June 25th, 2015
Why is the word “pig” an almost universal symbol of insult? This much-maligned animal has been slapped with the most perverse of labels, from Nazi to sexist. We ascribe to it the worst of human failings, including greed, gluttony, and sloppiness. It is also the most quintessentially “treif” of animals, with its name being nearly synonymous with non-kosher of the most decadent sort. Let’s face it: for an innocent creature, the pig evokes some pretty strong emotions.
Although far from alone in the litany of non-kosher animals, the pig seems to stand in a class of its own. True, bear or lion meat are far less common menu items than pork or ham. But our feelings towards the pig seem to run far deeper than mere culinary distaste. What makes the pig distinct?
In general, when describing the kosher status of beast, fowl, or fish, the Torah lists those which are in the minority. Kosher birds are more numerous than those that are non-kosher, so the Torah mentions all impure species by name. On the other hand, there are far fewer kosher than non-kosher animals, so only the kosher ones are specified in the verse. There are four animals that are an exception to this rule: the camel, the rabbit, the hare and the pig. They are specifically singled out due to an ambiguity surrounding their status. Kosher animals must possess two characteristics: They must chew their cud and have split hooves. The camel, the hare and the rabbit are all ruminating creatures, but their hooves are not split. The pig, on the other hand, has a cleft hoof, but does not chew its cud.
This may account for the pig’s special “notoriety” within the class of non-kosher species. Most animals are fairly straightforward: their status is certain, and they are fairly easy to identify and classify as kosher or non-kosher. The four enumerated above, however, pose a problem. They possess one kosher sign, but not the other. They might be considered “semi-kosher” in our eyes, although they are no less impure than the other animals. Yet it is not the camel, the hare or the rabbit that bears the full brunt of our aversion, but the pig. For the pig stands out even within the class of “imposters.” The other three chew their cud, a not necessarily obvious phenomenon, but do not have split hooves, which are more readily apparent. The pig is different. It brazenly flaunts its foreleg, boasting of its split hoof, while its lack of cud chewing, which would give it away as a non-kosher animal, remains obscured. It is this very attempt to parade and masquerade itself as a kosher creature which earns for the pig its unique status among animals.
The laws regarding the pure and impure species are placed towards the end of the Torah portion of Shemini, literally, “the eighth.” It is a reference to the eighth day of consecration of the Tabernacle, which consummated the seven preparatory days which preceded it. Seven represents the parameters of existence–the seven-day cycle of time, seven colors on the spectrum. Eight symbolizes a transcendent dimension that rises above and sheds divine light upon the cycle of seven. Our task is to attempt to create a fusion of the physical and transcendent aspects of the universe, through utilizing all physical objects for a more sublime purpose. The Holy Temple is the quintessential example of physicality being transformed into G-dliness. Yet the conclusion of the Torah portion of Shemini, which discusses pure and impure animals, signifies a higher level still. It portrays holiness being drawn into the corporeality of the animal kingdom, a far more challenging task of refinement and elevation.[1]
Within the task of elevating the animal kingdom, there are two distinct modes. Certain animals are elevated through slaughtering them in a proscribed manner, and consuming them as food, with the intention of strengthening our bodies and utilizing that strength to continue our Divine service. Other animals are consecrated precisely by our rejection of them. Their very nature conceals the Divine spark which vivifies them, and only through categorizing them as “impure,” and avoiding their consumption, can we tear off the mask of unholiness and reveal the Divine light hidden within.
Yet even within this class, the pig defies and resists our efforts. It enclothes itself in a garb of purity, and seeks to deceive us regarding its true nature. The pig represents the type of evil in the world which is hardest to resist and combat. It encompasses all forms of flattery and deception, the suave and smooth-talking villains who worm their way into our confidence and take root in our hearts, before we become wise to their true intentions. Our greatest challenge is not fighting the blatant evil of the world, but its more subtle and deceptive forms, which come packaged in a guise of goodness and truth.
Yet the pig’s ability to assume the semblance, however superficially, of a kosher animal reflects on a level of holiness embedded deep within it. For only if it contained within it a hidden good,[2] would it be able to pull off its clever charade. No falsehood can long be maintained without some basis of truth. Our strong antipathy towards the pig, and our solid rejection of it, serve to “cut off” the part of it which is negative and evil, and leave only its pure essence. Only regarding the pig does the Midrash state: “Why is the pig called ‘chazir’? For in the future, it will be returned (‘lehachazir’) to us.[3]“ In the Messianic Era, when the true Divine nature of every creature will be openly revealed, the pig will stand vindicated as a kosher animal. Because with all its posing and prancing, the pig does one thing for us. It forces us to confront our own insidious evil nature, combat it, and ultimately rise above it. So the choice is ours. We can mask our deficiencies by verbally maligning the innocent pig, or we can recognize the pig for what it is: a mirror to our own animal selves. We must concentrate on perfecting and purifying our own animal souls, and G-d will reciprocate by “koshering” the pig.
Based on Likkutei Sichos, Shabbos Parshat Shemini, vol. 17, pp. 92-99;Parshas Toldos, vol. 35 pp. 117-118
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Chaya Shuchat.
[1]. Fundamental to Jewish thought is the concept of uniting the diversity of the universe toward one higher end. Initially, each of the four kingdoms which comprise the universe — mineral, vegetable, animal and human — stand alone. Only the human being, through his or her actions, has the unique power to unite and transform all the kingdoms. When a person utilizes or consumes mineral, vegetable or animal, and harnesses its energy toward constructive ends, he elevates it to a level that it could never have attained on its own.
[2]. All phenomena, every personality, has a so-called “subconscious,” a beneath the surface root that is the underlying cause for a particular behavior. The Kabbalah calls it the “spiritual spark” within each fiber of existence. This spark is the energy which, after evolving and manifesting itself in physical form, informs and shapes the entire spectrum of personality types in existence.
[3]. See Shaloh Chayei Sarah, also Likkutei Sichos, vol. 12, p. 175.
Tags: Torah, purity, kosher, Eight, Chaya Shuchat, good and evil, redemption, Jewish law, animals
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Beliefs & Concepts, Vayikra, Shemini, Moshiach & Redemption, Torah | 3 Comments »
June 25th, 2015
They shall eat the flesh [of the Passover offering] on that night, roasted on the fire, with matzot and bitter herbs. Do not eat of it half-done, or cooked, or boiled in water; only roasted on the fire.
Exodus 12:8-9
The firstborn, tithe and Passover offerings are kodashim kallim; they can be slaughtered anywhere in the Temple courtyard, and their blood requires only one sprinkling, as long as it is directed toward the foundation of the altar. They differ, however, in how they are to be eaten. The firstborn offering is eaten by the priests, the tithe offering by anyone; both can be eaten throughout the city [of Jerusalem], in any form of food preparation, for two days and one night. The Passover offering can be eaten only at night, and only up to midnight, and only by those registered for it, and only roasted by fire.
Talmud, Zevachim 56b
We experience life as an endless chain of urges and striving. We desire something, agonize over our lack of it, and expend our energies and resources in pursuit of it. And when our goal is actually attained, our pleasure and satisfaction are short-lived: already the next striving is forming in our hearts, already the fire of desire is consuming our lives.
We might, at times, envy the tranquility of those who are free of ambition, but it is the relentless seekers whom we admire and emulate. In our own experience, we look upon our periods of agitated quest as the high points of our lives. For we sense that while the tranquil person is at peace with himself, the striving person is relating to something greater than the self, something more than the here and now.
