Tag: Kedoshim

Home Sweet Home

In the parshios of Acharei Mos and Kedoshim we were warned several times not to follow the customs of the Canaanites. They were guilty of the worst immorality and it would seem unnecessary to warn us so many times not to follow their example. We, the descendants of Avrohom, Yitzchak and Yaakov, should stoop to such depths? Surely not. So why does the Torah keep repeating this warning?

In the parsha of Metzora we read that if certain white blemishes were found on the wall of our house we had to destroy the wall. And if the blemishes returned or spread further we might have to destroy our whole house. The meforshim say that these blemishes, and similar blemishes on our clothes or body were a punishment for speaking loshon hora and transgressing other mitzvos of the Torah. Rashi brings a very surprising medrash that when the Jews destroyed their houses following inspection by the kohanim, they would find treasures left behind by the Canaanites, when they fled from the invading Jewish army. Thus  Jews, who were guilty of serious aveiros, became enriched by their find. Does this seem fair or just? As the Gemara often says, “vechi hachotei nischar?” “Should a sinner be rewarded?”

One of the most mysterious epochs in Jewish history was in the days of Ezra shortly after the second Beis Hamikdash was established. The Babylonian Emperor Koresh and later the Persian Emperor Darius, son of Achashveirosh and Esther, gave permission for all the Jews in their empire to return to Eretz Yisroel and rebuild the Beis Hamikdash. These amazing proclamations by the most powerful rulers of their day should have been greeted with tremendous joy by the Jewish exiles. A mere seventy years after the destruction of the first Beis Hamikdash and subsequent exile to Babylon, the Jews were given the opportunity of returning to their homeland, rebuilding the Beis Hamikdash and starting afresh. Both these kings gave the Jews all the money they needed to rebuild the Beis Hamikdash and even promised that those Jews who could not afford travelling expenses would be subsidized by the non-Jews from whichever town they lived in. Surely it was an opportunity to be seized with both hands. Yet the Book of Ezra tells us that a paltry forty-two thousand three hundred and sixty decided to go. Why so few? How can we understand this?

To add to the mystery, we have to know that two hundred years earlier, Yeshaya Hanovi had prophesied explicitly that a king by the name of Koresh would be aroused by Hashem to allow the Jews back from their golus in Babylon to rebuild the Beis Hamikdash (44:28). So it should not have been a surprise. Furthermore Yirmiya Hanavi (29:10) had also said explicitly that after seventy years in Bovel they would be allowed to return. He even told them that Hashem told him to buy a field but to be sure to keep the relevant documents because he would need them when everyone returns. Surely the Jews would have been counting their years in Bovel – sixty years to go, fifty years to go … just as we count the days of the Sefira as we look forward to the giving of the Torah. With five years to go, surely they would have already packed their suitcases ready for the big day. But apparently this didn’t happen. Ezra appealed for more to come but the people didn’t respond. He punished the Levi’im (Yevomos 86b) who wouldn’t come by denying them maaser rishon which the Torah says is to go only to them, with little effect. How can we understand this? Only seventy years before, the first exiles, with superhuman courage, refused to sing in front of Nebuchadnezzar and bit off their thumbs so that they could not play their harps, saying, “How can we sing in a strange land?” Now their children and grandchildren preferred to stay in Bovel! And let us remember that the time of Darius was after the Purim story when the Jews all accepted the Torah anew. Reish Lachish (Yuma 9b) said that if the Jews had responded and come with Ezra, we would never again have gone into galus, the second Beis Hamikdash would have been permanent and this would have been the final redemption. Why didn’t they go?

Melachim II (2:19-22) tells us that Elisha was once in Yericho. The residents told him, “This is a very good place to live, but the water is poisonous and it causes people to die. Elisha then put some salt in the water which miraculously purified it, (to the annoyance of local youth who were making money bringing clean water to the city!) Chazal ask “If the water was killing people, why was it such a good place to live?” They answer that people like the place where they live. (Sotah 47a). Rashi says that even a bad place seems good to those who live there.

Kesuvos (110a) says that there are three parts of Eretz Yisroel and a man cannot force his wife to move from one section to another even if the new place is very similar to the old place. People like the place they know. They are used to its customs. They are comfortable with the climate and the people. Why move to a new place which they don’t know? “Home Sweet Home” is not a new concept.

