July 27th, 2015
Seven Weeks Toward Renewal
It’s just two weeks since I returned from Jerusalem, the lonely city that Jeremiah so sadly describes. “Oh, how she sits alone…” I return to New York, a city that was broken nearly one year ago on September 11. As I think about it, I realize that New York, and all cities of the world, have always been broken; they were just unaware of it. Jerusalem on the other hand, was and is always aware.
You see, what is whole and what is broken is not determined by the naked eye. There are many things that on the surface seem so complete, yet beneath are utterly corrupt. Being complete means being seamless. It means being connected to yourself, to your essence. If you are complete on one level but not on others, you are really broken. If you feel whole on the surface, but your inside is not connected to your outside, you are not whole at all. You are masquerading, playing a game.
This world is a broken one unless we connect it with its higher purpose. Our lives are broken – our cities shattered – unless we connect our outer life with our inner one. They always called New York “the city that never sleeps.” But just as a business is broken if it loses sight of its mission statement, New York City (the epitome of cities) is really asleep if its outer noise – and its 24 hour vivacity – is disconnected from its soul.
That’s what you feel in New York since September 11, only amplified by the shakeup of Wall Street. We feel how lost we are, how far we have wandered away – with all our prosperity and life in the fast lane – from our souls. New York, America and the entire world needed 9/11 to recognize the 911 (emergency) of our tenuous existence. Jerusalem was always aware of our existential fragility and uncertainty.
“Jerusalem” is comprised of two words: “Yirah-Shalom,” complete awe. Being the center of the universe, Jerusalem – like the central cosmic nervous system – was the first to become aware of how broken the world is without its soul connection. The Holy Temple was destroyed and Jerusalem was left barren and lonely because the world had disconnected from its purpose.
“Nothing is as complete as a broken heart,” Chassidim say. Because in a broken world the most complete thing is recognizing that we are broken. Denying that truth and convincing ourselves that we are complete when we are not, is the most incomplete thing possible.
As my mind keeps juxtaposing Jerusalem and New York, my imagination begins to drift and I remember a story…
The house is in flames. Families shattered. So many lives lost. The man of the house has left and abandoned his family.
If you are the one in pain you feel a profound loneliness. If you are only a witness, but filled with empathy, your heart breaks for all the senseless suffering. For all the oozing layers of anguish.
Sensing their pain, the husband appoints a messenger. “Go console my wife and family,” he tells the courier. “Their home has been destroyed. My wife sits alone and needs comforting.”
The wife is not consoled.
The husband sends a second distinguished messenger and yet a third. Still, to no avail. He sends all his best messengers, but the wife remains unconsoled.
“Why have you forsaken me? Why have you forgotten us,” the wife cries out.
The messengers return and share with the man the grief of his abandoned wife and family.
Finally, the husband himself appears and comforts his wife and family.
But after all the loss, simple comforting is not enough. With each passing week, the comfort grows deeper, as the healing process intensifies.
Finally, after six weeks of comforting, the woman and her family rejoice with their renewed hope.
They are then ready to enter a new stage of rebirth and renewal.
This is the story of the Seven Weeks of Comfort (‘sheva d’nechemta’) – the present period in time, as related in the haftorahs of these seven weeks. Following the destruction of the Temple and the ‘Three Weeks of Affliction,’ come the ‘Seven Weeks of Comfort,’ in which the people are consoled and comforted for their great losses.
G-d first sends His messengers, the prophets, to console Jerusalem and the people. “Nachamu Nachamu Ami, – Comfort, comfort my people… speak to the heart of Jerusalem…” (haftorah of week one).
“But Zion said (in haftorah of week two): G-d has forsaken me; My G-d has forgotten me.” Zion is not comforted by the consolation of the prophets.
The messengers return and tell G-d (in haftorah of week three): “Afflicted, storm tossed, one is not consoled” by our comforting words.
G-d then replies (in week four): “Anochi Anochi hu menachem’chem, – I, I am He who comforts you.” Not messengers, but I – yes I myself – comfort you. Why? Because the Torah says that “if a fire gets out of control…the one who started the fire must make restitution” (Exodus 22:5). Since G-d is the one that ‘started the fire” that destroyed the Temple, G-d Himself comes to comfort on the loss (Pesikta Rabsi, 30).
And G-d continues (in the haftorah of week five) – as the comfort progressively grows more powerful (see Tosafot, Megillah 31b):
“Sing barren one, you who have not given birth. Break into a song and cry aloud… for the children of the abandoned are more numerous than the children of the married… Enlarge the place of your habitat…for you will expand abroad to the right and to the left, until your descendants possess the nations and populate the desolate cities.
“Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed… You will forget the shame of your youth and the reproach of your widowhood… For your Creator is your husband… The Holy of Israel is your Redeemer. He will be called the G-d of the whole earth. For G-d called you as a wife abandoned and grieved in spirit. Can a wife of youth be rejected? Says your G-d. For a brief moment I forsook you, but I will gather you with great compassion. In an outburst of wrath, for a moment I hid my face from you; but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you.”
Then G-d continues, with an even greater consolation – the vision of the world’s Redemption:
“Arise, shine for your light has come, and G-d glory has risen upon you. For, behold, darkness will cover the earth and thick darkness the peoples, but G-d will arise over you and His glory will be seen upon you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising…
“Aliens will build up your walls…The sons of your oppressors will come bending to you, and all who despised you will bow down at your feet. They will call you, “The city of G-d, the Zion of the Holy one of Israel.” Though you were forsaken and hated with no one passing through you, I will make you an eternal majesty…
“Violence will no longer be heard in your land, neither desolation nor destruction within your borders…
“Your sun will no longer set, not will your moon wane. For G-d will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning will be ended.
“Your people will all be righteous; they will possess the land forever; the branch of My planting, the work of My hands… The smallest will become a thousand, and the least a mighty nation; I, G-d, will hasten in its time.”
When the people hear these words of comfort, they reply (in the seventh and last haftorah of the Seven Weeks): “I will greatly rejoice in G-d, my soul will exult in my G-d, for He clothed me with the garments of salvation…
“For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not be still, until her righteousness shines forth like radiance… The nations will see your righteousness. And all the kings your glory…
“O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen on your walls. They will never be silent day or night… Behold G-d has proclaimed to the end of earth: Say to the daughter of Zion: Behold, your salvation comes… They will call them ‘The Holy People,’ G-d’s redeemed; and you will be called “Sought Out,” a city not forsaken.
“Who is this that comes from Edom…
“In all their affliction He was afflicted…In His love and pity He redeemed them; He lifted them up and carried them through all the years.”
Are than any better words for our times? Are there any more comforting words we can tell families shattered by today’s terrorist attacks?
Initially I was going to cite only a brief verse or two from these seven comforting Haftorahs. But as I began to write, I was amazed yet again by the glaring relevance of these verses. Especially in the last two of the seven weeks, which respectively discuss the retribution and transformation of Ishmael (Midian, Ephah, Sheba, Kedar, Nebaioth, Tarshish, Lebanon) and Edom (Esau) for the devastation they brought to the world.
