Rabbi's Corner

A large financial institution in England was on the verge of collapse.  In order to save itself, the leadership drafted a proposal offering the company for sale to a wealthy man for the price of 2.5 million pounds sterling (@ $4.2 million).  Although the price was considerably lower than the true value of the company, the offer was not a great bargain.  The offer was conferred to the wealthy man via a telegram sent on Friday night.  Because he was Shomer Shabbos, he provided no answer.  The next morning, a new proposal was sent offering the reduced price of 2.2 million pounds sterling.  Because it was still Shabbat, this telegram, like the first, was ignored.  In sheer desperation the leadership of the company made a third offer with the price reduced to 1.7 million pounds sterling.  On Motzaei Shabbat, Baron Rothschild viewed all three telegrams eventually responding to the final offer.  It was this institution that gave him his greatest wealth.

This week's parashah, Parshat VaYakheil, tells of how Moshe gathered together the entire nation of B'nei Yisrael in order to give them the instructions regarding the building of the Mishkan (the Wilderness Tabernacle).  Of the 122 verses found in this parashah, only two are not about the Mishkan: "For a six-day period, work may be done; but on the seventh day, there shall be for you holiness, a Shabbat of rest for HaShem; whoever does work on it shall be executed.  You shall not kindle a fire in all your dwelling places on the day of Shabbat." (Shemot/Exodus 35:2-3)  The obvious question here is why are these two verses found in this parashah that has to do with the construction of the Mishkan?  The simple answer is that Shabbat and the Mishkan serve the same purpose: to elevate B'nei Yisrael out of their physical existence in order to instill holiness within their souls.

Shabbat is holiness in time.  Shabbat is a period of time unlike that of any of the other days of the week.  For a 25-hour period, we are to stop all creative work.  If done properly, one can actually feel Shabbat as if one is touching it.  Once each week we can experience 1/60 of the Olam HaBah (the World-to-Come).  The Mishkan was holiness within a physical space.  Any time a member of B'nei Yisrael felt a diminishing of his/her spirituality, s/he could merely enter the Mishkan and be immediately uplifted.  It is important to note that Shabbat came first, and this fact has sustained the B'nei Yisrael for over 3,000 years.  The Mishkan was eventually replaced by the two Temples, and both of them also disappeared.  But we have always had and will always have Shabbat.  We have always had and will always have that "touchable" holiness given to us as a gift from HaShem.  On this "Shabbat across America weekend, I wish you "Shabbat Shalom!"

If you do a favor for someone, and that person thanks you, how do you respond?  More often than not, I respond by saying, "There is no need to thank me."  In Yiddish, the expression is, "Nisht dah farvos."  While in theory this response appears to be gracious, Rabbi Yeruchem Levovitz, the Mirrer Mashgiach, states that such a response might indicate that I am harboring a less-than-pure motive for brushing aside the thanks given to me.  The recipient of the favor I have done has a natural tendency to feel that s/he "owes" me something in return.  By expressing his/her thanks, s/he "repays" me for my kindness.  If I deflect his/her thanks, I might actually be saying, "Don't thank me. Thanks is not enough.  You owe me one!"  A conundrum, no?  Let us look to this week's parashah, Parahsat Tetzaveh, fo the lesson to be learned from such a situation!

"You shall command B'nei Yisrael that they shall take for you pure olive oil, pressed, for illumination, to kindle a lamp continually.  In the Tent of Meeting, outside the Partition that is near the Testimonial-Tablets, Aharon and his sons shall arrange it from evening until the morning." (Shemot [Exodus] 27:20-21)  The Talmud Bavli raises an obvious question: For 40 years B'nei Yisrael wandered in the Wilderness, their way being illuminated by HaShem's light.  Why did He command us to kindle the lights of the Menorah in the Mishkan (the Wilderness Tabernacle)?  Did Hashem need our light?  A Midrash (a Rabbinic legend/story that helps to explain a Torah passage) says that by instructing us to light the Menorah, Hashem was "raising us up."  HaShem, Who did not "need" the light of the Menorah was saying that just as He lit a path for B'nei Yisrael in the Wilderness, so now should they provide light for H'm.  But why did He command this to be done?  Hashem was "allowing" B'nei Yisrael to do H'm a "favor" in return for providing them light in the Wilderness.  By "providing" H'm with the light of the Menorah, they could feel as though they are paying back the overwhelming debt they owed H'm. By acting in a truly gracious way toward the recipients of H's favors, HaShem  was teaching B'nei Yisrael the value of  H's gratefulness by having them say "thank you" for all the love that He had shown them.

