This week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, contains one of the most unsettling narratives in the Torah: The death of Aaron’s sons. The parsha describes the activities of the inauguration of the Mishkan on the eighth day after its completion. In the middle of the long inauguration service, Aaron’s sons, “Nadav and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Hashem foreign fire, which had not been enjoined upon them.” (Vayikara 10:1). Their motivation is examined and discussed by the sages and throughout the commentaries of all ages. There are those who condemn them for levity or intoxication, and there are those who focus on their misplaced inspiration. Whatever the reason for their bringing an offering that had not been required, the result was the same: “And fire came forth from Hashem and consumed them; thus they died before Hashem”(10:2).

It is obvious why this story is upsetting. Aaron’s sons died - publicly, dramatically, and in the middle of the most auspicious ceremony Klal Yisrael had endeavored upon. Even more discomforting for many people is the fact that Aaron and his two remaining sons could not stop the inauguration and absorb their shock. They had to go forward and complete the inauguration before reacting to the loss of their immediate family members, which is odd in itself because in Jewish tradition the death of an immediate relative puts one in a state of limbo until the burial of the body as soon as possible. 

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As humans, as survivors, as the ones who are left behind after a death, we have a hard time seeing the positive for the neshama. We are focussed on what we have lost. Protecting life is the ultimate goal - the primary instinct is, afterall, the survival instinct - because only in life can our neshama grow and flourish. The more our neshama can grow here in Olam Hazeh, the more it will be able to receive the Divine presence in Olam HaBah, and so we focus on the potential of life without, usually, remembering that death also frees the neshama from its battle, or better competition, with the goof, with one’s physical needs and desires. 

When reading parashas Shemini, our immediate reaction is based on our mindset of death as a complete negative. Perhaps, however, from the words that tell us that Nadav and Abihu died before Hashem we are reminded that death is the doorway to a higher plane of existence (when we are ready, ad mesh v’esrim for each of you who reads this!)

Wishing you all a good Shabbas.

Why is this night different from all other nights? That famous question may be special to the Seder, but it is also extremely appropriate for tonight. The answer is that tonight (and tomorrow night as a mirror of living in chutz l’aretz) is the only time on the Jewish calendar that we bentch licht with the bracha of lhadlik neir shall Yom Tov and do NOT make a shehehcheyanu. It is the only true “second days of chag” since that is simply the misnomer people use for Shemini Atzeret in order to make planning easier. 

People talk about Shavuos having few distinguishing marks compared to the other holidays, but at least it has a Shehecheyanu. The last days of Pesach is/are the most understated yom tov we have; all that is unique about it are the things that we don’t say – such as the shehcheyanu and the extra perakim in Hallel. 

On the last days of Pesach, we read about the crossing of the Yam Suf, for this was when it occurred. One would think that an event as prominent in Jewish history as the crossing of the Yam Suf would merit a unique holiday; and given how close it is to Pesach, it would have made sense for such a holiday to be structured like Shemini Atzeret – a joined but unique holiday. So why isn’t it?
I can’t answer that question. But I can make some of my own reflections. 

One of the most critical concepts in Judaism is the fact that every person has bechira, free will. Every person has the ability to choose right or wrong. No one is forced to follow the Torah; the world is built on concepts of reward and punishment and consequences for choices and actions. With that in mind, think about the other Shlosh Regalim. 
--On Sukkos we move out of our homes and into temporary dwellings, making an active choice to celebrate trusting Hashem.  Shemini Atzeres is a response to Hashem asking Bnei Yisrael to spend one more day with Him.  We choose to meet His request.
--Pesach commemorates Yetzias Mitzrayim, and it is a well-understood idea that 4/5 of the Bnei Yisrael remained – some say because they did not believe in the possibility of redemption or that they were those too far drawn to Egyptian society, wishing to be like the Mitzrim. These are both choices. Those redeemed were those who chose to accept Moshe as the redeemer. 
--Shavuos is the holiday we say celebrates Hashem giving Bnei Yisrael the Torah, but, in truth, it is the holiday of Bnei Yisrael receiving the Torah. It is not, as one might think, the same thing. Bnei Yisrael said Naaseh v’Nishmah; they chose to accept their role as Gd’s chosen nation. 

The Shlosh Regalim, the primary Yom Tovim, all celebrate choosing.  The crossing of the Yam Suf is one of the most profound moments in the formation of Am Yisrael, indeed of the world. It was not, however, a moment of choice. Bnei Yisrael were surrounded on four sides, three by the enemy and the fourth by the sea.  

