Rabbi's Corner

One of the reasons we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashanah (this year only on the second day) is to remind us of the virtues of our ancient ancestors and to lessen the stern judgements against us.  The following parable might help you to better understand this concept.

In his younger days, the King had personally commanded the Royal Military.  Years ago, leading the royal cavalry regiment, he had almost lost his life in a fierce battle against the kingdom’s hostile neighbors to the north.  His troops had been decimated; his horse had been killed; and he was badly wounded in his leg.  With nightfall, an eerie silence hovered over the battlefield with the hoot of an owl and the howl of a wolf temporarily replacing the rattling of sabers and the battle cries of the enemy.  The King managed to crawl to a nearby forest where, wounded and exhausted, he almost lost total consciousness.

The King’s soul was tormented by the deep blackness of the night.  He anticipated nothing but a bitter end believing that if he managed to survive the night, he would be killed by an enemy soldier who found him in the morning.  All seemed hopeless when, suddenly, he was startled by someone touching his shoulder.  He could not see anyone in the darkness, but he distinctly heard the soothing voice of a young foot soldier whispering: “Your Majesty, you are severely injured, but do not worry.  I will carry you to safety.  Be absolutely silent and make no sounds.  The enemy is lurking everywhere.”  This brawny young lad, the son of one of the villagers, carried the King on his back all night long until they reached the front line of friendly forces.  There, the King received the medical attention he so desperately needed, and he was eventually nursed back to health.  In deep gratitude, the King took the valiant young soldier back with him to the Royal Court.  He awarded the lad a medal of honor and placed him in the Royal Military Academy, the kingdom’s most prestigious educational institution and officer’s school.

The young man excelled in his studies and received a commission in the Royal Military.  Rising quickly through the ranks, he incurred the extreme jealousy of his fellow officers, most of whom were sons of noblemen and aristocrats.  This young officer of peasant stock outshined them all.  When he was chosen over the son of a royal minister to become the Commander of the Royal Guard, his fellow officers plotted against this young man whom they referred to with extreme disdain as “the commoner.”  They began to collect an entire dossier of circumstantial evidence against him in an effort to get rid of him one way or the other.  They planted incriminating letters among his possessions and collected false testimony from so-called “witnesses.”  They created virtually airtight accusations of treason and conspiracy to assassinate the King.  After the “evidence” was submitted to the proper authorities, this newly appointed commander of the Royal Guard was thrown into prison to await his day in court.

Dozens of witnesses who gave hours of testimony against him virtually assured the guilty verdict of treason with the sentence of death by a firing squad.  As he awaited his execution, “the commoner” was granted a final wish.  He requested to appear before the King the night before his execution.  In accordance with royal law, his wish was granted.  As he stood before the King, “the commoner” asked for everyone to be silent and for the lights in the royal court to be extinguished.  Then, in the deep blackness, bound in chains and heavily guarded, “the commoner” whispered, “Your Majesty, you are severely injured, but do not worry.  I will carry you to safety.  Be absolutely silent and make no sounds.  The enemy is lurking everywhere.”  Suddenly the King had a flashback to that fateful night on the battlefield when he believed he would never again see the light of day.  He right then and there knew in his heart that this same village lad who had rescued him from certain death could have never conspired against him.

With that, the King ripped up the verdict, freed the accused lad, and restored him to his rightful place of honor as the Commander of the Royal Guard.  He also vowed to unleash his anger on all the evil officers behind the slander and false accusations made against the young man.

Rosh Hashanah is known as “Yom HaDin,” “the Day of Judgement.”  Because we believe that there is a long list of accusations against us in the Heavenly Court (after all, no one is perfect!), we sound the shofar to remind the King of Kings (HaShem) of our virtues much in the same way that the village-born soldier of the story reminded the King of that fateful night on the battlefield when he saved the King’s life.  The sound of the shofar reminds Hashem the we, the People Israel, are the only nation on earth that agreed to receive and abide by the Torah.  As such, we cannot be guilty of only willful transgressions against H-m.