As we approach the first anniversary of September 11, as the confrontation between Ishmael and Edom, with Israel in middle, continues to accelerate, the Seven Weeks of Comfort – and the resounding words of the prophets – have never been so relevant.
These weeks that lead us into the New Year; the Seventh Week is the last one before Rosh Hashana. We read these words of comfort following destruction as we enter the month of Elul, when Moses ascended Sinai for the third and final time, to prevail upon G-d to forgive the people. And prevail he would forty days later, when he descends with the Second Tablets: A testimony to the renewal after the sin of the Golden Calf and the shattering of the First Tablets.
So, instead of writing my own interpretations, what could be better than to quote the actual words of Isaiah, which speak for themselves.
Go ahead, read them for yourself and tell me what you think…
Tags: pain, Jerusalem, the seven weeks of comfort, Holy Temple, rebirth, Sinai, Elul, Rosh Hashana
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Months & Holidays, Month of Elul, Israel, Tu B'Av, Personal Life, Social, Personal Stories, Av, Elul, Current Events | No Comments »
July 27th, 2015
The Three Weeks – Week One
A 1934 year old system that can teach us how to deal with destruction, consolation and renewal
As preparations begin to commemorate the first tragic anniversary of September 11th, as we are reeling from fires blazing in Western United States and in corporate America, as Israel continues bleeding from terrorist bombings – as the entire world remains clouded by the shadows of a devastating year and an uncertain future – we enter a unique period in time, which, I submit, can dramatically help us in coping with our present and upcoming challenges and crisis.
This Thursday, June 27th, we began the traditional period of The Three Weeks – 17 Tammuz-9th of Av – when we commemorate and mourn over the destruction of both Holy Temples.
On the 17th of Tammuz the besieged wall protecting the city of Jerusalem was breached – both by the Babylonians (according to many opinions) in the year 3338 (422 bce) and by the Romans in 3828 (68 ce). Three weeks later the Holy temple was set ablaze and destroyed, again both the first temple by the Babylonians, and the second temple by the Romans 490 years later on the exact same day, the day of Tisha B’Av – the saddest day in the Jewish calendar.
Though thousands of years have passed since those dreadful days, we still grieve the destruction of the Temples as we have done for the past 2424 years (since the destruction of the first Temple) and 1934 years since the destruction of the second one. Traditionally the Three Week period – punctuated by the two fast days on the 17th of Tammuz and 9th of Av – is a time when weddings are not performed, music is not listened to. All forms of celebrations and recreation solely for entertainment purposes are avoided during this mourning period.
The Three Weeks are followed by the Seven Weeks of Consolation, when we are comforted in seven stages, for our losses and ruin. These seven weeks in turn prepare us and lead us in to the New Year, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. So, we have before us a sequence of 12 weeks –
“Three [weeks] of rebuke, seven of consolation, two of return (teshuvah).”
Is it not fascinating that the upcoming first anniversary of September 11th is on the 5th of Tishrei, midway between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, the 5th of the traditional Ten days of Teshuvah (return) – in the period that follows seven weeks of comfort for the loss and destruction of the three weeks!
The Talmud tells us that G-d “precedes the cure before the illness.” Every challenge in life has a ready-made inherent cure that we must discover and access.
With all the challenges facing us today I cannot help but wonder whether our current period in time – as we enter the Three Weeks – is not a ready-made healing process bestowed upon us as a Divine gift to help us endure through these difficult times and grow through the process.
Judaism teaches us that at different points “windows in time” open up for us, and they provide opportunities that channel special energy into our lives. The Three Weeks – followed by the “Seven of Consolation” and the “Two of Return” – is one of those ‘windows.’
1934 years ago Jerusalem was under siege and the Holy Temple destroyed. 1934 years later Jerusalem is again under siege, and this time the entire world is aware and affected by it. The Middle East – and its Biblical roots – has rudely arrived in the streets of downtown Manhattan and the Pentagon in Washington in the form of murderous Islamic terrorists crashing airplanes into 20th century buildings in the name of ancient religious beliefs.
The Midrash says that had the nations of the world known how much they benefit and are blessed by the Holy Temple they would have surrounded it with legions of armies to protect it from any harm.
In the following weeks I will attempt to review in this space some of the lessons we can glean from these unique “windows” in time, and the strengths we can draw from these channels, strengths that empower us to forge ahead in these trying times with fortitude and clarity.
The underlying message and ‘energy’ of the current time period is that we grow through our losses by first acknowledging them and understanding their core roots. The first Three Weeks is about not escaping or desensitizing ourselves to the difficult – and even tragic – events around us. We do not escape into denial or distract ourselves; we face the destruction around us – we cry and grieve for every family being amputated in Israel, we cry for every child being hurt today.
In the Three Weeks we recognize that physical turbulence is a consequence of a spiritual vacuum. The geo-political upheaval, corporate breakdown and social unrest in our times are a result of the misalignment between matter and spirit. No business can function without a mission statement. No human being can survive without a personal sense of urgency. No society can last without a Divine calling.
The destruction of the Temple heralded in a new era. It manifested a schism, a divorce between heaven and earth. The Temple was a ‘bridge’ between the sublime and the mundane. “Build me a sanctuary and I will rest among you,” G-d tells the people. The Temple is a channel and vehicle for the Divine presence among us in the material world. When the Temple was destroyed more than a building went up in flames; a dimension of innocence was lost, and a new challenge appeared on the horizon. The split between our soul and our body became much more glaring. The world began to face a new challenge – a growing dichotomy between accelerated material prosperity and decelerated spiritual integrity, between unprecedented technological unity and unparalleled personal disunity. This dichotomy would grow until the two poles would wander so intolerably far part that they would cause a global explosion, necessitating a major ‘market correction.
The Three Weeks is about bringing this truth to our awareness. As we mourn the destruction of the Temple we are cognizant of the fundamental split that we suffer from: A split between who we truly are and our activities, between our essence and our expression, between truth and the vanity of life, and between the multiplicity of existence and its underlying, inherent unity. The Three Weeks is a time when we become extra sensitive to those around us. When we make sure to empathize with the loss of others, when we are saddened about lives lost as if they were our own families, and we are saddened by the fact that we do not feel that the pain of another is our own pain because we are essentially all one organism.
The destruction of the Temple caused all this and much more. Every time one man harms another, every injustice, every holocaust is ultimately a result of the split between matter and spirit, between body and soul. Were we constantly aware of the G-dliness among us, of the underlying unity that connects us, no person would be able to harm another, as no part of a body would ever harm another part. The destruction during the Three Weeks shrouds this unity, thus allowing for self-contained narcissism to emerge in its place.
After we have reached this level of awareness during the Three Weeks, we then can be ready to be comforted during the following Seven Weeks of Consolation. And this in turn prepares us to return to our source and to achieve renewal in the New Year.
More on this, in the coming weeks.
I do want to conclude with these few words. Though the nations of the world allowed the Temple to be destroyed because they were unaware of its power and blessing, today we can learn from the past, and this time not allow Jerusalem – both the literal Jerusalem and its spiritual counterpart – to be destroyed.