The Brisker Rav married off one of his children in a hall owned by a Mr. Wagschal.  After the wedding, when the Brisker Rav came to pay him, Mr. Wagschal said, "Brisker Rav, it is an honor to have hosted your child's wedding.  I could not possibly take payment for it."  The Brisker Rav replied,"The cheapest way to pay for something is with money.  I am not prepared to pay the exorbitant price of taking something for free."  There is no such thing as a free lunch.  The most expensive lunch of all is when, although it seems to be free, you are forever indebted to the one who provided you the meal.  Hashem allowed B'nei Yisrael to "repay" the light He provided for them so that they would feel raised up and not indebted.  The bottom line: When thanked, respond in kind with "You're welcome."  You will feel much better for it. 

In this week's parashah, in this week's Torah portion (Parashat Mishpatim), we find the following verse: "And a stranger ("ger") you shall not oppress, for you know the soul of a stranger, as you were strangers in the "Eretz Mitzrayim" (the Land of Egypt)."  The Torah commands us to love every Jew as well as not to cause any Jew harm or pain.  It is interesting to note that the word "ger," which is translated in this verse to mean "stranger," can also be translated to mean "convert" (i.e.- one who has voluntarily accepted Judaism through a "Beit Din" [a Rabbinically sanctioned court tribunal]).  With this in mind, the verse prohibits us from oppressing the convert.  Why?  Perhaps the following story will explain why.

As part of a scientific study, a man dressed up as a homeless individual and entered a restaurant.  He approached a table where a young man was eating an enormous meal.  The "homeless" man explained to the young man that he had not eaten anything as yet that day.  He then asked the young man if he would share some of his food with him (the "homeless man").  The young man refused to do so and continued eating.  The "homeless" man then moved to the next table and related his"tale of woe" to a young woman who was eating a salad that was large enough to feed three people.  Alas. she, too, refused to share her meal.  At the next table, the "homeless" man found a family who was eating a meal filled with various delicacies.  And, once again, his request was refused.  What did he do?  He left the restaurant.  The "homeless" man then continued his scientific study by having his friend purchase a bagel sandwich and deliver it to a genuine homeless man who was sitting on a park bench.  When this truly homeless man saw this bagel sandwich, his eyes opened wide,  He thanked the man who gave him the sandwich and eagerly bit into the bagel with obvious delight and enthusiasm.  It is at that moment that the "homeless" man (the one conducting the scientific study) approached the genuine homeless man and asked him if he could have a part of the bagel sandwich.  What did the genuine homeless man do?  He split the sandwich in half and shared it with the "homeless" man who asked for it.  Why the difference in outcomes?  The people in the restaurant were being more than merely apathetic  towards the needs of another human being.  They did not respond as human beings to the request of the "homeless" man because they could not relate to his pain.  Only a truly homeless person, one who has experienced the pain of hunger, could understand the needs of another person in the same situation and respond in kind.

As Jews, we have lived in far too many places where we have been made to feel as though we were outcasts and strangers.  While as Jews we have the commandment to love all of our fellow Jews, our responsibility and obligation is even more important to the "ger" (i.e.- the convert/the stranger).  Why?  Because we, too, have experienced those same feelings.  It is time we used our experiences as a driving force to assist others who find themselves in the same situation we have been in.