Three Offerings
In the twelfth chapter of Exodus (which is read from the Torah on Shabbat HaChodesh, approximately two weeks before Passover), G-d communicates to Moses the laws of the korban pesach, the Passover offering. When the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple) stood in Jerusalem, every Jewish household (or group of smaller households) would bring a lamb or kid to the Beit HaMikdash on the fourteenth of Nissan, the day preceding the festival of Passover. The lamb would be slaughtered in the Temple courtyard, its blood would be sprinkled on the altar, and certain portions of it would be burned atop the altar. It would then be roasted on a spit over a fire. That night—the first night of Passover—its meat would be eaten with matzah and marror (bitter herbs), together constituting the three staples of the seder.[1]
Various types of korbanot were offered in the Holy Temple, but the Passover offering was unique in many ways, for it was governed by a set of laws that applied to no other offering. Some of these differences are specified in the fifth chapter of the Talmudic tractate of Zevachim, where the Talmud compares the Passover offering with two other korbanot—the “firstborn offering” (korban bechor) and the “tithe offering” (korban maaser).
The Torah commands the Jew to bring the firstborn of his cattle or sheep as an offering to G-d.[2] Also to be offered is a tithe of the animals born in the herd or flock (once a year, the year’s yield were herded into a pen and let out one at a time; every tenth animal to emerge was marked and pronounced holy to G-d, and brought as an offering).[3] The firstborn, tithe, and Passover offerings all belong to a class of korbanot called kodashim kallim, and they resemble each other in the procedure of their offering upon the altar; but the rules pertaining to the eating of the Passover offering differ from those relating to the first two.
The firstborn and the tithe offerings can be eaten for “two days and a night” (on the day it was offered, on the following night, and on the following day until sunset), while the Passover offering can be eaten only on the night following its offering, and only until midnight. Another difference is that the firstborn and the tithe offerings can be prepared in any way the eater desires—boiled, stewed, baked, roasted, etc.—while the Passover offering has to be roasted on a spit over the fire, and cannot be prepared in any other way (not even as a “pot roast” cooked in its own juices with no other liquid added[4]).
For the most part, the Torah speaks of physical objects and actions; but its every word also refers to the spiritual dynamics of our lives. Each law of Torah—each organ and limb of its “body”—has its corresponding element in the “soul” of Torah. The same is true of the above-mentioned laws: the firstborn, tithe and Passover offerings, and the differences between them, all have their counterpart in the inner life of the soul.
First, Last and Over
The teachings of Kabbalah describe our world as founded upon ten divine attributes (sefirot) from which derive the spiritual form and substance of reality. Thus, the number “ten” represents the seder hishtalshelut (literally, the “order of evolution”)—the spiritual order of things that G-d instituted in His creation. “Firstborn” represents chochmah, the first and loftiest phase of the seder hishtalshelut; “tithe” refers to malchut, the last and lowest of the order.[5] Together, the first and the tenth embrace the totality of the created reality.
“Passover,” as its name indicates, relates to that which transcends seder hishtalshelut, that which overleaps the standard processes of creation. The Passover offering is so named in attestation to the fact that G-d “leaped over” the homes of the Jewish firstborn when He killed all Egyptian firstborn on the night of the Exodus,[6] despite the fact that, by all standard criteria, the Jews were no more deserving of life than the Egyptians.[7] Passover is G-d’s disregarding of the very rules by which He ordered His world, and our reciprocation of His deed by rising above the dictates of nature and normalcy in our devotion to Him.
This explains the difference in how the Passover offering is eaten, as opposed to the “firstborn” and “tithe” offerings.
As has already been remarked, life can be viewed as a cycle of striving and realization, yearning and gratification. The common metaphors for these two states are “fire” and “water.” Fire connotes thirst and upward striving; water suggests “settling down” and satiation.
A “normal” life—life as defined by the “order of evolution” from chochmah to malchut—is nourished by both fire and water. Some meals are cooked steeped in the water of contentment; others have lesser degrees of liquid to temper the fire of life; occasionally, one even partakes of a “roast”—a spurt of utter striving, of desire unsated by a single drop of gratification.
The Passover offering, however, can be experienced only one way—roasted on the fire. When a soul reaches for G-d—not for the glimmers of divinity to be found within creation and experienced by conventional spiritual endeavor, but for G-d Himself, as He transcends existence and reality—it is utterly consumed by an unceasing desire. For man can never capture anything of the divine essence. He can only strive for it, his soul a pure fire, with nary a drop of water to slake his thirst, without even a “pot” to contain his fervor.
Nighttime Meal
The firstborn and tithe offerings were eaten for “two days and a night.” The Passover offering was eaten only at night.
In the course of our history, we have experienced days of divine light, as well as nights of spiritual darkness. Generally speaking, there were two “daytime” eras—the periods in which the first, and then the second, Beit HaMikdash manifested the divine presence in our world.[8] Between these two days was a brief night—the seventy-year Babylonian galut, when the Holy Temple lay in ruins and the people of Israel were exiled from the Holy Land. Following the sunset of the second day, we were plunged into the blackest of nights—into our current centuries-long galut, rife with suffering and persecution, confounded by doubt and spiritual dissonance and marked by the near-total concealment of the face of G-d.
A “normal” relationship with G-d could be had only on the “two days and a night” that preceded our present galut. These were times in which G-d showed Himself to man—even in Babylon we had prophets and other expressions of divine immanence. But when the sun set on the second day, the flesh of the “firstborn” and “tithe” offerings could no longer be eaten. No longer could the divine truth be experienced within the workings of nature or accessed by the conventional processes of spiritual endeavor. No longer could man experience gratification in his spiritual life, for a glimpse of the Divine had become an elusive dream.
In this night of nights,[9] man’s striving for the Divine is an unquenchable fire, an unrealized yearning, an unconsummated love. But for that very reason, it is deeper and truer than the fire-and-water concoctions of the past. In this night of nights, our yearning for G-d is not focused upon first or tenth attributes or filtered through “orders of evolution.” In this night of nights, our yearning for G-d is not mitigated by plateaus of gratification. It passes over all systems and processes to strive for the very essence of G-d—an endless striving for the most endless of objectives.
Based on an (undated) entry in the Rebbe’s journal[10]
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.
[1]. Today, the meat of the Passover offering is represented at the sederby the afikoman, a piece of matzah eaten at the end of the meal.
[2]. Exodus 13:2, 12; Deuteronomy 15:19.
[4]. Tosafot on Talmud, Pesachim 41a, s.v. ikka; Rashi, ibid., s.v. tzli kadar.
[5]. Thus the firstborn offering was eaten by the kohanim, who represent the higher, more spiritual callings of life (see Mishneh Torah, Laws of Shemittah and Yovel, 13:13), while the tithe offering was eaten by the farmer who brought it, representing the “lowest,” or most material, stratum of creation.
[6]. Exodus 12:27; Passover Haggadah, s.v. pesach zu.
[7]. Zohar Chadash, beginning of Yitro; Yalkut Reuveni, Shemot 14:27; Zohar, part II, 36; ibid., 170b (see Midnight, WIR, vol. VI, no. 19).
[8]. The first Beit HaMikdash stood for 410 years, from the year 2928 from creation (833 bce) to 3338 (423 bce). The Second Temple stood for 420 years, from 3408 (353 bce) dates to 3829 (69 ce).
[9]. The Passover offering can be eaten “only until midnight.” In Kabbalistic teaching, the first half of the night is its harsher part, in which the attribute of gevurah (“severity”) dominates (see Midnight, WIR vol. VI, no. 19).
Tags: sacrifices and offerings, Beis Hamikdash, absolute truth, self-development, passover, sefirot, body and soul, Jewish law, Divine energy
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June 25th, 2015
A 1934 year old system that teaches us how to deal with destruction, consolation and renewal
– Week 3 –
The drama thickens. We now enter the saddest nine days of the year, the third and final of the Three Weeks, concluding with Tisha B’Av, which marks the tragic day both Temples were destroyed.
But even as we enter this dark period, we are comforted by the fact that precisely in this time, when the ‘light’ becomes entirely concealed and the ‘teacher’ falls completely silent as he withdraws into the deepest recesses of his mind, the greatest revelation is being born (see last week’s essay).
