The WebYeshiva Blog

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Being Holy and Living a Balanced Judaism

In a perfect world, we would expect one’s ethical behavior to be directly linked to one’s religious behavior. Philosophers, scientists, and psychologists have been debating for centuries whether religion and ethics exist independently of each other, or if they are inexorably connected. Can atheists possess a genuine moral and ethical code if there is no absolute bedrock of Divinely revealed law to which they can moor their beliefs? Conversely, what about people of faith who cheat in their financial dealings? These are not easy questions to answer, which is why they are still being debated to this day. If Hashem felt that man is perfectly capable of charting his own moral and ethical destiny, why give us a Torah replete with morals and ethics? We conclude that there is an absolute, Divine moral and ethical code. While it is possible for every individual to arrive at moral boundaries based on logic and reason, the mind is not always a reliable instrument of truth, and someone can easily be deluded into thinking that something unethical or immoral is the opposite.

Mishpatim & Chukim

Despite this, our Sages observe that there are different categories of mitzvot. Some are Mishpatim, or what others call “natural law,” that which man would have arrived at using his own human intellect even if the Torah had not commanded us. Others are Chukim (statutes) and Eidot (testimonies), laws which without a Torah, we would not have necessarily intuited on our own. Because of Chazal’s delineation between the different kinds of mitzvot, we tend to think that there is a strong dividing line – be it psychological or ontological – between the two types. This would certainly explain why some Jews observe one kind of law with more emphasis over the other. Some are very cautious about “halakhah,” and don’t care as much about certain ethical imperatives. Others are more fixated on morals and ethics and deemphasize the more “religious” aspects of Shabbat, Kashrus, and the like. When we look at the verses in Parshat Kedoshim, however, we don’t see any kind of delineation between the two kinds of mitzvot. If anything, it seems like the Torah is deliberately grouping all different kinds of commandments together. After Hashem commands us to be “holy” – “קדושים תהיו” (19:1), He provides different examples of holiness. The Torah starts with what we would normally identify as “religious” laws: revering parents, observing Shabbat, not worshipping idols, and sacrificial laws. But then, in the same breath, the Torah instructs us how to provide for the poor, how to ethically treat our employees and others to whom we owe money by not withholding wages, not cheating, not bearing grudges, and so forth (19:13-18).

Wholly holy

That in itself is an important lesson: “Holiness” is a holistic principle that does not allow for compartmentalization of one’s religious persona. For an individual to be truly “holy,” one’s fealty to both Hashem’s laws and the image of God with which we were created must be comprehensive and not consigned to one area of life over another. That is, to be “holy,” one must be “wholly” committed. Rav Yaakov Leiner (in Beit Yaakov) observed that if we look at some of the laws cited above, we will see that in reality there is a common, unitary theme shared by all the mitzvot, and that the divisions between the different kinds of mitzvot are largely artificial. Let’s take two mitzvot which appear at the very beginning (19:3): We are commanded to revere our parents and to observe the Sabbath. When looked at more deeply, our relationship with our parents is a metaphor for our relationship with Hashem. Our parents gave birth to us; they raised us and provided us with the necessary tutelage as we grew and matured.

Independently Unaware

Often, parents of small children, out of a desire to give them a sense of independence, will conceal from them just how much in control they are. Imagine the parent of a toddler who is just learning to walk, standing behind the child ready to catch them as they wobble unsteadily with their first steps. The child may feel that he or she is walking independently and is unaware that the parent is walking closely behind, directing them where to go, and ready to catch them if they fall. Such is the relationship between God and every human being. Hashem grants us the illusory sense of independence and autonomy. The commandment to “revere” our parents is thus not only a mitzvah to treat our parents with respect, but also to retain in our minds that despite our personal autonomy, we are still all dependents of Hashem, and are powerless to do anything without His tutelage. This mitzvah corresponds to the commandment forbidding the withholding of payment from someone to whom we are indebted (19:13). Just as we cannot deny what we owe a benefactor, we can also not deny that Hashem is truly in control of our lives. The truly “holy” person sees no difference in these mitzvot because they are rooted in the same reality of paying those to whom we owe their due.

