August 4th, 2015
And Moses spoke to the heads of the tribes of Israel, saying: This is the thing that G-d has commanded: A person who shall vow a vow to G-d, or swear an oath, to bind his soul with a bond—he shall not profane his words. He shall do according to all that proceeds from his mouth
Numbers 30:2-3
The laws of the Torah are more than a list of do’s and don’ts. They are G-d’s “blueprint for creation,” describing and defining the reality we inhabit.
The laws of Shabbat, for example, are not simply a series of instructions as to what we should or should not do on the seventh day of the week; they also define this day as a holy day—a time-period whose very essence and substance is saturated with a heightened degree of divine presence.[1] When the Torah commands us to put on tefillin, it is not just instructing us to perform a certain action; it is also establishing that a particular physical object (in this case, an assemblage of leather boxes and straps and parchment scrolls), when formed and used in accordance with the divine will, becomes a holy object—an object in which the divine reality is more pronounced than in other, ordinary objects.
But it is not just the Torah that possesses this authority. We, too, have the ability to define, with our words and actions, the very nature of our environment. The laws of nedarim (“vows”) grant this authority to ordinary, mortal man. These laws, commanded by G-d to Moses, dictate that a person’s words have the power not only to obligate himself to perform certain actions (as when a person enters into a business contract) or to forbid certain actions to himself (such as when he takes a vow not to drink wine)—but they also have the power to imbue the avowed or disavowed object with sanctity. In the words of the Talmud, “Things bound by an oath possess an intrinsic holiness.”[2]
Thus the Torah uses the term peleh, “wonder,” in referring to the power of the vow.[3] That the mitzvot of the Torah should have the power to define reality is only natural: the Torah is, after all, the revealed wisdom and will of the Designer and Creator of reality. But that a human being should, simply by uttering a few words, determine the degree of G-d’s closeness to a part of His creation is indeed an amazing and wondrous thing.
Even more amazing is that the power of the vow exceeds the power of the mitzvah! According to Torah law, an act of mitzvah has full significance only when it is performed by a person who has attained the age of maturity (12 for a girl and 13 for a boy). Thus, if a twelve-year-old boy were to fashion a pair of tefillin, they would remain ordinary pieces of animal hide. On the other hand, the law states that the vow undertaken by a child who is only nearing the age of maturity (i.e., an eleven-year-old girl or a twelve-year-old boy) does sanctify the avowed object.[4]
A child below the age of maturity lacks the degree of intellectual awareness (daat) required by Torah law to lend significance and import to one’s action. This is consonant with the above definition of Torah as the “wisdom of G-d”: in the world of wisdom, a “mindless” deed is not a deed. But in the world of wonder, to which the concept of vows belongs, the state of the child’s mind is not a handicap. On the contrary, the child possesses the quality of wonder in an even greater measure than his or her more “mature” peers.
First of Firsts
“Two things,” says the Midrash, “preceded G-d’s creation of the world: Torah and Israel. Still, I do not know which preceded which. But when Torah states ‘Speak to the Children of Israel…,’ ‘Command the Children of Israel…’—I know that Israel preceded all.”[5]
In other words, since G-d created the world in order that the people of Israel might implement the divine plan for existence outlined in the Torah,[6] it follows that the concepts of “Israel” and “Torah” precede the concept of “world” in the Creator’s mind. But which is the more deeply rooted idea within the divine consciousness—Torah or Israel? Does Israel exist so that the Torah could be implemented, or does the Torah exist to serve the Jew in the fulfillment of his mission and the expression of his relationship with G-d? If the Torah describes itself as a communication to Israel, deduces the Midrash, this presumes that the concept of “Israel” is primary to that of “Torah.”
The law of vows is an expression of Israel’s precedence to the Torah. Torah might be the wisdom of G-d, but the Jew is the wonder of G-d, and thus imbued and empowered with a holiness that is not contingent upon the boundaries of reason.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Av 20 and 21, 5744 (August 18 and 19, 1984)[7]
Adapted from the teacings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[1]. See The Subconscious of G-d, WIR, vol. IX, no. 41.
[2]. Talmud, Ketubot 59b; see Likkutei Torah, Mattot 82b and 83b ff.; Derech Mitzvotecha, Mitzvat Nedarim.
[3]. Leviticus 27:2; Numbers 6:2.
[4]. There are various opinions among the halachists as to the precise period of “near-maturity” (mufla hasamuch l’ish—another use of the termpeleh in relation to the vow). All agree, however, that there is a time period in which a person, though still below the age of maturity regarding the mitzvot, has the power of sanctification by vow (see Talmud, Niddah 45b; Rashi, ibid., 46a-b; Mishneh Torah, Laws of Vows 11:1; Likkutei Sichot, vol. XXVIII, pp. 191-198, and sources cited there).
Another “wondrous” quality of the vow is that it transcends the limitation of the Torah’s division of the universe into “pure” and “impure” elements.Tefillin that are fashioned from the hide of an impure (i.e., non-kosher) animal have no holiness whatsoever; but a person can consecrate an impure animal with a vow, by vowing not to derive benefit from it or by pledging to donate it to the Holy Temple (see Derech Mitzvotecha, ibid.)