Indeed, the Nine Days begin with Rosh Chodosh Menachem Av (the new moon of the month of Av). Menachem means ‘to comfort.’ We are comforted by G-d – and we comfort each other – in these difficult times. As the new moon is born we do not immediately see its light. It will take fifteen days for the moon to grow into a full illuminating sphere; but when it does it becomes the greatest holiday of the year (the 15th of Av which the Mishne describes as being a holiday like no other), because light born out of darkness can never be extinguished.
In these days Moses has returned to Sinai (for what would be the second period of Moses being on the mountain for 40 days) to beseech G-d that He forgive the people for their grave sin of the Golden Calf. Down below we do not see and hear; but above true hope is being hatched – hope that would enter our hemisphere on Yom Kippur (at the conclusion of the third period of 40 days).
Finally, the final and last Shabbos before Tisha b’Av is called Shabbos Chazon, literally the ‘Shabbos of Vision’ (named after the first word of this week’s haftorah about Isaiah’s prophetic vision). Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev tells us that on this Shabbos everyone is shown ‘from afar’ the third Holy Temple, in order to inspire and motivate us to do our part in preparing ourselves and the world for the great revelation of the Third Temple in the final Redemption.
Again, we see how the greatest structure and revelation is being born in the throes of loss and destruction.
The big question is: What can we do to facilitate the process? True, these teachings are wonderful philosophies, informing us that the deepest growth is achieved in pain and loss and we should therefore not be demoralized by the darkness. But it’s ‘easier said than done;’ when we find ourselves at a loss in emotional pain, philosophy simply isn’t enough. A mind cannot speak to a bleeding heart. What can we then do when we have experienced trauma? How can we concretely access the deeper light that lies within the shadows?
To help us answer this question we have with us two great leaders, whose yahrzeits we observe and comfort us during these Nine gloomy days: Aaron the High Priest and the holy Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria), whose yahrzeits are respectively on Rosh Chodosh Av and the 5th of Av.
Of all luminaries, why are these two yahrzeits in this particular time period?
In times of crisis we are in need of the most powerful strengths and most vital tools to endure and grow through our challenging experiences.
Aaron the High Priest and the Arizal were distinguished in their ability to unite all the people. When Aaron passed away, the Torah states that the ‘entire nation cried’ and mourned after him – a statement that is reserved for Aaron alone, distinguishing him even from Moses. Rashi explains that Aaron was a pursuer of peace, he fostered love between all the people and as such was beloved and remembered by the entire nation.
The Arizal was a unique phenomenon of his own, perhaps unprecedented in history as one who united all factions and denominations.
And this is no small feat. Historically we always find different schools of thought within Judaism. The school of Shammai and the school of Hillel is the classical example. The entire Talmud is essentially a document driven by differing if not opposing views. Diversity in Torah is not seen as a negative, but actually a fundamentally positive force. We are not discussing petty, political and ego-driven disputes, nor are we addressing arguments driven by people’s personal opinions. But even within the framework of Torah discussion, indeed the Torah process itself is built upon dialogue, disagreement, challenges and counter challenges. The fundamental basics are indisputable as is the halacha, the final ruling on any given matter. However, like musical notes, the essential notes are unwavering, yet music is a result of the infinite combinations of these notes.
Torah scholarship in all generations is characterized by the variety of opinions. Teachers and leaders were not always unilaterally embraced right from the outset. Even Moses was not initially accepted by the Jewish people, and even after he was, we still find the insurgent Korach and other dissenters.
There were scholars who opposed Maimonides (Rambam), to the extent that some of his books were burned! (Maimonides was not universally accepted until Nachmanides (Ramban) came out with a strong defense on his behalf). Same with the Baal Shem Tov.
Among the few exceptions – if not the only exception is the holy Arizal. Though he lived a mere 38 years (1534-1572), and all his teachings took place in a period of 20 months (!), all the great leaders and scholars of the time, including many his senior, embraced him immediately as an absolute authority. To this day the Arzial remains the pre-eminent and final authority in all areas of Jewish mysticism and also halacha. Ashkenazim and Sefardim, Chassidim and Misnagdim, Litivish or not – everyone embraced the Arizal. His many students include Reb Chaim Vital, The Alsheich, the Beis Yosef (Reb Yosef Karo), compiler of the Shulchan Aruch. The Mogen Avraham (Shulchan Aruch gloss) cites the Arizal countless times in matters of law universally accepted today.
The Arizal’s unifying achievement is absolutely amazing considering how rare it is to find unanimous approval of anyone even in early generations, let alone in later ones. Here’s a man, whose 430rd yahrzeit we honor this year, who united all Jews from all backgrounds and beliefs, and achieved this in 20 months!
[I have not completed my research on the topic, and would appreciate comments from any reader for more examples of leaders universally and immediately accepted].
What was unique about the Arizal that caused this unprecedented acceptance and unification?
No mortal can presume to know the complete answer. Yet, perhaps we can be enlightened by looking for another unifying leader: The Talmudic sage and mystic, Rabbi Shimeon Bar Yochai. Rebbe Shimeon was one of the few students of Rabbi Akiva who survived the plague that struck 30,000 of his colleagues as a result of their disrespect for each other. Rebbe Shimeon was a prime example of his master, Rabbi Akiva’s fundamental teaching: “Love your fellow as yourself – this is the cardinal principle of Torah.”
Throughout the Talmud we find that Rebbe Shimeon had unique attributes which made him stand out among all his colleagues. And like the Arizal, Rebbe Shimeon is a unifying force – his yahrzeit on Lag B’Omer is celebrated by Jews of all backgrounds. His is the only yahrzeit that has become a holiday among all the people.
What was the uniqueness of the Rashbi (Rebbe Shimeon Bar Yochai) and what commonality does he share with the Arizal?
Both of them openly united and integrated both dimensions of Torah –the esoteric and the exoteric, the Talmudic and the mystical – the body and soul of Torah. Rashbi is both one of the greatest Talmud scholars and the author of the Zohar, the classical work of Kabbalah. Same with the Arizal.
True unity and love is only possible when we connect with the soul. Materialism divides. Spirituality unites. The physical – the corporeal – is inherently divisive. Everything material occupies its space (and time), and thus precludes another from occupying its space. If you give some of your material possessions to another, you have less quantitatively. Qualitatively – spiritually – you however become wealthier. Spirit unites. Two people can occupy different spaces but their soul, which transcends space (and time) unites them as one.
Even in Torah we must connect the study of the “body” of Torah with its soul. As the Talmud tells us, one who studies Torah and forgets to acknowledge G-d through the blessing on Torah will ultimately forsake the Torah! Strong words… Words that would serve us well and we should take to heart as we witness far too many abuses of Torah law, and people living perhaps by the letter of the law but entirely missing its spirit. It therefore should be no wonder that when the soul of Torah is missing or not integrated with its body, Torah can cause people to be divisive and even obnoxious (“novel b’rshus ha’Torah”) or hateful to others. When the soul is missing, when G-d is taken out of the picture, Torah itself is fundamentally compromised and lost.
The Rashbi and the Arizal united the ‘body and soul’ of Torah, so they also united the body and soul of people – and thus united all people, regardless of background and school of thought.
Of all days of the year, this message of unity is necessary more than ever in the loneliest Nine Days of the year. When we experience loss, what is even worse than the initial pain is the loneliness it creates. We feel alone in the world. The book of Lamentations (Eicha) recited on Tisha B’Av begins: “Eicha yoshvo bodod,” “Oh, how [sad it is that] she sits alone…”
Aaron and the Arizal (whose yahrzeits are in these days) teach us – in the difficult Nine Days – what it takes to reverse pain and destruction (as does the Rashbi on Lag B’Omer during the other sad period of the calendar: the 49 days of Omer between Passover and Shavuot). The Temple was destroyed because of ‘baseless hatred.’ The antidote is ‘baseless love.’ By connecting to our own soul and the soul of others we learn to transcend our material pettiness, our superficial differences, and embrace each other as one. Looking at another’s physical being alone does not unite us. We may even be repulsed by another’s appearance or behavior. By looking at the other’s soul – and recognizing its Divine features – we can learn to love everyone.
