Parshat Vayikra - פרשת ויקרא

And so we start a new book in the Torah with Parshat Vayikra. This week I have two short דברי תורה.

My first דבר תורה is taken from a few sources on the Pasuk, "ונפש כי-תקריב קרבן מנחה לה' סלת יהיה קרבנו ויצק עליה לבנה - When a person makes a meal offering to Hashem, his offering shall be of fine flour; he shall pour oil upon it, and place frankincense upon it." (פרק ב, פסוק א)

Each week I receive a weekly d'var torah and the one I received this morning got me thinking. The d'var torah presents the Lubavitcher Rebbe's interpretation of the voluntary sacrifice mentioned in this pasuk. He poses a question and then proceeds to answer it, but I shall give an alternative answer, if I may.

In brief, he raises the point that the word Nefesh, meaning "soul" is used. Only for the offering of the poor person is the word "Nefesh" used. Why is this?

The basis of his answer is that unlike the wealthy person, who can give expensive offerings of the finest animals and birds to the Bet Hamikdash, the poor man can only give flour. As the D'var Torah says, though, "Nevertheless, the Torah attributes more significance to the poor man's offering, as Rashi writes on Verse 1 'I consider it as if he offered his very soul!'"

What does it mean that his offering is reckoned as if it were his very soul? The answer I shall attempt to give is very functional - that the rich man can freely donate expensive wines to the Bet Hamikdash, and give choice birds and animals to be offered up on the altar, but the poor man's simple meal offering is worth far more to him.

The word Nefesh is specifically used because the poor man does not know where his next meal is coming from, and yet he manages to give up some of his own meager food and offer it before Hashem. It makes no difference to the rich man how much he gives to be offered up, he knows that he will be well fed at the next meal - but the poor man forgoes his self.

Rabbi David Feinstein comments on the second pasuk of the parsha, "אדם כי-יקריב מכם קרבן לה - When a man shall bring from you an offering to Hashem," saying that the seemingly unnecessary מכם, from you, indicates that when one brings an offering to the slaughter, he should realise thar truly the one who should be slaughtered is none other than himself. Hashem grants us a chance at t'shuvah, but it is only through his rachamim that we are permitted to survive so much as a second after sinning. The word מכם indicates that when one brings such an offering, he must have the conviction that he should really have brought the offering literally from himself, and not from some "animal surrogate."

Even though we no longer have a Bet Hamikdash, we can still learn a valuable lesson in regret. When we wrong a human we often go out of our way to apologise to and placate them. But when it comes to lapses in our spiritual obligations it seems that all too often we shrug and say, "Oh well." If we understand the message here, and adopt a genuine and serious attitude towards sin, we can be sure that we can do our best to avoid lapses in the future.

The second D'var Torah is a short one. In פרק ג, we are introduced to the זבח שלומים, the peace offering. Rav Zalman Sorotzkin comments here, saying that the word שלום, meaning peace, is also connected to another word - שלימות, completeness. The זבח שלומים was not brought by one in the manner of a sin or guilt-offering, nor was it akin to the Olah brought for a less significant sin.

The Shlamim was different in that it is not attributed to one's need to atone for a sin. Rather, the Shlamim indicates a sense of wholesomeness as it was brought by a pure person who uses their sense of free will to pay tribute to Hashem. This is what completeness means.

In today's society, the prevalent mindset is to declare that "We are all individuals," (To coin a phrase!) but if we stop to think about things, what is wrong with being part of something bigger? By being part of a bigger entity, and recognising one's role in life and towards Hashem, we can all achieve a very fulfilling sense of completeness.

Wishing you a שבת שלום!

Vayakhel-Pekudei ויקהל-פקודי

This week we read two Parshiot - Vayakhel and Pekudei. This D'var Torah is on Vayakhel.

In a similar manner to last week's Parsha, Ki Tisa, there is a lot happening in this week’s Parsha, but in both Parshiot, there are brief references to Shabbat. Almost right at the beginning of parshat Vayakhel, we read;

“ששת ימים תעשה מלאכה וביום השביעי יהיה לכם קדש שבת שבתון לה' כל-העושה בו מלאכה יומת. – These are the things that Hashem commanded, to do them: On six days, work may be done, but the seventh shall be holy for you, a day of complete rest for Hashem; whoever does work on it shall be put to death.” (שמות ל'ה, ב-ג)

The language used here for the work of the weekdays is, “תעשה - te’aseh,” which means, “may be done” or “shall be done.” This seems odd; one would expect the word תעשה to be vowelized so as to read ‘Ta’aseh,’ which means “you shall do.” After all, it is talking about the work that one does to the week. Who else would do the work but the worker, the person this pasuk is aimed at. What is meant by this word?