Happy is the nation that hears the call of the shofar.  May all of us merit a wonderful inscription in the Book of a long, happy, and healthy Life!  Ketiva v’Chatima Tova!  Amen!

Here is a true story of an incident that happened several months before the outbreak of the Second Lebanon War in Tammuz 5766/July 2006 as witnessed and told by Rabbi Lazer Brody in his book Chassidic Pearls:

On a balmy Thursday evening in Yerushalayim after putting their five children to bed, Rabbi “Benjamin” sat down with his wife to partake of a modest supper of day-old bread, a cucumber, and a cup of tea.  Because the tear that glistened in her eye caused him alarm, he thought he had caused her some kind of pain.  “My dear husband,” she said softly, “I hate to complain and to burden you, but there is nothing in the house for Shabbat.  I do not even have any flour with which to bake challahs let alone wine, fish, or a piece of chicken with which to feed the family.  What am I supposed to do?”

Rabbi “Benjamin” knew that he was being presented with a serious test of faith.  His “yetzer hara” (evil inclination) told him to do the following: “Forget your Thursday night chevruta (Torah learning with a partner), your recitation of midnight lamentations, your going to the mikvah in the morning, your “hitbodedut” (intense personal prayer) at the Kotel (the Western Wall) followed by “HaNeitz” (sunrise davening).  Instead, go do something to make some money for Shabbat!”  Rabbi “Benjamin shook off the “voice” of his “yetzer hara” and made an even stronger commitment to completing his regular routine of serving Hashem.  With utter and complete confidence, he told his wife: “Don’t worry!  HaShem will certainly provide for us in time for Shabbat!”

That night, a wealthy lawyer living in Haifa had a terrible nightmare that caused him to wake up in a cold sweat.  In his nightmare, he saw a Katyusha rocket come through the wall of his bedroom and explode in his bed killing him instantly.  With trembling hands, he called a well-known Haifa Rabbi.  He told the Rabbi about his nightmare and asked him what to do.  The Rabbi replied that he, the lawyer, must take this dream with complete seriousness and that he must fast all day Friday.  The lawyer protested that due to health reasons it was impossible for him to fast.  The Rabbi then told him that he could redeem the fast with a contribution to charity, specifically to a worthy Torah scholar.  “I do not know any worthy Torah scholar,” protested the lawyer.  “Do you, Rabbi?”  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” replied the Rabbi.  “I will be going to Yerushalayim to pray at the Kotel.  Give me a generous donation, and I will make sure that worthy Torah scholar receives it.”  With that, the lawyer gave the Rabbi 400 shekels, and the Rabbi headed for Yerushalayim in his beat-up Subaru.

As it turned out, once each month the Rabbi would arrive at the Kotel three hours before sunrise in order to recite the entire Sefer Tehillim (Book of Psalms) before davening “HaNeitz.”  As usual on such a day, this day the Rabbi approached the Kotel, kissed it, and began his recitation of Tehillim.  There was only a handful of people present at that hour, but not far away from where he was sitting, the Rabbi saw a young man in his thirties engaged in an intense tearful prayer to Hashem.  The Rabbi was not eavesdropping, but he could not help but overhear the young man’s words:

“HaShem, you know that I left everything behind to devote my life to Y-u.  I gave up medical school for Yeshiva resulting in my friends taunting and making fun of me for making t’shuva.  Beloved Father in Heaven, I do not ask for an easy route, and I do not want any riches.  But Y-u have commanded us to honor the Shabbat.  How can I do that with an empty table?  Y-u commanded me to learn Torah day and night.  But how can I do that with a hungry family?  Please, Heilige Tatty (Holy Father), hear my prayers.  Shabbat begins in another 14 hours.  I know I deserve nothing, but please strengthen my emunah (faith) and my bitachon (trust) by sending me the wherewithal to honor the Shabbat with my family….”

