was intended at

Sinai, then the Glory of Hashem becomes available even without the medium of korbanos! In their desire to feel the

closeness of the Shechinah, it would not be necessary of appropriate for people to sacrifice their lives. (There are

several reports of Heavenly fires descending in places of intense Torah study, such as Moso Mechasya [6], and in

the vicinity of talmidei chachamim rejoicing in the Torah with the intensity of the celebration at Sinai [7]).

While passion for Hashem is a wonderful thing, He wants it always to be constrained by the limitations of His

expressed wishes in the Torah.

1. Based on Ha’amek Davar, Vayikra 9:6

2. Devarim 10:17

3. Bamidbar 16:2

4. Bamidbar 17:3

5. Yoma 5B

6. Berachos 17B – see Tosafos

7. Tosafos Chagigah 15A

Rabbi Mansour Humility and Acceptance

The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells the tragic story of the death of Aharon’s sons Nadab and Abihu on the day of

the Mishkan’s inauguration. We read that Aharon reacted to this painful loss with silence: “Va’yidom Aharon.” He

did not complain, express anger or question G-d’s judgment, even in the face of this tragedy, the most painful loss a

parent could ever suffer.

The Gemara points to Aharon’s reaction as one of three classic examples of people who accepted Hashem’s

judgment. The other two, the Gemara comments, were Abraham Abinu, who said about himself, “Anochi Afar

Va’efer” (“I am but dust and ashes”), and David Ha’melech, who said, “Anochi Tola’at Ve’lo Ish” (“I am just a

worm, not a man”).

We might ask how these other two instances – Abraham and David – exemplify the quality of accepting G-d’s

judgment. Certainly, Abraham and David’s proclamations were remarkable expressions of humility, recognizing

their insignificance in relation to the Almighty. But how do these expressions of humility relate to the theme of

accepting G-d’s judgments, as expressed by Aharon?

One explanation is that humility is, indeed, a prerequisite to acceptance. An arrogant person can only accept that

which he can understand. If one feels highly about his own intellect and feels confident in his ability to understand

everything, he will naturally reject anything he cannot understand. After all, he can comprehend anything that is

comprehensible, and thus by definition, something that he cannot understand must not be correct. A humble person,

by contrast, recognizes his limits and acknowledges that there is much he will be unable to understand. And thus he

can accept and live with the incomprehensible. Realizing that there are always things he never understands, that G-

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d’s wisdom is infinitely greater than his, that in comparison to G-d he is no more than “dust,” “ashes” or a “worm,”

he can calmly accept what G-d does without complaint or questions. The one thing he clearly understands is that

there are things he will never understand.

How do we attain the level of “Va’yidom Aharon,” the ability to remain calm and composed even during life’s

trying moments? The answer is in Abraham and David’s declarations about their own lowliness. By recognizing just

how limited our capabilities are, we can train ourselves to trust G-d’s decisions, however incomprehensible

אברהם בייניש בן גאלדה שפרינצה-לזכות רפואה שלימה ל

Then Moshe said to Aaron, “This is what Hashem spoke, [when He said], ‘I will be sanctified through those near

to Me, and before all the people I will be glorified.’ And Aaron was silent.” (10; 3)

After the passing of his two sons, Moshe begins to console Aaron by repeating what Hashem had told him. A few

pasukim later it states that Moshe relayed to Aaron, yet again:

“And Moshe said to Aaron and to Elazar and to Isamar, his sons, ‘Do not leave your heads unkempt, and do not

rend your garments, so that you shall not die, and lest He be angry with the entire community, but your brothers,

the entire house of Israel, shall bewail the conflagration that Hashem has burned.” (10; 6)

What was the significance in Moshe relating to Aaron that the entire klal Yisroel would be crying over the death of

his two sons? Secondly, Aaron had complete faith and trust in Hashem and accepted that what had befallen him and

his family were for the best. But where did he muster up the inner strength to just sit there and remain silent?! Where

did that supernatural inner control come from?

Meshech Chochma answers with an important yesod for us all.

The deaths of Nadav and Avihu were truly necessary at that point of time. Gemara in Bava Kama says ‘whoever

disregards aveiros disregards life.’ We know that klal Yisroel unfortunately sinned with the Egel. It was for that

reason that we had lost our ‘glory’ and the cloud that protected us had left us. All of our achievements up until this

point were for naught for as soon as we transgressed with the Egel they were there no more. Only after Moshe

Rabbeinu davened and poured his heart and soul out on our behalf, we were once again zoche for the Shechina to

rest back in our midst. The erection of the Mishkan proved this notion, where the Kohanim and Leviim brought

sacrifices to Hashem, that everything seemed ‘back to normal’. That being so, klal Yisroel could have mistakenly

thought that Hashem is easy to appease; for it seemed that we can do what we want and then we will have Moshe

beseech mercy on our behalf and Hashem will ‘disregard’ what we had done and we will continue as if nothing had

occurred. After all isn’t that what just happened? They could have said Hashem is a vatran; He’s mevater on all His

aveiros.

Says Hakadosh Baruch Hu, I need to make it known that this is incorrect. Hashem had to show the severity of an

aveira. An aish zara was brought before me without a command to bring it; they therefore died and were burnt

before Hashem. What Hashem was showing was that every single aveira is accounted for-no matter how big or

small. One should not think that just because it’s not such a colossal one it will fly under the radar. Hashem was

showing us how great even a small aveira is.

This is how we can explain the words of the pasuk ‘bikrovay ekadesh’; through [the deaths of] Nadav and Avihu,

‘v’al pinei kol ha’am ekaveid’ I will be honored and I will show my proper honor and fear.’ Without this, klal

Yisroel may c’v think that Hashem is a vatran.

When Moshe relayed this to Aaron-that the deaths of his two sons were to promote and to proclaim the hashra’is

haShechina in klal Yisroel-he was able to keep quiet. Once he heard that all this was to upkeep the name of Hashem,

it gave him the inner strength not to react.

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The significance of mentioning that all of klal Yisroel was weeping for his children was because it was through

them-through bnei Yisroel and the Egel which in essence triggered this fire-that they were able to be mekadesh

shem shomayim.

The message is clear. When it comes to serving Hashem there is nothing for free. Each and every action is

meticulously recorded and one must know that everything we do we will be held accountable for-big or small.

As we come off a high from the yom tov of Pesach let us continue on this plateau as we embark on our journey

towards matan Torah where we will show Hashem that how beloved He is to us as we rejoice with His Torah once

again.

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