[5]. Tana D’vei Eliyahu Rabbah, chapter 14.
[6]. See Rashi, Genesis 1:1.
[7]. Likkutei Sichot, vol. XXVIII, pp. 197-199.
Tags: Shabbat, relaity, midrash, vows, Torah, spiritual and material, words, wisdom, sanctification, Israel, empowerment, action, mitzvot, deed
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August 4th, 2015
And Moses spoke to G-d, saying: “G-d of the spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the congregation who will go before them and come before them, who will take them out and bring them in…”
Numbers 27:15-16
Rabbi Israel Salanter was once asked to explain the Talmudic prediction that in the days before the coming of Moshiach, “The face (i.e., the leadership) of the generation will have the face of a dog.”[19]
Said Rabbi Israel: “Have you ever seen a man and a dog walking? The dog always runs ahead; to the casual observer it seems that it is the leader. But every now and then the dog turns around to see where his master wants to go, and changes direction accordingly.
“Today, our world abounds with such ‘leaders.’ But a true leader is not one who merely ‘goes and comes before the people,’ while looking over his shoulder to see if they are still following him. He is also the one who ‘takes them out and brings them in’ – who leads them where he knows they must go.”
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[19] Talmud, Sanhedrin 97a.
Tags: Rabbi Israel Salanter, Moshiach, redemption, leadership, face, Generations, Jewish nation
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August 4th, 2015
My korban, My bread
Numbers 28:2-3
The people of Israel provide nourishment for their Father in Heaven
Zohar, part III, 26b
The Talmud points to the relationship between the soul and the body as a model for the nature of G-d’s relationship with the world. The soul cannot be perceived by the senses, yet its presence and effect is keenly felt in every part of the body; so too, G-d, though He transcends our reality and is utterly beyond its perception, vitalizes the entirety of creation and is fully present in its every nook and cranny.
Chassidic teaching employs this analogy to explain the amazing statement by our sages that “The people of Israel provide nourishment for their Father in Heaven.”[17] Food is the glue that keeps soul and body together, sustaining the embodiment of the spirit within its material shell. By the same token, our service of G-d is what sustains G-d’s involvement with His creation, feeding His desire to continue to infuse it with existence and life.
Thus G-d refers to the korbanot – the animal and meal offerings brought in the Holy Temple – as “My bread.” The korbanot (and their present-day substitute, prayer) are the highest expression of our striving to serve G-d and come close to Him; as such, they are the “food” which sustains the life of the universe, the fuel that keeps the divine soul alight within the body of creation.[18]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[17] Zohar, part III, 26b; Midrash Rabbah, Shir HaShirim 1:9.
[18] Based on Likkutei Sichot, vol. XII, p. 18; ibid., vol. VII, p. 137, note 16.
Tags: prayer, reality, creation, sacrifices and offerings, Holy Temple, perception, Divine, Parable, connection with G-d, body and soul, food
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August 4th, 2015
My korban, My bread for My fire, My sweet savor, you shall observe to offer Me in its appointed time… two [offerings] each day, a regular offering…
Numbers 28:2-3
The human being is attracted to the unusual. One might argue that it is the routine things in life – the regular intake and expulsion of breath, our daily meals, our home life, our jobs – that are most crucial to our existence, while the “special” things are of lesser import. One might so argue – but to little avail. Our nature dictates that the occassonality of an event makes it “an occasion,” while an event’s regular occurrence drains it of interest and significance.
Hence the Torah delegates various aspects of our relationship with G-d to moadim, or “appointed times.” We are enjoined to sustain a perpetual awareness of the Creator,[7] yet one day a week is designated as the particular time in which “to remember … that the world has a Creator”[8] and to “establish in our hearts the belief in the creation of the world by G-d in six days.”[9] We are commanded to “Remember the day that you went out of Egypt, all the days of your life,”[10] yet the once-a-year festival of Passover is appointed as the occasion to dwell upon and internalize the gift of freedom. And so it is with the other moadim of the Jewish calendar: if these are to be “special” days whose message and import makes a lasting impression upon our souls, they must be occasional days, departures from the routine of our lives.
Our sages go so far as to say: “One who recites Hallel every day, commits blasphemy.”[11] Hallel is a prayer of praise and thanks to G-d for the miracles He performs for us, which is recited on festivals and other designated days. But are we not enjoined to thank G-d “for the miracles You perform for us every day”[12]? Why reserve Hallel for the days which commemorate the Exodus from Egypt or the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days? Is not every heartbeat no less a miracle, and no less evocative of recognition and gratitude?
But to recite Hallel every day is akin to not reciting it at all. Certainly, our “routine” lives must be imbued with an awareness of our indebtedness to our Creator – to this end the Jew prays three times a day, morning, afternoon and evening. The entire point of Hallel is that, in addition to our daily prayers, we devote certain occasions to a “special” appreciation of G-d’s miracles – a specialty which would inevitably be diluted if the recitation of Hallel were to be made a daily routine.