In these Nine Days we should all intensify our Torah study, particularly the ‘soul’ of Torah (as taught by the Arizal), and in charity – both which unite us with each other. When we study spirituality it broaden our horizons, helping us transcend our differences.
Raise you eyes, set your sights to higher spiritual vistas, and you will find your ability to co-exist and to love – both yourself and others – grow in direct proportion to your own spiritual awareness.
So, here’s the answer to the question: What can each of us do to access the inner light in times of darkness? We can – and must – become more spiritual and more loving. “Be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving your fellow creatures, and bringing them near to the Torah.” Our loving acts open up the inner resources that lay hidden in the Nine Days.
With all that is going on in the world today, what better message is there than this, and what better messengers do we have than Aaron and the Arizal?
They are here with us during the Nine Days. Are we accessing them?
Tags: materialism, unity, Maimonides, Tisha B'Av
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Devarim, Weekly Parsha, Soul & Mystical, Months & Holidays, Religion, Beliefs & Concepts, Devarim, Spiritual, Moshiach & Redemption, Torah, Av | No Comments »
June 25th, 2015
“These are the words that Moses spoke to all of Israel on the [eastern] bank of the Jordan, in the desert, on the plain, opposite Suf, between Paran, Tofel, Lavan, Chatzeirot and Di Zahav.”
Thus opens the book of Deuteronomy, which relates Moses’ final message to the people of Israel, delivered in the thirty-seven days that preceded his passing. Here Moses recounts the events of the past forty years and restates Israel’s covenant with G-d at Mount Sinai, where G-d chose them as His people and they committed themselves to His Torah.
Moses’ address also includes words of rebuke to Israel, in which he reminds them of the occasions when their behavior was wanting. Indeed, our sages explain that all the “landmarks” referred to in the opening verse (“the desert,” “the plain,” “Suf,” “Paran,” etc.) are actually allusions to various sins committed by Israel during their forty-year journey from Egypt to the Holy Land.
Said one of the chassidic masters: “This is why the Torah emphasizes that ‘These are the words that Moses spoke to all of Israel.’ It was only to the people of Israel that Moses spoke of their iniquities and failings. To G-d, Moses spoke only of the virtues of Israel, and justified them no matter what they did.”
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: Moses, rebuke, Yanki Tauber
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June 25th, 2015
Rabban Gamliel the son of Rabbi Judah HaNassi would say… Be careful of the government, for they befriend a person only for their own needs. They appear to be friends when it is beneficial to them, but they do not stand by a person at the time of his distress.
Ethics of the Fathers 2:3
Good advice for anyone lobbying for a cause among the wielders and brokers of power, and as pertinent today as when offered eighteen centuries ago. But Rabban Gamliel is not only speaking to community leaders and political activists, but to each and every one of us, including those fortunate enough never to have had any dealings with the government. What is his message to those of us whose involvement in politics is confined to the governance of the “miniature city”[11] that is man?
Indeed, the individual human being is a virtual “city” of thoughts, feelings and deeds, each with its own momentum and trajectory, converging, interacting and clashing with one another. What gives it all coherence and unity is the government of the city—the intellect and instincts which are the authorities in a person’s life.[12] As is the case with all governments, this internal authority is crucial, indeed indispensable: without it the city of man would be reduced to a chaotic mob. But as is also the case with all governments, it is profoundly selfish, its every act motivated solely by self-interest and geared solely toward self-perpetuation.
One must avail oneself of this government. But one must also deeply mistrust it, being aware of its self-bias. One must repeatedly challenge oneself: am I doing this because it is the right thing to do, or because it serves my selfish interests?
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Iyar 1, 5739 (April 28, 1979)[13]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[11]. Ecclesiastes 9:14, as per Talmud, Nedarim 32b; Tanya, ch. 9.
[12]. Cf. Zohar, part II, 153a: “There are three governors [within man]: the mind, the heart and the liver.”
[13]. Biurim L’Pirkei Avot (Kehot, 1996), p. 95.
Tags: government, politics, Yanki Tauber
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June 25th, 2015
The following is a free translation of a letter by the Rebbe dated Nissan, 5724 (March-April, 1964):[14]
In answer to your query, in which you ask to explain the concept of shechinah (the divine immanence; lit. “indwelling”), which is mentioned many times in the teachings of our sages:
The concept is extensively expounded upon, particularly in the books and discourses of chassidic teachings—you can look it up in the indices published in the back of Tanya, Torah Ohr, Likkutei Torah and other works. Here I will offer a brief explanation, obviously not a comprehensive one, as space does not allow.
Since G-d is the ultimate perfection and is free of all limitations and definitions, it is self-evident that, in the words of the Alter Rebbe,[15] “The fact that He creates universes does not express what G-d is.”[16] At the same time, He is, as Maimonides writes in his Laws of the Fundamentals of Torah, “the one who brings every existence into being; all existences exist only as derivatives of His ultimate existence” and the one whom “all existences are utterly dependent upon Him.” It is also obvious that just as no creature can comprehend the nature of G-d’s creation of reality ex nihilo, so, too, no creature can comprehend the nature of G-d, even the nature of G-d as the creator of the world and the source of every existence.
In the words of the great Jewish philosophers: “If I knew Him, I would be Him.”[17]
So though a person realizes and understands that no thing can create itself, and that one must therefore conclude that the created reality has a source that generates its existence, this is only proof of the existence of the Creator, not an understanding of what He is, even as “Creator.”
Nevertheless, G-d desired that the divine influences upon creation… and the divine immanence in the world should also include elements that the human mind can comprehend. In the words of the sweet singer of Israel,[18] “When I see Your heavens, the work of Your fingers…”[19] Indeed, this includes an instruction to man regarding the service of his Creator: “Lift your eyes upward, and see who created these…”[20] (As the Alter Rebbe elaborates on this verse in a discourse that is also the basis of Sefer Hachakirah, authored by his grandson, the Tzemach Tzedek.[21])
This aspect of the divine reality—that which pervades our world to the extent that it can be discovered by G-d’s creatures—is what is meant by the term shechinah, i.e., that which dwells within and enclothes itself.
It is important to emphasize that one cannot categorize the divine reality into various aspects or areas, G-d forbid; it is only that from the perspective of the contemplating creature, there are things that he can comprehend and things that he cannot comprehend. In truth, however, there are no categories, in the plural, but a singular, utterly abstract reality.
Consider the soul of man: obviously, it is not divisible into 248, 365 or 613[22] components; nevertheless, the observing eye differentiates between the vitality of the foot and the vitality of the brain, though both are of a single essence—the soul that vitalizes the body. How much more so (to distinguish ad infinitum) is it so regarding the divine reality. Thus, when we say that the shechinah is present in the Holy Temple, this is not to say, G-d forbid, that only that “aspect” of the divine that is called shechinah is there, but to stress that there the divine reality is present in such a way that it “dwells within” and “clothes itself” to the extent that it is observable with our physical eyes, in the fact that “the space of the ark did not take up space,”[23] in the ten miracles that regularly occurred in the Holy Temple,[24] and so on.
As we said, the above is but one approach to explain the concept of shechinah; many other approaches, and many other points in this approach itself, are elaborated in a number of books and discourses of chassidic teaching.
My hope is that you have set times for the study of the teachings ofchassidut every day, and to an even greater extent on Shabbat, the day sanctified to G-d.
With esteem and blessings for a happy and kosher Passover,
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[14]. Igrot Kodesh, vol. XXIII, pp. 165-167.
