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When the Right Instincts Kick In

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Beha'alotecha is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Naso (this week in the Diaspora) please . Miriam loved her little brother Moshe like a mother loves a child. She was the same Miriam who hid in the bulrushes all those years ago when baby Moshe was placed in the basket in Nile River. Her disparagement of her brother was made out of love and a concern that maybe he had gone off the deep end in some way, and that he was being excessive in his religious commitment as spiritual leader of the people. Nonetheless, she was punished with leprosy for having misunderstood who her brother really was, and slandering him to their brother, Aharon, in the process. Seeing how his sister had been afflicted, Moshe cried out to Hashem with a five-word prayer (12:13): "אֵל נָא רְפָא נָא לָהּ: " – “G-d, please, heal, please, her.” Some commentaries understand that Moshe used this word “נא” in his prayer twice, because the word has a dual meaning. “נא” means “please,” and it also means “now.” It seems that this word expresses the emotional desperation of its utterer, and a need which can be fulfilled by the person being petitioned. At the same time, it lets the listener know that there’s a timely urgency to that plea. Moshe was beseeching Hashem to heal her immediately, so that she wouldn’t have to undergo the humiliation of being sequestered outside the camp. Hashem responded aptly that Miriam needed to undergo some level of penance in order to expiate her sin. This is why, although Hashem did heal her, the second “נא” request of healing her immediately could not be fulfilled.

Short but Sweet

Rashi asks an interesting question: Why was Moshe’s recorded prayer so short? Why did he only devote five words of entreaty for his beloved sister? Was it because he resented the lashon hara? No, not Moshe. As a matter of fact, the Alshich understands the double usage of the word “נא” as a way of expressing to Hashem: “I know that Miriam has offended both You and me through her slander. Let’s both You and I forgive Miriam for her trespass, one ‘נא’ for You, and one ‘נא’ for me.” Rashi instead offers two answers as to what Moshe intended by such a short prayer: (1) There’s a time for prayer and a time for action. Miriam needs to be placed into isolation and only then can she heal. I will therefore shorten my prayer so that we can address Miriam’s remedy with the greatest immediacy. (2) I’m concerned that if I pray lengthily for Miriam, the people looking on will think I care more about my own sister than I do about them. They will feel estranged from me and will be demoralized. I cannot afford to spend more time on my sister than on my “flock.” I need to show them that they are no less important than my sister.

Prayer vs Action

We find a fascinating parallel between this story and a story that occurred back when the Jews were first leaving Egypt. Let’s recall that the Jews found themselves trapped, with the Egyptians pursuing them from the rear and the Red Sea blocking their passage from the front. Hashem said to Moshe (Ex. 14:15) “מַה־תִּצְעַק אֵלָי דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִסָּעוּ” – “Why are you crying out to Me? Tell Bnei Israel to go!” Notice that the very same verb of “צעק” is used in both passages, both when Moshe was crying out to Hashem to save the trapped Jews, and when crying out to Hashem to save Miriam. Rashi comments on the words in Shemos, “מַה־תִּצְעַק אֵלָי” – “Why are you crying out?” with the following two explanations: (1) There’s a time for prayer and a time for action. The Jews need to act by proceeding forward into the Sea. You, Moshe, should therefore curtail your prayer and have them act. (2) If you pray lengthily for Bnei Israel, they will think that I’m only saving them because of your prayer, and not because I, as their loving G-d, actually care about them. That will make them feel estranged from Me and demoralized. I need to show them that they are important to Me, independent of your efforts on their behalf.