Beyond Nature
In this and numerous other ways, the Torah tells us to employ our inborn characteristics and inclinations in the quest for a holier and more G-dly life. But the Torah also calls for more. G-d desires more from us than the optimal exploitation of human nature – He desires that we also transcend our natural selves in our relationship with Him.
The Torah provides us with “routines” (such as the daily prayers) designed to make our relationship with G-d an integral part of our daily lives, as well as “appointed times” to lend it prominence and distinction. At the same time, however, it also urges us to transcend these categorizations, to impart a sense of specialty and occasion also to the “regular” rhythms of life.
This is reflected in the manner in which the Torah introduces the laws of the daily korbanot (animal and meal offerings) brought in the Holy Temple. The communal korbanot fall into two general categories: the “regular” offerings (temidim) brought each day; and the “additional” offerings (mussafim) brought on special occasions – Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, the festivals, etc. The same “regular offerings” were brought each day; the “additional offerings” varied in accordance with the occasion, reflecting the nature and characteristics of their appointed times.
As a rule, the Torah uses the term moed (“appointed time”) to refer to those special days of the calendar imbued by the Creator of time with unique spiritual resources and potentials (the tranquility of Shabbat, the freedom of Passover, the joy of Sukkot, etc.).[13] However, in introducing the laws of the daily offerings, the Torah states: “My korban, My fire-offering, My sweet savor, you shall observe to offer Me in its appointed time.”[14] Rashi, in his commentary to this verse, notes this unusual application of the term moed, and remarks: “The ‘appointed time’ of the perpetual offerings is every day.”
The korbanot, representing man’s endeavor to refine and elevate his natural self and bring himself close to G-d, constitute one of the “three pillars” of creation[15] (today, lacking a Holy Temple, prayer fills the role of the korbanot). In this context, the Torah is alluding to the need to go beyond the habits and instincts of the natural self in our relationship with G-d. Our nature dictates that the “occasions” in our lives are touched with a special vitality and enthusiasm, and we exploit this trait in our seasonal celebrations of the various aspects of our relationship with G-d; but we should also endeavor to make “every day an appointed time” – to evoke in ourselves a sense of wonder and specialty in the most routine aspects of our daily existence.
Indeed, the very concept of “monotony” and “ordinariness” is an illusion resulting from our inability to see beyond the limitations of human nature. In truth, distinction is not a factor of a thing’s difference from other things, but an inherent quality of the thing itself. In truth, every moment of life is a distinct creation of G-d, embodying a unique, special and indispensable potential which cannot be duplicated by any other moment.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Shabbat Pinchas 5744 (1984) and on other occasions[16]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[7] Knowledge of G-d is one of the six “perpetual commandments” binding upon the Jew at all times (Foreword (“Iggeret”) to Sefer HaChinuch).
[8] Nachmanides on Exodus 20:8.
[9] Sefer HaChinuch, Positive Commandment 31.
[11] Talmud, Shabbat 118b.
[12] From the thrice-daily Amidah prayer.
[13] See Appointments in Time, WIR, vol. IX, no. 33.
[15] Ethics of the Fathers 1:2. See Kuzari II:26; Siddur Im D’ach, p. 33b-c.
[16] Likkutei Sichot, vol. XXVIII, p.190, et al.
Tags: sacrifices and offerings, festivals, Holy Temple, Torah, transcendence, miracles, relationships, potential, time, nature, prayer, G-d, life, characteristics, connection with G-d, Jewish calendar
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August 4th, 2015
If I am not for myself, who is for me?
And if I am only for myself, what am I?
Ethics of the Fathers, 1:14
The Talmud relates that the Ark in the Beit Hamikdash (Holy Temple) in Jerusalem, which held the Two Tablets inscribed with the Ten Commandments, possessed most unusual physical qualities. The Torah specifies the Ark’s dimensions: “Two cubits and a half should be its length, a cubit and a half its breadth, and a cubit and a half its height.”[1] Nevertheless, says the Talmud, the Ark did not occupy any of the space of the chamber that housed it. Miraculously, “The area of the Ark was not part of the measurement.”[2]
What was the point of this amazing miracle? Man, in his quest to better himself, is forever faced with a dilemma. Should he strive to break free of his nature and its limitations? Or, is it preferable to work within the parameters of his natural self, to make the most of what he is?
Each goal has its advantages and shortcomings. It would seem that to attain perfection man must reach beyond what he is, as every individual has his inherent limits and deficiencies. Yet lofty, spiritual “experiences” often remain outside of a person’s reality, failing to translate into anything tangible in his daily life.
The Ark’s “physics” teach us that the two goals are not mutually exclusive. The Ark transcended the spatial, yet retained all of its qualities. In the same way, no matter how high a person reaches, his attainments always can, and must, be made part of his pedestrian, human self.