[15]. Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, 1745-1812.
[16]. Torah Ohr, Esther 99b, et al.
[17]. Guide for the Perplexed, 1:58; Ikkarim 42:30; Midrash Shmuel 6:7.
[21]. Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch, 1789-1866. In his Sefer Hachakirah Rabbi Menachem Mendel explores the nature of the created reality and what it can tell us about its Creator.
[22]. The human body contains 248 organs and 365 blood vessels, making a total of 613 distinct components, corresponding to the 248 positive commandments and 365 prohibitions of the Torah (Midrash Tanchuma [hakadum], Ki Teitzei; see Tanya, chapters 4 and 51).
[23]. Talmud, Yoma 21a. The ark (containing the Two Tablets on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed by the hand of G-d) stood in the most sacred chamber in the Holy Temple, the “Holy of Holies.” The ark measured 2.5 cubits by 1.5 cubits (1 cubit = approx. 20 in.), and the Holy of Holies measured 20 cubits by 20 cubits. Nevertheless, the space from each of the ark’s outer walls to the opposite wall of the Holy of Holies measured a full 10 cubits. In other words, while the ark was a physical object of a definitive physical size, it did not take up any of the space of the room in which it stood. This expressed the truth that while G-d transcends all limits and definitions, He also transcends the very concepts of infinity and transcendence—He cannot be defined as “infinite” or “transcendent” any more than He can be defined as “finite” or “immanent.”
[24]. Ethics of the Fathers 5:5.
Tags: Divine energy, awe of G-d, Yanki Tauber
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June 25th, 2015
And G-d spoke to Moses and to Elazar the son of Aaron the Priest, saying: “Count the heads of the entire community of Israel…”
Numbers 26:1-2
Every ten years, the United States government conducts a census of the population. Thousands of census-takers visit every household in the nation to record the number of persons living there, their ages, and other statistical information.
Who conducts the count? High school students, unemployed and partially employed individuals—people with time on their hands or in need of a few extra dollars. This, after all, is work requiring no greater skills than knowing how to count and filling out a simple form. Of course, the data they gather is later analyzed by trained statisticians and other professionals; but the counting itself can, and is, done by virtually anyone.
Three times in the forty years between the Exodus and Israel’s entry into the Holy Land, G-d instructed that a census be taken of the children of Israel. And who was instructed to conduct the count? Moses! Moses, who received the Torah from G-d at Sinai, whose mind was deemed equal to receiving the divine truth of truths and transmitting it to humanity; Moses, who sat every day, all day, from morning to evening, conducting the affairs of the nation and serving as their chief jurist and judge; Moses, the greatest teacher and prophet of all time, was instructed to go from tent to tent in the Israelite camp to tally how many individuals between the ages of 20 and 60 resided there.
Of course, no single individual could visit 600,000 households. Moses needed helpers. And who was appointed to assist him? Aaron, second in stature only to Moses, and, in the third count, conducted after Aaron’s passing, Aaron’s son Elazar, who succeeded his father as High Priest. And since the leader of Israel and the highest-ranking member of its priesthood required further assistance, who were there to enlist? The twelve nesi’im(princes), leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel.[17]
Counting numbers may be a relatively simple task. But when it is people who are being counted—when each number represents a unique and holy soul—it is a task that must be conducted with sensitivity, reverence and trepidation. It is a task that requires a Moses.
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Iyar 28, 5745 (May 19, 1985)
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[17]. Numbers 1:3-4; ibid. 26:1.
Tags: counting, High Priest, Aaron, the twelve tribes, exodus, community, leader, Jewish nation, Moses, desert, soul, Numbers
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June 25th, 2015
Can spiritual concepts be expressed in everyday language? Or must they be discussed only in somber tones and sacred whispers, if they are even discussed at all? For many of us, spiritual literature seems hopelessly out of touch with our everyday experience. We associate “sacred texts” with yellowed, crumbling prayer books written in archaic language, or faded scrolls with barely decipherable hieroglyphics. But does sacred literature necessarily need to be so remote and estranged from reality? Is there anything incongruous about discussing G-dliness and spirituality using down-to-earth language and examples drawn from real life?
When we discuss G-d in personally relevant terms, we invite Him into the core of our lives, rather than relegating Him to the periphery of our existence. Yet it can be argued that toning down the reverence too much can easily lead to flippancy and lack of respect for truly sublime matters. A certain distance must be maintained in order to preserve the sanctity of the subject matter. We cannot lose sight of our own puniness and ignorance in relation to truly lofty and Divine matters, and start creating G-d in our own image.
The fine line between making G-d accessible to human understanding, as opposed to humanizing Him altogether, has been discussed since Talmudic times. It once happened that five scholars were commissioned by King Ptolemy to translate the Torah into Greek. That day, says the Talmud , was “as ominous for Israel as the day on which the Golden Calf was made, since the Torah could not be accurately translated.” Yet we find in the Torah that before crossing the Jordan River to enter the land of Israel, Moshe explained the Torah in seventy languages . Furthermore, he charged the Jewish people that upon crossing the Jordan, they were to inscribe the entire Torah on stones , in seventy languages . If the Torah had already been rendered in seventy languages, why was the Greek translation considered to be so devastating?
What is the relationship between the Ptolemeic translation of the Torah and the sin of the Golden Calf? Note that the Talmud does not make the comparison to “the day the Golden Calf was served,” but rather “the day the Golden Calf was made.” Initially, the Jewish people were not seeking an object for idol-worship. They were only looking for a leader to take the place of Moshe, who they wrongly presumed had died on Mount Sinai. Just as G-d appointed Moses as his agent to redeem the Jews from Egypt, they hoped that the Golden Calf would also serve as some sort of intercessor between the Jewish People and G-d. They felt the need for a tangible representative to help them bridge the distance between their earthly existence and G-d.
In Judaism, every person is able and is expected to build a relationship with G-d without any go-betweens. Why, then, is there the need for any leadership whatsoever? G-d desires us to relate to Him on real life terms, to understand Him with our minds and love Him with all the love our human, fleshly hearts can generate. G-d therefore chooses a leader, a tzaddik, who, through his personal conduct and example, becomes a living manifestation of G-dliness to whom we can all relate and emulate.
The Jews wanted to carry this one step further. They argued that G-d’s revelation need not be limited to the human level, and can be expressed through the animal kingdom as well. On Mount Sinai, the Jews perceived G-d descending to the mountain on a chariot borne by angels with four faces, one of which was that of an ox. They attempted to capture this spiritual vision in a tangible form.
Their mistake lay in their inept “translation” of a G-dly vision into physical matter. Such a representation cannot be made without an explicit divine instruction. Physical matter becomes invested with G-dly energy only through a direct command of G-d. The consummate example of this is the construction of the Tabernacle, where divine energy flowed through the ark topped with the cherubim. Since its construction was divinely ordained, it became a conduit for G-dliness and was utterly nullified before G-d. But any attempt on our part to convert spirituality into physical form, guided only by our own perception, is doomed to failure. Since it represents not G-d’s will, but only our own limited conception of G-dliness, it actually results in a separation between us and G-d.
When the Torah is translated into a foreign language, there is a similar risk that our human interpretation will cloud over the divine meaning of the words. Hence the statement of the Sages that the Ptolomeic Greek translation of the Torah was “as ominous as the day the Golden Calf was made.” Indeed when the translation is divinely commissioned, as was the case on the bank of the Jordan River, there was no possibility of distortion.
What is the lesson to be derived from these two events? Should the story of the Golden Calf serve as a deterrent, to keep us from ever attempting to relate to G-d on our own terms? It is obvious that G-d does desire that we draw Him into our world, as evidenced by the fact that Moses himself translated the Torah into seventy languages. The Golden Calf serves only as a vivid example of what can go awry when we base our interpretations on our own understanding, without deferring to Torah authority.