This Shabbat is known as "Shabbat Shirah" - "the Sabbath of Song."  It receives this name because two profoundly important songs are contained in both the weekly parashah [Torah portion] and the haftarah.  In the haftarah we find the Song of Devorah, the great prophetess and judge who saved B'nei Yisrael from military defeat.  In the weekly parashah [Parashat Beshalach] we find "Shirat HaYam" - "the Song of the Sea." This is the song that Moshe and the B'nei Yisrael sang after being saved at the Sea of Reeds by the "hand" of Hashem.  The Song of the Sea begins as follows: "Az yashir Moshe u-VeNei Yisrael...."Then Moshe and the B'Nei Yisrael sang...."  However, that translation of the Hebrew is grammatically incorrect.  Even our Sages say that it should be read as it is written: "Then Moshe and the B'Nei Yisrael will sing...."  The reason why it should be read this way is found in the Talmud.  There it explains that this phrase is one of the indications of "techiyat hameitim" - "the resurrection of the dead."  The Talmud is telling us that at the time of the coming of the Mashiach [the Messiah], Moshe and B'Nei Yisrael will then sing Shirat HaYam.  The Belzer Rebbe during World War II, Rav Aron, explained that Moshe decided to start the words of Shirat HaYam in the way he did because he knew there would be the day when the B'Nei Yisrael would once again see all who had perished in the Land of Egypt during the period of enslavement on the day that they would be resurrected.

There is the story about a widow living in Jerusalem who lost her only son in one of Israel's wars.  The woman was inconsolable.  She refused to participate in any of her family's simchot [joyous occasions].  The only events she would attend were funerals.  She reasoned that with no husband and no son, what possible joy could she have in life?  After a funeral she attended, she was walking with a woman who decided to stop at the grave of the famed tzaddik of Jerusalem, Rabbi Aryeh Levine, in order to recite some psalms.  On his tombstone can be found the following: "I request that anyone who comes to pray at my grave should say wholeheartedly 'I believe with complete faith that there will be a revivification of the dead whenever the wish emanates from the Creator, Blessed is His Name and Exalted is His mention ---forever and for all eternity.'"  When the widow read these words, they struck a chord in her heart and soul.  It suddenly became a reality to her that she would one day see her son again.  From that moment on, she began to live her life again knowing that her son would be brought back to her at the time of techiyat hameitim.  And, as we all know and pray, that could happen anytime!

I officiate at funerals during which family members of the deceased deliver heartfelt eulogies.  More often than not each person ends the eulogy by expressing the firm belief that they will once again see their beloved departed.  As this declaration of faith gives each person some consolation over his/her loss, it usually means that this will happen after they die.  Perhaps the belief in techiyat hameitim as taught by our tradition will help those who mourn to once again sing songs of joy while they are yet alive in this world.  "Ani ma'amin!"  I believe that it will!   

Tragically we saw toward the end of the year 2018 the specter of anti-Semitism/anti-Judaism raising its ugly head once again, this time in Pittsburgh.  The reaction of the American Jewish community was swift and overwhelming.  But this was not always the case in this country.  Justice Felix Frankfurter recounted in his memoirs that when he found out the Franklin Delano Roosevelt was thinking of appointing him to the United States Supreme Court, the leaders of the American Jewish community sent a delegation to FDR pleading with him to not go through with the appointment.  Why?  Because, said the delegation, it would anger Hitler and make Jews "too visible" in this country.  Rabbi Avi Weiss recalls that when the Student Struggle of the Soviet Jewry movement got started, the leaders of the American Jewish community wanted no one to raise a voice about the Jews of the Soviet Union.  Why?  Because it would anger the leaders of the Soviet Union causing further oppression for Soviet Jewry.  Needless-to-say, in both of these cases the leaders of the American Jewish community were ignored.  What happened?  Well, what had been predicted would happen did not, in fact, ever happen. We see a similar  situation in this week's parashah.

Last week's parashah, Parashat Shemot, ended with Pharaoh responding to Moshe's command/demand from Hashem to free B'nei Yisrael from Egyptian bondage by withholding the straw with which they made the daily assignment of bricks.  The reaction from B'nei Yisrael is anything but positive for Moshe: "And they (B'nei Yisrael) met Moshe and Aharon [when they were] standing opposite them,...And they said to them,'May HaShem be revealed to you and may He punish [you], for that which you made our scent bad in the eyes of Pharaoh and in the eyes of his servants - to put a sword in their hand to kill us!'" What they were  telling  Moshe and Aharon is that they wanted them to remain quiet.  "Don't stir the pot!"  So what did Moshe and Aharon do?  Moshe protested to Hashem that his going to Pharaoh had increased the misery of the B'nei Yisrael.  He also claimed that because of this, the B'nei Yisrael would not listen to him.