Effective Prayer

We see an uncanny similarity, both in the verses themselves, and in Rashi’s commentary. In both cases, we first learn a theological lesson about when prayer is to be used effectively. Only after you’ve exhausted all other intercessional efforts should you expend energy on lengthy prayer. But if there’s something proactive that you can do to alleviate the current plight, it’s not appropriate to take away time from that endeavor in order to pray. The second lesson is one of leadership, in that in both cases, the leader wished to provide assurances to his people that he loved them and cared for them. Perhaps this is the reason why Moshe’s short prayer was recorded in the text in the first place. After all, the Torah did not record Moshe’s plea to Hashem at the Sea; it simply states that Hashem said to him, “Why are you crying out?” Why were the words of Moshe’s plea recorded here, when he was praying for Miriam? Consider what Miriam’s complaint against Moshe was in the first place: Moshe is acting as if he’s too holy and exalted for this terrestrial plane. As our Sages explain, Miriam felt that Moshe was incorrect in divorcing his wife and living a life of celibacy. “We, too, have been spoken to by G-d, and we’ve been able to maintain our prosaic marriages and lives. Why should Moshe feel he’s any different?” Hashem responded that Moshe was, indeed, on a completely different plane of holiness and Divine communication from all other prophets. He had transcended his humanity and was now much closer to level of the Divine than any other human being.

Close to the Divine

As a way of demonstrating this, Hashem chose to record Moshe’s very petition on behalf of his sister: See how his very attitude during his prayer demonstrates his newfound closeness to G-d. Previously, Moshe had to be instructed about when to pray and when to act. Previously, Hashem had to teach Moshe about how a leader needs to model his love and care for his flock. But look at Moshe now: He is so close to the Divine, in his fulfillment of imitatio Dei, in walking in G-d’s ways, that he intuitively and extemporaneously knew that he had to shorten his prayer. This act in itself demonstrates how different Moshe is from other human beings. He has fully internalized Divine behavior into the very fabric of his being. Many of us remember the “Miracle on the Hudson” in 2009, when pilot Sully Sullenberger was able to successfully emergency land a plane on the Hudson River after striking a flock of birds and losing all engine power. At the time, one rabbi wrote that he was unimpressed by Sully’s heroic act because it was all done in a split second and no moral forethought was involved. Another rabbi responded with a scathing critique of the first rabbi, pointing out, correctly, that the years of training that Sully underwent to anticipate such an emergency demonstrates a moral courage that was so deeply embedded within the man, that it emerged spontaneously during that split second when it was needed. The same can be said about Moshe: he had so internalized the theological and moral lessons of Hashem and His ways, that even during an emotionally turbulent event of his sister falling ill, he was able to instinctively imitate Hashem.

The Cumulative Effect of Prayer

This is truly an admirable trait, and it is why we spend our entire lives engrossed in Torah study, prayer, and acts of kindness. We may not realize the cumulative effects that these behaviors have upon us, but rest assured that at those crucial moments in life, when we are called upon to act instinctively without the opportunity for premeditation, our Torah values and past behaviors kick in and cause us to act with virtue and in keeping with our tradition. May we always rise to the call should it ever be needed, and may our Judaism be so deeply embedded so that it become second nature for us to walk in Hashem’s ways. May that commitment to the Torah lifestyle bring us ever closer to Redemption, bb”a.

Wondrous and Wonderful

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Naso is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora.

The word “פלא”

There’s a Hebrew word that keeps appearing in the context of the Nazir, the man or woman who takes a vow of abstinence from wine and hair grooming. The word is “פלא,” and it’s usually translated as a “wonder” or something out of the ordinary. For example, the very first time it appears in Tanakh is when Sarah laughed at the prospect of having a child at the age of 90. Hashem said to Avraham (Gen. 18:14): “הֲיִפָּלֵא מֵיְקֹוָק דָּבָר” – “Is anything too wondrous for G-d?!” And yet, in the context of the Nazir, the word is used to describe his or her vow of Nazirism (6:2):

דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם אִישׁ אוֹ־אִשָּׁה כִּי יַפְלִא לִנְדֹּר נֶדֶר נָזִיר לְהַזִּיר לַיקֹוָק

Speak to Bnei Israel and say to them: When a man or woman wishes to utter a vow of Nazirism to become a Nazir to Hashem. The word “פלא” is also used twice in the book of Vayikra to describe a pledge to the Temple, once for a sacrificial pledge (22:21), and once for an “’erchin” pledge, when one pledges a valuation to the Temple (27:2). Why is a word that describes “wonder” used to define to Temple pledges?

