וראה הכהן את־הנגע בעור־הבשר ושער בנגע הפך לבן ומראה הנגע עמק מעור בשרו נגע צרעת הוא וראהו הכהן וטמא אתו - And the Kohen shall see the affliction on the skin of his flesh: If hair in the affliction has changed to white, and the affliction's appearance is deeper than the skin of the flesh - it is a Tzara'at affliction; the Kohen shall see it and contaminate him.
(יג:ג)
Today there is a feeling spreading among Am Yisrael that the Galut is at an end and that the Geulah truly is just around the corner; we have (at least part of) Eretz Yisrael back in our hands, Ivrit, the only language in the world to have made a successful revival, is the spoken language of the Jewish people, and Jewish culture is flourishing. But there are some effects of this 2,000 year long exile that we have to shake off, like the fact that the overwhelming majority of Jews around the world have very real trouble in understanding their prayer.
A friend of mine who is not as religious as I am made a comment to a Rabbi a few years ago, a comment that I perceived as somewhat radical. He suggested that we should "daven" in the way that Quakers pray - each person should speak to Hashem as he wants, without needing to resort to the set texts of the Siddur. In that way, argued my friend, we would all be able to find our tefillot that much more relevant. I can't remember the answer that the Rabbi gave, but I do tender an answer of my own now.
My answer to my friend's question is that we should take a look at this week's Parsha. In it we read of the condition called Tzara'at - an affliction that affected those who were spiritually ill. There were certain conditions that would be placed upon the sufferer of one with Tzara'at; he would have to go through a quarantine process, amongst other things. But all these prohibitions and procedures would not start until the sufferer was diagnosed by a Kohen. The Kohen would essentially fulfill the role of "spiritual doctor" and inform the "patient" of the required course of action.
There are many complicated halachot pertaining to Tzara'at, but surely one of the most interesting comes from the words "וראהו הכהן וטמא אתו," which roughly translates as "And the Kohen shall see it and contaminate him." These words are troubling - how can it be that the Kohen would make a man Tamei - spiritually impure? Obviously a straightforward reading of the text does not suffice, and thankfully Rashi explains this to mean, "יאמר לו 'טמא אתה' - he shall say to him, 'You are impure,' " meaning that the Kohen would declare the man to be impure rather than actually make him impure himself. The problem is that this reading of the text leads to an inner contradiction - why are the words "טמא אתו" used - they are causative and imply that the Kohen makes the sufferer Tamei?
The resolution to this problem is hinted to by Rashi. He states that the Kohen must declare the sufferer to be ill with Tzara'at. We can take this to mean that from the moment the Kohen pronounces a man a "מצורע" (the technical name for one who suffers with צרעת.) It is important to note that no matter how evident it is that someone is suffering from this condition, none of the procedures are followed until a Kohen declares the sufferer to be a Metzora. This is even the case when an expert declares a man as having Tzara'at - it is only halachicly regarded as Tzara'at once it has been pronounced as such by a Kohen, even if that Kohen is so unlearned as to practically be a boor.
There are many lessons one can learn from this, but the one I pick out is that the words of the Kohen have tremendous power here, for they effect the condition of Tzara'at. So important are the Kohen's words that we treat someone who is clearly suffering with Tzara'at as spiritually pure monents before the Kohen declares his diagnosis, even if it is abundantly obvious prior to his statement that he will only confim what is readily apparent.
In Parshat Kedoshim we read the famous phrase, "קדושים תהיו - You shall be holy." These words epitomise the Judaic belief that mortal humans can rise to tremendous spiritual heights, and that we are not "damned" as christians would have us believe. These words imply the Jewish concept that everything in this world is to be used in our mission to attain closeness with Hashem. We believe that when we eat food, we only eat it so that we may have sustenance required to perform our task in this world. In a similar manner, we believe that we have been given the blessing of speech for a specific reason - for spiritual use. For this reason we thank Hashem for the food we eat, for the aromas we smell and the when we see sights of natural beauty, amongst other things. This concept is known as "elevating the mundane," of realising that everything in this world was created not out of coincidence, but by a supreme Creator. We learn that Hashem created the world with "עשר מאמרות - ten sayings," something we attest to when we say the Bracha, "שהכל נהיה בדברו - that everything was created by his word."