I believe that it’s the Ba’al HaTurim who answers this question by explaining that the rest of this week’s Parsha deals with the building of the Mishkan. But first, it was essential to set out the rules for Shabbat, so that nobody would be confused and think that the building of the Mishkan should continue on Shabbat. Even for something as uniquely holy and important as the Mishkan, Shabbat comes first. And if that’s the case, kal v’chomer that we should not worry about mundane matters on Shabbat!

So the Ba’al HaTurim answers our question by explaining that for one who rests completely on Shabbat, and keeps his mind off his weekly tasks, his work “shall be done.” That is to say, he shall be more passively involved in his week’s work, and he shall not have to work so hard. (As opposed to the language of Ta’aseh, which is somewhat forceful and specific to the person.)

Another aspect I read on the mentioning of the Shabbat prior to the Torah’s description of the Mishkan derives from a weekly D’var Torah from a facebook group called Inspiring Weekly Torah. (Go addd yourself!) The D’var Torah I received this week states, “Shabbos and the Tabernacle both represent different types of Kedushah - sanctity. The Tabernacle represents Kedushat Makom – the sanctity of a certain space, while Shabbos typifies the notion of Kedushat Zman – the sanctity of a specified time.”

I would like to develop this point a bit. We all understand how Eretz Yisrael is considered holy. And we all know that within Eretz Yisrael, Jerusalem is considered holy, and within Jerusalem we consider Har Habayit, upon which the Bet Hamikdash stood, holier still. Within the Bet Hamikdash we had the Kodesh HaK’dashim, and within that space, we had one focal point of Kedushah between the K’ruvim’s wings. All this is in the space dimension. What about time?

Just as there are specific places that have Kedushah ascribed to them, so too there are certain times at which we may pray for example. (Any religious man will tell you how he has had to rush to minyan at times!) It is important that timing and location are recognised as both vitally important in the service of Hashem. Ultimately, when it comes to serving Hashem, we have to make sure that we settle ourselves down and take the time out (à la Shabbat) to connect with the Creator, and it is also vitally important that we ensure that our surroundings are conducive to prayer, that we are located in a place of Kedushah.

This week’s D’var Torah is in the z’chut of Gilad Shalit, who has been held for 1,000 days in captivity. May he be released from his bounds and return to his home and his nation. Amen.

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Ki Tisa - פרשת כי תשא

This week's Parsha deals with a wide array of subjects. We read of Am Yisrael's first-ever census, the incense to be used in the Bet Hamikdash and the giving of the first set of luchot to Moshe Rabbeinu - and all that's just in the first Aliyah! We also learn of the subsequent incident of the egel hazahav, the giving of the second set of luchot, and of how Moshe's face become "radiant" (well, that's how Artscroll renders the word, "קרן,") as a result of becoming so close to Hashem. And there's much, much more!

But all these things are very specific things, and are not immediately relevant to us. There is one passage in this week's Sidra that stands out as being obviously applicable to us - the introduction of Shabbat, which also appears in the first Aliyah.

Regarding the Shabbat it says, "ואתה דבר אל-בני ישראל לאמר אך את-שבתתי תשמרו כי אות היא ביני ובניכם לדורותיכם לדעת כי אני ה' מקדשכם - Now you, speak to Bnei Yisrael saying, 'However, you must observe My Shabbatot, for it is a sign between Me and you for your generations, to know that I am Hashem, Who makes you holy.'"(פרק לא:יג)

It says that Shabbat was given as an אות, a sign. But wasn't Shabbat given openly, in the Aseret HaDibrot? A sign is something that is slightly concealed, something with a private aspect to it, as it says quite clearly, "a sign between Me and you." In fact, now that I'm thinking about it, isn't it very obvious when we Jews keep Shabbat? Any goy passing me on the street can pick out 'the Jew,' all dressed up while the rest of England takes a day off. What's indeed is hidden about Shabbat? What is the אות?

