After a short delay, we are now well into the Three Weeks. Our focus is on the breaching of the walls of Yerushalayim which led to the destruction of both Batei Mikdash on Tisha B’Av. Our efforts at this time should be to earn the restoration of the Beis Hamikdash and the final Geula.
Yeshayahu Hanavi (1: 11) already said that Hashem does not want korbonos unless we behave as we should. He mentions particularly aveiros bein adam l’chaveiro. Sacrificing animals can reflect a streak of cruelty. How can we show that when we slaughter an animal for a korban it is part of our avodas Hashem rather than insensitivity to the life we are extinguishing? By living in a way which shows that we are indeed highly sensitive to the needs of others.
Kiddushin (71b) makes an extraordinary statement, quoted in the Shulchan Aruch (Even Ho’ezer 2:1). If we want to check a person’s Jewish status, we look for shetikusa. Do they live at peace with other people or do they always insist on their rights, which causes many arguments? If they live in peace with others, being willing to compromise or be mevater, if they do chessed to others, we can be confident of their Jewish status. If not we have to check further.
Beitza 32b relates the story of Shabsoyi bar Marinus who went from Eretz Yisroel to Bovel on a business trip. Unfortunately he was unsuccessful. He did not blame the Babylonians for his failure, but when his request for food was refused, he said that these people could not have been authentic Jews. “They must be from the eiruv rav.” To see a fellow Jew in need and not help him. Is this how a Jew behaves?
Rashi in our parsha (28:19) says that the bulls which were sometimes brought as korbonos were in the merit of Avrohom Ovinu, who ran to the cattle in his field to provide his visitors with a tasty meal. We can deduce from this that if we want the merit of bringing cattle as korbonos in a re-established Beis Hamikdash, our behavior must reflect in some way that of Avrohom Ovinu.
In Tanach (Shmuel II 12:1-6) we read that the Novi Noson told Dovid Hamelech a story about two men, one rich and the other poor. The rich man had many cows and sheep but the poor man had only one small lamb which he looked after like a daughter. The rich man once had a guest but instead of taking one of his own flock, he took the lamb of his poor neighbor. Dovid Hamelech was extremely annoyed by the behaviour of the rich man and said that he deserved to die and should pay back the poor man four sheep because he did this thing and because he had no mercy.
In Ahavas Chesed , the Chofetz Chaim says the death penalty was not for stealing the lamb. For the theft, the punishment was the payment of four sheep. The death penalty is for the lack of mercy. It is for the heartlessness and cruelty of taking the lamb, the sole possession, of a poor neighbour. The Novi Micha says, (5:7-8), “Will Hashem be appeased with thousands of rams or tens of thousands of streams of oil? What does Hashem want from you but to do justice, love kindness and to walk humbly with Hashem.”
Rashi gives a mind-boggling explanation on a posuk in Parshas Bolok. (22:33). Bilaam hit his donkey three times because it stopped three times for no reason that Bilaam could see. The malach told Bilaam that he and not his donkey, deserves the death penalty. However, if Bilaam had died, the malach would have killed the donkey. This was because otherwise people might have recognized that this was Bilaam’s donkey who had rebuked Bilaam and said, “Why did you hit me these three times?” and Bilaam did not have a good answer. This would have embarrassed the deceased Bilaam and Hashem is concerned with the honour of all of his creatures. Bilaam was a rasha, the donkey’s outwitting him was embarrassing, but not earth shattering; but Hashem is concerned with kovod habrios. Are we at least as careful about kovod habrios when we, for whatever reason, decide to turn down a shidduch suggestion or an application to a yeshiva or seminary? Are our vulnerable fellow Yidden less deserving than Bilaam?
There is a well-known story of a young man, who was chosen to marry the daughter of a wealthy Jew because of his Talmudic prowess. He went to the girl’s family for the Shabbos aufruf together with many guests whom the rich man had invited. However on the Friday afternoon, the chosson happened to notice that the kallo had become extremely annoyed with a turkey which had come through the open window and settled on the dough for the Shabbos challos. She grabbed the turkey, threw it out of the window against a nearby wall where it died on impact. The chosson decided that he did not want to marry a girl with such bad midos and promptly went to the shul where he pretended to steal from the tzedaka box. His “crime” was discovered and he was thrown out of town in disgrace. The rich man still celebrated over Shabbos telling his guests that he was happy to have discovered that the chosson was a thief before the wedding rather than after. Later the chosson’s father, who knew that his son was not a thief, asked his son why he hadn’t reported the real reason that he decided not to marry the kallo. He replied, “What, and embarrass a Jewish girl?”
An example of chessed happened to me last week. On my way back from Yerusholayim I filled up my car at the petrol station at the beginning of Kvish 1– the main highway between Yerushalayim and Tel Aviv. As I was proceeding down Kvish 1 I heard loud hooting. “It can’t be anything to do with me,” I thought, as I double checked that I was in the middle of my lane. After the Givat Shaul junction, when the traffic normally speeds up, I heard the hooting again, coming from a big green bus just behind me. Again, I assumed it had nothing to do with me although I was becoming a little apprehensive. The bus then overtook me but instead of racing ahead, the driver maneuvered the bus into a position which forced me to stop. “What could be the matter?” I thought worriedly as I opened my window. The bus driver opened his window and said “It’s open!” pointing to the back of my car. I didn’t know what he meant so he came over and pointed to the petrol cap which I had forgotten to close. As I was checking in my wing mirror, the bus driver, who had already stopped his bus full of passengers on one of Israel’s busiest roads, causing a hold-up behind him, jumped down from his bus and closed the petrol cap himself. As he came back to his bus, we exchanged a handshake, a warm smile and mutual blessings. “Wow,” I thought, “the lengths that some people go to, to do someone a chessed.”
A man once approached a fancy restaurant but was stopped by the doorman who pointed out the sign which read, TIES MUST BE WORN. The man, who was not wearing a tie, nevertheless asked to be allowed in since his grandfather had founded the restaurant. The doorman put his hand inside the door and with an understanding wink, gave the man a tie to put on. Another man then appeared with a torn shirt, torn shoes and long unkempt hair. He also claimed to be a grandson of the founder. The doorman totally ignored his pleas and threw him out. “You have no connection to your grandfather,” he barked, firmly shutting the door.
We may not be on the level of Avrohom Ovinu in our mitzvos bein odom l’chaveiro to merit bringing korbonos in his zechus. But if we at least have a connection with our great zeidy, our pleas may still be answered.