Shimshon’s birth

Furthermore, our Haftarah (from Judges 13) discusses the story of Shimshon’s birth, and how an angel came to Manoach and his wife to portend the birth of their son, and that he would need to be a lifelong Nazir from birth. In this narrative, the word “פלא” oddly appears twice. The angel first promises Manoach and his wife that they will have a very special son and that he must be a Nazir his whole life. When Manoach asks the angel his name, the angel responds (Jud. 13:18): “לָמָּה זֶּה תִּשְׁאַל לִשְׁמִי וְהוּא־פֶלִאי:” – “Why are you asking my name? It is wondrous!” In the next verse, Manoach places a sacrificial offering to Hashem on a rock. The verse then says (13:19), “וּמַפְלִא לַעֲשׂוֹת” – “he,” ostensibly the angel, performed miraculous wonders by causing a fire to come down and consume the sacrifice, while Manoah and his wife looked on. There seems to be a clear correlation between Nazirism and this word for both “wonder” and “pledge.” It would seem that this word “פלא” is descriptive of doing something extraordinary that transcends the nature of either the doer or the natural order of things. When Hashem is described as an (Ex. 15:11) “עֹשֵׂה פֶלֶא” – “a Doer of wonders,” it is in the context of His splitting of the Red Sea. This is where Hashem took a completely inanimate body of water, and brought it to life and had it do something which was completely against its nature. When a person takes a pledge to transcend their nature, they are doing something wondrous. Just as a person who achieves an extraordinary athletic feat, like breaking a world record for speed for jumping, has done something “wondrous,” so, too, a person who goes beyond their own natural desires and tendencies, by taking a vow of abstinence, by giving up something of value for G-d, or by using a physical item for purely spiritual purposes, they are “מפליא,” doing something “wondrous.”

The Physical and Spiritual Working in Harmony

Another thing that goes against the natural order is bringing together the physical and the spiritual and having them work in harmony. This is why our Sages instituted a blessing that contains this word “פלא”, when describing the wonders of the human body. All of us have souls that occupy our bodies and animate our lifeless shells in a truly “wondrous” hybridization between the spiritual and the physical. The human body, in this sense, is truly “wondrous.” That is why, after using the bathroom, a person proclaims their wonder and gratitude over this miraculous body that Hashem gave us, by saying, “רופא כל בשר ומפליא לעשות” – Blessed are you Hashem, who heals all flesh and acts wondrously. It is just as wondrous for the body to stay tethered to the spiritual soul as it is for the soul to remain tethered to the physical body. The Nazir is truly “wondrous,” in that he or she transcends their instinctive tendencies for the physical. This is why an angel appeared to Manoach and his wife to portend Shimshon’s birth. An angel is a purely spiritual being, and his very presence in announcing the birth was a message that this child would need to transcend his physical tendency in order to fulfill his task of leading the Jewish people, at a particularly precarious juncture in the history of the nascent Jewish nation. That is why, when asked his name, the angel responded, “וְהוּא־פֶלִאי” – my name is my function – to provide the impetus to make sure that your son does wondrous things with his life! This is also why the next verse states, “וּמַפְלִא לַעֲשׂוֹת” – “he was doing wonders.” This ambiguous phrase refers to both the angel, who performed spiritual manipulations of the physical, and Manoach, who, through his offering was performing physical manipulations of the spiritual. Once the angel created this exchange with his human counterpart, he knew that his task was completed and he could depart back to the heavens, which is described as a miraculous spectacle of the angel ascending through the fire of the altar in the very next verse (13:20).