 At that point, the young man could not continue speaking as he was sobbing uncontrollably with tears streaming down his face.

The Rabbi from Haifa was in awe of HaShem’s unbelievable Divine Providence: three hours earlier He (HaShem) had sent the nightmare to the wealthy lawyer right before he (the Rabbi) was to make his monthly visit to the Kotel in Yerushalayim.  And here was this obviously worthy Torah scholar who was in need of the 400 shekels he had been given to donate to such a person.  With a silent prayer of thanks to HaShem for the privilege of serving as H-s messenger, the Rabbi walked over to the young Torah scholar and handed him the 400 hundred shekels, but not before he shared the story of the lawyer’s nightmare.  The young Torah scholar was overwhelmed with a profound sense of gratitude, and he blessed the Rabbi and lawyer.  Needless-to-say, everyone had a joyous and wonderful Shabbat!

But that is not the end of the story.  Three months later, a deadly Fajr missile came crashing through the lawyer’s bedroom wall in his luxury apartment on Mount Carmel and exploded in his bed.  But, as it turned out, he was NOT there!  He and his family had decided to spend the night with relatives in Herzliya.  As our Sages have taught, charity saves a person from death.

We read the following in this week’s parashah (Torah portion): “…and blessed are you in the field.” (Devarim 28:3) This blessing was to come to the B’Nei Yisrael because of their adherence to maintaining the covenant made with HaShem at Mount Sinai in that they would keep the mitzvot of the Torah.  We promised: “Na’aseh ve-nishmah” --- “We will do and we will obey.”  All the rest will follow from our being Hashem’s most beloved of all people.  I ask you: As we approach the coming new year of 5781, is it not the time to live up to the promise we made at Mount Sinai.  Hashem trusts that we will keep our part of the covenant.  We should trust that He will do the same.      

With the advent of the month of Elul we begin reciting Psalm 27 as directed by the Mishnah Berurah: “The custom in our countries is to say from Rosh Chodesh Elul until Shemini Atzeret every day after the end of prayer services morning and evening “By David, HaShem is my light and my salvation….[Psalm 27]” (Mishnah Berurah 581:2)  We recite this particular Psalm during this penitential month as a special request to Hashem that He accept our prayers.  It is during the month of Elul that we ask Hashem not to push us away in spite of our many shortcomings.  It is at this time that we earnestly seek H-s Divine Presence.  But there is one verse in this Psalm that seems out of place.  Why? Because it makes a request of HaShem: “One thing I ask of HaShem, only this do I desire: Let me live in the House of HaShem all the days of my life, let me gaze upon the beauty of Hashem, and let me frequent H-s Sanctuary.”  (Tehillim 27:4) At first glance, this is obviously not a single request; it is three requests.  So why does David speak of “one thing?”  Perhaps the following parable will add some clarity.

Reuven Dovid was the richest man in all of Nemirov owning ships in the port of Odessa, warehouses in the city of Berditchev, and grain stores in Uman.  Although he was very careful with his money, he nonetheless supported both the poor and the scholars of Torah by opening his home to guests with no one ever leaving without a smile and a full stomach.  Because of this, Reuven Dovid was beloved in all of Nemirov.  As such, the entire town eagerly anticipated the wedding of Reuven Dovid’s daughter, for each person felt like this was his or her own family’s celebration.

One month before the wedding, Reuven Dovid summoned Mendel the Litvak.  Mendel Litvak was a Breslover Chasid and a musician of the best repute in all of Podolia Province.  Mendel’s klezmer band could turn a “routine” wedding into an unforgettable experience.  People in the Podolia Province of central Ukraine used to say that Mendel Litvak’s fiddle had made more people do teshuva than all the preachers in the province combined.  Reuven Dovid personally loved Mendel Litvak’s music and was eager to hire him for his daughter’s wedding.  To his delight, Mendel Litvak and his band were available on the designated night of the wedding.  All that remained was for an agreement to be made on the price.