A life lived according to Torah (which the Ark, container of the Ten Commandments, represents) enables man to reach beyond the confines and dictates of his physical environment and society. At the same time, it insists that he make this greater reality his reality — that it become an integral part of his own nature, character and everyday behavior.
.. And Time
If not now, when?
Ethics of the Fathers, 1:14
Our world is a banquet,” proclaims the Talmud. “Grab and eat, grab and drink.”[3]
Those who arrived during the early hours of the banquet went about their feasting and dining in a most professional and methodical manner. First, they sampled the appetizers—just enough, mind you, to properly whet their appetites. They then proceeded up the ladder of courses and wines, carefully negotiating their way to gastronomic satisfaction par excellence.
But what of the group who arrived a few scant minutes before midnight, the hour when the tables were to be cleared, the chairs stacked and the doors bolted shut? For them to attempt to follow the course outlined by the intricate rules of dinner etiquette would only guarantee that the doors would slam on their empty stomachs. “Just grab!” we tell them. Grab meat, salads, soup, wine and fish—never mind the order and proportion. It’s a race against the clock: Grab and eat, grab and drink….
In earlier generations, there was a well-defined “Standard Operating Procedure” for those who consulted the Torah’s spiritual menu for the banquet of life. No one, for example, would have ventured to sample the esoteric wine of creation’s secrets before filling his belly with the “meat and potatoes” of Talmud and halacha.[4] No one would have been so presumptuous as to believe that he could refine his nature and character before he had perfected his behavior and made his every act, word and thought utterly conform to Torah’s directives.
All this, however, was a luxury of generations bygone. Today, we are rapidly approaching the climax of history — the day when Moshiach will herald a new era of goodness and perfection, yet will also bring down the curtain on the struggles and attainments that stem from our currently imperfect state. So grab! Grab another mitzvah, master another, yet deeper, facet of Torah. Never mind the “Standard Operating Procedure”—strive for the ultimate, now.
This is an excerpt from “Beyond the Letter of the Law” by Yanki Tauber published by The Meaningful Life Center.
[1] Exodus 25:10. A cubit is approximately 20 inches
Tags: Talmud, behavior, reality, ethics, fusion, space, characteristics, Torah, Holy Temple, transcendence, physics, nature, personal refinement, The Ten Commandments, time, miracle
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Chapter One, Months & Holidays, Pirkei Avos, Ethics of Our Fathers, Torah, Nisan, Pinchas | 1 Comment »
August 4th, 2015
The previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, once referred to a person in a letter as a “G-d fearing man.”
When asked why he bestowed such a title upon a person who is known as an irreligious man, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak replied:
“When a pathologist is given a blood sample or a particle of body tissue to analyze in his laboratory, he peers at it through his microscope and subjects it to a series of chemical tests and procedures. If he finds so much as the slightest trace of a certain element, or a single cell of a certain organism, he notes this in his report. For though the quantity he discerns might be minuscule and hardly worthy of regard, it points to the existence, or the potential for the existence, of much greater quantities in the person.
“I am a spiritual pathologist,” concluded the Rebbe.
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: Frierdiker Rebbe, Rebbe's letters, potential, spiritual, Rebbe Rayatz, story, soul
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Soul & Mystical, Religion, Torah Personalities, Bamidbar, Modern, Spiritual, Chukat, Torah, Rebbe Rayatz | No Comments »
August 4th, 2015
On one occasion, my father-in-law, the Rebbe said:
“I do not add nishmato eden (‘his soul is in Eden’) to my father’s name – I am not about to assign him an ‘address.’ Furthermore, as far as I am concerned, Father has not departed.”
I feel the same regarding my father-in-law, the Rebbe. Who can possibly assign him an “address” in heaven?! Who can possibly establish his place as being in “Eden,” be it the “Lower Eden,” or the “Higher Eden,” or any other heavenly abode, no matter how sublime? And why shall we dispatch him to the supernal yonder? He certainly doesn’t want to part from us!
Likewise, I do not add zecher tzaddik livrachah (“may the memory of the righteous be for blessing”) to my mention of the Rebbe. The concept of “memory” applies only to something of the past, to something that is susceptible to forgetting. Regarding our relationship with the Rebbe, forgetting is not a possibility; so there is no point in speaking of the Rebbe’s “memory,” just as one would not speak of the “memory” of a person who manifestly lives amongst us.
From an address by the Rebbe, Sivan 25, 5710 (June 10, 1950)
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: Rebbe Rayatz, Rebbe, father, death, heaven, Frierdiker Rebbe, Rebbe Rashab, life after death, Tzaddik
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August 4th, 2015
And Korach took… two hundred and fifty men of the children of Israel—leaders of the community, the elect men of the assembly, men of renown. And they massed upon Moses and Aaron and said to them: “Enough! The entire community is holy and G-d is amongst them; why do you raise yourselves above the congregation of G-d?”
…And Moses said to Korach: “Hear, I pray you, sons of Levi! Is it not enough for you that the G-d of Israel has set you apart from the community of Israel to bring you close to Him—to perform the service in the Sanctuary of G-d… that you seek also the priesthood?”