Physicality from a Place of Spiritual Holiness

In the times of Shimshon, the Jews needed a savior who would manifest as a physically powerful being but would do so from a place of spiritual holiness. They needed this wondrous hybridization of the body and the soul, in order to impress upon them that they could physically defeat their Philistine enemies, but that their strength lay in their spiritual connection to Hashem. Shimshon embodied this message through his Nazirism and incredible physical strength. Any time a person takes a vow of abstinence they are expressing a desire to transcend the purely physical nature of what defines them. Such an effort will not only aid the individual by allowing them to recalibrate an imbalance in their lives between the physical and the spiritual, but it will also trigger a Divine response of “פלא”. If a person wishes to see wondrous things in his life, they should first try and be wondrous themselves and transcend their nature. Our bodies are amazing constructs and it behooves all of us to appreciate the tremendous miracle and complexity of the human body. We should be so thankful every time our bodies work properly, that our hearts are beating, our lungs are breathing, our blood is circulating, and our intestines are digesting. What’s more, it’s truly wondrous that we have the ability, through our heightened intellects, to appreciate the miracles of life. When we find ourselves misaligned in our priorities, we can take the step of transcending who we are right now, and be “מפליא” temporarily to become a figurative Nazir. But we should also express our own wonder at the amazing world and the amazing life that Hashem grants us every single moment of our lives. May our expressions of wonder over this wonderful world bring us ever closer to its perfection, bb”a.

Sharing in the Pain, Sharing in the Joy

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Bamidbar is also known as the book of Numbers (חומש הפקודים), because it contains several counts taken of the Jewish people. In taking the mandated census, Moshe was commanded to have not only his brother Aharon with him, but to also invite twelve leaders, one from each tribe, to stand with him when he would take the census (1:4). The Torah then enumerates the names of each of these twelve men (1:5-15): Elitzur ben Shedeur, Shelumiel ben Tzurishaddai, Nachshon ben Amminadav, etc. We discover in next week’s parsha, Naso, that these are the exact same twelve men who inaugurated the Altar in the Mishkan by bringing special korbanos at the very beginning of the Mishkan’s operation (7:2).

Connecting the dots

Why were these twelve men chosen, and why did Hashem see fit to enumerate their names? Rashi (to 7:2) quotes a Midrash which states that these men were already leaders while the Jews were still in Egypt. But their leadership was anything but honorific. In fact, it was quite painful and abasing to represent the Jewish slaves, especially when, as is recorded at the end of Parshas Shemos, the Jews were expected to meet their brick quota while being denied the essential ingredient of straw in order to manufacture the bricks (Ex. ch. 5). There, the Torah states that the Jewish representatives to Pharaoh’s slave operation bore the brunt of the punishment when the Jews could not meet their quota (5:14): וַיֻּכּוּ שֹׁטְרֵי בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֲשֶׁר־שָׂמוּ עֲלֵהֶם נֹגְשֵׂי פַרְעֹה לֵאמֹר מַדּוּעַ לֹא כִלִּיתֶם חָקְכֶם לִלְבֹּן כִּתְמוֹל שִׁלְשֹׁם גַּם־תְּמוֹל גַּם־הַיּוֹם The Jewish officers who were appointed by Pharaoh’s taskmasters were beaten, because of the argument: “Why haven’t you fulfilled the quota as you had been doing previously?” These men went to Pharaoh’s palace and begged for mercy, but to no avail. The Torah writes (5:19) that they found themselves in the terrible situation of requiring an impossible quota from their brethren. Instead of forcing their fellow Jews to overwork and be broken, they absorbed the painful beatings from the Egyptian taskmasters.

Rewarded for Being Punished

We may even find a slight allusion to this Midrash in the words of our parsha, which states, somewhat bizarrely that (1:17) “וַיִּקַּח מֹשֶׁה וְאַהֲרֹן אֵת הָאֲנָשִׁים הָאֵלֶּה אֲשֶׁר נִקְּבוּ בְּשֵׁמֹת:” – “Moshe and Aharon took these men, whose names were specified.” The phrase “אֲשֶׁר נִקְּבוּ בְּשֵׁמֹת” – “whose names were specified” is completely superfluous, and it’s also worded strangely. But perhaps it can also be translated as: “who were weakened / injured (since “נִקְּב֖וּ” can also be translated as punctured or weakened) in the book of Shemos.”  Because they took a beating for their brethren, they were rewarded with rising to greatness after the Exodus. But it’s also quite apropos for their greatness to be manifest in these two incidents, both in our parsha, in joining Moshe and Aharon as census takers, and in next week’s parsha as offering inaugural sacrifices for their respective tribes. In order to properly take a census, one must have care, concern, and affection for each individual who is being counted, since each and every person counts. This is why the Torah uses the word “שא” when commanding the census. It doesn’t just mean “to count”, but also “to lift up” or hold in high regard. Imagine these twelve men, looking into the eyes of each person who passed before them for the census, thinking only about their connection to and feelings of love for each person for whom they had taken another blow of the club or whip back in Egypt.