“How much do you charge for Klezmer?” asked Reuven Dovid.  “Two hundred rubles per musician,” came Mendel Litvak’s reply.  Because Reuven Dovid was so eager to “seal the deal,” all he heard was “two hundred rubles.”  This seemed to him to be a tremendous bargain for such a prominent klezmer band.  Not hearing the words “per musician,” he shook Mendel Litvak’s hand and declared, “It’s a deal!”

Needless-to-say, Reuven Dovid’s daughter’s wedding was the best the town of Nemirov had ever known.  The tables were overflowing with delicacies that most of the townspeople had never seen, much less tasted, in their lives.  Mendel Litvak together with his drummer, his clarinet player, and his bass fiddler played up a storm carrying the celebrants on the holy fervor of the songs’ melodies from joy to tears and back again.  After the wedding was over, people exclaimed that whenever Mendel Litvak plays, you have to bring with you an extra set of shoes so that if the pair you came in falls apart, you will have a replacement pair you can put on in order to keep on dancing.

As the guests were filing out, Reuven Dovid came up to Mendel Litvak and hugged him and embraced him and thanked him and gave him…two hundred rubles.  “What’s this?” Mendel Litvak demanded to know.  “It’s your earnings, “replied Reuven Dovid.  “You said the price was two hundred rubles….”  “Per musician,” Mendel Litvak interjected.  “You owe me another six hundred rubles!”  “Eight hundred rubles?” Reuven Dovid chokingly replied.  “Whatever for?”  Mendel Litvak was toe-to-toe with Reuven Dovid as he replied: “Do you expect my clarinetist, my drummer, and my bass fiddle player to work for free?  My fiddle is nothing without their accompaniment.  When you hire Mendel Litvak, you have to pay for the Klezmer!”

        The Malbim explains the verse I quoted from Psalm 27 saying that King David’s one aspiration included all his desires.  In the same way that the story tells of the price of Mendel Litvak’s klezmer band including all four musicians, the Malbim tells us that King David aspired to serve HaShem, to understand HaShem’s ways, and to spend all of his days in the House of HaShem praying and learning Torah.  In this month of Elul, the final month of the year 5780, may we have our own aspirations, maybe not as great as King David’s but aspirations nonetheless.  May each of us aspire to become a little better than we were a week ago, a month ago, even a year ago.  May we remember what Rebbe Nachman of Breslov taught: Because entire spiritual worlds are illuminated by every tiny good deed, Hashem derives gratification from all of us completing any mitzvah no matter how small it may be.  May we seek Hashem’s help to fulfill our aspirations resulting in a healthy and happy 5781.  Amen!  

We read the following in this week’s parashah, Parashat Ekev: “Keep, therefore, all the commandment that I command you today, so that you may have the strength to enter and take possession of the land that you are about to cross into and possess, so that you may long endure upon the soil that Hashem swore to your fathers to assign to them and to their descendants, a land flowing with milk and honey. For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the Land of Egypt from which you have come…but the land you are about to cross into and possess, a land of hills and valleys, soaks up its water from the rains of Heaven. It is a land which Hashem your G-d looks after, on which HaShem your G-d always keeps H-s eye, from year’s beginning to year’s end. If, then, you obey the commandments that I command you today, loving HaShem your G-d and serving H-m with all your heart and soul, I will grant rain for your land in season, the early rain and the late. You shall gather in your new grain and wine and oil. I will also provide grass in the fields for your cattle --- and thus you shall eat your fill.” (Devarim 11:8-15) Rashi comments that HaShem’s principal attention is focused on feeding Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel) only secondarily feeding the rest of the world. Rambam stresses that all the nations of the world eat only by virtue of the “personal” attention HaShem gives to Eretz Yisrael. Rebbe Nachman of Breslov explains Rambam’s statement as follows: “There is an intellectuality of Eretz Yisrael and an intellectuality of the other nations. The intellectuality of the other nations feeds from the intellectuality of Eretz Yisrael, for the main wisdom and intellect are in Eretz Yisrael.” (Likutei Moharan, II:71) Perhaps this concept can be clarified by way of the following parable:

A great and magnificent King lived in a large, beautiful palace with his only daughter, the Princess. She was the “apple of his eye” and his heart’s greatest love. The Princess was lovely, both on the inside as well as the outside, and she was blessed with intelligence, kindness, and compassion. She also had a razor-sharp intellect, an endless thirst for learning, and a phenomenal ability to understand and retain everything she learned. There was not a wise man or a minister in the entire kingdom whom the King could entrust with the education of his beloved daughter. Therefore, he educated her himself thus ensuring that her intellectuality would be an extension of his own intellectuality. In fact, the Princess learned from texts that her father the King himself had composed. She was so engrossed in her learning, satisfying her intellectual “hunger,” that she neither ate or drank anything while her father the King instructed her. But, each day, after five straight hours of learning, her delicate body would cry out for its minimal needs to satisfy her physical hunger.

There was a firm palace statute no one dared violate stating that until the King himself ordered food and drink for the Princess, all palace servants had to make due with the previous day’s leftovers. But once the King ordered food and drink for the Princess, cries of joy would be heard throughout the palace. The servants knew that when the Princess ate and drank, they would be able to do the same as well. If the Princess was hungry, the King would order the royal butcher to slaughter an entire bull just to feed the Princess her favorite delicacy: roasted tongue in mustard sauce. Then, the servants would feast on what was left over. If the Princess requested a small drink to quench her thirst, the King would order the royal wine master to open a barrel of the palace’s best wine whereupon she would barely sip half a goblet. The rest of the barrel would then be given to the servants. Because the King loved to surprise his daughter, he would command the royal baker to bake a ten-layer, four-foot high chocolate cake filled with almond and pistachio nougat. The Princess would eat a mere spoonful in obvious delight and then bless and thank her beloved father the King. The cake would then be given to the servants who were waiting to enjoy it. In other words, whenever the King ordered food for the Princess, the palace servants would have a feast.

You may ask: “Rabbi, what does this story have to do with the passage from the Torah with which you began?” Merely this: The King in this parable is Hashem; H-s beloved daughter is Eretz Yisrael; the servants are the nations of the world. Thanks to HaShem’s “watching eye” gazing upon Eretz Yisrael, the nations of the world thrive. If you doubt what I say, all you have to do is look at what Eretz Yisrael has done both for itself and the rest of the world since that day in May of 1948 when the Homeland of the People Israel was reborn. Because HaShem cares both for and about Eretz Yisrael, the People Israel both care for and about the rest of the world. After all, what other nation would offer aid and comfort to its enemies as the People Israel has done within the past few days following the catastrophic explosion that took place in the city of Beirut by offering aid and comfort to the people of Beirut, the capital city of the state that harbors and is controlled by an enemy of both the People Israel and the State of Israel? The answer to this question is obvious: Eretz Yisrael, Medinat Yisrael, Am Yisrael all comprise not just “any nation.” This is the Land, this is the State, and this is the People all watched over by Hashem. May we continue to merit H-s ever-present gaze.

We begin the final book of the Chumash, Sefer Devarim (the Book of Deuteronomy) on this Shabbat. read the following from this week’s parashah, Parashat Devarim: “And you spoke slander in your tents, and you said, ’With HaShem’s hatred of us He took us out of the Land of Egypt, to deliver us into the hand of the Amorites to destroy us.’” (Devarim 1:27) A Midrash (a Rabbinic interpretive story/legend) tells us that HaShem saw the B’nei Yisrael (Children of Israel) weeping and said, “You want to weep. I will give you something to weep about.” Thus, the decree was issued from Heaven that this day, Tisha B’Av (the Ninth of Av) would become a day of mourning. It is on Tisha B’Av that a series of tragic events have overtaken the People Israel including the following: the destruction of both the First Temple and the Second Temple in Yerushalayim (Jerusalem), the defeat in 135 C.E. (the Common Era) of Bar Kochba by the Romans, the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492, the declaration of war by Britain and Russia (strange bedfellows!) against Germany beginning World War I (“The War to End All Wars!) eventually leading to the Shoah (the Holocaust) and World War II, and the beginning of the deportation of Jews from the Warsaw Ghetto. Tisha B’Av is indeed a day with a black cloud hanging over it.