In our generation, we have an unprecedented capacity to make Torah accessible in all languages, to individuals and populations that have never been reached before. We can choose to balk at this opportunity, citing our own unworthiness and the crassness of the world at large. Or we can use the impetus to communicate the values and ideals of the Torah in all languages, each on its own terms. G-d will be truly revealed in this world when all people, from every perspective, are able to acknowledge His presence and study His teachings.
Our efforts in this direction can serve to nullify the negative effects of the Golden Calf. Their original intention of drawing closer to G-d (although through improper means) can be redirected to its proper source by our intense efforts at making G-d manifest in this world under terms sanctioned by the Torah. One of the descriptions of the Messianic era is when G-d will “make the peoples pure of speech so that they will all call upon the name of G-d and serve Him with one purpose ”. Then the days of mourning , beginning from the 17th of Tamuz and culminating in the 9th of Av , will be transformed into days of rejoicing and holidays, G-d willing, with the coming of our Righteous Moshiach.
Based on a talk from the Rebbe
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Chaya Shuchat.
Tags: golden calf, language, Chaya Shuchat
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June 25th, 2015
There were no greater festivals for Israel than the 15th of Av and Yom Kippur. On these days the daughters of Jerusalem would go out … and dance in the vineyards. And what would they say? “Young man, raise your eyes and see whom you select for yourself….”
And so it is written, “Go out, daughters of Zion, and see King Solomon,[1]in the crown with which his mother crowned him on his wedding day and on the day of his heart’s rejoicing”.[2] “His wedding day” – this is the Giving of the Torah; “the day of his heart’s rejoicing” – this is the building of the Holy Temple, which shall be rebuilt speedily in our days
Talmud, Taanit 26b
It is no coincidence that Yom Kippur and the 15th of Av served as occasions for matchmaking for the young men and women of Jerusalem: these two days are the respective betrothal and marriage[3] dates of G-d and Israel. Yom Kippur – the day on which the Second Tablets were given to Moses, marking the completion of the covenant at Mount Sinai[4] – is the day of Israel’s betrothal to G-d. The 15th of Av – the day that represents the rebirth which follows the great fall of Holy Temple’s destruction on the 9th of Av[5] – celebrates the ultimate consummation of our marriage with the final Redemption of Moshiach.
After relating how “the daughters of Jerusalem would go out … and dance in the vineyards,” and that “whoever did not have a wife would go there” to find himself a bride, the Talmud goes on to describe three different categories of “daughters” and how each would call out to her prospective bridegroom:
What would the beautiful ones among them say? “Look for beauty, for a woman is for beauty.”
What would those of prestigious lineage say? “Look for family, for a woman is for children.”
What would the ugly ones say? “Make your acquisition for the sake of Heaven, as long as you decorate us with jewels.”[6]
The marriage of G-d and Israel also includes these three categories of “brides.” Amongst the souls of Israel are “beautiful” souls, souls “of prestigious lineage,” and “ugly” souls, and each type contributes its unique dimension to our relationship with G-d.
Love
There are two kinds of love, say the Chassidic masters. There is a love that is generated by the person’s own mind and heart, when he dwells upon the beloved’s greatness and desirability and thereby develops feelings of love and attraction to it. Then there is an inborn love: a love that a person has not created himself – indeed, he may be unaware that he possesses it – but which resides in his heart from birth, a natural bond and attraction that is implanted in his soul by virtue of who and what he is.
“You shall love G-d”[7] is a crucial component of our relationship with the Almighty. Aside from the fact that loving G-d is one of the 613 mitzvot (divine commandment), it is also a prerequisite for the proper observance of all the mitzvot. Mitzvot which are not motivated by a love of G-d are performed mechanically and erratically; only one who loves G-d serves Him in a manner that is both integral and enduring.[8]
Our love for G-d also comes in the two forms described above. By studying what G-d has revealed about Himself in His Torah and contemplating and meditating upon these truths, one develops a feeling of love toward Him – a desire to approach His great and magnificent being, to unite and become one with Him. Indeed, this is one of the primary functions of prayer, “the service of the heart”[9]: to generate a feeling of love for the Creator by meditating on His greatness and majesty.
But also the person who does not succeed in creating a “self-generated” love by these means can attain a love of G-d, by resorting to the inborn love for Him we each possess as “an inheritance from our forefathers.”[10]Abraham, the first Jew, was the very embodiment of divine love (“Abraham, who loves Me,”[11] in G-d’s words to Isaiah), and G-d rewarded him with the gift of “fatherhood” – the ability to bequeath this love to his descendants. So each and every Jew has Abraham’s love of G-d encoded in his spiritual genes. As with all inborn characteristics, this love may be buried in the subconscious, stifled by the dross of material life; but it can always be wakened and called upon to stimulate and vitalize our observance of the mitzvot.
The advantages of the second type of love are obvious. Every Jew possesses it – and the ability to realize it – regardless of the extent of his cognitive and meditative skills or his spiritual sensitivity. Furthermore, a self-generated love will always be limited by the finite capacities of the mind and heart which have created it, and will fluctuate in accordance with the person’s mental and emotional state at any given moment; our inborn love, being divinely granted, is infinite and unequivocal.
But there are advantages to self-generated love as well. Though lesser in essence and scope, it is more keenly felt, more exuberantly experienced. For such is our nature: what we create is more precious to us than the most valuable endowment, what we conceive of ourselves is somehow more relevant and real than what is learned from the greatest master. So although the stimulation of our inherited love for G-d would suffice to drive our observance of the mitzvot, we should nevertheless strive to enhance our relationship with Him with the ecstasy and passion that only a love created by our own faculties and initiative can bring. In the words of our sages, “Although a fire came down [on the Altar] from the heavens, it is imperative to also kindle a man-made fire.”[12]
The Sallow-Skinned Bride
Therein lies the deeper significance of the Talmud’s description of how “the beautiful ones,” “those of prestigious lineage” and “the ugly ones” among the daughters of Jerusalem conducted their courtship dance in the vineyards on the 15th of Av.
The dancing maidens of Jerusalem calling out their virtues to their prospective bridegrooms echo the call of the souls of Israel to their Divine Groom. Among these are the beautiful souls, those who have achieved a “best of both worlds” perfection in their love of the Almighty: a passionate, self-generated love set upon the foundation of inherited love. “A woman is for beauty,” call these souls to G-d; take us as Your bride, and You will be rewarded by the pleasure You derive when Your creations realize the potential for perfection You have invested in them.
Then there are the souls of “prestigious lineage.” We cannot offer you the flawless beauty of our perfect sisters, they call to G-d, but we have unearthed the hereditary love You have implanted in us. “A woman is for children”: our relationship might not, as of yet, yield beauty, but it will bear fruit – the mitzvot generated by our natural love for You. For is not Your ultimate purpose in creation that Your creations fulfill your will? Our love for you might not excite our senses and illuminate our lives, but we offer You the rewards of family – the good deeds that are the tangible, enduring offspring of Israel’s commitment to her Creator.[13]
And the ugly ones? Those who have neither roused their minds and hearts to desire their Creator, nor wakened their hereditary loyalty to Him? Those who never created a self-generated love and whose inborn love lies dormant beneath a husk of apathy and iniquity? They cry: “Make Your acquisition for the sake of Heaven!”
“Do it for Your sake, if not for ours,”[14] call the “ugly” souls of Israel. Take us as Your own, despite our appearance, because only You know what lies behind our appearance; only You know the truth of what You can inspire in us. For You know that, in truth, “The daughters of Israel are beautiful, it is only that poverty obscures their beauty.”[15] You know that our “ugliness” is not our true essence, but imposed upon us by the spiritual poverty of galut.
If we have failed to realize our potential for beauty and fruitfulness, then it is left to You to “decorate us with jewels” – to shower us with the gifts that will waken our quintessential bond to You and bring to light our innate perfection.