Most of us have had moments where we wished Hashem would give us a sign, a personal sign. We want miracles. Indeed, when we talk about the Yam Suf, many of us wonder why we can’t have a neis of our own. The answer, very simply, is bechira. If Hashem showed us open miracles, then we could not choose to put our own will over Hashem’s.

The Shlosh Regalim do not commemorate miracles. They commemorate the choices that are the foundation of Bnei Yisrael’s relationship with Hashem. Perhaps that is why, in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, we would leave our homes and travel to Jerusalem – an action, a choice to act. Miracles happen all around us, constantly. Most of them are understated, as they should be. Most of them we don’t notice, and so we are able to live our lives making choices. The final days of Pesach are understated because  Kriyas Yam Suf could only have happened for those who made the choice to follow Moshe and be redeemed. But the crossing of the sea itself was not a choice, just a miracle.

Parshas Vayikra: Responsibility

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta

If you enjoy antics about the different generations, then you have probably noticed that comments on the generation most recently entered into the workforce are frequently characterized as being irresponsible (ok, every generation seems to say this about those below), unanchored, and lacking a sense of personal responsibility. The last of these characteristics has been a growing concern in Western society, often blamed on a childhood that focused on participation prizes and an emphasis on feeling good. 

You might, at this point, be wondering what this has to do with this week’s parsha. This week’s parsha, Parshas Vayikra, begins the third book of the Torah, the one that appears to have the least narrative and the most repetitive seeming text in its descriptions of the sacrifices to be offered in the Mishkan. When you read it through on a micro level, it is easy to focus on one sacrifice or another, for, indeed, there is a wealth of fascinating insight embedded in Sefer Vayikra. When you look at it on a Macro level, for instance using the “Aliyah Summary” offered on Chabad.org, a different level of insights can be attained. 

It is easy to look at Sefer Vayikra and think “yada, yada, yada…” Not that it isn’t important, but there is no Mishkan or Beis Hamikdash and there are no karbanos being offered, so how is this relevant to me. Obviously, we are all supposed to live with a mind-frame that Moshiach can come at any moment, but that is – in all honesty – an ideal that some of us live up to some of the time (but we always strive to live up to). It is also easy to understand why someone superficially studying Vayikra would want to turn their minds from it, which is a natural reaction to feeling overwhelmed. 

Being honest, Sefer Vayikra is overwhelming; not because it lists so many different types of korbanos, although that is the surface level reason, but because it demands personal accountability and responsibility. This is particularly true when it comes to the sin and guilt offerings. 

It’s one thing to accidentally turn on a light on Shabbas, thus being mochel Shabbas, feel bad about it and, perhaps, make a private statement of apology to Hashem. It is an entirely different thing to accidentally machalel Shabbas and then have to not only demonstrate one’s error in public but also have to be honest with oneself about how much one could afford for the korban. Would one bring a sheep or a bird?

We despair, rightly, of the fact that we live in spiritual galus with Hashem’s face hidden from us. The level of our spiritual galus makes us more and more like that common world generation, makes it harder and harder for us to see and understand our direct responsibility in the world. There is a famous remark of the Chofetz Chaim on how an earthquake in Japan that killed no Jews still had to be seen by the Jewish people as a judgement on their actions in the world. In the days of karbanos, a person had tangible consequences for their actions, even when accidental, and was therefore, perhaps, more inclined toward mindfulness. 

There are many opinions on what it means to be part of “the chosen nation.” While it is a privilege to be member of Bnei Yisrael, it is also a tremendous responsibility. This is one of the things we learn, and relearn, when we examine the karbanos in Parshas Vayira. 

Shabbat Shalom

This week’s parsha, Parshas Vayakhel, focuses almost completely on the final stages of the creation of the Mishkan. Like so many of the parshios that came before, Vayakhel is very detail oriented and rather list-like. There are, however, repeated pasukim in these perakim that provide an interesting insight into a commonly recurring discussion of women in Judaism.

In Perek Lamed-Hey, the Torah describes how the people fulfilled the words of parshas Teruma…bringing gifts to the Mishkan. In describing their actions, however, the Torah does something unusual. It makes a distinct reference to both the women as well as the men.  “The men accompanied the women. All those who were generous of heart brought bracelets, nose-rings, finger-rings, and belts, as well as gold objects of all kinds, along with all those men who donated a wave-offering of gold to God” (Shemos 35:23). 