Rabbeinu Bachye raises exactly this question. He answers by refering to the Gemara in Beitzah where R' Shimon Bar Yochai says that all the commandments were given openly, but Shabbat is given in a hidden manner, as is clear from the pasuk quoted above. R' Bachye's take on this statement is that Shabbat was given to our souls, which are hidden within the body.

It is absolutely essential to understand the implications of this. I have often heard it said how "sensible" and "reasonable" it is to take one day a week off work. I hear Jews say how good it is that Shabbat affords us time that we may spend with our families. But if we are honest with ourselves, these are not the reasons why we should keep the Shabbat - we keep it because we have been instructed to by Hashem. It is a mitzvah, and therefore we must do it. On the few occasions I have spoken to non-Jews about Shabbat, they have voiced their opinion that it seems "a good idea."

So when it says that Shabbat is an אות, we have to understand that we keep Shabbat because we have agreed to. This is something private between us and Hashem that no other nation will every fathom. We don't need logical reasons as to why we should do mitzvot other than "Hashem commanded us to, therefore we will."

(Of course, I'm not advocating a laissez-faire attitude towards Torah and faith in Hashem; we have to learn about our religion. It is imperative do our best to understand the nature of our relationship with Hashem, but once we have made that leap of faith and are concentrating on the mitzvot themselves, we cannot "pick and mix" our religion based on what seems reasonable to us.)

If Shabbat seemed unreasonable to us, would we still keep it? Unfortunately, for many this proves to be a very real question that challenges them weekly. It is important to remember that reasonable or not, this is our task and we must do it. Shabbat certainly has it's benefits, but we must never forget the reason why we keep it. As R' Bachye says, Shabbat was given to our souls. Or put another way - not to our heads. We don't keep the Torah's laws because they seem rational to our puny intellects, or convenient to us - we keep them because we have to do mitzvot lishma. We do mitzvot for their own sake.

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Lastly, there's an interesting point I would like to make about the physical phenomenon that occurs to Moshe Rabbeinu in the last Aliyah. The mention of light and sound in literature is very common; it is a way of bringing the text to life and adds something to the text. I'm sure litererarians could spend long hours indulging us with the deep meaning of what this kind of imagery does to a poem or a novel, but I believe that many times, they serve no more purpose than a firework show; the writer wishes to emphasise something or draw our attention and bright lights and booming sound fit the bill perfectly. Obviously there are writers who are more sensitive to the finer qualities of these things, but when something is written in the Torah, it is because we can learn from it and that there's probably a lot more going on than meets the eyer. So when Hashem sees fit to tell us in the Torah that Moshe Rabbeinu returned from his 40-day long meeting with Him, it is probably not to tell us that Moshe was now so spiritually elevated that his face was shining. While that does work on a straight-out פשט level, there must be more to it to make it worthy of being included in the Torah.

If we refer back to Parshat Vayera in Sefer B'reishit, we read the Akeidah and of how it says there, concerning Avraham Avinu, "וישלח את ידו - and he threw his hand." The Netivot Shalom explains that Avraham's hand "knew" that this task was not meant to be completed; that it was not Hashem's will for Yitzchak to actually be slaughtered, and as such, Avraham had to act against his own body, which he had succesfully trained to become aligned to Hashem's will. Therefore when it came to having to slaughter his son, the only way that Avraham could elicit any movement from his hand was by force and throwing it forward.

A few sidrot ago in Parshat Yitro, we learn of the thunder and lighting that accompanied the giving of the Torah. Chazal teach us that this was no mere light show - all of Hashem's natural glory was involved and participated in this majestic moment. Similarly here, Moshe, having been exposed to Hashem for a prolonged period had become spiritually refined and the body which normally masks the inner essence, not only started to stop containing it, but it started to reveal it. This is reminiscent of the state in which man existed before the sin of Adam HaRishon. R' Akiva Tatz points out that the word for light - אור, is the very similar to the word for skin - עור. In Gan Eden, the skin would expose the inner light - the elevated spirituality of man that caused the angels to mistakenly believe that Adam HaRishon was another god. After the sin, the same skin started to coneal our inate spirituality. (Rabbi Tatz points out that the English word "hide" means both skin and to cover - rather apt.)

My point is that Moshe had not only returned from his experience spiritually refreshed but that his body had also started to return to its original form, too. His body had once again started to reveal the inner spark of G-dliness that lies within every one of us. Here, his face had returned to unity with his soul and a holy bright light started to emanate from it. This wasn't a mere reflection of the kedusha from the time he spent with Hashem, it was coming from within him!