This year the Three Weeks presents us with an opportunity and challenge, one that is perhaps unprecedented in history. The opportunity to declare to the entire world and to each individual citizen: Protect and preserve Israel and Jerusalem. Protect the Divine Presence in Israel and in the world. Let us announce to ourselves and to others: Every confrontation and clash between nations and peoples, every problem – political, corporate, social – is ultimately rooted in the dichotomy between body and soul. As long as we do not make our peace with G-d, as long as we do not make our lives a “sanctuary” to the Divine, we will continue to face problems and crisis that will continue to erode the security of
As long as religions do not recognize the true meaning of G-d and the Divine unity with the material universe, as long as they don’t respect the Divine sanctity of each individual life (even those unlike you), we will continue to bear the brunt of brutal terrorism. As long as nations do not embrace the seven Divine principles upon which civilization is built (the Noachide Laws), there will be no peace in the world.
As long as our corporations and our financial structures do not recognize the principle “In G-d we Trust” engraved on US currency, we will continue to suffer from greed and corruption. Isn’t it interesting – and ironic – that as corporate America is undergoing a soul search, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco ruled that that the words “(one nation) under God”, added in 1954 to the Pledge of Allegiance is unconstitutional, and in defiance the Senate and House all gathered Thursday to declare their commitment to “under God”! – What about the “In God we trust” engraved on our currency? Wasn’t that instated by the Founding Fathers who established the separation of church and state…
The Talmud tells us, “every generation that does not rebuild the Temple is considered as if they destroyed it.” We must rebuild the Temple in our times. We must transform our lives, communities, societies into a Divine Sanctuary. And thereby prepare the ground for the rebuilding of the physical Temple in Jerusalem. Indeed, we are taught that the Temple above is spiritually ready; all it needs is to descend below. And this is precipitated through our actions – through our study, prayer and charity.
“Zion will be redeemed with Law and its captives with charity.” Let us use these Three Weeks to add in Torah study and charity.
Let us do all we can to reintroduce the Divine into our lives, to reconnect our soul and our body, to reintegrate spirit and matter – and to prepare the world for the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy:
It shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of G-d’s house shall be established on top of the mountains and all the nations shall flow unto it. And many nations shall go and say, let us go up to the mountain of G-d and we will teach us of his ways and we will walk in his paths, for from Zion shall go forth the Torah; and the word of G-d from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more (Isaiah 2:2-4).
Tags: spiritual, Power of Prayer, Three Weeks, mourning, Beis Hamikdash, Moshiach, Torah, religion, Tisha B'Av, Rosh Hashana, tzedakah, Yom Kippur, teshuvah, Bamidbar
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Months & Holidays, 17 Tammuz, Social, September 11th, Tammuz, Av, Current Events | No Comments »
July 26th, 2015
Every responsible person is asking today: “What can I do about the deteriorating situation in Israel?” And for that matter, “the constant threat of attack in America as well.”
This is not the space or time to address those that are just not asking the question for whatever reason. But even for those of us that are wondering what we can do, the answer seems to be not that simple, and the resulting consequences of answering – or not answering this question – are far reaching.
When tragedy strikes around us, there is no such thing as a neutral position. You are either going to do something about it or not. Yes, it may be easier to go into denial and ignore events around us, but as Maimonides writes,
“when a calamity strikes the community we must cry out, examine our lives and correct our ways. To say that the calamity is just the way of the world and a coincidence is cruel and insensitive.”
We really have no choice but to find a way to respond to today’s crisis. If we do not, we do not remain untouched, our psyches become paralyzed by our inaction, and this paralysis will undermine and erode our self confidence in all areas of life. We MUST act. Period.
To think that the problem is not ‘ours’ but someone else’s is quite foolish especially after September 11th.
We learn from the sin of the scouts (see essay of two weeks ago, The Birth of Projection) that we do not ask “WHETHER we can do it,” we ask “HOW we can do it.”
So, what can we do? I believe that the best way to answer the question is by sharing with you what I and some others are doing. There is a time for words and there is a time for action. When we witness daily loss – senseless loss – of lives in Israel, words are simply inadequate. As Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi says, when a question is asked that you cannot answer, tell a story. If that does not work, sing a song.
Last night I had the honor and privilege to sing a song together with an extraordinary group of people, including four special individuals who have directly suffered loss in recent months. Two women who tragically lost their husbands in the World Trade Center attack on September 11. One woman whose mother was shot dead by a terrorist sniper near Efrat, Israel. Another woman who suffered severe wounds in a terrorist suicide homicide in Ben Yehuda…
I kid you not when I tell you that someone actually fainted in the room of approximately 200 people when one of these women shared her gripping and heartbreaking story.
Man, if you wanted reality, you should have been there last night. Real life. Real death. And, above all, real strength and hope.
You see, a group of us, initiated by a student of mine, Lauren Finkelstein, gathered together last night, at the launch event of a project called Save One Person, Save the World. Based on the words of the Mishne, that when you save a life you save the entire universe, we came together to encourage each other and to create a global awareness of the fact that you CAN and MUST do something today. By helping or saving the life of a person you save the universe.
This is not a cliché, it is a real fact. The Torah teaches us that the value of life is not defined quantitatively, but qualitatively. Every life is an entire world. Do not underestimate the effect you have when you share kind words and soothe another soul.
Last night we tasted an experience of what simple individuals like us can actually do in response to all the pain and loss around us, and to the clouds of uncertainty hanging over us. As the immortal words of Kaddish echoed through the room and through our souls, as we heard the emotional message of hope and strength from the real survivors – two hundred of us committed to changing the world in our own way.
The greatest and most powerful response to the terror around us is by doubling and tripling our effort in helping those around us. As much as you have done until now, go out of your way and lend your hand to another – financially, emotionally, spiritually – in whatever way possible.
Do something to save a life, and you save not just that life but the life of the entire universe.
Simplistic or not, this is the time tested method that has kept the Jewish people here for eternity. This is the message that we learn from our great ancestors. This is the power that we draw from the great Rebbe, Reb Yosef Yitzchak, who was miraculously liberated from Soviet prisons this Shabbat (Tammuz 12) 75 years ago. A man who stood up to the formidable and murderous Stalinist regime, a man who faced the abyss many a time, and did not just survive, but single handedly created a rebirth, reaching even the American shores, as one of the most powerful forces in today’s Jewish renaissance.
Do not stand by as an observer on the sidelines. Act. Do your thing today to help another person. Add an additional mitzvah. Keep Shabbat and Kashrut. Light a Shabbat candle tonight before sundown. Study Torah. Pray. All people – commit to the universal Divine laws that transform this world into a holier place.
We are not victims or mere observers. Our actions matter now and forever.
Our blood boils when we hear about those that were silent during the Holocaust. When we will be asked one day: “What did you do about the tragic events happening around you?” what will your answer be?
I for one do not want to be left with no answer, or worse yet, an answer that I did nothing. I want to know that I did everything in my power. I hope you feel the same.
Let us create a true revolution. Let us reconnect to our Divine mission. Let us move heaven and earth with our actions. We have been promised that when we do, we will save the universe – literally.