Numbers 16:1-10
Moses said to them: “Among the religions of the world there are various customs, and they do not all gather in the same house [of worship]. We, however, have but one G-d, one Torah, one law, one Kohen Gadol and one Sanctuary; yet you, two hundred and fifty men, all desire the Kehunah Gedolah?! I, too, desire it…”
Midrash Tanchuma, Korach 5
Moses was the essence of truth.[1] When he told Korach, who was protesting the appointment of Aaron as the sole Kohen Gadol (High Priest) and the only one allowed to perform the most sacred services in the Holy Temple, that “I, too, desire it,” this was no mere debating tactic. Moses truly desired the position of Kohen Gadol for himself. But if this were the case, was he not guilty of the very sin for which Korach and the 250 men who joined him in his spiritual mutiny were so severely punished?
The difference, however, is obvious: Moses desired to be a Kohen Gadol; Korach and his company acted to appropriate the station for themselves. Moses yearned for the ultimate level of intimacy with G-d; Korach and his company acted to realize this yearning by performing the most sacred of divine services—the offering of the ketoret (incense)—which is forbidden to a non-kohen.
This was not the first time that someone had acted on such a striving to tragic results: Aaron’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, “came close to G-d and died” when they offered the ketoret without divine sanction.[2] Korach and his fellows knew what had happened to Nadav and Avihu, but this did not deter them in their quest to become Kohanim Gedolim, if only for the briefest moments. So great was their desire to “come close to G-d” that they were willing to give up their very lives in the effort.[3]
This explains why an entire section of the Torah (Numbers 16‑18) is named after “Korach”—an unrepentant sinner. For though Korach’s deeds were sinful and destructive, his motivation was meritorious. The story of Korach comes to teach us what not to do—not to act on even the most lofty of ambitions if they are contrary to the will of G-d; but it also comes to tell us that we should desire and yearn for the highest ideals, even those which we are prohibited from actually attaining. In this, we are enjoined to emulate Korach (and Moses)—in not being satisfied with our current spiritual station, even when G-d Himself has imposed it upon us.
The Spiritual Option
What is the Kehunah Gedolah? Simply stated, it is a state of being (or rather, a state of non-being) characterized by an utter negation of one’s own existence. The Kohen Gadol is “segregated [from the people]… sanctified as a holy of holies”[4]; he “never leaves the Sanctuary”[5] and does not partake in the social and civic activities that are integral to a person’s life as an individual and a member of society.[6] His entire being is devoted to maintaining a state of perpetual, self-obliterating attachment to G-d.
It’s not that the Kohen Gadol’s is a spiritual existence while everyone else is bound to the mundanities of physical life; rather, the Kohen Gadol is one who transcends the very notion of a “life”—physical or spiritual—in the sense of personal strivings and achievements. In regard to the spiritual side of life, an entire tribe within the people of Israel—the tribe of Levi—was elected by G-d to serve as the “spiritual leaders” of Israel, serving in the Holy Temple, and as teachers and instructors of Torah. Indeed, Korach and Moses, who yearned for the Kehunah Gedolah but were proscribed from ever achieving it, were both Levites.
Furthermore, the option of choosing a spiritual rather than material life is available to every individual. In the words of Maimonides:
“Not only the tribe of Levi, but any man of all the inhabitants on earth, whose spirit has volunteered and his mind has convinced him to segregate himself to stand before G-d to serve Him, to worship Him and to know Him… and he cast from his neck the yoke of the many calculations that men seek—such an individual becomes sanctified…”[7]
The pursuit of a spiritual life is entirely optional (the prerogative of one “whose spirit has volunteered and his mind has convinced him”) and attainable by all (“any man of all the inhabitants on earth”). In contrast, the pursuit of the Kehunah Gedolah differs in both these respects: it should be desired by everyone, and only a select few—those specifically chosen by G-d[8]—can ever achieve it.
There is only one Kohen Gadol, for G-d “did not create [the world] for chaos; He created it to be settled.”[9] G-d wants us to develop our world—whether it is the material world of the farmer or artisan, or the spiritual world of the scholar or mystic—not to escape it. Nevertheless, He stipulated that there be one human being who personifies utter detachment from any and all “worlds” and utter attachment to Him, and that everyone else should strive for this state even as they are prohibited from actually attaining it.
In other words, our involvement with the world should be accompanied by the desire to transcend it. The Hebrew word for “world,” olam, means “concealment,” for a “world” is a superimposed reality that veils the divine reality. This is also true of the most spiritual of worlds, for every world imposes definition and context upon its inhabitants, thereby obscuring the infinite and undefinable reality of G-d. So whatever world we inhabit, we must carry with us the awareness that it is but a guise, a projection of the divine truth via a finite filter which conceals far more than it reveals and distorts far more than it elucidates.