The most literal translation of the opening Hebrew phrase, “Vayavou ha’anashim al hanashim” is “and the men came on the women.” There are many different opinions on what this means, many of which are similar to the Daas Zkainim, who said: “And the men came to the women intending to deny them to offer their jewelry … however, the women were quite anxious to donate even these pieces of jewelry, seeing that it was for holy purpose.” 

Other commentaries, however, note that this is an indication of the women taking the lead. The word Al is translated as “with” rather than the traditional “on,” but their remains an implication of responsibility, perhaps one might even say, of carrying the men. Chizkuni notes: “A different interpretation: the word Al in this verse means: “with;” in other words, the men did not volunteer their own jewelry as gifts for the building the Tabernacle until after the women had already done so by removing their own jewelry.”

This might just be an interesting passing  point except that this rare occurrence of distinguishing the women from the men happens again first at the end of this subsection of perek lamed hey, when the Torah concludes: “Every man and woman among the Israelites whose heart compelled them to bring something for all the work that God had commanded to be done through Moshe brought a donation for God” and then as the Torah wraps up the description of the gifts of the people in perek lamed vav. The people’s generosity was so overflowing that Moshe had to stop the people, so “Moshe thereupon had this proclamation made throughout the camp: ‘Let no man or woman make further effort toward gifts for the sanctuary!’” So the people stopped bringing” (36:6).

It is a well-known concept that the righteous women of Israel have affected the salvation of Bnei Yisrael on numerous occasions. It is as frequently discussed as the idea that women are the ones who direct the spirituality of the home and that women have a different, more spiritual, connection to Hashem.

Here in Parshas Vayakhel, we have this subtle reminder or the power of the Jewish women. The women at Har Sinai refused to give their jewelry, but here at the Mishkan, they came flocking to do so. The women worked just as diligently as the men in preparing items for the Mishkan (as particularly noted with spinning wool in Perek lamed hey) and their enthusiasm noted at the outset never diminished, never eased into leaving the work to the men. Here, when it was necessary and important, they were front and center.

For most of the Torah, the women are folded into the general masculine grammar used for mixed multitudes. They don’t stand out. They don’t demand distinction… but that doesn’t make them weak followers. They are strong and dedicated, and they are the foundation to the building of klal Yisrael, of Jewish families, and of the Mishkan.  

Good Shabbas

It Is almost Purim. It is almost time for our annual celebration of the miraculous survival of the Jewish people as the entire “known” world turned against us. That “almost” has reoccurred in history far too often, and many of us feel as if we are in the middle of the beginning of yet another one.  That “almost” began, as we remind ourselves every year on the Shabbas before Purim, when the nation of Amalek stealthily moved in behind the weary yet exultant Bnei Yisrael. 

 This week, as we read parshas Zachor after the usual Torah reading, it is important to contemplate this important word: Zachor. Why do we make an extra reading of the section of the Torah describing these events? Yes, obviously, because Hashem literally instructed us to remember what Amalek did to us, but what are we actually supposed to focus on? We must remember the choice Amalek made to fly in the face of Hashem’s obvious involvement. However, we also have to remember that even though we were easily overpowered in the physical sphere, Hashem protected us through Moshe, through the strength of the spiritual over the random strength of the physical. 

 The importance of remembering Amalek is that we must remember all of it:  Their evil deeds, Hashem’s protection, our dependence on Hashem, and, perhaps, most significantly, the fact that we as a nation are absolutely not meant to see the world as random, as lacking constant Divine intervention. We, as Jews, are meant to recognize and thank Hashem for the mercy He put in the world. Indeed, Remembering Amalek is one of six specific commandments to remember, and in all of them we can demonstrate the significant divine rachamim as well the din. 

 In this week’s actual parsha, however, Hashem commands Moshe to incorporate symbols of remembrance FOR Hashem.  This week is Parshas Tetzaveh, the parsha in which the Torah describes – in extreme detail – the clothing of the kohan gadol, and therein it is written:

 Attach the two stones to the shoulder-pieces of the ephod, as stones for remembrance of the Israelite people, whose names Aaron shall carry upon his two shoulder-pieces for remembrance before Hashem…. Aaron shall carry the names of the sons of Israel on the breastpiece of decision over his heart, when he enters the sanctuary, for remembrance before Hashem at all times (Shemos 28:12 and 29).