This week's parashah, Parashat Va-Eira, shows us why we must always stand up and be counted. After Moshe's protest, HaShem says to him, "You shall speak all that I command you, and Aharon, your brother, shall speak with Pharaoh, so that he shall send away the B'nei Yisrael from his land."  What is interesting to note is the fact that before Hashem speaks these words, He gives an accounting of the entire lineage of Moshe and the geneology of the tribes of Re'uven, Shim'on, and Levi.  Why?  Because HaShem is reminding Moshe who he is and from whom he came.  Hashem is reminding Moshe that when addressing Pharaoh, he [Moshe] is not only representing himself and the B'nei Yisrael with him, but he is also representing the Patriarchs and the Matriarchs and all who followed them as well as all those who will come after him.  HaShem tells Moshe, "Ve-gam hakimoti et briti itam...." --- "And I also established my covenant with them...."  The "Brit," the covenant which Hashem established with the Patriarchs and the Matriarchs is eternal; it will never be abolished.  This covenant is what has sustained us up to the present day and will continue to do so for all eternity.  It is this covenant with HaShem that should cause all of us to "stand up and be counted" when were are confronted by those who want either our silence or, even worse, our demise.  May we, the B'Nei Yisrael always remain committed to our covenant with Hashem!  

"Mah Chanukah?" - "What is Chanukah?"  The answer to this question is really quite simple.  While the story seemingly revolves around the military victory of the Hasmoneans defeating the Syrian-Greeks, the Talmud Bavli tells us that after entering the defiled Temple in Jerusalem, the Hasmoneans "searched the Temple and were able to find only one flask of oil that contained the seal of the Kohen Gadol (the High Priest).  There was enough oil to last for one day.  A miracle occurred and they lit it (the Temple Menorah) for eight days."  (Masekhet Shabbat 21b)  Rabbi Yosef Karo asks in Beit Yosef: "Why did they (the Rabbis) establish the holiday for eight days?  If there was enough oil to last for one day, then the miracle was really for seven days.  So why establish the holiday for eight days instead of seven?"  It's a valid question, no?  The question must be answered, of course, by asking another question.

When do most human beings seek a miracle?  The truth is that most of us pray for a miracle from Hashem when we are in a situation of distress or hopelessness, and we cannot get ourselves out of it.  It is then that we ask HaShem to "produce" a miracle for us.  Remember when the airplane made an emergency landing on the Hudson River?  Person after person who came off that airplane said that they closed their eyes as the plane hit the water and prayed to HaShem for a miracle.  In essence, they saw their one vessel of oil as being empty thus necessitating a miracle from HaShem.  It is the same for everyone who finds him/herself in a distressful or hopeless situation: we pray for a miracle.  But because the miracle of Chanukah occurred in a situation of victory, that being the defeat of our enemies, it is different and even greater, and it teaches us an important lesson.

The miracle of Chanukah occurred when the one remaining vessel of pure oil was full.  As the oil was poured out of this flask, it did not decrease but was miraculously and immediately replaced.  This means that even on the first day of the rededication of the Temple with the lighting of the Menorah, a great miracle occurred in that the oil in the flask did not diminish for even one moment.  This is the reason we celebrate Chanukah for eight days.  The real miracle of Chanukah happened when the flask was full and remained full, never becoming empty until the end of the eighth day when enough new oil had been created to keep the Temple Menorah continuously lit.  We did not need a miracle due to our distress or our hopelessness of having only one flask of pure oil.  The fact is that the miracle was already there with the eternal presence of Hashem.  And that is the lesson we can take from the miracle of the oil: we all experience miracles from Hashem everyday without having to find ourselves in distressful or hopeless situations.  Most of these miracles go completely unnoticed by most of us.  We need to pause and recognize and be appreciative of these miracles.  We need to thank Hashem on a daily basis for the full flask of pure oil that we have each day by being able to live our lives each day with our families, our friends, and our community.  For this, we must rejoice and give thanks to Hashem!