To actually escape one’s world would be to betray one’s mission in life, which is to unravel the distortion and peel away the concealment. On the other hand, not to desire to escape it means that one accepts—or is at least able to “live with”—the distortion and the concealment, which is likewise a betrayal of one’s mission in life. Indeed, it is the constant striving to escape the strictures of our world that drives our efforts to develop, expand and sanctify the very world we are seeking to escape, and make it a vessel for the divine truth.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Shabbat Parshat Korach 5733 and 5734 (1973 and 1974)[10]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[1]. Midrash Rabbah, Shemot 32:1.
[2]. Leviticus 16:1; ibid., 10:1-7.
[3]. Cf. Ohr HaChaim commentary on Leviticus 16:1 regarding Nadav and Avihu: “[Theirs was] a death by divine ‘kiss’ like that experienced by the perfectly righteous; it is only that the righteous die when the divine kiss approaches them, while they died by their approaching it…. Although they sensed their own demise, this did not prevent them from drawing near [to G-d] in attachment, delight, delectability, fellowship, love, kiss and sweetness, to the point that their souls ceased from them.”
A similar phenomenon was the case of the Kohanim Gedolim who served in the latter years of the Second Temple when the land of Israel was under Roman rule. Because these men were unworthy of the Kehunah Gedolah, which they received by purchasing it from the Roman procurator, none of them survived their first year in office (Talmud, Yoma 9a; Jerusalem Talmud, ibid. 1:1). Nevertheless, they endeavored to be Kohanim Gedolim, even though they were aware of the fate that had befallen their predecessors.
[5]. Leviticus 21:12. This is not an across-the-board prohibition for theKohen Gadol to ever leave the Temple, but the designation of the Temple his permanent place. As per Maimonides, the Kohen Gadol went home at night to sleep or to attend to other personal needs, but was otherwise to by found in his suite (lishkah) at all times. Furthermore, the Kohen Gadol’s residence was in Jerusalem, and he was proscribed from ever leaving the holy city (Mishneh Torah, Laws of the Sanctuary’s Vessels and Those Who Serve In It,5:7).
[6]. Ibid., halachot 1-9.
[7]. Mishneh Torah, Laws of Shemittah and Yovel, 13:13.
[8]. Only a descendent of Aaron (a Kohen) can become Kohen Gadol.
[10]. Likkutei Sichot, vol. XVIII, pp. 187-195.
Tags: spiritual, Torah, worlds, intimacy, transcendence, High Priest, death, sanctification, Levi, Moses, concealment, sin, Holy of Holies, elevating the world, sacrifices and offerings, Divine will, connection with G-d, motivation, Desire, Maimonides, Holy Temple, Aaron, Korach, kohanim, truth, repentance
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August 4th, 2015
Editor’s note: On Thursday evening, Nissan 27, 5751 (April 11, 1991), the Rebbe issued this impassioned call to his followers and to the entire Jewish and world community. This unusually strongly worded message, and the anguished voice in which it was delivered, shocked and roused his chassidim to a heightened initiative in the Rebbe’s campaign to bring the world to an awareness of and preparedness for the Redemption.
How is it that Moshiach has still not come? Why are we still in a state of galut (exile)? Why is our world still a place in which evil and suffering still prevail?
Why is it acceptable that the Redemption should not come tonight, nor tomorrow, nor the day after, G-d forbid? The Jewish nation are “a stiff-necked people.” Were there to be found even a few individuals who would adamantly insist on bringing Moshiach, he would have certainly long arrived!
What more can I do? I have done all I can to bring the world to truly demand and clamor for the Redemption. But it seems that all my efforts have been in vain. We are still in exile and, more significantly, in an internal galut of clouded vision and distorted priorities.
I have done all I can. I am handing over the task to you: Do everything in your power to bring our righteous redeemer, immediately!
It is not sufficient to mouth slogans. You must take action. It is my fervent hope that amongst you there will be found one, two or three people who will figure out what to do and how to do it.
I’m leaving it to you. It is up to each and every one of you to bring about the Redemption. It is in your hands to bring Moshiach.
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: suffering, pain, exile, redemption, Moshiach, galut, chassidim, passion, action, Rebbe
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August 3rd, 2015
Korach, whose ill-fated challenge to Moses and Aaron’s leadership is recounted in the 16th chapter of Numbers, has come to represent the very concept of conflict and discord. Thus the Talmud states: “Whoever engages in divisiveness transgresses a prohibition of the Torah, as it is written (Numbers 17:5): ‘And he shall not be like Korach and his company'”[1] – when the Torah wishes to warn against the agitation of dispute and disunity, it does so by instructing, “Don’t be like Korach…”
The Talmud relates that the great sage Rabbi Meir would deduce a person’s nature from his name;[2] the same applies, say the Kabbalists, to every creature, object and phenomenon. For the letters of the alef-bet are the building blocks of creation,[3] meaning that the letters that make up a thing’s name in the Holy Tongue define the “shape” and character of its soul – of the divine life – force which grants it existence and vitality.[4]
The same is true of the name “Korach.” The three Hebrew letters that spell this word delineate the contours of conflict – the various ways in which the harmony of G-d’s creation might be distorted and corrupted.