 It is interesting to note that the two places where Aaron is commanded to place the names of the Shevatim are on the shoulder-pieces and over his heart. We think of the heart in association with affection, and it was through the breastplate over the kohain gadol’s heart that Bnei Yisrael was able to receive communication from Hashem. But why place the names of the Shevatim on the shoulder pieces, on a spot often associated with bearing a burden? 

 Bnei Yisrael accepted upon themselves the Yoke of Torah out of true reverence and love for Hashem. The Torah is wonderful, but the term Yoke of Torah exists because it not only controls our lives, but it forces us, in many ways, to work hard in this world – spiritually – just as Yaakov had to fight to get to the level wherein he received the name Yisrael. 

 We are asked to Remember events such as the attack of Amalek so that, looking at the full picture, we recognize Hashem’s true control over the world, so that we remember that Hashem will save us even from the ultimate evil. Hashem asks us to place stones of remembrance in the bigdei kahuna so that when he sees the names of the twelve sons of Israel He will focus on the burden we assumed and the heart with which we strive to connect. The commentator Haamek Davar notes on Shemos 28:12: As a remembrance. In Tehillim (115:12) it is written, “Hashem has remembered us; He will bless.” This teaches us that when God ‘remembers’ the B’nei Yisrael it is in order to bless them.”

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Parshas Teruma can be a difficult parsha to understand. On the one hand, it is from this parsha that we understand giving to Hashem from our hearts, and, on the other hand, it is from this parsha that we receive a very exacting set of instructions for building the Mishkan. It’s almost like, l’havdil, Hashem sent out a housewarming party invitation and included an Amazon wish list (come celebrate and bring me a gift, but these are the gifts that you should buy). 

 It's a silly analogy, of course. Party registries seem… tacky. We see them and we roll our eyes until we start thinking about what to bring and are suddenly grateful that the host told us what they want or need.  Parsha Teruma is no housewarming party; the building of the Mishkan was to allow a Divine Presence to dwell among the nation and therefore required strict delineations. Herein is one of the most beautiful aspects of Jewish tradition – it requires strict adherence to rules and yet cultivates a creativity that is both spiritual and intellectual. 

It is a wonderful process that cannot be imitated in any human legal system because one of the most subtle yet important aspects of halacha is intention. This is the critical factor in all that is required in Parshas Teruma – Hashem wants the people to have the intention of making the choice for themselves and giving from their heart. Exceptionally specific instructions are necessary for creating this dwelling place, but this is not simply a building. These directions are not about technical blueprints; they are also about creating a space of reverence and a place of beauty - a place for the Shechina to dwell.

The Mishkan and the Beis Hamikdash are both out of our reach for now. There is no physical space in which the Shechina can dwell so we each try to build our own space within ourselves, a space where we can feel that connection. We do this through living Torah. We do this through not just following detailed rules but by observing them with the intention of giving to Hashem as our ancestors did in the building of the Mishkan. 

It almost sounds easy to have the right intention. That is deceptive. It isn’t simply about telling ourselves that we are doing mitzvos to serve Hashem, that we are giving tzedakah because all we have comes from Hashem or that our Shabbas rest is focused on emulating Hashem’s rest on the seventh day. It is really, really feeling it. And this takes work. Shemos 25:2 doesn’t use the term want rotze; it uses the term nadav, which is inspired – a richer, deeper, innate desire.

Rosh Chodesh Adar means we turn our thoughts toward Purim. Esther HaMalka went to the palace and married the king because Mordechai told her this was what she needed to do. She took his guidance, and she did it because he was her guardian and he was a gadol. Certainly, she comforted herself that this was Hashem’s will. However, it was – one can infer – not until Mordechai said those fateful words to her -  that Hashem will use a different shaliach, but perhaps this is why she in the palace – that Esther was able to really connect her ratzon to Hashem’s ratzon and thus find courage and then inspiration from within herself. She followed what she was told she needed to do but she attained greatness when she put her whole self into that doing. Truly being able to give “yidvenu leebo” (yes, I know, it doesn’t work grammatically) is an aspiration. It’s toil. It’s hard work, but it is good work. 

As an extra note. We have heard numerous stories now of released hostages finding their connection to Hashem during their trials and tribulations. They are toldos Esther Hamalka – to coin my own phrase. They are the offshoots of Esther, of finding inspired connection through trauma and challenge. Hearing about these young women who tried to celebrate the chagim in whatever way possible is inspiring and it is a sharp reminder to those of us living...