In Honor of the Kedoshim (sanctified ones)
Gregory Richard – Dovid ben Terry
Thierry – Eliyahu ben Mordechai
and Sarah
All lives ripped away from us by terrorists in America and Israel.
Hashem yinkom domom. May their blood cry out to heaven and earth and be avenged
May we honor their lives by saving and helping lives around us.
Tags: Toward a Meaningful Life, Israel, song, terrorism, war, Maimonades, Rabbi Schneur Zalmon of Liadi
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Faith, Israel, Beliefs & Concepts, Bamidbar, Social, Chukat, Torah, Balak, Terrorism, Current Events | No Comments »
July 26th, 2015
‘Why do we need a leader’ is the precise theme of this week’s Torah portion. Korach and his cronies challenge Moses with the following argument:
“All the people in the community are holy, and G-d is with them. Why are you setting yourselves above G-d’s congregation?”
The fact that Korach’s argument is documented for posterity is proof that his position has merit. Indeed, Korach was a ‘pikach,’ a wise man. Thus his argument is not to be easily dismissed; it is a wise viewpoint that requires deliberation and consideration.
Korach was essentially arguing against bureaucratic hierarchies. The Torah and Judaism are built on the firm and unwavering principle that all people have a Divine soul (created in the “image of G-d”), and by that virtue have direct access to G-d at all times. Where then, Korach asked, is there room for leaders that are “above G-d’s congregation”?
No one individual owns the Torah. It belongs to all people. Why, because Torah is not a product for marketing, nor is it a corporation. Torah is Divine truth – a blueprint for life, consisting of knowledge and information given to all people to guide them in finding their way in this world. As such, Torah is free. No one has monopoly on Torah and no one can demand ‘royalties’ for its study. Indeed, the Talmud says that every child is taught the Torah in its mother’s womb during pregnancy; in each of our psyches is ingrained the Divine will and wisdom – all the tolls that we will need for our life’s journey.
This powerful fact can be appreciated by seeing the effects of the converse approach. “From my enemies I become wise.” Whenever a fascist or totalitarian regime comes to power, the first thing it establishes is a ‘bureau of truth of information.’ Why, because to control a population you need to control the minds of the people. ‘Propaganda’ is what they call it. This, the regime will control the media and the airwaves, to ensure that the people hear and see only the information that the leaders want to convey. Free press – the free flow of information is anathema and definite suicide to any dictatorial power. As Thomas Jefferson said, that given the choice, he would choose a free press to free government. Because without a free press there is no free government.
Whenever you hear that there is a “bureau of truth and information,” rest assured that it neither ‘truth’ nor ‘information’…
Korach argued just that. “All the people in the community are holy, and G-d is with them. Why are you setting yourselves above G-d’s congregation.” Why do we need leaders and teachers and run the risk of abuse. As we have so often seen, lately as well, how so called ‘authorities’ have abused their position, and have not taught the pure truth, but their distorted version of the truth. How many people have been hurt by innocently believing in their teachers, only later (some later than others, and some have yet) to find out how those teachers misrepresented the truth?!
So Korach argued, why risk it? Torah was given by G-d to all the people, and they are all holy, why give exclusive power to leaders, power that can be abused?!
Over 3,000 years ago the Torah was given in the Sinai wilderness precisely to pre-empt the possibility of fascist abuse. By giving the Torah in a wilderness, which is no-mans’ land, G-d was telling us that “no one city can lay claim to the Torah. I have given My truth to all of you, and you each have access to it.” Incredible fact. The Bible – the Torah – is the biggest best seller in history. Yet, no one owns it. No one can claim royalties for it!
And the Torah was passed on from generation to generation, in an unbroken chain, with no corporate transitions and bureaucratic infrastructures. Moses did not appoint a ‘board of directors’ and a new “CEO.” Moses left us the Torah and his students, and so it continued from generation to generation. As delineated in the Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers):
“Moses received the Torah from Sinai and passed it on to Joshua; Joshua to the Elders; the Elders to the Prophets…”.
What then was Korach’s mistake, and grave mistake at that? His argument seems plausible and even true. What is the answer to his question: Why do we need leaders, and what will prevent them from abusing their power?
Korach’s serious error was in his understanding of the nature of a true leader. In his mind a leader meant a powerful person who serves as a human intermediary between G-d and the people, between the Torah’s truth and the students. He thought that a leader is defined by his strengths – his wisdom, his charisma, his wealth, all the qualities necessary to lead a large group of individuals.
A true leader is precisely the opposite. He is defined not by what he is, but by what he is not. The single most important quality of a true leader is: bittul – humility (“Moses was the most humble among all people on Earth”). He is invisible, and therefore becomes a vehicle (merkavah) to G-dliness; he is a living example and the epitome of how G-d wants a person to be.
Deifying individuals is anathema to Judaism. Idolatry is a cardinal sin. We only worship G-d and G-d alone. The greatness of a Tzaddik, a Rebbe, a Moses is not the power of the individual, but the power of G-d that is working through that person. Indeed, there cannot be even the slightest tinge of individual ego or personality that gets in the way and does not allow the inherent G-dliness to shine through.
And the reason we need Moses, and a Moses in each generation (Moses passed on the Torah to Joshua, etc.), is because we as individuals are consumed and overwhelmed by material life, we have our egos and personalities that get in the way to accessing G-d and the Torah’s truth. We need a selfless leader, a teacher to guide us and show us the way to access our souls and G-d. And when Moses guides us he does not show us how he (Moses) accesses G-d, but he shows us how we have direct access to G-d through our Divine souls.
The true leader, in other words, is not an intermediary that stands in the way between us and G-d; his selflessness and bittul allows him to be a transparent channel in helping us connect to G-d in our own unique way. A true teacher does not teach you his own truth, he teaches you that it is a Higher truth and that it belongs to you as much as it does to the teacher. The true teacher has no ego, he recognizes at all times that he is merely a messenger passing on truth from a greater place. Indeed, the greatest title of a Torah scholar is not “chacham,” a wise person, but “talmid chacham,” the student of a wise person. The scholar always feels the bittul that he is merely a student of Divine wisdom. “Reishis chohma yiras Hashem” (the beginning and foundation of wisdom is awe of G-d).
Korach’s reasoning was accurate in the fact that all people are holy and have direct access to G-d. There was also justification in his questioning the role of leadership, exposing its potential abuse and distortions. That is why the Torah documents Korach’s argument.
But even if his arguments had merit, Korach’s intentions were wrong. Indeed, though he challenged Moses’ leadership, he demanded leadership for himself (very reminiscent of the fact that though Communism theoretically argues the equality of all classes, Communist leaders were the most notorious abusers of leadership) – all the more reason for needing a true selfless leader!
Korach was absolutely wrong because he did not understand the true nature of a leader – one who is totally humble and selfless. Leadership is not about power and ambition; it is about bittul and selflessness. And that is the only reason that we can trust a true leader, and the reason G-d trusted Moses. When G-d chose Moses to be the leader, Moses strongly resisted. “I am a man of no words” was one of the many arguments Moses offered in refusing to be the leader. G-d replies: “Who then gives a man the mouth to speak if not I.” G-d essentially chose Moses precisely because he did not want the job, and because he would not speak his own words; he would speak G-d’s words.