The Ego

Similarly, in order for one’s korban to be effective for one’s entire tribe and to truly be considered a communal sacrifice, one must be able to completely lose one’s own ego and sense of self and think only of one’s tribesmen when offering the flour and animal on the Altar. We can certainly appreciate how each of these twelve men, who had demonstrated this kind of selflessness in the past, was able to put himself aside and think only of his people. This is reminiscent of a Midrash that directly pertains to our upcoming festival of Shavuos. We read of Yitro’s visit to his son-in-law, Moshe, in the book of Shemot immediately before the Jews stand at Mount Sinai to hear the Ten Commandments and accept the Torah. There’s a verse that acts as a bridge between these two narratives and reads (18:27): “וַיְשַׁלַּח מֹשֶׁה אֶת־חֹתְנוֹ וַיֵּלֶךְ לוֹ אֶל־אַרְצוֹ:” – Moshe sent his father-in-law away, and he returned to his land. Why did Moshe feel it necessary to send Yitro back home, especially at this most crucial historical juncture when Bnei Israel were about to receive the Torah? The Midrash answers using a verse from Proverbs (14:10): “לֵב יוֹדֵעַ מָרַּת נַפְשׁוֹ וּבְשִׂמְחָתוֹ לֹא־יִתְעָרַב זָר:” – “The heart knows its own bitterness; and during its happiness, no stranger may mix in.” If Yitro was at home, safe and secure, when Bnei Israel were entrenched in hard labor, he was oblivious to their bitterness. It would not be appropriate for him to enjoy their success at Mount Sinai. Only someone who truly suffers with the Jewish people can enjoy their sweet victories, the most important being the acceptance of the Torah. Only these twelve men, who truly tasted the bitterest rod of affliction on behalf of their brethren, could enjoy Israel’s greatest moments of success during their glorious census and the inauguration of their holy place. How can we emulate them?

Being Counted Amongst the Jews of Eretz Yisrael

Today, Bnei Israel living in the Land of Israel faces danger and travail. We trust, hope, and pray that this danger is fleeting, and that Israel’s enemies come to their senses and realize that violence is never the pathway to peace. But it seems that Israel is alone in its suffering. The heart of Israel knows its own bitterness, but the rest of the world watches on with apathy and defends violence by creating moral equivalencies and media distortions of the facts on the ground. It is so important, especially today, to share in the burden of that pain, the pain of the millions of Jews in Israel. We share the pain of the death, damage, and trauma to our family in Eretz Israel. If we are to participate in the simcha of our brethren, we must also participate in their bitterness. If we wish to celebrate and be counted with the Jewish people in Eretz Israel, to receive the Torah with them, to enjoy the successes of the modern State of Israel, and eventually to see the rebuilding of our Temple and our Altar, we must first share in the sadness and trauma. We can do so even from afar, through our prayers and good deeds on behalf of our loved ones in Israel. As the Psalmist writes (126:5), “הַזֹּרְעִים בְּדִמְעָה בְּרִנָּה יִקְצֹרוּ:” – Those who plant with tears, will reap with joy. Not only did these twelve men merit to be part of the census and the Mishkan’s inaugural; they were also each identified by name TWICE in the Torah. This was a special gesture of appreciation shown to them for their valor and sacrifice on behalf of the rest of Klal Yisrael. When Mashiach comes, wouldn’t it be great if your name appears in the list of people who cared, prayed, and sacrificed for our brethren? We have that opportunity today and every day. Let’s make sure that our names are counted as well. Take this Shabbat and this Shavuot as a time not only of reaccepting the Torah, but also of reaccepting your brothers and sisters throughout the world. Let us stand “כאיש אחד בלב אחד” and feel for each other. May our efforts trigger the ultimate Redemption so that we can all return to Eretz Israel swiftly, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Divine Judgment