The Shape of Reality
If the soul of each individual creation is encoded in the letters which comprise its name, the inner form of the created reality as a whole is that of the letter hei. Our sages deduce this from the verse, “These are the chronicles of the heavens and the earth when they were created”[5] – the Hebrew word behibaraam, “when they were created,” can also be read as be-hei beraam, “with a hei, He created them,” to imply that “G-d created the world with the letter hei.”[6]
The Hebrew letter hei is comprised of three lines: an upper, horizontal line which forms the “roof” of the letter; and two vertical lines, one to the right and the other to the left, which form its walls or “legs.” The right leg is connected to the right end of the “roof” and extends downward to the bottom of the written line. The left leg extends along the left side of the hei, but is not connected to the roof, leaving a small gap between the upper and left lines.
The letter Hei
The three lines of the hei represent three dimensions or realms of our reality: thought, speech and action. The upper line represents the world of thought; the right leg, the world of speech; and the left leg, the world of action.
We all nurture in our minds a vision of an ideal world – a world as defined by our purest instincts and our knowledge of the potential for goodness and perfection invested in it by its Creator. This is the “thought” dimension of reality, represented by the hei’s upper line. “Speech,” the endeavor to articulate this vision to ourselves and to our fellow human beings, is the right “leg” of the hei. By studying, teaching and communicating the ideals contained in the world of “thought,” we create a world of words which draws the lofty but abstract upper line of the hei downward into the more tactual dimension of “speech.”
The left leg of the hei is the world of “action.” This is the realm of our interaction with the physical world to mold it and transform it in accordance with the vision we hold in our minds. Like “speech,” action is a downward extension from the realm of thought, a drawing down of its ideals into a more concrete reality. There is, however, a significant difference between speech and action, illustrated by the difference between the hei’s right and left legs.
In the realm of speech, we can forge a reality that is a direct extension of the reality we inhabit in the realm of thought. We can express an idea as we understand it; we can communicate a vision as we see it and convey a belief as we believe it. But when we seek to apply our ideals to the world of action, we encounter a “gap” – an inherent inconsistency between the ideal and the real. We act upon the physical world, we change it and transform it, but sooner or later we encounter resistance: an insurmountable barrier, an irresolvable conflict, an unbridgeable breech between our inner truth and an obstinate external reality.
The gap between thought and action is an intrinsic part of the created reality. This is what our sages are telling us when they say that G-d created the word in the form of a hei: that this gap is real. It is not an illusion; it is not a subjective projection of one’s personal deficiencies or lack of determination; rather, it was put in place by the Creator of the world, who desired that the breach between thought and action should be a real and inescapable feature of our existence. For it is this dichotomy, this tension between the ideal and the real, which lends challenge, significance and fulfillment – and ultimately, true harmony – to our lives.[7]
The Realist
The three letters that comprise the name “Korach” – kuf, reish, chet – are similar in form to the letter hei. The kuf is a hei whose left leg extends below the written line; the reish is a hei that lacks a left leg altogether; and the chet is a hei without the “gap” – a hei whose left leg is joined to its roof.
Korach (from right to left): kuf, reish, chet
On the face of it, these are more “harmonious” letters: the dissonance between thought and speech on the one hand, and deed on the other, is resolved, or at least allowed to take its natural course. In truth, however, the very opposite is the case: these letters spell “Korach,” the very essence of conflict and disharmony. For each of these letters is a distortion of the hei – a corruption of the manner in which the Creator desires that we perceive and deal with His creation.
The first distorted perception is that of the ultra-realist. This is a person who not only recognizes the gap between thought and action, but also accepts it. To this person, the world is a kuf – a world whose left flank is not only disconnected from its other two lines but also drops below the area delineated by them.
In a world described by the letter kuf, a different set of standards governs the world of action than those which govern the realms of thought and speech.
“Certainly, I have my ideals,” argues this approach to life. “I have my inner truth; I know what’s right and what’s wrong. This is the world I inhabit in my thoughts; these are the ideals I discuss with and advocate to others; these are the truths which I teach my children. But I’m not so naive as to believe that these truths can be applied, without compromise and equivocation, to the world of action. What is right as an abstract or verbalized ideal simply won’t work in the reality of a material and materialistic world. Can I negotiate a business deal with the same integrity I demand from myself when I address G-d in my prayers? Should I assess my physical needs and wants by the same criteria I apply to my spiritual aspirations? These are two different domains, and an unbridgeable gap separates the two. I would never compromise my convictions, but the way we think and speak about our world will always be of a higher standard than the way we act in it.”
Two Idealists
At the other extreme from the ultra-realist is the ultra-idealist. This is a person who, if he cannot deal with the actual world as an unbroken continuum of his thoughts and words, prefers not to deal with it at all. Why sully our lives by venturing into an arena which, if it does not corrupt us outright will, at the very least, coarsen our higher sensitivities?