There is an old saying that relates how every dark cloud has a silver lining. And this is also true with Tisha B’Av. What is the silver lining of Tisha B’Av? It is Yom Kippur. Tisha B’Av is known as “the Black Fast” in Jewish tradition because it is a day of national mourning. Yom Kippur is known as “the White Fast” because (im mertz Hashem) by the end of Ne’ilah, we believe our sins are forgiven. Both days are 25-hour fasts, but there is a difference. As one Jewish writer put it: “On Tisha B’Av, when we remember the suffering, who can eat? On Yom Kippur when our sins are being forgiven, who needs to eat?” We go from black to white.

But Tisha B’Av itself is not without tikvah (hope). The prophet Zecharyah speaks of the four fast days that will turn into days of rejoicing. “And the word of HaShem of Hosts came to me saying, ‘Thus said HaShem of Hosts: “The fast of the fourth month (the 17^th of Tammuz), the fast of the fifth month (Tisha B’Av), the fast of the seventh month (Tzom Gedaliah), and the fast of the tenth month (the 10^th of Tevet) shall become occasions for joy and gladness, happy festivals for the House of Yehudah (Judah); but you must love honesty and peace.”’” (Zecharyah 8:18-19) And the greatest occasion of joy and gladness will happen on this day: the Mashiach (Messiah) will be born on Tisha B’Av.

This Tisha B’Av will be unlike any other ever observed. This year, we observe Tisha B’Av coping with the horrible pandemic of COVID-19. What is worse, because of the way in which we must protect ourselves from COVID-19, most of the worldwide Jewish Community will not be physically together to fast and to mourn and to pray. It seems to many that all tikvah will be lost this year. But as we hear the mournful words of the impending destruction of Yerushalayim as expressed by the prophet Yesha’yahu (Isaiah) found in this week’s haftarah, we must focus intensely on words found at both the beginning and the ending of the haftarah: “The Chazon (Vision) of Yesha’yahu, son of Amotz (Amos) that which he viewed concerning Yehudah and Yerushalayim…Tziyon (Zion) will be redeemed with justice and its return with righteousness.” (Yesha’yahu 1:1 & 27) This Shabbat is known as “Shabbat Chazon,” the Sabbath of Vision. May we take strength from the words of Yesha’yahu. May we envision the day when a vaccine has been created which will, at the very least, stop this COVID-19 pandemic in its tracks. And as prophesied by Zecharyah, may our days of mourning be turned into days of joy and gladness.

In this week’s parashah, Parashat Pinchas, we read the following: “And HaShem spoke with Moshe saying: ‘Pinchas, son of El’azar, son of Aharon the Priest, turned away My anger from upon the B’Nei Yisrael, when he zealously avenged my vengeance in their midst, and I did not destroy the B’Nei Yisrael in my vengeance.’” (BaMidbar 25:11) We read at the end of last week’s parashah how Pinchas executed the Israelite prince Zimri and the Midianite woman Cozbi as they were flaunting their sexuality in front of the B’Nei Yisrael. In this week’s parashah, we read how Pinchas is heralded as a hero due his zealousness and, in fact, is rewarded a “B’rit K’hunat Olam” (a Covenant of Eternal Priesthood) for his actions by Hashem. In light of the violence and destruction that has taken place across this country in recent weeks, perhaps we should look at the role zealousness and vengeance and how they play out in today’s world.