We all know that Rosh Hashanah is the Day of Judgment, when man’s fate is decided for the coming year. It would follow, then, that Hashem had decided this past High Holidays all that would transpire over this year. But it’s not that simple. Let’s study a Mishnah together on the topic of Divine judgment (Rosh Hashanah 1:2):

בארבעה פרקים העולם נידון: בפסח על התבואה בעצרת על פירות האילן בראש השנה כל באי העולם עוברין לפניו כבני מרון שנאמר (תהלים ל"ג) היוצר יחד לבם המבין אל כל מעשיהם ובחג נידונין על המים

The world is judged at four intervals during the year: On Pesach, judgment is made for grain. On Shavuot, judgment is made for tree produce. On Rosh Hashanah, all mankind passes before Him single file… On Sukkot, judgment is made for water.

The Mishnah acknowledges that agricultural success depends upon Divine judgment, and that the judgment for seasonal farming – water during rainy season, crops during harvest season, etc. –takes place immediately before that particular season begins. The beginnings of the rainy season, the grain harvest season, and the tree fruit harvest season are Sukkot, Pesach, and Shavuot, respectively.

Global Judgment and Individual Judgment

But what about Rosh Hashanah? As many of the commentaries observe, if man is judged for the totality of his wellbeing on Rosh Hashanah, including his livelihood, would not that judgment also include how much water and harvest he’ll receive from his farms for the coming year? So what actually happens during those other intervals – hasn’t everything already been decide on Rosh Hashanah?! This is a complex theological topic that cannot be treated properly in a short d’var Torah. But for our purposes, we cite R’ Yom Tov Lipman Heller (16th cent.), the author of the Tosafos Yom Tov commentary to the Mishnah. Rav Heller distinguishes between individual judgment and global judgment. Regarding global events, such as rainfall levels to the world, fruitful crops to whole regions, and so forth, God decides before each seasonal event how and in what measure that event will take place. These Divine decisions affect entire populations. But how the individual will be affected by those global decisions does not take place until Rosh Hashnah. On Rosh Hashanah, all mankind pass before Him in single file, and each individual’s fate as an individual is determined. For example, it may have been predetermined on Pesach that the farmland in a particular region would yield a million tons of wheat. But to what degree the individual Farmer John will be the beneficiary of that blessed yield is determined on Rosh Hashanah.

Curses Before The New Years

This insight allows us to understand another cryptic Talmudic passage (from TB Megillah 31b): When the prophet Ezra instituted weekly Torah readings, he made sure that we would read the curses in Parshat Ki Tavo before Rosh Hashanah. He did so “כדי שתכלה השנה וקללותיה” – so that the curses would be behind us before starting the New Year, and we can start the New Year with a clean slate. He also instituted that the reading of the curses in Parshat Bechukotai would always fall out before Shavuot, “so that we could have the curses behind us before the New Year of Shavuot begins.” What does that mean - since when is Shavuot a New Year? The Talmud answers that Shavuot is also a day of judgment in that on Shavuot, God passes judgment on how the trees will produce their harvests. I believe the deeper meaning of this passage is based on the above. One of the differences between the curses that appear in Leviticus and the curses in Deuteronomy is that the curses in Leviticus address the Jewish people in the plural: “לפניכם”, “לכם”, “אתכם”, etc., whereas the curses in Devarim address each Jew as an individual: “עליך”, “לך”, “אתה”, etc. This is in recognition that we wish to put an end to the curses that befall an individual before Rosh Hashanah, and so the Torah speaks to the individual’s curses. By contrast, before Shavuot, which represents global judgment, we wish to address the curses affecting the nation as a whole, and therefore the Torah speaks to the plurality of the Jewish nation. We put those global curses behind us before Shavuot arrives.

Shavuot & Global Judgment?