This type of leader was completely new to Korach and his men. No one had ever met a leader like that. So they challenged the very concept based on their limited experience. But as a result of their argument we gain a new understanding of the nature of a true leader. This is the value of Torah relating to us the story of Korach, and we owe Korach a great debt for allowing the role of true leadership to be clarified for us, and exposing the distortions of false leadership.
This story offers us a very relevant message today.
I submit, that many of us are simply skeptical about a true leader – a Rebbe – because we never met one. The so-called ‘leaders’ around us – political, business, sports, entertainment – are essentially at best nothing more that good administrators, or people driven by aggressive ambition that allowed them to climb the leadership ladder. I am not even addressing the rampant corruption surrounding leaders that we are all aware and reminded of continuously.
I (and many of my colleagues), however, had the distinct privilege and honor to meet such a leader. A G-dly man entirely dedicated to the Higher Cause. His name was Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. Or simply: The Rebbe – the leader.
As a true leader, humility was his personality. A man in whose presence you felt not him, but yourself – you felt that you belong, that you matter and have an indispensable contribution to make in this world.
With all the current upheaval in a world that is rapidly changing right before our eyes, the void of true leadership is glaringly obvious. From the Rebbe I learned how to access my own soul. I learned how to access the Torah – thousands of years of history and scholarship – to understand our lives today and the forces reshaping our geo-political as well as our psycho-spiritual landscapes.
In the last few years – and especially in the last week – the world has changed dramatically, with many more changes to come. We are desperately in need of true leadership – and there is no question that G-d would not challenge us without providing us with the necessary tools. Even as Korach questions the role of leader, the continuing Torah portion provides us with the power to find the answer, that yes, we need a leader, and yes, Moses is G-d’s chosen leader.
I turn to my Rebbe and his teachings – explaining the times in which we live from a Torah perspective – to make sense of the unsettling events surrounding us today. And I find enormous strength and clarity in the Torah vision.
We each are challenged today to answer Korach’s argument. If we do not want to be left floundering amidst countless questions in an increasingly confusing world, it behooves us to turn to Moses and his teachings for hope and direction. We need to discover the selfless leader that can help us see through the haze.
Oh, how we are in need for such a leader today…
Tags: Rebbe, Moses, leadership, ego, awe of G-d, Jewish leaders
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Torah Personalities, Bamidbar, Korach, Social, Government, Rebbe, Moses | 1 Comment »
July 26th, 2015
Below is a powerful and moving story about soldiers wounded in the wars in Israel and how a great Rebbe addressed them.
When Joseph Cabiliv —today a successful real estate developer—regained consciousness in the Rambam Hospital in Haifa, he remembered nothing of the circumstances that had brought him there. He felt an excruciating pain in his legs. The discovery that followed was far more horrendous: glancing under the sheet, he saw that both his legs had been amputated, the right leg at the knee, the left at mid-thigh.
The day before, Joseph, who was serving on reserve duty in Zahal (the Israeli Defense Forces), was patrolling the Golan Heights with several other soldiers when their jeep hit an old Syrian land mine. Two of his comrades were killed on the spot. Another three suffered serious injury. Joseph’s legs were so severely crushed that the doctors had no choice but to amputate them.
Aside from the pain and disability, Joseph was confronted with society’s incapacity to deal with the handicapped.
“My friends would come to visit,” he recalls, “sustain fifteen minutes of artificial cheer, and depart without once meeting my eye. Mother would come and cry, and it was I, who so desperately needed consolation, who had to do the consoling. Father would come and sit by my bedside in silence—I don’t know which was worse, Mother’s tears or Father’s silence. Returning to my civilian profession as a welder was, of course, impossible, and while people were quick to offer charity, no one had a job for a man without legs. When I ventured out in my wheelchair, people kept their distance, so that a large empty space opened up around me on the busiest street corner.”
When Joseph met with other disabled veterans he found that they all shared his experience: they had given their very bodies in defense of the nation, but the nation lacked the spiritual strength to confront their sacrifice.
A Soldier’s Story
“In the summer of 1976,” Joseph tells, “Zahal sponsored a tour of the United States for a large group of disabled veterans. While we were in New York, a Lubavitcher chassid came to our hotel and suggested that we meet with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Most of us did not know what to make of the invitation, but a few members of our group had heard about the Rebbe and convinced the rest of us to accept.
“As soon as they heard we were coming, the Chabadniks sprang into action, organizing the whole thing with the precision of a military campaign. Ten large commercial vans pulled up to our hotel to transport us and our wheelchairs to the Lubavitch headquarters in Brooklyn. Soon we found ourselves in the famous large synagogue in the basement of 770 Eastern Parkway.
“Ten minutes later, a white-bearded man of about 70 entered the room, followed by two secretaries. As if by a common signal, absolute silence pervaded the room. There was no mistaking the authority he radiated. We had all stood in the presence of military commanders and prime ministers, but this was unlike anything we had ever encountered. This must have been what people felt in the presence of royalty. An identical thought passed through all our minds: Here walks a leader, a prince.
“He passed between us, resting his glance on each one of us and lifting his hand in greeting, and then seated himself opposite us. Again he looked at each of us in turn. From that terrible day on which I had woken without my legs in the Rambam Hospital, I have seen all sorts of things in the eyes of those who looked at me: pain, pity, revulsion, anger. But this was the first time in all those years that I encountered true empathy. With that glance that scarcely lasted a second and the faint smile on his lips, the Rebbe conveyed to me that he is with me—utterly and exclusively with me.”
The Special of Israel
“The Rebbe then began to speak, after apologizing for his Ashkenazic-accented Hebrew. He spoke about our ‘disability,’ saying that he objected to the use of the term. ‘If a person has been deprived of a limb or a faculty,’ he told, ‘this itself indicates that G-d has given him special powers to overcome the limitations this entails, and to surpass the achievements of ordinary people. You are not “disabled” or “handicapped,” but special and unique, as you possess potentials that the rest of us do not.
“ ‘I therefore suggest,’ he continued, adding with a smile ‘—of course it is none of my business, but Jews are famous for voicing opinions on matters that do not concern them—that you should no longer be called n’chei Yisrael (“the disabled of Israel,” our designation in the Zahal bureaucracy) but metzuyanei Yisrael (“the special of Israel”).’ He spoke for several minutes more, and everything he said—and more importantly, the way in which he said it—addressed what had been churning within me since my injury.”
A “Thank You” Goes a Long Way
“In parting, he gave each of us a dollar bill, in order—he explained—that we give it to charity in his behalf, making us partners in the fulfillment of a mitzvah. He walked from wheelchair to wheelchair, shaking our hands, giving each a dollar, and adding a personal word or two. When my turn came, I saw his face up close and I felt like a child. He gazed deeply into my eyes, took my hand between his own, pressed it firmly, and said ‘Thank you’ with a slight nod of his head.
“I later learned that he had said something different to each one of us. To me he said ‘Thank you’—somehow he sensed that that was exactly what I needed to hear. With those two words, the Rebbe erased all the bitterness and despair that had accumulated in my heart. I carried the Rebbe’s ‘Thank you’ back to Israel, and I carry it with me to this very day.”