As Jews we try to emulate Hashem. To this end, we must understand the importance of everything that Hashem has given to us. We can maybe now understand the reason why the correction of the mistake made by one who is not careful with their speech is only initiated once a Kohen speaks and declares their condition - we have to appreciate the true value of each and every gift Hashem gives us. The question my friend posed all those years ago was a good one, but if he had known the meaning of this verse, he would never have been led to ask it. There's tremendously deep meaning contained within the words of the prayers set out for us by Chazal, and even if we don't understand their words, we are still commanded to say them.
We might think why this is, but if we understand the parallel of the Kohen who does not know the laws of Tzara'at, we will know that even if we do not understand the words, we are still effecting significant spiritual forces by speaking them. Now we can understand how it is that the Pasuk is worded "וטמא אתו," for it is only once the Kohen has spoken that the Tzara'at can come into force, even if the Kohen has no understanding of what actually constitutes Tzara'at, such is the power of speech.
Wishing you a שבת שלום ומבורך!
Friday, April 24, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Parshat Shmini - פרשת שמיני
"ואת אלה תשקצו מן העוף לא יאכלו שקץ הם את הנשר ואת הפרס ואת העזניה. - And these shall you abominate from among the birds, they may not be eaten, they are an abomination: the nesher, the peres, the ozniah."
(11:13)
The list of forbidden birds is headed by the Nesher, the eagle. The Nesher is the undisputed king of the birds, and yet it is specifically listed as being not kosher. Moreover, the Nesher lacks every one of the four signs of purity required for an animal to be rendered kosher. The dove on the other hand, the easiest prey in the entire bird kingdom, has all the signs required. Moreover, the dove is among those selected to be brought as an offering and burnt on the Altar!
Rav Zalman Sorotzkin tenders an answer to this poser. He says that we know that there are four animals engraved on Hashem's כסא הכבוד; a man, a bull, a lion and an eagle. Each of these four creations is a king in some way.
Man is the king of Creation, and indeed the king of all creations. The bull is the king of all domesticated animals. The lion is the king of all wild animals and the eagle is the king of all birds. These four animals are kings and exalted above all other creations. Above them all sits Hashem, Who presides over all creation.
The dove, possibly the most prey-upon creature in all of creation, is to be offered up in sanctification of Hashem's name, and become a "satisfying aroma" for Hashem. The dove cannot possibly be engraved upon Hashem's throne of glory - but instead merits a different, perhaps greater זכות.
Personally I believe that we, the people of today's society, would do well to understand the seemingly contradictory nature of these two birds and absorb the lesson being taught here. It is clear that the eagle is the highest creature and the dove the lowest creature of all. There is no doubt to be had that the eagle soars high above other birds and preys upon them as it sees fit. Equally, there is no getting away from the fact that the dove is easy fodder for many creatures. Despite the eagle's high status in the natural world, though, the torah makes an example out of the eagle as something that is clearly not suitable to be eaten. The dove however fulfills all the requirements to be a kosher animal.
The eagle might well be the natural king of the birds, and deserving of a place on the throne of glory, but it remains non-kosher nevertheless. The dove on the other hand, despite being an "easy target" has the value of being one of the few creatures listed to be sacrificed to Hashem.
I know that this might sound like a cliche, but it must be absolutely clear that we should recognise the differences in this world, and not ignore them. I once made the mistake of saying that Jewish people are superior to non-Jews because we have a better task to do. A friend soon put me in my place, letting me know that there might well be differences, but there's no such thing as superior or inferior. We as Jews have our role to play, and so do non-Jews. Everything in this world has it's function, like the dove and the eagle, which both have their merits, which both have their place.
Wishing you a שבת שלום!