Rashi (Kiddushin 69b) says that the residents of Bovel were living in peace and they were reluctant to lose that security (this was just before Homon came on the scene!) to move to Eretz Yisroel with all the challenges such a move could bring. They were happy where they lived.

(This could be why the Anshei Knesset Hagedola who wrote down the text of the Shemone Esre shortly after this time, inserted many references to the rebuilding of the Beis Hamikdash to try to maintain our connection with Eretz Yisroel and to keep in our hearts the desire to return so that we won’t squander future opportunities.)

Before the Jews moved into the land of Canaan they had to be warned time and time again not to follow in the ways of the Canaanim even though most of them would not be there any more. It is easy to be influenced. Don’t English Jews like their cup of tea and their Marmite? Don’t French Jews wear berets and American Jews love their apple pie?

The one who had to destroy his home but found treasures left behind was not being given a reward but was being warned that if the Jews continue the customs of the Canaanites and don’t follow the Torah they too will exiled, leaving everything behind just like the Canaanites who fled, leaving their treasures behind.

Our homes should be sweet. With Torah they are even sweeter.

Tears of Joy

We’ve all spent the last month discussing the miracles of yetzias Mitzrayim with our families. Until the early hours of the morning, Jewish homes all over the world were sitting round a table on two successive nights recalling the events of three thousand years ago. As instructed by the Hagada, we even imagined that we ourselves were participants in the wondrous events of that time. Recalling Hashem’s supernatural power always strengthens our emuna, that He is truly the Kol Yochol, the One who can do anything He wants.

There is less emphasis, possibly, on something else we are supposed to acquire by recalling yetzias Mitzrayim and that is yiras shomayim – fear of Heaven. The Mitzri’im, from Paro to his servants, to the ordinary Mitzri, to the captives in prison cells all sinned to various degrees and they were all punished. Basic yiras shomayim requires us to be afraid of being punished by Hashem if we sin. We must never think that other people’s misfortunes are a consequence and a punishment for their sins ( “ein matzdikim es hadin”) but when we suffer a misfortune we are supposed to be mefashpesh our deeds to investigate what we may have done to deserve this punishment. Yiras shomayim should be the basic characteristic of every Jew. With it, we can acquire wisdom as the pasuk says: ‘Reishis chochma yiras Hashem.’ (Tehilim 111:10). Without it, we are compared to a tree without roots, easily blown over by spiritual gusts of wind. (Pirkei Ovos 3:22)

We go up from there to Yiras Haromemus, fear or rather awe of Hashem. He is so powerful. His wisdom is so immense, his creation of the Universe so breathtaking, that we cannot even think of sinning. The Rambam (Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah 2:2) brings the words of Dovid Hamelech (Tehilim 8:4) “When I see Your Heavens, the work of Your fingers…what is man that You should remember him?” We are so humbled by our relative insignificance that even the idea of transgressing His will does not enter our mind.

A well-known Jewish axiom is that if we are not improving, we are deteriorating. Staying on one level is not possible. The days of Sefira, of course, lend themselves to shteiging – to going up the ladder of self- improvement so we must work towards the next level – the lofty madreiga of ahavas Hashem – loving Hashem. Our daily krias shema tells us explicitly that we are obliged to love Hashem. And not just a little, but loving Hashem with all our heart, soul and might. As Rashi comments, “Even if we have to sacrifice our life.” In case we think that we are at that level and would be prepared to give up our life and die al Kiddush Hashem if we faced with such a test (ח”ו), the Chovos Halevovos (Shaar Ahavas Hashem) gives another interpretation of the posuk. It arguably requires an even deeper level of loving Hashem than willingness to give up one’s life if called on to do so. He says that some people might love Hashem because of the many kindnesses He does. Some might love Hashem because He is so forgiving and does not punish us as our sins really deserve. Both these reasons for loving Hashem are substandard, says the Chovos Halevovos. True love of Hashem is even if we are not receiving anything from Him besides life itself. Loving Hashem when racked by pain, without any material possessions like Iyov, is the benchmark of true love. This is love which is not dependent on receiving anything from Hashem. The Chovos Halevovos understands that this is one interpretation of “loving Hashem with all our heart, soul and might” which means that even if we have no possessions, no comfort, nothing except life itself, we will still love Hashem sincerely. I am bringing this interpretation, not because I claim to be on that level, not because we should feel guilty if we are not at that level, but just so that we should hesitate before imagining that we have reached the highest level. Anyone who does so is not only probably fooling himself but might find that Hashem will give him a chance to prove that he is really on that level; and he might regret his over-confidence! Incidentally the Chovos Halevovos brings yet another interpretation of the pasuk which is arguably less demanding than Rashi’s explanation of the willingness to give up all our possessions and even our lives al Kiddush Hashem. According to this third interpretation, we have to love Hashem so much that everything we do should be leshem shomayim. We should use everything we have, whether it be our material possessions, our intellectual abilities, our talents, every moment of the day in the service of Hashem. This is also a high level but perhaps not quite as demanding as the other interpretations.