Based on a letter by the Rebbe, Tevet 9, 5722 (December 16, 1961)[16]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[1] In the metaphoric language of Song of Songs, “King Solomon” is a reference to G-d, “the King whom peace (shalom) is His.”
[3] According to Torah law, the marital union between husband and wife consists of two stages: kiddushin (“consecration” or “betrothal”) and nissu’in (“marriage”). As we have elaborated on another occasion (Yes and No, WIR, vol. X, no. 36), the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai constituted the kiddushin in the marriage of G-d and Israel, while the ultimate consummation of our union awaits the rebuilding of our eternal home in the age of Moshiach.
[4] See the essays The 120-Day Version of the Human Story (WIR, vol. X, no. 1) and Daughters Far and Near (ibid., Issue no. 3).
[5] See The Day of the Breaking of the Ax, (WIR, vol. IX, no. 45).
[9] Talmud, Taanit 2a. One of the meanings of the Hebrew word for prayer, tefillah, is “attachment.”
[11] Isaiah 41:8; cf. Sefer HaBahir (quoted in Pardes, portal 22, ch. 4): “The attribute of chessed (divine benevolence and love) said to G-d: ‘Master of the Universe! From the day that Abraham is in the world, there is no need for me to do my work, as Abraham fills my role.'”
[13] Cf. Pesikta Zutrati on Genesis 6:9: “The offspring of the righteous are good deeds.”
[14] From the selichot prayers.
[15] Talmud, Nedarim 66a.
[16] Likkutei Sichot, vol. IX, pp. 261-263; see also Tanya, chs. 3 and 16-18. The three categories described here correspond to the tzaddik, beinoni and rasha as classified by Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi in the first eighteen chapters of his Tanya.
Tags: True love, Yom Kippur, Yanki Tauber, marriage, beauty, love of G-d
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June 25th, 2015
Citing the verse, “You shall keep the commandment, the decrees and the judgments which I command you today to do them,”[1] the Talmud interprets: “today to do them, and not to do them tomorrow; today to do them, and tomorrow to receive their reward.”[2] In other words, the mitzvot of the Torah were commanded to be observed in this world, but not in the “world to come” —the world that is to follow the messianic era. In the words of the Talmudic sage Rav Yosef, “The mitzvot will be nullified in the world to come.”[3]
However, there are many talmudic and midrashic passages which clearly imply that the laws of the Torah will continue to be observed in the future world of Moshiach.[4] The Jerusalem Talmud explicitly states that “The laws (halachot) of the Torah will never be nullified.”[5] Indeed, the eternality and immutability of the Torah’s laws is one of the most basic principles of the Jewish faith.[6]
Function and Essence
The key to the resolution of this apparent contradiction lies in a difference in the choice of words between the above-quoted statements. Rav Yosef tells us that “The mitzvot will be nullified in the world to come,” while the Jerusalem Talmud states that “The laws of the Torah (halachot sheba’Torah) will never be nullified.”
Generally speaking, there are two aspects of the Torah. On one level, the Torah is “G-d’s blueprint for creation”[7]—the divine vision of how life is to be lived on earth. On this level, we say that the Torah comes “to refine and bring merit to”[8] [“merit” by itself is a noun] man and his world—to sanctify physical life and develop it into a receptacle for the divine truth.
Ultimately, however, the Torah cannot be defined as a program for life. The Torah is the divine will, and the will of G-d cannot be defined by something that He has created. We cannot say, “G-d wants ‘x’ because it is beneficial to human life”; we can only say “G-d wants ‘x.’ Therefore it is beneficial to human life.” There cannot be a reason for G-d’s desire, for that would mean that something outside of Himself is the cause of something within Him. Thus our sages have said that “the Torah preceded the world.”[9] Essentially, Torah is the pure will of G-d; any reasons or benefits associated with the divine law are only “garments” that clothe its supra-rational essence as it enters our perception and experience.
Therein lies the distinction between the term “mitzvot” and “laws of the Torah.” Mitzvah means “commandment,” implying the existence of an “other” [or, “someone outside of the commander”] who is being (and needs to be) commanded. Thus the term “mitzvah” relates to the pragmatic function of Torah: to impose a code of behavior upon an imperfect world—a world that is separate from, and at times even in conflict with, its Creator.
The word “mitzvah” also means “connection,”[10] implying a higher function to the mitzvah: to connect the commanded mortal with the divine commander. But a connection, by definition, is the link between two otherwise separate entities; so the mitzvah as the agent of connection between G-d and man also implies a purpose extrinsic to the divine essence of Torah’s laws.
“The laws of the Torah,” on the other hand, is a reference to the divine will per se, unencumbered by purpose or objective. A commandment is not a commandment unless it is issued to another (or, an “other”), a connection is not a connection unless it is connecting another; in contrast, a “law” is an objective truth, independent of how (or even if) it is applied.
Three Eras
Our sages speak of three distinct stages in the development of creation: 1) our present world (olam hazeh); 2) the era of Moshiach (yemot hamoshiach); and 3) the world to come (olam haba).
Our present world is the scene of a daily struggle between good and evil. G‑d created the world to reflect His infinite goodness and perfection, but He also shrouded it in a veil of corporeality—a veil that conceals its divine essence, allowing for the existence of greed, hate and suffering. Man can strive to actualize the good inherent in himself and his world through the observance of the mitzvot, but he can also choose to intensify the illusion of evil by violating the divine will, G-d forbid. Thus, ours is a world in which the divine will is only partially implemented, both because there are many who, whether out of ignorance or disinclination, do not observe the mitzvot, and because it lacks the conditions that enable the fulfillment of many mitzvot (and the optimal fulfillment of all mitzvot).[11]
The second phase of creation, the era of Moshiach, marks the universal and optimal realization of the divine law for life. The era of Moshiach is described as a world in which “there is no hunger, no war, no jealousy, and no rivalry”[12]; as a time in which our current state of galut (exile) will come to an end, the dispersed of Israel will be gathered to the Holy Land, the Beit Hamikdash will be rebuilt and its service restored; as a time in which “knowledge, wisdom and truth will abound.”[13] But the most important hallmark of this time is that man will fully and utterly fulfill the mitzvot of the Torah. Indeed, the other features of the messianic era are only the consequences of the implementation of divine blueprint for life.
Otherwise stated, the era of Moshiach represents the ultimate realization of human potential. But human potential is mortal and finite, and thus cannot be said to truly reflect the “spark of G-dliness” that is the essence of man. Death, for example, is a natural constituent of the human state—and the antithesis of G‑d’s infinite and eternal reality.[14] The ego of man—that which imbues us with a sense of individuality and apartness of being—is a most basic component of human nature, and is in utter contradiction with the axiom that “There is nothing else apart from Him.”[15] So there is much in the very nature of man that is a subtle form of “evil”—i.e., part of the veil that obscures the divine truth. So even when life on the face of the earth is in complete conformity with the divine will, the nature of man marks him as something distinct from his divine source.
Following the era of Moshiach comes the third and ultimate phase of existence—the “world to come.” The world to come is a world of eternal life and infinite perfection. It is a world devoid of every vestige of evil—of anything that sets apart creation from its Creator. It is a world in which the all-pervading truth of G-d is manifest, and every creature perceives its oneness with the divine.
The “mitzvah”—Torah as divine command and as link between G-d and man—has relevance only in the first two stages of creation: in our present era, where it comes to impose the divine will upon a resisting world, and in the era of Moshiach, where it generates a harmonious world, subservient and connected to G-d. In the world to come, however, the mitzvah will be nullified. This is not to say that we will cease to put on tefillin or begin working on Shabbat, G-d forbid—a world that is one with G-d will obviously be in complete conformity with G-d’s will. But the very notion of a “commandment” or a “connection” will be superfluous. Our minds do not “command” our bodies to do their bidding, nor are our bodies “connected” to our minds by virtue of the fact that they do their bidding. Body and mind constitute a single entity; the will of the mind is the will of the body, which the body naturally and spontaneously actualizes.