(11:13)
The list of forbidden birds is headed by the Nesher, the eagle. The Nesher is the undisputed king of the birds, and yet it is specifically listed as being not kosher. Moreover, the Nesher lacks every one of the four signs of purity required for an animal to be rendered kosher. The dove on the other hand, the easiest prey in the entire bird kingdom, has all the signs required. Moreover, the dove is among those selected to be brought as an offering and burnt on the Altar!
Rav Zalman Sorotzkin tenders an answer to this poser. He says that we know that there are four animals engraved on Hashem's כסא הכבוד; a man, a bull, a lion and an eagle. Each of these four creations is a king in some way.
Man is the king of Creation, and indeed the king of all creations. The bull is the king of all domesticated animals. The lion is the king of all wild animals and the eagle is the king of all birds. These four animals are kings and exalted above all other creations. Above them all sits Hashem, Who presides over all creation.
The dove, possibly the most prey-upon creature in all of creation, is to be offered up in sanctification of Hashem's name, and become a "satisfying aroma" for Hashem. The dove cannot possibly be engraved upon Hashem's throne of glory - but instead merits a different, perhaps greater זכות.
Personally I believe that we, the people of today's society, would do well to understand the seemingly contradictory nature of these two birds and absorb the lesson being taught here. It is clear that the eagle is the highest creature and the dove the lowest creature of all. There is no doubt to be had that the eagle soars high above other birds and preys upon them as it sees fit. Equally, there is no getting away from the fact that the dove is easy fodder for many creatures. Despite the eagle's high status in the natural world, though, the torah makes an example out of the eagle as something that is clearly not suitable to be eaten. The dove however fulfills all the requirements to be a kosher animal.
The eagle might well be the natural king of the birds, and deserving of a place on the throne of glory, but it remains non-kosher nevertheless. The dove on the other hand, despite being an "easy target" has the value of being one of the few creatures listed to be sacrificed to Hashem.
I know that this might sound like a cliche, but it must be absolutely clear that we should recognise the differences in this world, and not ignore them. I once made the mistake of saying that Jewish people are superior to non-Jews because we have a better task to do. A friend soon put me in my place, letting me know that there might well be differences, but there's no such thing as superior or inferior. We as Jews have our role to play, and so do non-Jews. Everything in this world has it's function, like the dove and the eagle, which both have their merits, which both have their place.
Wishing you a שבת שלום!
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
חג הפסח
Due to the madness that is pre-Pesach preparations, I only have a short D'var Torah today for Pesach. It derives from a shiur I heard from R' Akiva Tatz at the beginning of the month, and also draws from other sources of his.
The Rambam, in his famous work, the Mishnah Torah, details every single mitzvah in the Torah. When he tackles the laws of the Seder night, one might expect the Rambam to write extensively of the importance of the exodus from Egypt. It would seem fairly obvious that one of the mitzvot of the Seder night would be the telling of the story of יציאת מצרים. Pesach is the time when the Jews in Egypt went through the one of, if not the greatest redemption in history, but the Rambam does not stress the exodus itself very much at all. In fact, the Rambam writes extensively of the miracles, mentioning them over and over making the point that we have a mitzvah to talk of the ניסים and the נפלאות, but deliberately avoids referring to the fact that these miracles were simply a part of the exodus from Egypt. Only once does the Rambam makes a cursive, brief reference to the exodus itself. He doesn't say that the mitzvah is to speak about the exodus, but it is to speak of the miracle and wonder of the exodus! What on earth is this about?
It must be pointed out that the Rambam is one of the leading authorities on Halacha, and so we must strive to understand what his reasoning is when he says that we must spend our Seder nights talking of the miracle and wonder of the exodus.
Up until recently, my understanding of miracles had been very simplistic. As a child I learned of the ten plagues, and how the first plague was that the water of the Nile turned to blood, along with all the rest of the water in Egypt. It is said that during the plague, water when taken by an Egyptian would be blood but when taken by a Jew, would be clean water, and I had learned that Egyptians tried buying cups of water off Jews, only to find that the water was blood and undrinkable. Up until now, my understanding of this phenomenon was that as a cup of water was picked up by an Egyptian, it would turn a misty red colour and transform into blood.