For most of us, even acquiring the substandard level of ahavas Hashem which the Chovos Halevovos previously mentioned, loving Hashem because of His many kindnesses to us, would be quite an achievement. And this is an opportune time of the year to work on achieving this level.

Spring is a wonderful season. Chazal tell us to say the brocho on fruit trees during the month of Nissan to thank Hashem for “creating beautiful trees for our pleasure.” If we visit the local park or, for those who are gebensched to live in Ramat Beit Shemesh, if we walk down the road, we will be greeted by a dazzling array of trees and bushes in various shades of green together with flowers and blossoms in ‘glorious technicolour’ displaying Hashem’s great wisdom and kindness. Remember we said before that He only created these delights to our eyes “to give us pleasure.” This alone should inspire us to thank and love Hashem for what he has seen fit to share with us.

Many sections of our tefilos trigger a surge of gratitude to Hashem for His kindnesses to us which can lead us to develop our love for Him. The daily Birchas Hashachar when we mention many of Hashem’s blessing to us is one example, Pesukei D’Zimra especially on Shabbos when we say Hodu L’Hashem ki tov, ki l’olom chasdo is another. Modim of Shemone Esre when we thank Hashem for His daily miracles is yet another.

An often lost opportunity to develop feelings of love for Hashem, for those who include it in the Shabbos tefila, is Anim Zemiros. The wording is poetic and the meaning is not always readily understood but it could be called a miniature Shir Hashirim because of the phrases indicating our devotion to and love for Hashem. “Anim zemiros b’shirim e’erog ki eilecha nafshi sa’arog. I will compose a pleasant song, I will weave beautiful poetry because my soul pines for you. Nafshi chomdo betzeil yodecho loda’as kol roz sodecho. My soul desires to be protected by the shade of your hand, to know Your innermost secrets. Midei dabri bichvodecho homeh libi el dodecho – As I speak of your glory, my heart yearns for Your love.” etc. What a shame to rush through it as we take off our tallis.

On the theme of Anim Zemiros, I read an amazing story recently. Parents in a secular kibbutz did not want their son, Ben, to have any religious ceremony on reaching his barmitzva but wanted to mark the occasion in some way. Since Ben had a melodious voice they had the idea that it would be cute if Ben sang Anim Zemiros in front of the guests at a party on the kibbutz. Someone suggested a certain rabbi who could teach Ben to sing Anim Zemiros. The rabbi hesitated but then agreed. At their first meeting he told Ben that his job was to teach him to sing Anim Zemiros, but he would sing it more impressively if he knew the meaning of the words. Ben and his parents agreed. The rabbi started the next lesson by showing him the garden full of trees and flowers outside the window of his house. “Do you know who made such a beautiful world?” the rabbi asked, “Never thought about it,” Ben shrugged. The rabbi told him about Hashem, the Creator of the whole world. Another time they looked up together at the myriad stars in the sky. Again the rabbi asked if Ben knew who had made all these stars. “Would it be this Hashem?” Ben asked. “Exactly,” said the rabbi. They then began to learn the meaning of Anim Zemiros, line by line. Ben’s enthusiasm grew and grew; he was looking forward to his barmitzvah when he would explain to all the guests the meaning of Anim Zemiros before singing it. And he would encourage everybody to respond every second line as is the custom. To cut a long story short, the barmitzvah was a great success. The guests enthused at the most original ‘entertainment’ and Ben’s parents were full of pride. They even cried with joy in front of all the guests. And Binyamin, as he now preferred to be called, his parents and even some of the guests became baalei teshuva. All in the merit of Anim Zemiros.

 

Look out for my soon to be published sefer The Hidden Light which contains ‘A New Look at the Holocaust’, essays on emuna and hashgacha pratis stories about me and my family.