In ths week's Torah Portion, Parashat VaYishlach, we read this about Yaakov: "And he [Yaakov] arose that night, and he took his two wives and his two maidservants and his eleven children, and crossed over the ford of Yabbok."  At this point we must ask the question which Rashi asks: "Ve-Dinah heikhan haitah?" - "And where was Dinah?"  Like all great commentators, Rashi answers his own question: "Netanah be-teivah." - "He [Yaakov] placed her in a box."  He goes on to explain that Yaakov placed his daughter Dinah in a box so that Eysav would not see her and desire to be with her.  This action was looked upon with extreme disfavor by our Rabbis.  In fact, Rashi continued: "It is for this reason that Yaakov was punished."  Because Yaakov prevented Dinah from having a good influence upon Eysav and quite possibly changing his ways so that he would be more like Yaakov, Rashi tells us that Dinah "fell into the hands of Shechem."  And thus the story of the rape of Dinah.

What Rashi is telling us is that Yaakov had no right whatsoever to place Dinah inside a box.  Hashem placed Dinah in this world for a reason: to change the world by having a positive influence on Eysav thus causing him to change for the better.  The bottom line is that Yaakov acted in a selfish manner.  Dinah was capable of bringing tremendous good in this world by changing Eysav, but Yaakov did not allow her to accomplish her "mission."  He placed her in a box.  He should have allowed Dinah to exert her positive impact on both Eysav and the rest of the world.  Rashi's commentary story gives new meaning to the phrase "thinking out of the box."  Yes, it is quite "natural" as parents to want to protect our children from all harm by keeping them in a "box," by keeping them away from all the Eysavs, all the harm, of this world.  But this often ends up stifling who and what they are.

We should take a lesson from what is found in another box that is worn every day [except Shabbat and Yomim Tovim].  Inside the tefillin that is worn on the strong arm and the head is found a parchment upon which is written these words: "Kadeish Li chol bachor...." - "Sanctify to Me [HaShem] every firstborn...."  We must sanctify our children to HaShem by allowing them to become the best Jews they can become.  How do we do this?  By teaching them how they must serve HaShem through our Tradition and allowing them to share what they have learned with the rest of the world.  This is the right way for us to "think out of the box" and bring about "Tikkun HaOlam," "the repair of this world." 

This weekend is a weekend replete with incredible history for both the People Israel and the people of this world.  The period of Friday, November 9th to Saturday, November 10th is commemorated by World Jewry as "Kristalnacht" - the Night of Broken Glass.  In that overnight period in Germany in 1938, over 2,000 Synagogues were destroyed, thousands of Jewish businesses were vandalized, 100 German Jewish citizens were murdered, and over 30,00 German men were placed in concentration camps.  All this is well documented and well known by anyone who reads about or studies the history of that time period in Europe.  Most historians say that "Kristalnacht" was the beginning of the Holocaust culminating in what became known as "The Final Solution."  However, I would propose a different beginning of World War II which can be traced back to November 11, 1918.

This coming Sunday is the 100th anniversary of the signing of the armistice that ended what was supposed to be "The War To End All Wars."  We know it as World War I, and it at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month that what was - up until then - the bloodiest war ever fought on this earth was brought to an end in a railroad car outside of Paris.  In fact the document that was signed gave the day its name in American parlance: November 11th became known as "Armistice Day."  But instead of creating a world which shunned war and worked for peace, November 11th is now being recognized by many historians, especially Holocaust historians, as the beginning of World War II.  The aftermath of the signing of the armistice created such open hatred of our people in Germany and throughout Europe that it seems impossible how people the world over were blind to what eventually took place over the following 20 years leading up to "Kristalnacht."  The question begs: Why was the world so blind?  The result of this "blindness" was World War II and the Holocaust.

We, the American Jewish Community and more specifically the Pittsburgh Jewish Community have seen first hand what happens when people turn a blind eye toward anti-Semitism.  I hope and pray that the result of this tragedy which has appeared to unite Jew and non-Jew will not be a spur-of-the-moment phenomenon.  On this Veterans' Day weekend during which we honor all those who have put on a uniform and stood in the way of hatred and intolerance and bigotry, I hope and pray that all people who believe in people will stay united in order to work toward that day when nation shall indeed no longer have to lift up sword against nation and when humankind will never again need to learn war.