That understanding makes sense of the miracle, but it is extremely limited and masks the true wonder of what actually happened. For the miracle was not that the water was first water and then it was blood; rather that it was blood and water at the same time; that a Jew and an Egyptian were able to look at the Nile at the same time and one see a normal river and the other behold nothing but blood.
Later on, when Am Yisrael are doing battle against the Amoraim, Yehoshua petitions Hashem to halt the sun so that the battle would be finished before the end of the day. Up until now, my understanding of the ensuing miracle was that the sun stopped and the world experienced an overly-long day. This is not so; the true miracle was that while the sun stopped for Am Yisrael, it continued for the rest of the world - a miracle that not only defied the laws of nature but also something completely unexplainable that defied the laws of logic too.
So we return to the story of the exodus. It is replete with miracles, whereby the natural laws that we observe every day were quite literally broken at Hashem's will. During the plague of darkness, there was a miracle that righteous Jews were able to see clearly at the same time as it was utter darkness for the Egyptians, and during the plague of the hailstones, there was a miracle that ice and fire were able to exist next to one another.
The Rambam makes a point that on this night we have a duty to make mention of these wonders and miracles. And herein lies the crux of what we call the ליל הסדר, the Seder night.
This is the one night of the year that we have call a סדר night, a night of order, and it would just so happen to be the one night of the year when everything is out of order, when miracles happen left, right and centre. It is a night where we recount how the order and rules of the natural world were subverted - what's the sense in calling it the Seder night?
The answer is beautiful in it's simplicity and it's depth; that this is the one night of the year when us Jews are in our element. The concept of a miracle is that it breaks the order, it is something that does not comply with the "rules" of the natural world and clearly announces a hand that is moving everything in this universe. When miracles occur, we can clearly perceive how this world exists - not because of the "forces of nature," but because Hashem has set the world into a regular and steady rhythm. It is only by breaking the order that we can appreciate the order at all. So when a miracle occurs and the impossible happens, we shouldn't be surprised, we should understand that just as Hashem commanded things to act in a certain way till now, He can command things to act in a different way. That is our seder! We should feel comfortable in the knowledge that nothing is "just so," and when the normal behaviour of the world is changed, it is no more miraculous than the ongoing miracle of the existence of the world.
Maybe now we can truly understand what I mentioned in my last D'var Torah on the Haftarah from Parshat HaGadol, when I wrote about the sun and heaven and hell. To recap very briefly, I read in the Yalkut Lekach Tov of how those who hearken to Hashem's word and those who turn away from Him are treated in very different ways. Only, they are treated in exactly the same way - through the sun. The same sun that provides light and a "healing" for the righteous will simultaneously be as hot and fiery as an oven for evildoers. It is imperative that we understand that the difference between good and bad can seem so slight, and yet the consequences of our decisions can be so harshly different. In a manner similar to that of the plague of the blood, we see how Hashem turns the natural world to His will - something that is completely in order.
Wishing you a Chag Kasher v'Sameach!
The Rambam, in his famous work, the Mishnah Torah, details every single mitzvah in the Torah. When he tackles the laws of the Seder night, one might expect the Rambam to write extensively of the importance of the exodus from Egypt. It would seem fairly obvious that one of the mitzvot of the Seder night would be the telling of the story of יציאת מצרים. Pesach is the time when the Jews in Egypt went through the one of, if not the greatest redemption in history, but the Rambam does not stress the exodus itself very much at all. In fact, the Rambam writes extensively of the miracles, mentioning them over and over making the point that we have a mitzvah to talk of the ניסים and the נפלאות, but deliberately avoids referring to the fact that these miracles were simply a part of the exodus from Egypt. Only once does the Rambam makes a cursive, brief reference to the exodus itself. He doesn't say that the mitzvah is to speak about the exodus, but it is to speak of the miracle and wonder of the exodus! What on earth is this about?