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Tags: war, Yanki Tauber, story, gratitude, Rebbe, suffering, pain, Toward a Meaningful Life
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Israel, Soul Gym, Personal Life, Social, Current Events | 1 Comment »
July 24th, 2015
The Torah portion of Vayakhel describes the enthusiastic response of the Jewish people to the call to donate material to build a sanctuary for G-d. They eagerly brought their gold, silver, copper and other precious materials to serve this sacred purpose. So great was their desire that they actually exceeded the necessary quota–to the extent that Moses had to plead with the people to stop bringing.
The Tabernacle is actually a prototype for the sanctuary that every family creates within its own home. Just as the Tabernacle served as a dwelling for G-d, so do our private homes become a haven for G-d when they are permeated with love, devotion and concern. The Jewish people in the desert set the tone for all of us to indicate how to build our homes to be a G-dly sanctuary.
Although men, women and children alike shared in the contribution, the women displayed particular alacrity and devotion in bringing gifts for the sanctuary. They dedicated not only their most precious jewelry and possessions, but also their time, talent and energies. Just as in the time of the desert, Jewish women throughout history have placed themselves at the forefront of the sacred task of building the sanctuary for G-d within every home. Although both parents share in this tremendous undertaking, the women set the tone for the household with their inherent divine gifts. They eagerly donate their particular “jewelry”–their insights, talents and creativity–to tune in to the needs of their children and families.
There were four types of jewelry donated for the Tabernacle: earrings, nose rings, finger rings, and arm bands. The previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn, in an address to Jewish women, elaborates on the symbolic meaning of each type of ornament.
Earrings: Lend an Ear
Tune in when your children speak. Let them know that you are really there for them. Listen up, too, when they are speaking with each other. Their talk will reflect what they are picking up from the people around them. Also be receptive to good, sound parenting advice and guidance. The more guidance you are willing to accept from others, the more your children will be willing to accept from you.
Nose Rings: Use Your Nose
Be alert to subtle signs of unhappiness or rebellion in your child. Be aware of with whom your children are spending their time, and what they are doing together. Wholesome friends and productive activities will mold a healthy personality.
Finger Rings: Point Things Out
Observation alone (via “ears” and “nose”) is insufficient to raise a healthy, secure child. Use your finger to clarify things for your child, and to give guidance and direction. Show the children that your advice is based on concern for their welfare, and that you are aware of their issues and needs. Don’t simply give orders; your children will be far more receptive to your words if you explain things on their level.
Arm Bands: Strong-Arm Tactics?
The arm-band symbolizes the forcefulness and strength necessary for bringing up children. A parent must be pro-active. Don’t just step in after the child has already misbehaved. A parent should be striving to stay ahead of the game, to anticipate trouble spots and to thoroughly know the child’s character. There is also the inner discipline that is demanded of a parent. Before you discipline your child, discipline yourself. Children respond to the example that the adults around them set. Put as much energy as you can into parenting; this will yield children with character and vitality, who will eagerly embrace a meaningful way of life.
Remember, above all, that the gifts you give to your home and children are your personal, voluntary donation. Never let parenting become a ritual obligation or cumbersome duty. Give gladly, generously, and with a full heart. Your personal sanctuary will blossom under the caring touch that only you can provide.
Based an address of the Rebbe[1]
Adapted by by Chaya Shuchat
[1] Based on an address by the Rebbe in Likkutei Sichos, vol. 26, pp 262-271; and the Previous Rebbe’s visit to Riga, Adar 5694, printed in Likkutei Dibburim, vol.3, and Kovetz Chof Beis Shevat, pp. 7-10
Tags: Chaya Shuchat, love, women, home, Mishkan, warmth
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Torah, Vayakhel | No Comments »
July 24th, 2015
The previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, writes in a letter:[15]
The “Grandfather of Shpoli”[16]was known for his exceptionally warm and ebullient nature. When he was in Liadi to see the Alter Rebbe[17] (this was in the year 5669 or 5670[18]), he related: “When I was three years old, I met the Baal Shem Tov.[19] He placed his holy hand over my heart, and from then on, my heart is warm.”
“A single motion of a tzaddik,” concludes Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, “how much more so the sight of him and the sound of his voice, should never be forgotten.”
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[15]. Quoted in Hayom Yom, Tevet 14.
[16] Rabbi Leib of Shpoli, 1725-1811.
[17]. Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812), founder of Chabad Chassidism. Rabbi Leib and Rabbi Schneur Zalman were both disciples of the Rabbi DovBer of Mezeritch (d. 1772), second leader of the chassidic movement.
[19]. Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760), founder of Chassidism.
Tags: heart, warmth, Tzaddik, Yanki Tauber, Rebbe Rayatz, Baal Shem Tov
Posted in Baal Shem Tov, Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Alter Rebbe, Torah Personalities, Modern, Yitro, Torah, Rebbe Rayatz | No Comments »
July 24th, 2015
All the vessels in the Sanctuary required immersion [after each festival] except for the Golden Altar and the Copper Altar… because [the altars] were coated…
Talmud, Chagigah 26b
In the majority of cases, even the most deficient and sinful of Jews will sacrifice his life and suffer the harshest tortures rather than deny the one G-d… as if it were utterly impossible for them to deny Him… This is because of the divine essence that is enclothed in each soul’s faculty of chochmah, which is beyond any graspable or understood knowledge…
Tanya, chapter 18
During the three annual pilgrimage festivals (Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot), when the entire community of Israel would come to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the vessels of the Temple were exposed to contact with many individuals, including some who might not have been well-versed in the complex laws of ritual purity. Thus, following each festival, all the vessels of the Temple were immersed in a mikveh to cleanse them of any possible contamination by a visitor who might have been ritually impure.
The law is that “wooden vessels that are used only in a fixed place are not susceptible to contamination.”[11] The two altars (the indoor “Golden Altar” and the outdoor “Copper Altar”[12]), which were used only in their fixed places, were made of wood and covered with gold or copper. This is the meaning of the above-quoted law that the altars did not require immersion after the festivals “because they were coated”: although a metal vessel could become impure under such circumstances, since the altars’ metal was only a coating, it was buttel (“nullified”) in relation to their wooden bodies and they were thus immune to contamination.
But Torah laws always have more than one meaning. The Torah, as the human being it comes to instruct and enlighten, consists of both a “body” and a “soul.” Each law, story or message in Torah also has a deeper, spiritual import; each legal technicality also addresses the inner world of the human soul.
The Sanctuary is more than a physical edifice dedicated to the service of G-d; it is also the model after which man is to construct his own self and life as a “sanctuary” to house and express the divine. G-d commanded that, “They shall make for Me a Sanctuary and I shall dwell within them”[13]; as our sages point out, “The verse does not say ‘I shall dwell within it’ but ‘I shall dwell within them,’ meaning, within each and every one of them.”[14]Thus, the Torah describes in great detail[15] the various components and vessels of the Sanctuary, for they each correspond to another of the faculties and attributes that comprise the human being.
