The cleverest video you will see all year

The person who thought of this is a genius - Pixar should sign him/her up pronto!

Noteboek from Evelien Lohbeck on Vimeo.

Hat tip: Thanks to Joel Leyden for posting this on his facebook!

Parshat Emor – פרשת אמור

I'm feeling a lot better this week, but I have only a short D'var Torah again this week, as I am flying (last minute) abroad on Friday, and I won't have enough time to knock up before my flight. I hope you'll forgive me

"כי כל-איש אשר-בו מום לא יקרב איש עור או פסח או חרם או שרוע - For any man in whom there is a blemish shall not approac; a man who is blind, lame, one whose nose has no bridge, or one who has one limb longer than the other."

Concerning the blemishes that animals might have, the Torah uses the word עורת, which Rashi renders as "a noun which is the name of a blemish: blindness." In essence, Rashi is translating the word as "blind." This seems a perfectly normal way of referring to an animal that cannot see - we call it blind. So what is the point of phrasing things in a different way in our pasuk?

The answer is given that an animal has only one faculty of vision - that of normal sight. When an animal cannot see, it truly is blind. Humans, though, are very different. As humans, we use our senses to guide us and allow us to perceive more than just what is in front of us.

We can say that man has two kinds of vision; a basic and physical vision and a spiritual vision. The essence of this inner vision is something which cannot be taken away, and it is something that can discern things that normal vision cannot.

The Chachamim ask a question, "Who is wise?" Their answer is, "He who foresees the [events from their] infancy." The essence of foresight is a deep and true understanding of an issue. Anyone with real vision understands that this world is just a trap, and that it is important not to get too involved with all that goes on - all that is required of a Jew is that he learns Torah and acts in accordance with Torah. The Chafetz Chaim famously had only a very few posessions,but when people mentioned this to him, he would explain that this world is nothing but a corridor leading to the world to come. The Chafetz Chaim understood the lack of real value in worldy possesions, demonstrating his clear perception of this life.

Now we can understand why our pasuk above is phrased the way it is. Whereas most of us judge things by how good they look and place a tremendous amount of importance on "looking good," a true man will understand the superficiality of this kind of vision. True, a man who has lost the faculty of vision is blemished and as such is unfit to serve in the Bet Hamikdash, but the Torah does not refer to him as "blind," but as a "man who is blind", for he does not cease to be a man. A man who has lost his sight may feel very aware of his disabilty, but he does not allow this to overcome him, for he may still perceive things within his mind's eye - and this is sometimes even better than the vision offered with normal eyes.

Taken from the teachings of Rav Zalman Sorotzkin

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom!

New Favicon!

Hi there reader, I've got news for you - my blog has a new favicon!

You may be asking what a favicon is right now, so I'll do my best to explain. A favicon is the 16 pixel squared image that serves as a small logo for web pages, and are typically found in the address bar of your browser on the left of the URL of any given website. Look at the "screen-grab" below.



The URL in the address bar is blogger.com, and Blogger's favicon has appeared to the URL's immediate left,. I have circled the Blogger favicon - a distinctive white capital B on an orange background. You will also notice that the Blogger and Facebook icons are shown on each tab, too.

Anyway, I decided that it was high time that my blog had an identity of its own, and I set about producing my own little brand. In next to no time I made a crude map of Israel, featuring the letters D and I (which stand for Destination Israel) superimposed over the Mediterranean and Jordan.

Actually, it's not really news as it happened a few weeks ago, but still, I want to let you know while it's relatively fresh. Please let me know what you think of my efforts and be sure to tell me how you think I can improve my "brand."

Thank you :)

Incredible video clip

A friend posted a link to this on facebook, and I simply had to share it here.


Members of the Stermer family talk about how they hid in caves for nearly a year during World War II to avoid discovery by the Nazis.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Acharei-Mot Kedoshim אחרי-מות קדושים

(Unfortunately I am rather ill with a bad cold, so I'm leaving you just a short D'var Torah this week. I hope you still enjoy it.)
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"ולקח מלא-המחתה גחלי-אש מעל המזבח, מלפני יהוה, ומלא חפניו, קטרת סמים דקה; והביא, מבית לפרכת - He shall take a shovelful of fiery coals from atop the Altar that is before Hashem, and his cupped handful of finely ground incense-spices, and bring it within the curtain."

If we take a careful look at this pasuk, we realise that the word "מלא - full," is used twice. The repetition of this word is deliberate and teaches us many things, but I particularly like the answer put forward by R' Zalman Sorotzkin.

Rav Sorotzkin points out that the word full is used in two contexts in this sentence. The first time it appears, it relates to the measure of the shovel and the second time it used, it is pertaining to the amount of incense the Kohen HaGadol should take.

Interestingly, there is no measure specified for the shovel - it's proportions are not outlined in the Torah. So how could it be that the required amount is simply that the shovel, undefined as it is, be filled? This means that we can't even work out an approximate size for the shovel given the amount of incense it had to hold!

Similarly, the human hand also is undefined - no human hand has exactly the proportions or is exactly the same size. Some people's hands are tiny and others have monstrous hands; what kind of measures are to be taken when we don't even have a rough scale to work with?

If the purpose of this Pasuk is not to instruct us as to what amount is to be used in this Mitzvah, then a serious question is posed - why is the word מלא used at all?

The answer tendered is that the hand and the undefined shovel are used here to teach us that the task is not to simply fill a standardised amount or to fulfill a set requirement. Each person should realise that he has his own unique circumstances, but that it remains essential to do one's best to perform the mitzvot commanded of him, and to perform them well.

It is important that we recognise that it is not enough to do a mitzvah to the minimum required level, and that we should attempt to do each mitzvah to our respective "filled handfuls."

Wishing you a peaceful and cold-free, שבת שלום!

Parshat Tazria - פרשת תזריע

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!

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!

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!

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.

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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!

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.