It must be pointed out that the Rambam is one of the leading authorities on Halacha, and so we must strive to understand what his reasoning is when he says that we must spend our Seder nights talking of the miracle and wonder of the exodus.
Up until recently, my understanding of miracles had been very simplistic. As a child I learned of the ten plagues, and how the first plague was that the water of the Nile turned to blood, along with all the rest of the water in Egypt. It is said that during the plague, water when taken by an Egyptian would be blood but when taken by a Jew, would be clean water, and I had learned that Egyptians tried buying cups of water off Jews, only to find that the water was blood and undrinkable. Up until now, my understanding of this phenomenon was that as a cup of water was picked up by an Egyptian, it would turn a misty red colour and transform into blood.
That understanding makes sense of the miracle, but it is extremely limited and masks the true wonder of what actually happened. For the miracle was not that the water was first water and then it was blood; rather that it was blood and water at the same time; that a Jew and an Egyptian were able to look at the Nile at the same time and one see a normal river and the other behold nothing but blood.
Later on, when Am Yisrael are doing battle against the Amoraim, Yehoshua petitions Hashem to halt the sun so that the battle would be finished before the end of the day. Up until now, my understanding of the ensuing miracle was that the sun stopped and the world experienced an overly-long day. This is not so; the true miracle was that while the sun stopped for Am Yisrael, it continued for the rest of the world - a miracle that not only defied the laws of nature but also something completely unexplainable that defied the laws of logic too.
So we return to the story of the exodus. It is replete with miracles, whereby the natural laws that we observe every day were quite literally broken at Hashem's will. During the plague of darkness, there was a miracle that righteous Jews were able to see clearly at the same time as it was utter darkness for the Egyptians, and during the plague of the hailstones, there was a miracle that ice and fire were able to exist next to one another.
The Rambam makes a point that on this night we have a duty to make mention of these wonders and miracles. And herein lies the crux of what we call the ליל הסדר, the Seder night.
This is the one night of the year that we have call a סדר night, a night of order, and it would just so happen to be the one night of the year when everything is out of order, when miracles happen left, right and centre. It is a night where we recount how the order and rules of the natural world were subverted - what's the sense in calling it the Seder night?
The answer is beautiful in it's simplicity and it's depth; that this is the one night of the year when us Jews are in our element. The concept of a miracle is that it breaks the order, it is something that does not comply with the "rules" of the natural world and clearly announces a hand that is moving everything in this universe. When miracles occur, we can clearly perceive how this world exists - not because of the "forces of nature," but because Hashem has set the world into a regular and steady rhythm. It is only by breaking the order that we can appreciate the order at all. So when a miracle occurs and the impossible happens, we shouldn't be surprised, we should understand that just as Hashem commanded things to act in a certain way till now, He can command things to act in a different way. That is our seder! We should feel comfortable in the knowledge that nothing is "just so," and when the normal behaviour of the world is changed, it is no more miraculous than the ongoing miracle of the existence of the world.
Maybe now we can truly understand what I mentioned in my last D'var Torah on the Haftarah from Parshat HaGadol, when I wrote about the sun and heaven and hell. To recap very briefly, I read in the Yalkut Lekach Tov of how those who hearken to Hashem's word and those who turn away from Him are treated in very different ways. Only, they are treated in exactly the same way - through the sun. The same sun that provides light and a "healing" for the righteous will simultaneously be as hot and fiery as an oven for evildoers. It is imperative that we understand that the difference between good and bad can seem so slight, and yet the consequences of our decisions can be so harshly different. In a manner similar to that of the plague of the blood, we see how Hashem turns the natural world to His will - something that is completely in order.
Wishing you a Chag Kasher v'Sameach!