Wishing you a שבת שלום!

(This week's דברי תורה is in the זכות of a couple who are to be married in the coming week. I know the חתן a little bit, and think that he's great! May they be זוכים to build a בית נאמן בישראל.)

Parshat T'tzaveh - פרשת תצוה

Parshat T'tzaveh continues where T'rumah left off, detailing more specifics of the items to be used in the Mishkan. Most of the Parsha deals exclusively with the Kohanim and their vestments, but the first two P'sukim of the Parsha deal specifically with the Ner Tamid - the "Continual light."

"ואתה תצוה את בני ישראל ויקחו אליך שמן זית זך כתית למאור להעלות נר תמיד - Now you shall command Bnei Yisrael that they shall take for you pure, pressed olive oil for illumination, to kindle the lamp continually." (כז:כא)

The word Tamid causes quite some debate, though. Whereas the concept of something being "continual" might seem rather simple, the various interpretations of this basic word can have deep ramifications.

Rashi comments here on the the word תמיד, saying that "כל לילה ולילה קרוי תמיד - Each night is called 'Tamid.'" According to Rashi, the Ner Tamid was light nightly, and lasted till the following morning, a view supported by a straightforward translation of the text. Rashi hold that something that happens at regular, discrete intervals is enough to be called constant. Continual but not continuous, if you will.

The Ramban disagrees. He is of the opinion that while the Ner Tamid was lit nightly, it did not go out in the morning, but rather lasted till the following evening. As such, the Ramban's definition of Tamid is something that happens at discrete intervals, but lasts until the next interval. We can say that it is a continual occurence that lasts continuously. (If that definition seems hard to grasp, read on and then return - it should be easier to understand at the end.)

Later on in our Parsha, the Torah describes the ציץ הזהב - the golden band that the כהן גדול would wear on his forehead. "והיה על-מצח אהרן ונשא אהרן את-עון הקדשים אשר יקדישו בני ישראל לכל מתנות קדשיהם והיה על-מצחו תמיד לרצון להם לפני ה - It shall be on Aharon's forehead so that Aharon shall bring forgiveness for a sin regarding the sacred offerings that the Bnei Yisrael consecrate for any gifts of their sacred offerings; and it shall be on his forehead always, to bring them favour before Hashem."

Inscribed upon the ציץ הזהב were the words, " 'קודש לה - Holy to Hashem." These words were meant to underline our commitment to dedicate our lives to to Avodat Tamid, to Avodat Hashem. The Pasuk above says that the ציץ was on Aharon's forehead always, but this could not be the case - as Rashi points out, he only wore it while he was doing the Avodah - the work of the Bet Hamikdash. There were times when it had to be removed so it could not have been there always in a physical sense. Rashi holds that he was required to touch it on occasion, so that his mind would not wander from the holy tasks he was performing.

There are other opinions though - that even when not wearing it, Aharon had to be aware of his function as the Kohen Gadol. Another view, (I think it's that of the Ramban,) holds that the whole time that the ציץ was on Aharon's head, he had to keep his mind very much on it's presence there, ensuring constant awareness to it's Kedushah.

The Rama, in his opening comment on the Shulchan Aruch, famously quotes the Pasuk, "(שוויתי ה' לנגדי תמיד. (תהילים ט"ז:ח" The first thing that the Rama teaches us is to place Hashem before us תמיד. Once again, this pasuk seems simple enough - but do we really understand it?

Is it enough to have serve Hashem at discrete intervals, praying 3 times a day, saying brachot before and after food, and learning Torah at fixed times? Is that what the Rama means by Tamid? It certainly abides by Rashi's definition in our Parsha. But it is a minimal level, and doesn't really do justice to the Jewish concept of sanctifying the mundane. One can fulfill all these obligations, but sink to low levels in between.

So we have a level higher than this, the level of performing our duties and in between maintaining our level of Kedushah. And then we have the highest level, the level of constant awareness, the level at which the Ramban claims that the Kohen Gadol had to be at, the level at which one constantly reminds himself of the task before him, that one constantly and continuously places Hashem before himself - that he doesn't let himself forget for even a second what his task is in this world. Of course, this is a very high level, but it is one we must strive for.

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom!

- This week's D'var Torah derives from a shiur I heard last year by R' Djanogly of Hendon.

Tank Tefillin

I know it's puerile..

...but these videos did make me laugh.