This is the deeper significance of the immunity of the Sanctuary’s altars. The other vessels of the human “sanctuary,” representing man’s various intellectual and emotional faculties,[16] may, at times, become tainted by negative influences. But the “altars” of the soul, her capacity for selfless devotion and sacrifice for her creator, are not susceptible to contamination.
True, this inner core of purity is not always visible or readily accessible. The glitter of material life, or, conversely, the despair of hardship and poverty, may obscure the soul’s intrinsic commitment to her G-d. But these encumbrances, be they of “copper” or “gold,” are mere coatings on her altar. Coatings that are “nullified” in the face of the incorruptible well of sacrifice within.
Based on a letter by the Rebbe’s, Cheshvan 15, 5711 (October 26, 1950)[17]
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[11] See discussion in Talmud (and commentaries), Chagiah 26b-27a
[12] The outdoor copper altar existed only in the Mishkan (tabernacle), the portable sanctuary built in the desert. In the Holy Temple the outdoor altar was built of stone.
[14] Reishit Chachmah, Portal of Love, chapter 6; Shaloh, Portal of Letters, Lamed
[15] Thirteen chapters in the book of Exodus (or 35% of the book) are taken up with the details of the Sanctuary’s construction. [6] See Derech Mitzvotecha, pp. 172-174.
[16] See Derech Mitzvotecha, pp. 172-174.
[17] Likkutei Sichot vol. III pp. 910-912.
Tags: purity, Yanki Tauber, Temple, chochma, body and soul
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Torah, Pikudei | No Comments »
July 24th, 2015
All that day, the holiest of the year, they had stood in the synagogue, fasting, repenting, beseeching the Almighty to grant them a year of life, health and happiness. Now, the ‘‘gate closing’’ prayers had concluded, the shofar had been sounded, and the townspeople of Berditchev were breaking their fast with the festive post-Yom Kippur meal.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev turned to his disciples and said: ‘‘Let me tell you of a deal that was struck today with the Almighty in the women’s section of the synagogue.
‘‘Sarah Leah, a widow with a houseful of hungry tots, lifted her eyes heavenward and said: ‘Father in Heaven! I know that I’ve sinned. I’ve gossiped, I’ve neglected my prayers, I’ve gotten angry. But You, G-d, did not do that great, either. Look how You’ve treated a poor woman and her five little orphans: our goat stopped giving milk, the roof of our humble hut caved in, and the baby was ill all winter. But I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal—I’ll forgive You, You’ll forgive me, and from now on we’ll both do only good to each other…’
‘‘Foolish woman,’’ concluded Rabbi Levi Yitzchak. ‘‘Why did she let Him off so easily? She could have brought Moshiach!’’
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: Power of Prayer, Berditchever, Yom Kippur, Yanki Tauber, Moshiach, children, hunger
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Torah, Pikudei | No Comments »
July 24th, 2015
And you shall make the [priestly] robe completely of blue wool… And make upon its hem pomegranates of blue, purple and scarlet wool, and bells of gold between [or: within] them all around… And it shall be upon Aaron when he serves. And its sound shall be heard when he enters into the holy before G-d… lest he die.
Exodus 28:31-35
A great strong wind rent the mountains and shattered the rocks… but G-d was not in the wind. And after the wind came a storm, but G-d was not in the storm. And after the storm came fire, but G-d was not in the fire. And after the fire came a still, small voice.
I Kings 19:11-12
A rich man once invited a beggar to share his meal. The host settled quietly into his seat and tucked his linen napkin under his chin. The guest, finding his body supported by silken luxury instead of the usual hard bench, let go a sigh of surprised pleasure; with much creaking and squeaking he burrowed into the chair, determined to do justice to its opulent potential.
The soup arrived and proceeded to make its casual way down the rich man’s gullet. Across the table, a full frontal attack was being launched against the delicate china bowl; the heavy silver spoon clanged and swooped, carrying every precious drop of steaming gold to an audibly eager mouth. The subsequent assault on the steak platter was no less enthused. As the wealthy man silently ingested bite-sized pieces of meat, his dinner partner, a maelstrom of clattering knives and chomping jaws, ooh’ed and ah’ed his admiring way through the feast.
In the kitchen, the chef remarked to the butler:
‘‘At last, a man who appreciates fine cuisine! The master may be indifferent to the fine things in life, but his guest! What passion! How involved he is, how worshipful of quality. Now, this is a man with a sense of the sublime…”
‘‘You are mistaken,’’ said the butler. ‘‘Indeed, the very opposite is true. The rich man’s tranquility indicates the depth of his involvement with his dinner, while the pauper’s noisy excitement only underscores how alien all this is to him. To the rich man, luxury is the very essence of life; so he no more exclaims over it than you jump for joy upon finding yourself alive in the morning. But for the poor man, this is an other-worldly experience —for him, life is a boiled potato. All that noise you hear is the friction between his habitual self and the pampered, steak-eating self he is attempting to assume.’’
The Hem
Noise is the sound of resistance. Consider the sounds emitted by a log fire, a pile of burning straw and an oil lamp. In each case, matter is succumbing to the energy locked within it. The log offers the most resistance, voicing its reluctance to part with its outer form with a noisy crackle and sudden explosions. The straw, not quite as physical as the brute log, protests with a whispering sizzle. And the oil in the lamp, the finest substance of the three, burns silently, freely yielding to the essence within.
Thus, Elijah the Prophet experienced G-d’s immanence as ‘‘a still, small voice.’’ In his refined self, the material of the body did not resist the spirituality of the soul; so the Divine reality was not perceived in a norm-shattering storm, but in the same tranquil manner in which a person is aware of the life within him.
And yet, Aaron is commanded to wear a robe with bells sewn onto its hem, so that ‘‘its sound shall be heard when he enters into the holy before G-d.’’ For the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) represents the entirety of Israel in his service of the Almighty, including those for whom connection to G-d is still a noisy struggle—the struggle to transcend their external, earth-bound selves and bring to light their true, inner identity.
Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov was once asked: Why do certain disciples of yours make such a ruckus while praying? They shout, they wave their arms, they virtually throw themselves about the room. Is this the appropriate way to commune with the Almighty?
The founder of chassidism replied: Have you ever seen a drowning man? He shouts, he thrashes his arms, he struggles with the waves that threaten to claim him as their own. Throughout the day, a person is swamped by the demands of his material existence; prayer is the attempt to break free of the engulfing waters that threaten to extinguish one’s spiritual life.
True, a noisy service of G-d is an indication that the person is ‘‘not yet there.’’ Had he succeeded in transcending the mundane, his endeavor to draw close to the Almighty would be a tranquil one—his soul would strive upwards with a silent, frictionless flame. His noisy struggle reflects the fact that his spiritual self and priorities have not yet become the seat of his identity, that his ‘‘natural’’ self still lies with the material externalities of life. Nevertheless, this is a healthy sign: he has not succumbed. He is straining to free himself of the coarse envelope of his material being, straining to rise above his presently defined self.