Friday, April 03, 2009
Parshat Tzav - פרשת צו
This week I looked I have two Divrei Torah from the Yalkut Lekach Tov; one for the weekly Parsha, and one for Shabbat HaGadol. Interestingly, for the first D'var Torah, four out of the first five midrashim in the sefer were on the opening two Psukim of our parsha! It seems that the lesson to be taught is a rather important one, something we shall clearly see as we progress.
"צו את אהרן ואת בניו לאמר זאת תורת העלה היא העלה על מוקדה על המזבח כל הלילה עד הבקר ואש המזבח תוקד בו - Command Aharon and his sons saying: This is the law of the elevation-offering: It is the elevation offering that stays on the flame, on the altar, all the night until the morning, and the fire of the altar should be kept aflame on it." (ויקרא ו:ב)
Rashi points out that the language here, when it says tersely "Command Aharon," implies that there should be a certain urgency and zeal to get on with the task at hand. He goes on to explain that though this particular mitzvah incurs a "Chesron Kis" a loss of money, (the offering was to be burned rather than eaten by the Kohanim) it should be performed with the same joy as a mitzvah that is enjoyable.
This seems rather sensible. But who is being commanded here? Aharon HaKohel HaGadol, not some mere Jo-Shmo! The person being told to regard this mitzva is one of the holiest people Am Yisrael ever had; surely he knew well the importance of serving Hashem with joy? What's happening here, and why does Rashi say that this is applicable not only then but "ולדורות - And for all the generations?"
The answer, continues the Lekach Tov, is to be found in Pirkei Avot where it says, "ואל תאמין בעצמך עד יום מותך - Do not believe in yourself till the day of your death." (ב:ה) The meaning of this teaching is that one should realise the root of everything in this world, and be careful not to accredit himself with anything, but rather make a point of acknowledging Hashem's role as the orchestrator of all that goes on in this world.
Beyond that, every Jew is human, and every single one of us is continually struggling with our Yetzer Hara. No matter how high we have risen, we all have the basic inclination to relax and say, "I deserve it!" There will always be a challenge, and it is imoportant to realise that one has never reached his final destination in this life - we can never stop and relax; that is something reserved for the next world. We only have a limited amount of time in this world, and for that reason alone, we should make every mitzvah count.
We must remember that the Gedolim of the Tanach were not demi-gods like other religions, but were flesh and blood like us. They had their only battles, and were made great by winning over their wills. They were not created great; they forged themselves into true servant of Hashem by battling their evil inclination. Aharon was a human being too, we must realise that in his generation (and as Rashi points out, in all generations,) the Gedolim just as much as the common people, must be careful to fulfill Hashem's word. Even one who has climbed the ladder to greatness must not believe in himself to the day of his death.
--------------------------------------------
My second D'var Torah is based upon the Haftarah for Parshat HaGadol.
Traditionally there are two Shabbatot in the year when the congregation comes together and listens to a D'var Torah from the Rabbi; Shabbat Shuva between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and this week, the Shabbat before Pesach. The connection between Shabbat Shuva and the overall theme of Tishrei and the Aseret Y'mai HaTeshuvah is fairly obvious, but what is Shabbat HaGadol all about? The Haftarah would be a good place to look, and the Lekach Tov has a lovely D'var Torah on it.
Approaching the end, we read "ושבתם וראיתם בין צדיק לרשע בין עבד אלהים לאשר לא עבדו - Then you will return and see the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between one who serves God and one who does not serve Him."
And what is this difference? The Haftarah continues, "כי הנה היום בא בער כתנור והיו כל זדים וכל עשה רשעה קש ולהט אתם היום הבא אמר יהוה צבאות אשר לא יעזב להם שרש וענף - For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven; all the wanton ones and all the evildoers will be stubble and the coming days will set them ablaze says Hashem, Master of Legions, it will leave them not root or branch." The Haftarah continues, "וזרחה לכם יראי שמי שמש צדקה ומרפא בכנפיה ויצאתם ופשתם כעגלי מרבק - But for you that rever My Name, a sun of righteousness will shine forth, with healing on its wings; and you shall go forth and prosper like fattened calves."