The ultra-idealist’s response to the gap between the hei’s left leg and its other two lines is to jettison that leg entirely: to shun the world of action and devote all his energies and resources to the worlds of thoughts and words which comprise the higher two strata of creation. The reality he inhabits is in the form of a reish – a two-dimensional world of theory and polemic, devoid of all regard for the state of the physical universe.[8]
The third corruption of the hei is the chet, which represents a more subtle, but no less destructive, form of idealism. Rather than disavowing the left leg of the hei, it disavows the gap, claiming that no true separation exists between the various realms of G-d’s creation. The material, says this world-view, is no less sacred than the spiritual; actions are no less pure than words; both “legs” are equally connected with the “upper line” and can equally bring down its ideals into their respective realities.[9]
The problem with this vision of reality is that, lacking a proper awareness of the true state of the world of action, one is far too easily satisfied. While the reish thinks that thoughts and words can take the place of actions, the chet deludes himself that his thoughts and words are actions, or that a few vague, symbolic deeds suffice to transform the world into a harmonious actualization of its highest potentials.
Tension
True harmony in life can be achieved only in recognizing, confronting and grappling with the intrinsic dissonance between thought and action. If we succumb to the gap, we end up with a kuf – a physical world that has slipped below the line[10] and gone awry from the principles upon which it is founded. If we escape the gap by renouncing all the lies beyond it, we end up with a reish – a world lacking its most “real” and important dimension.[11] If we ignore or make light of the gap, we end up with a chet – a fool’s paradise in which nothing has been changed and nothing has been achieved save in one’s own imagination. Because they fail to deal with the world as it has been forged by its Creator, each of the three “Korach” approaches ultimately break down into chaos and conflict.
On the other hand, the hei perspective on life is the formula for true and enduring harmony. The hei approach defines the world of action as disconnected from the worlds of thought and speech but nevertheless confined to the boundaries delineated by them. In other words, the gap between the ideal and the real exists, but this does not mean that we cannot profoundly transform the physical world with our actions and bring it “in line” with the ideals which we contemplate and propagate.
The gap is a source of dissonance and tension, but this is a constructive tension which drives the aspirations, challenges and achievements of life. For it is our knowledge of our imperfections which fuels our striving to improve ourselves and our world. It is our sensitivity to the distance between what we are and what we ought to be which makes us aware and productive partners in the divine endeavor of Creation.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Shabbat Korach 5724 (1964), 5727 (1967) and 5748 (1988)[12]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[1] Talmud, Sanhedrin 110a.
[2] Talmud, Yoma 83b; thus the naming of a child by its parents constitutes a “minor prophecy,” for at that moment they are granted a vision of their child’s soul and inner character (Shaar HaGilgulim, hakdamah 23).
[3] As related in the first chapter of Genesis, the world was created through divine speech: “G-d said, ‘Let there be light!’ and there was light”; “G-d said, ‘Let the earth sprout forth vegetation…’ and it was so”; and so on.
[4] See Tanya, part II, ch. 1; Igrot Kodesh, vol. I, pp 288-290 and sources cited there.
[6] Talmud, Menachot 49b.
[7] The bottom, open side of the hei represents the vacuum of evil, the “sin which lurks at the opening” (Genesis 4:7). Thus, the world of Moshiach, when G-d will “annihilate death forever” and “banish the spirit of impurity from the world” is represented by the letter “final mem,” whose form is that of a closed square (as alluded to in the verse, “For the increase of the realm and for peace without end” (Isaiah 9:6), in which the letter memuncharacteristically appears in its closed form the middle of a word). In this future world of divine perfection, the gap between spirit and matter will be closed and the negative “fourth side” will be transformed into a positive force
[8] This was the error of the spies sent by Moses to scout the Holy Land, who refused to leave their spiritual life in the desert for a material existence of life on the land (see Holy Land WIR vol X #39).
[9] This perspective is reflected in Korach’s contest of the kehunah (priesthood-i.e., the ideas that the spiritual is loftier than the material) and his argument that “The entire congregation is holy, for G-d is in their midst; why do you [i.e., Moses and Aaron, the spiritual leaders of Israel] raise yourselves above the congregation of G-d?” (Numbers 16:3; see our essays “Divisiveness, Division and Distinction,” in Beyond the Letter of the Law (VHH 1995), pp. 286-295, and “High and Low,” The Inside Story (VHH 1997), pp. 230-241).
[10] I.e., into the realm of evil-see note 8 above.
[11] “This is what man is all about, this is the purpose of his creation and of the creation of all worlds, supernal and ephemeral-to make for G-d a dwelling in the lowly realms (i.e., the world of physical action)”- Tanya, ch. 33.
[12] Likkutei Sichot, vol. VIII, pp. 102-113; Sefer HaSichot 5748, vol. II, pp. 502-503.
Tags: worlds, Moses, words, challenge, soul, knowledge, conflict, kabbalah, barriers, elevating the world, speech, thought, internal, leadership, nature, characteristics, reality, perception, Korach, creation, action, transformation, Hebrew letters, Aaron, G-d, corruption, harmony
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