But why did Ezra choose Shavuot as the symbol of global judgment? What about Pesach, when the world is judged for wheat, and Sukkot, when the world is judged for water? Here, too, we need to penetrate deeper into the symbolism of this Talmudic passage. Shavuot isn’t just the beginning of the tree harvest season. It’s also the time when Bnei Israel accepted the Torah. As the Talmud states (TB Shabbos 88a), the fate of the world hung in the balance when the Jews came to Mt. Sinai. If they had not accepted the Torah, God was prepared to destroy the world and return it to “chaos and void.” The most global of all judgements, therefore, takes place every Shavuot, when God looks to the Jewish people to see if we’re prepared to accept the Torah once again. And every year since those 3300 years ago, we’ve kept the world running by our annual reacceptance of the Torah. In having us read the curses before Shavuot, Ezra was signaling that the global decisions affecting the entire world are triggered to some degree or another by the Jewish people’s commitment to their God and to His mitzvoth, which is what we do every year when we reaccept the Torah. If we wish to put the curses of the past year behind us, we’ll need to reaccept the Torah fully, so that the “chaos and void” of last year does not carry over into the future. Instead, our commitment to serve Hashem faithfully will bring peace and tranquility to this chaotic world. Shavuot thus represents a new year of sorts, and provides us an opportunity for new beginnings and second chances. Let’s take advantage of the role we play for the world. Let’s reaccept the Torah, and use its teachings to make the world a better place. We can do this metaphysically as we’ve mentioned, by affecting God’s choices to reinvigorate the world with His blessings for creation. But we can also do this on a very simple level any time we make a Kiddush Hashem as we interact with our fellow human beings and share good examples of our humanity that are informed by the Torah. May the world be healed and recreated as a result, bringing us to the ultimate redemption, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Using our Material Gifts to Sanctify the World

The 8th Day of an Animal's Life

Parshat Emor should be familiar to us, because we read a section of it twice over Sukkos and once over Pesach. We do so because the parsha contains a discussion of the Mo’adim, the Jewish festivals. The paragraph that precedes the Mo’adim (22:26-33) tells us a series of laws having to do with bringing animal sacrifices. It begins by telling us that when a newborn animal is born, it must first be seven days with its mother. Only from the 8th day of its life may it be brought as a korban. The next sentence teaches that two animals that are parent and child may not be slaughtered on the same day. The paragraph concludes by teaching that abiding by these and other sacrificial limitations will help to avoid a Chillul (desecration of) Hashem and will create a Kiddush (sanctification of) Hashem. Why is it necessary to wait until the 8th day of a calf’s or lamb’s life before bringing it as a korban? How does obeying this mitzvah create a Kiddush Hashem? And why is this the prefatory paragraph to the Mo’adim?

Compassion For All Creatures

The Midrash and the Zohar debate as to why one must wait until the 8th day. The Midrash (Devarim Rabbah 6:1) compares this law to the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird before taking its eggs (Kan Tzipor). Hashem is compassionate to all creatures, and wants a calf to have its strength before subjecting it to traumatic slaughter. Similarly, Hashem is compassionate to a newborn infant boy and wants us to wait until the baby’s 8th day before his bris, so that the child will have sufficient strength to endure the procedure. In short, the Midrash portrays this mitzvah as one of compassion that Hashem has upon His creations. As Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk explains (in Meshekh Chochmah to 22:26), the entirety of the Torah is designed to engender within man a sense of compassion and kindness, unlike some of the ancient idolatrous rites, which called upon its adherents to act cruelly and violently when offering both animal and human sacrifice. The commandments of waiting until the 8th day of an animal’s life, as well as the commandment to not slaughter a parent and child on the same day, help man become more sensitive to all of God’s creatures. This in itself creates a “Kiddush Hashem,” in that the world sees that the adherents to Hashem’s Torah are compassionate and kind, just like the Torah’s author.