A few years ago, I happened to be in Eretz Yisrael shortly after the bodies of Gilad Shaer, Naftali Frenkel, and Eyal Yifrach were found. They had been abducted and murdered by Hamas terrorists. These murders were evil and vicious, and for many of our people, they put the final nail in the coffin effectively ending any possible chance for peace between the so-called “Palestinians” and Israelis. It was not long after that the body of Mohammed Abu Kh’deir, a young “Palestinian,” was found. It was determined that young Israeli vigilantes killed this boy as an act of vengeance for the murders of the three Israeli boys. Immediately there were those who declared a moral equivalency between the actions of the “Palestinian” terrorists and the Israeli vigilantes. But was this true?

When the three Israeli boys were found murdered, “Palestinians” danced in the streets and distributed candy in celebration. When Abu Kh’deir was found, Prime Minister Netanyahu condemned the action, and the Israeli authorities promptly tracked down and arrested the perpetrators. The Israeli news media condemned the Israeli vigilantes while the “Palestinian” media mocked the disappearance and slaughter of the three Israeli teens. While there is obviously no moral equivalency between the humanity of Israeli culture and society and the savagery of Radical Islam that continues to spread like COVID-19 throughout the Middle East and the rest of the world, it is an incontrovertible truth that the death of innocents is always abhorrent and can never be tolerated in a civilized world.

Asher Lemmel was born in a shtetl on the Ukrainian prairie. He had never traveled to either Berditchev or Vinnitza let alone to Kiev or Warsaw. But he had heard of all kinds of stories about the beautiful Black Sea coast in the southern Ukraine. He dreamed of visiting the beach, smelling the enchanting sea breeze and eating freshly roasted fish. For weeks and months, Lemmel worked his fingers to the bone saving kopeck after kopeck to make his dream come true. He eventually saved enough money (100 rubles) to be able to hire a wagon to go to Vinnitza and from there by train south to Odessa and the Black Sea.

After arriving in Vinnitza, Asher Lemmel found himself completely overwhelmed by the bustling city. In his shtetl, he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. But here, he was confused by the train station with all the people arriving and departing at once. He asked the ticket teller how to find the train to Odessa. Impatiently, the ticket teller handed him a train schedule and told him to pay for his ticket and move through the line. Asher did so taking the train schedule, printed in classic Russian script, and walking away. But there was a problem. Asher Lemmel had never learned to read or speak very much Russian. After all, everybody in his shtetl spoke Yiddish. Unable to fully understand the train schedule, he concluded that to the best of his knowledge that the train to Odessa would be departing from the east-side platform.

Not far away, closely watching him was a group of well-dressed, slightly drunk Russian noblemen. They decided to have fun with this man who appeared to them to be a perplexed Jewish “country bumpkin.” They asked him if he needed help. Asher Lemmel replied: “This is the east-side platform, yes? Does the train for Odessa leave from here?” One of the noblemen retorted: “Of course not, silly Jew! Odessa is south of here. Does it seem logical that the train leaving from an east-side platform would reach a destination in the south?” Asher Lemmel looked at the paper again and seemed certain that it read “Odessa – east-side platform.” But the Russian nobleman had shaken his confidence. Suddenly, a train approached on the south-side platform, and Asher Lemmel was urged by this Russian nobleman to board it immediately. He did so.

Odessa should have been an 8-hour train trip from Vinnitza. After 24 hours of traveling on the train, the conductor appeared requesting that passengers either produce their tickets or pay their fare. Asher Lemmel showed the conductor his train ticket and asked the conductor when they would arrive in Odessa. The conductor replied: “Dimwit! We are on our way to Siberia! This is the east-bound train!” Asher Lemmel was astounded: “But I boarded in Vinnitza on the south-side platform! I want to go south!” The conductor angrily told Asher Lemmel that the side of the platform of the train station had nothing to do with the direction in which the train was traveling. Oy vey! As the train schedule which Asher Lemmel held had said, he realized then that he should have boarded the train on the east-side platform. Poor Asher Lemmel! Instead of surf and sand, he was bound for ice and snow. He should have paid more attention to the paper.