The laws of the Torah are the will of G-d, and are as eternal and immutable as their conceiver. In the world to come, they will constitute the natural law of a physical reality that spontaneously realizes the divine reality. But they will cease to be mitzvot. The divine commands will not be repealed or amended—they will be nullified, as the light of a candle is nullified in the blaze of the noonday sun.
The Enduring Dispute
The eternality of the “laws of the Torah,” and the various stages the world undergoes from being commanded by—to becoming one with—the divine will, are exemplified by the following statement in the Talmud’s Ethics of the Fathers:
Every dispute that is for the sake of Heaven, is destined to endure… Which is a dispute that is for the sake of Heaven? The dispute(s) between Hillel and Shammai.[16]
Hillel and Shammai, who lived in the first century BCE, were the founders of two major schools of Torah interpretation known as the “House of Hillel” and the “House of Shammai.” These two schools differed on many points of law, to the extent that the disputes of Hillel and Shammai are the prototype for all “disputes for the sake of Heaven”—disagreements between Torah sages engaged in the study of the divine will and its implementation in physical life.
But why do we say that such disputes are “destined to endure”? Should not our objective be to resolve the dispute and ascertain what G-d wants us to do? Indeed, the Torah provides the formula by which such disputes are to be decided: “You should follow the majority.”[17] Once an issue is put to a vote, the majority view becomes Torah law—the unequivocal will of G-d. All, including those who were previously convinced that the Torah should be understood otherwise, are obligated to submit to the final ruling.
And yet, the minority view is not rejected. As the Talmud relates, following a debate between the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel, “a heavenly voice proclaimed: ‘These and these are the words of the living G-d.’ ”[18]
Since we are speaking of individuals who are disputing for the sake of Heaven—who are totally devoted to Torah, and who apply their minds to its understanding free of all personal motive and prejudice—their arguments are the “words of the living G-d.” The Torah, by its own attestation, is “not in heaven.”[19] G-d desired that His word should be filtered through the mind of the Torah scholar, and that the result should constitute the divine will.
In the concrete world of physical deed, only one opinion can be actualized. When two people come before a court of Torah law to litigate a disputed loan, there can be only one ruling: the defendant either owes the money or he does not. When an ox is slaughtered and its kashrut is in doubt, there can only be one decision: either the meat is kosher and permissible for consumption, or else it is forbidden. Hence the Torah’s provision that differences in opinion among Torah sages be decided by the majority. But the principles and reasoning behind the two (or more) opinions are all true expressions of the divine will. If the minority opinion cannot be implemented on the physical plane, its spiritual and psychological applications can, and should, be realized. For the world of the spirit tolerates, indeed welcomes, conceptual opposites. A person can be simultaneously attracted and repelled, humble and proud, grieving and joyful. When two Torah-opinions advocate contrasting truths, both are to be embraced as the words of the living G-d.
A dispute that is for the sake of Heaven is not something to be resolved. There is no wrong or erroneous view to be weeded out and disavowed. On the contrary: this is a dispute that endures, as the various faces of the divine truth are assimilated in the human soul.
Strictly the Future
Sixteenth-century kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria (the “Ari”) takes this a step further: not only are both the words of the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel enduring on the conceptual level, but each has its time and place on the pragmatic level as well.
In our present world, we follow the rulings of the House of Hillel, who constituted the majority of Torah sages.[20] But in the era of Moshiach the majority opinion will shift in favor of the House of Shammai, and their rulings will then be implemented in our physical lives.
This reflects the change in the nature of reality that the messianic era represents. Generally speaking, the House of Hillel tended toward a more lenient interpretation of Torah law, while the House of Shammai took the more stringent view. In our present reality, where divine commandments must be imposed upon an imperfect world, the rulings of the House of Hillel represent the ultimate in conformity to the divine will, while the rulings of the House of Shammai represent an ideal that is too lofty for our present state (which is why we perceive them as “stricter” and more confining), and can only be realized on the conceptual level. In the era of Moshiach, the situation will be reversed: a perfected world will embrace the more exacting application of Torah law expressed by the House of Shammai, while the Hillelian school of interpretation will endure only conceptually.[21]
The New Physics
Ultimately, neither our present world nor the era of Moshiach can absolutely realize the divine law. In both these worlds, the rulings of the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel (as those of all Torah disputes) can coexist only on the conceptual level. Physically, the laws of existence dictate that one must give way before the other. Indeed, we cannot even envision the possibility of a deed simultaneously being done and not done.
But the laws of physical existence are part and parcel of G-d’s creation, and obviously do not limit their Conceiver and Creator. Consequently, a world that is one with its Creator is likewise not limited by these laws. In the world to come, the disputes between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai will endure in all respects, including their pragmatic application. All faces of the word of G-d will be actualized on all levels, including the physical level, where contrasting truths will exist side by side as they do today on the spiritual and psychological plane.
Thus we have three stages in the actualization of Torah law, corresponding to the three stages of creation:
In our present world, where the mitzvot command a world loath to yield its perceived independence and disconnection, the more lenient formulation, as channeled through the Hillelian school, is implemented, while the more exacting ideal, as expressed in the Shammaian approach, is confined to the theoretical and experiential realm.
In the era of Moshiach, where the mitzvot are the harmonious connectors of a compliant world to its divine source, the Shammaian ideal will govern physical life while the Hillelian dimension of Torah will be relegated to the realm of the spirit.
In the world to come, the mitzvot will be annulled. No longer will the laws of the Torah be the stuff of a divine relationship with an extrinsic reality. Rather, they will be fully and unequivocally realized in a world that is no longer separate from its source, unhindered by “laws” that define a finite and mortal world.
Based on a series of talks by the Rebbe, Tishrei 5752 (September-October, 1991)[22]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[4]. E.g. Talmud, Sanhedrin 90b.
[5]. Jerusalem Talmud, Megillah 1:5; Mishneh Torah, Laws of Megillah, 2:18.
[6]. “A clear and explicit mitzvah in the Torah stands forever and for all eternity, without change, reduction or addition. As it is written (Deuteronomy 13:1), ‘Everything that I command you, you shall keep and observe; do not add to it, and do not subtract from it.’ ” (Mishneh Torah, Laws of the Fundamentals of Torah, 9:1).
[7]. Midrash Rabbah, Bereishit 1:2.
[8]. Talmud, Makkot 23b (according to the two meanings of the wordlezakot); see also Midrash Rabbah, Bereishit 44:1.
[9]. Talmud, Pesachim 54b.
[10]. As in the Aramaic word tzavta (see, for example, Talmud, Bava Metzia 28a).
[11]. A majority of the mitzvot (343 of Torah’s 613 commandments) can be observed only when the Beit Hamikdash is standing and/or when the entire community of Israel resides in the Holy Land. Furthermore, even the mitzvot we can observe today are but pale “models” of the real thing, as the optimal fulfillment of all of G-d’s commandments can be realized only in the messianic era. (Sifri, quoted by Rashi on Deuteronomy 11:18. See also Nachmanides on Deuteronomy 4:4).
[12]. Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings, 12:5.
[13]. Ibid., Laws of Repentance,
[14]. Indeed, the world as G‑d initially created it was free of death and dissolution, which were caused by man’s first sin.
[16]. Ethics of the Fathers 5:17.
[18]. Talmud, Eruvin 13b.
[20]. In all but a few cases, in which the majority of sages followed the House of Shammai.
[21]. See Likkutei Torah, Korach 54b-c.
[22]. Sefer HaSichot 5752, pp. 27-36.
Tags: Moshiach, Jewish law, mitzvot, disagreement, afterlife, Yanki Tauber
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