So we have what one could describe as a very stereotypically "Biblical" piece here; fire and brimstone and a nice "carrot and stick" reference going on with the Sun burning like an oven for the sinners and the you shalt "prosper like fattened calves" for the good 'uns. But what's actually happening underneath the surface? If there's one thing we know about Torah, it is that it is not a straightforward narrative, and that there are many different layers to what is written.
The explanation given by the Yalkut Lekach Tov is wonderful. The lesson being taught here is that there is no such thing as Heaven and Hell. Yes, you read that correctly! So what is the afterlife, then? The answer is surprising; they are one and the same!
How can this be? It isn't logical, it doesn't seem to make any sense! The Lekach Tov explains how the two are reconciled. The "sun" that is mentioned here is blinding light, and it is essentially nothing other than truth. Heaven, for those who have spent their earthy lives effectively, performing Mitzvot, learning Torah and perfecting their character traits, is seeing themselves in the light of truth and realising that their lives were well lived.
Hell, on the other hand, is when people who haven't utilised the gift of life to the maximum realise exactly what they have wasted. The truth is revealed to them, and all their lies and foolery are shown up for what they really are. The Lekach Tov makes a specfic example of newspapers and the like (Yay, I'm going into journalism this summer!) decrying the practises of men who spend their days "pursuing justice" and "doing good deeds." (I can only be reminded of the fools marching and protesting to "Stop the War.") These people live their lives making believe that they are doing something important and fighting for a vital cause, but once they are shown the truth, they suffer unbearable pain.
In this way, the sun 'heals' those who are deserving of Hashem's mercy, and 'burns' all those who are not, and now we may understand how Heaven and Hell can be one and the same. Now we can understand the connection between this miracle, this defiance of logic and natural order and the Pesach story, where Am Yisrael were redeemed under the 10 plagues whereby Hashem displayed His mighty power and inverted the natural order of things to proclaim His name as the true G-d.
I am deliberately holding back some information that will make the connection between this Haftarah and Pesach obvious; but I will write in my next note for Peasch on Wednesday.
Wishing you a שבת שלום!
"צו את אהרן ואת בניו לאמר זאת תורת העלה היא העלה על מוקדה על המזבח כל הלילה עד הבקר ואש המזבח תוקד בו - Command Aharon and his sons saying: This is the law of the elevation-offering: It is the elevation offering that stays on the flame, on the altar, all the night until the morning, and the fire of the altar should be kept aflame on it." (ויקרא ו:ב)
Rashi points out that the language here, when it says tersely "Command Aharon," implies that there should be a certain urgency and zeal to get on with the task at hand. He goes on to explain that though this particular mitzvah incurs a "Chesron Kis" a loss of money, (the offering was to be burned rather than eaten by the Kohanim) it should be performed with the same joy as a mitzvah that is enjoyable.
This seems rather sensible. But who is being commanded here? Aharon HaKohel HaGadol, not some mere Jo-Shmo! The person being told to regard this mitzva is one of the holiest people Am Yisrael ever had; surely he knew well the importance of serving Hashem with joy? What's happening here, and why does Rashi say that this is applicable not only then but "ולדורות - And for all the generations?"
The answer, continues the Lekach Tov, is to be found in Pirkei Avot where it says, "ואל תאמין בעצמך עד יום מותך - Do not believe in yourself till the day of your death." (ב:ה) The meaning of this teaching is that one should realise the root of everything in this world, and be careful not to accredit himself with anything, but rather make a point of acknowledging Hashem's role as the orchestrator of all that goes on in this world.
Beyond that, every Jew is human, and every single one of us is continually struggling with our Yetzer Hara. No matter how high we have risen, we all have the basic inclination to relax and say, "I deserve it!" There will always be a challenge, and it is imoportant to realise that one has never reached his final destination in this life - we can never stop and relax; that is something reserved for the next world. We only have a limited amount of time in this world, and for that reason alone, we should make every mitzvah count.