So the bells on the Kohen Gadol’s robe are an indispensable part of his Divine service. ‘‘Its sound shall be heard when he enters into the holy before G-d,’’ commands the Torah, ‘‘lest he die.’’ Were he to disclaim the lowly ‘‘hem’’ of the nation he represents, he would be violating the very essence of his mission. Were his service of the Almighty not to embody also the struggles of his imperfect brethren, it would have no place in G-d’s inner sanctum.
Apples and Pomegranates
In light of the above, we can understand the deeper significance of a debate between two of our sages regarding the bells and pomegranates on the Kohen Gadol’s robe.
The debate revolves around the question as to how to interpret the word b’tocham, which translates either as ‘‘between them’’ or, in a more literal rendering of the word, ‘‘within them.’’ Does the Torah command to ‘‘make upon its hem pomegranates… and bells of gold between them’’ or to fix the ‘‘bells of gold within them’’?
Rashi, [1] in his commentary on the verse, writes that the bells were ‘‘between them… between each two pomegranates a bell was attached and hanging on the hem of the robe.’’ Nachmanides [2] disagrees.
‘‘I don’t know why the master [Rashi] made the bells separate, a bell between two pomegranates,’’ he writes. ‘‘According to this, the pomegranates served no function. And if they were there for beauty, then why were they made as hollow pomegranates? They should have been made as golden apples… Rather, [the bells] were literally within them, for the pomegranates were hollow–like small, unopened pomegranates–and the bells were contained within them…’’
‘‘Why does he favor apples more than pomegranates?’’ wonders the Mizrachi. [3] As other commentaries explain, Nachmanides’ difficulty with Rashi’s interpretation is that the hollow form of the pomegranate (Rashi himself also says that they were ‘‘round and hollow’’) indicates that they served a functional rather than decorative purpose; but what does Nachmanides mean when he says that ‘‘if they were there for beauty… they should have been made as golden apples’’?
Indeed, the menorah was decorated with spheres resembling apples, whose sole purpose was for beauty. [4] Perhaps Nachmanides derives from this that in the making of the Sanctuary and its vessels and the priestly garments, the decorative fruit of choice was the apple. But this itself requires explanation. Why apples? And why, according to Rashi, is beautified with apples and the Kohen Gadol’s robe with pomegranates?
Insulated Deeds
Both the apple and the pomegranate are representative of the Jewish people. The Torah likens Israel to an ‘‘apple’’ (‘‘Like an apple among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved’’ [5] ) as well as to a ‘‘pomegranate’’ (‘‘Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and your mouth is comely; your temple is like a piece of pomegranate within your locks’’ [6] ). But while the apple describes Israel in a virtuous state, [7] the pomegranate allegory refers to the ‘‘hollow’’ or ‘‘empty ones amongst you.’’ As the Talmud interprets it, the verse ‘‘your temple is like a piece of pomegranate’’ comes to say that ‘‘Even the empty ones amongst you are full of good deeds as a pomegranate [is full of seeds].’’ [8] (Raka, the Hebrew word used by the verse for ‘‘temple’’ is related to the word reik, ‘‘empty.’’ Thus ‘‘your temple’’ is homiletically rendered ‘‘the empty ones amongst you.’’)
The pomegranate is more than a model of something that contains many particulars. On a deeper level, this metaphor also addresses the paradox as to how an individual may be ‘‘empty’’ and, at the same time, be ‘‘full of good deeds as a pomegranate.’’
The pomegranate is a highly compartmentalized fruit. Each of its hundreds of seeds is wrapped in its individual envelope of flesh, and separated from its fellows by a tough membrane. In the same way, it is possible for a person to do good deeds –many good deeds–and yet, they remain isolated acts, with little or no effect on his nature and character. So unlike the ‘‘apple,’’ who is delicious from core to skin, the ‘‘pomegranate’’ contains many virtues, but they do not become him. He is full of good deeds, yet remains morally and spiritually hollow.
This explains the connection between the pomegranates and the bells on the hem of the priestly robe. As explained above, the noisy bells represent the imperfect individual who is striving to overreach himself. Although he is still a spiritual pauper he refuses to act like one—hence the noisy friction that characterizes his life.
Beautiful Noise
To become an apple one must first be a pomegranate. One must act unlike himself, like a poor man feasting at a rich man’s table; a clumsy spectacle, perhaps, but an indispensable one, if he is to transcend the selfish and animalistic ‘‘self’’ into which he was born. The first step to become perfect is to act perfect. Indeed, before Elijah experienced G-d in a ‘‘still, small voice,’’ he first beheld the wind, the storm and the fire.
Thus, Nachmanides sees the pomegranate-encased bells on Aaron’s hem as a preliminary phase of one’s Divine service, rather than as the service itself. [9] Beauty, however, is to be found in the apple-perfection of the menorah—seven lamps of pure olive oil, representing the soul’s silent, tranquil flame. Were the pomegranates on the priestly robe for beauty, argues Nachmanides, they would not be pomegranates, but apples. These hollow fruits are purely functional, a preparatory stage in the soul’s quest for perfection and union with her Divine source.
Rashi, however, expresses a perspective from which the beauty of Israel also lies in its pomegranates. In fact, in a certain sense, the struggle of the imperfect soul is even more beautiful than the serene perfection of her more virtuous fellow. For the perfectly righteous individual serves G-d by being what he is, while every positive deed of the ‘‘empty ones amongst you’’ is an act of sacrifice and self-transcendence. So even before a person attains perfection–even if his entire life is spent in the quest for perfection–the clamor of his efforts is music to G-d’s ear.
A Contemporary Application
There are those who claim that the Torah and its mitzvos are a private matter between the Jew and his G-d, not something to be paraded on the streets. Tefillin, Shabbos, the sanctity of family life, ‘‘esoteric’’ concepts such as ‘‘Divine Reality’’ or ‘‘Moshiach,’’ are not to be hawked on a downtown sidewalk or catch-phrased on a slick billboard. Never has anything like this been done in our history as a nation, they say. You are vulgarizing the soul of Judaism.
But this is the hem of history, the lowliest and most superficial generation yet. To this generation, the small still voice of G-d sounds like alien noise. Should this voice be hushed, to be whispered only among the apples? Or should its call be sounded, noisy be it, until it is heard above the din?
Speaking to this generation in its own language–the language of the sound-bite, of incessant compartmentalization and hollow packaging–ever further raises the noise level. But fighting fire with fire is not only effective—it also brings to light facets of one’s own potential that would otherwise remain unrealized.
The bells and pomegranates that broadcast the Divine truth are more than the means toward a tranquil end—they are themselves things of beauty.
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Adar 11 5735 (February 22, 1975)
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[1] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, 1040-1105.
[2] Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 1194-1270.
[3] Rabbi Elijah Mizrachi, 1448-1526, wrote a commentary on Rashi’s commentary.
[4] Rashi’s commentary, Exodus 25:31.
[5] Song of Songs 2:2; see Midrash Rabba on verse, Talmud, Shabbos 88a and Zohar II, 120b.
[7] Likkutei Torah, Bechukotai 49d; Ohr HaTorah, Noach 58a-b.
[9] See Nachmanides’ commentary on Exodus 28:43, where he compares the ringing of the robe’s bells to the requesting of permission before entering into the presence of a king.
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