In this week’s parashah, Parashat Korach, we read the following words: “And Korach took….” (BaMidbar 16:1) The parashah tells of the rebellion of Korach and his followers, a rebellion which ends in their demise. The Midrash describes how Korach used his own reason and logic to challenge both Moshe’s and HaShem’s authority over the B’Nei Yisrael (Children of Israel). In front of Moshe, Korach spoke to his myriad of followers saying: “If one tiny mezuzah, with only two passages of Torah, is able to protect an entire house, then why affix a mezuzah to a house full of books which contain thousands of passages from the Torah? Does such a house really need a mezuzah?” He then turned to Moshe waiting for his answer. Of course, Moshe answered that such a house does indeed need a mezuzah. Korach’s reaction was to make fun of both Moshe and the Torah requirement for observing this mitzvah (commandment). What Korach was trying to do was to reduce the mitzvot of the Torah, which had just been given by Hashem to the B’Nei Yisrael at Har Sinai (Mount Sinai), to a set of statutes governed by mere human logic and reason. This, in effect would separate Korach from both the leadership of Moshe and the obligation to follow the Torah thus inflating his standing among his followers. But this, as we see, was a tragic mistake for all involved.

1. our own day, we find far too many members of the B’Nei Yisrael thinking about the mitzvot of the Torah in the same way that Korach thought of them. If it is not logical, if it does not make any sense to them, they throw Torah aside and move on. The problem with such thinking is that they then have no foundation for being members of the B’Nei Yisrael. They end up searching for meaning in this often meaningless world with the result being that they come up “empty-handed.” They then try to counter this by announcing to the world that they are seeking a more “spiritual life” than what Judaism has to offer. But the fact remains that there is nothing better than following Torah to attain a more spiritual life! Our Torah is like the train schedule that Asher Lemmel held in his hand. All he had to do was follow the words that he could read. He then would have reached his desired destination. All we have to do is follow the mitzvot of the Torah, each of us to our own best ability, for by doing so, we will then reach our desired destination of attaining peace in our hearts and holiness in our souls.

In this week’s parashah, Parashat Beha’alot’cha, we read the following: “And the man Moshe was exceedingly humble, more than anyone [else] on the face of the earth.” (BeMidbar 12:3)

In this day and age, it would appear that humility is a very scarce commodity. If this is so, perhaps we need to ask the question “Just what is humility?” In Jewish tradition, humility is not being displayed by one who deprecates him/herself. One who says “I am nothing. I am worth nothing.” is not necessarily being humble. The person who makes such statements just might be displaying signs of depression. In our tradition we are taught to place a value on who are by placing ourselves in comparison to Hashem. “I am nothing – compared to Hashem.” In making such a statement, the humble person can fully acknowledge his/her qualities and achievements as long as s/he recognizes them as being gifts from Hashem. Consider the following story.

There was once was a king who owed a debt of gratitude to a poor man. He decided to repay the poor man by making him governor of one of the provinces of his kingdom. This newly appointed governor became so successful at his job that he became very popular, the most popular governor of all the king’s provinces. In order to witness the source of this governor’s success, the king decided to spend a day with him. However, because he did want to draw attention to himself, the king dressed as a commoner. The two men, the king and the governor, walked around the town together in order for the king to see the governor “in action.” However, the entire day was most embarrassing for the governor because he was showered with praise and gratitude by everyone they met while the king, who was the real source of all the good these people had received, was virtually ignored. The governor was displaying humility.

The Rizhiner Rebbe explained that each one of us has been given many abilities and gifts from HaShem. It may be wealth; it may be intellect; it may be family or business connections. Rebbe said that whenever we are heaped with praise for actions that come about through one of our “gifts” from HaShem, we must never forget the real source for such praise so that we can forward it to the proper “address.” In other words, we must be more like Moshe.