We must remember that the Gedolim of the Tanach were not demi-gods like other religions, but were flesh and blood like us. They had their only battles, and were made great by winning over their wills. They were not created great; they forged themselves into true servant of Hashem by battling their evil inclination. Aharon was a human being too, we must realise that in his generation (and as Rashi points out, in all generations,) the Gedolim just as much as the common people, must be careful to fulfill Hashem's word. Even one who has climbed the ladder to greatness must not believe in himself to the day of his death.
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My second D'var Torah is based upon the Haftarah for Parshat HaGadol.
Traditionally there are two Shabbatot in the year when the congregation comes together and listens to a D'var Torah from the Rabbi; Shabbat Shuva between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and this week, the Shabbat before Pesach. The connection between Shabbat Shuva and the overall theme of Tishrei and the Aseret Y'mai HaTeshuvah is fairly obvious, but what is Shabbat HaGadol all about? The Haftarah would be a good place to look, and the Lekach Tov has a lovely D'var Torah on it.
Approaching the end, we read "ושבתם וראיתם בין צדיק לרשע בין עבד אלהים לאשר לא עבדו - Then you will return and see the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between one who serves God and one who does not serve Him."
And what is this difference? The Haftarah continues, "כי הנה היום בא בער כתנור והיו כל זדים וכל עשה רשעה קש ולהט אתם היום הבא אמר יהוה צבאות אשר לא יעזב להם שרש וענף - For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven; all the wanton ones and all the evildoers will be stubble and the coming days will set them ablaze says Hashem, Master of Legions, it will leave them not root or branch." The Haftarah continues, "וזרחה לכם יראי שמי שמש צדקה ומרפא בכנפיה ויצאתם ופשתם כעגלי מרבק - But for you that rever My Name, a sun of righteousness will shine forth, with healing on its wings; and you shall go forth and prosper like fattened calves."
So we have what one could describe as a very stereotypically "Biblical" piece here; fire and brimstone and a nice "carrot and stick" reference going on with the Sun burning like an oven for the sinners and the you shalt "prosper like fattened calves" for the good 'uns. But what's actually happening underneath the surface? If there's one thing we know about Torah, it is that it is not a straightforward narrative, and that there are many different layers to what is written.
The explanation given by the Yalkut Lekach Tov is wonderful. The lesson being taught here is that there is no such thing as Heaven and Hell. Yes, you read that correctly! So what is the afterlife, then? The answer is surprising; they are one and the same!
How can this be? It isn't logical, it doesn't seem to make any sense! The Lekach Tov explains how the two are reconciled. The "sun" that is mentioned here is blinding light, and it is essentially nothing other than truth. Heaven, for those who have spent their earthy lives effectively, performing Mitzvot, learning Torah and perfecting their character traits, is seeing themselves in the light of truth and realising that their lives were well lived.
Hell, on the other hand, is when people who haven't utilised the gift of life to the maximum realise exactly what they have wasted. The truth is revealed to them, and all their lies and foolery are shown up for what they really are. The Lekach Tov makes a specfic example of newspapers and the like (Yay, I'm going into journalism this summer!) decrying the practises of men who spend their days "pursuing justice" and "doing good deeds." (I can only be reminded of the fools marching and protesting to "Stop the War.") These people live their lives making believe that they are doing something important and fighting for a vital cause, but once they are shown the truth, they suffer unbearable pain.
In this way, the sun 'heals' those who are deserving of Hashem's mercy, and 'burns' all those who are not, and now we may understand how Heaven and Hell can be one and the same. Now we can understand the connection between this miracle, this defiance of logic and natural order and the Pesach story, where Am Yisrael were redeemed under the 10 plagues whereby Hashem displayed His mighty power and inverted the natural order of things to proclaim His name as the true G-d.
I am deliberately holding back some information that will make the connection between this Haftarah and Pesach obvious; but I will write in my next note for Peasch on Wednesday.
Wishing you a שבת שלום!
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