Embracing Spirituality Through Physicality

The Zohar (Emor 91a-b), however, sees it differently. The mitzvah of waiting until the 8th day, both for an animal being brought as a korban, and a child having his bris, is based on the requirement that both the animal and the infant experience a Shabbat before being brought for Divine service.  Apparently, a full weekly cycle imbues the newborn with some kind of spiritual endowment that primes the animal for its sacrifice and primes the baby for his bris. Here’s one way of understanding the Zohar: The objective of the Torah is to connect heaven and earth, the transcendent with the physical. We are meant to view the physical objects of our existence as tools to spiritually elevate ourselves and everything around us. This is not an obvious point; Plato and his followers viewed the spiritual and physical realms as being in perpetual opposition to each other. This dualist view, that the soul is the ideal state of man, and that his body is forever pulling him away from that ideal state, also finds support in some Jewish writings which discuss the need for man to eschew “gashmiyut” (physicality) and embrace only “ruchniyut” (spirituality). And yet, the very means of embracing spirituality in Judaism is through physical acts, which involve using the very same material world that Plato rejected. Ultimately, by placing us in this physical world, Hashem indicates to us that we’re not supposed to try to escape the physical realm, but rather to elevate it. Instead of living as hermits and ascetics, we’re meant to embrace the amenities and comforts of the material world, and utilize those items as a means of showing gratitude and love to the Giver of those amenities.

Being “of” This World

This is the message of the Zohar. In order for an animal to be usable as a korban, it must first be “of” this world. It has to go through a full weekly cycle, including a day of Shabbat, so that it can live through and absorb the essence of the physical world. It needs to go through a Shabbat in particular, because Shabbat is demonstrative of how time, which is the fourth dimension of our physical existence, can be sanctified. Similarly, in order for a male child to undergo a circumcision, which represents his spiritual elevation, he must first become a part of the essence of the physical realm before having his physicality “elevated” through his bris. This is how we sanctify God, or make a Kiddush Hashem. By taking the objects that are already a part of this world, and elevating them through their use in spiritual rites, we confirm Hashem’s objective in creating us as part of this physical realm. The world understands through our observance of the mitzvos what Hashem wishes for all of humanity: instead of rejecting one’s physical aspect, instead of fasting and self-flagellation, Hashem wants us to enjoy the physical life He gave us so that we may appreciate our lives and our Sustainer. Every time we make a bracha on a piece of food, every time we make a Shehechiyanu on a new garment, we affirm this Divine plan.

Being Real

There is one caveat, of course: We need to sincerely mean it. Giving lip service to the idea but then indulging for the sake of indulgence accomplishes the opposite of our goal of elevating the physical. Many make a point of purchasing special clothing or special foods for Shabbat and Yom Tov (See Shulchan Aruch 242). I love the phrase that some people say before taking their first spoon of chicken soup Friday night (from the teachings of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Rimanov and others): “L’chavod Shabbat Kodesh!” – “This is in honor of the holy Sabbath.” By making a verbal declaration, we remind ourselves that our enjoyment of Shabbat is to exalt Hashem, not to fill our stomachs. Taken in this light, we might better understand why this paragraph about waiting until the 8th day acts as the preface for the Mo’adim. We are charged with sanctifying holy days on the calendar. We are supposed to take all of our hard-earned bounty from the fields and use those gifts in the service of Hashem. We take unleavened bread and use it for Matzah. We take the first barley harvest and use it for the Omer offering. We take loaves of bread and multiple animals from our livestock and offer them to God on Shavuot. We take four plants from our fields and wave them on Sukkot, while sitting in the Sukkah that is adjacent to our homes. In short, we use the physical gifts of our lives to sanctify the physical world.

The Mo’adim: Indulgence of the Physical

We suggest that this is how the Mo’adim figure into the book of Vayikra, which is all about creating holiness. The commandment to “be holy” is subject to multiple interpretations. Lest one think that being holy requires us to merely remove ourselves from the pleasures of the physical world, the Torah presents us with the Mo’adim as a way of reminding us that sometimes the highest form of holiness is found within the indulgence of the physical. There is truth to both the Midrash and the Zohar. The mitzvot are meant to engender sensitivity and kindness, even to the smallest of God’s creatures, as per the Midrash. As society increasingly recognizes the evils of “factory farming” and the cruelty to animals that takes place in these large egg, milk, and meat producing plants, we should be part of the societal voice that calls for greater compassion in the treatment of animals, even when we can justify using them for food. The mitzvot also remind us that despite the pitfalls of overindulgence, this world is a gift from God, meant for us to harness in making ourselves holier beings. May we appreciate these messages of kindness and holiness as we continue the perpetual effort at arriving at the ultimate Redemption, bb”a.