Shabbat & Ethics

The mitzvah of Shabbat observance has a similar correspondence to ethical behavior. Our Sages teach that Shabbat is “מעין עולם הבא”, a semblance of the World to Come (TB Berachos 57b). Hashem chose to give us a taste of our future “wages” with the weekly gratification of the beautiful spiritual ambience of Shabbat. While Hashem could have reserved all of our rewards for the future, He wanted us to feel a sense of immediate satisfaction without having to defer all of the fruits of our efforts to the afterlife. According to the Arizal, the mitzvah of Shabbat thus corresponds to the mitzvah of paying our employees on time, immediately upon the completion of their job. This mitzvah is also part of the mandate to be holy, and thus appears shortly after the mitzvah of Shabbat (in 19:13). Rav Lainer continues on this holistic path in explaining the other mitzvot of our parsha. Overall, a pattern emerges that holiness is really about seeing the bigger picture of trying to make the world a better place by living the mitzvot holistically. We can only accomplish this through our ritual observance as well as emulating God’s behavior as a benevolent and caring being who takes care of every creature in His universe. All the mitzvot flow to the same outlet and to the same common theme.

Judaism as a Fitted Sheet

A rebbe of mine once explained that observing Judaism is like trying to make a bed with a fitted sheet that is just a tad too small to fit over all the corners properly. You pull one end of the sheet over one corner, and then the opposite corner pops up. When it comes to our religious commitments, we all have strengths and weaknesses, and mitzvot that we choose to emphasize while deemphasizing others. The important thing is to recognize this and to try and be respectful of those who are coming from the opposite direction. We all augment each other’s deficiencies with our own contributions to the spiritual fabric of our world. The irony is that we sometimes have such tunnel-vision in identifying what we consider to be true Judaism using our own particularized lens with self-defined parameters. Anything outside of those parameters is either “treif” or “fanaticism.” We’d do well to remember the definition of holiness, as a holistic embrace of all the commandments, since they all have one unitary theme from the same unitary God. The person who strives for holiness sees value in all the approaches to reach Hashem, even those which run contrary to one’s own chosen path. May we succeed all together in our aspirations toward holiness and achieve a sense of balance that will lead to the Redemption, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Finding Spiritual Greatness in Unusual Places

Allow me to share a story about an ancient king of Israel named Yerovam. Not the famous Yerovam ben Nevat, who was the first king of the northern Israelite kingdom and who introduced idolatry to that region. Rather, several generations later, another Yerovam reigned over the northern kingdom. His name was Yerovam ben Yoash, and scripture describes him as being deeply steeped in the idolatry of his time (II Kings 14:24). Yerovam b. Yoash reigned at a time when the Jews’ enemies were all around, and the Jews had no friends or allies. Despite Yerovam’s personal evil, Scripture states that he was an extremely successful king, and that Hashem enabled him to expand the boundaries of Israel to an unprecedented degree (ibid. 25-27). The Midrash (Tanna D’Vei Eliyahu Zuta 7) is perplexed: If Yerovam was such an evil person, why did Hashem enable him to be so successful and such a savior for the Jewish people? The Midrash answers based on another passage in Tanakh. The prophet Amos lived during this time in the town of Beit-El, which was in the kingdom of Judea. The local Kohen, Amatziah, would regularly get annoyed with Amos, because he wanted to be the only holy man in town. He had heard Amos prophesy about some impending doom that would befall the Kingdom of Israel. He therefore told King Yerovam that Amos was conspiring to get him killed (this is all recorded in Amos ch. 7).

An Idolater with Derekh Eretz

According to the Midrash, Yerovam’s response was to harshly rebuke Amatziah for accusing Amos. “I don’t believe he prophesied as you say. And even if he did, it was from Hashem, not of his own volition”: The Midrash concludes that despite the fact that the entire nation at the time was idolatrous, and that Yerovam himself was an ardent idolater, Hashem enabled Yerovam to expand the borders of Eretz Israel. Why? Because Yerovam possessed the virtue of not accepting Lashon Hara against a good person. The Midrash concludes: “We see from this story that Hashem causes good things to happen via good people.” It’s ironic for the Midrash to depict Yerovam as a good man, because if we were to characterize Yerovam based on Scripture’s depiction of him alone, we’d deem him a Rasha! The Midrash says, look deeper: he may have been an idolater, but he had derekh eretz and compassion for his fellow Jew.

The Path Toward Redemption

Rav Yisachar Shlomo Teichtal wrote his landmark work, Eim HaBanim Semeicha, in Europe during the Shoah, while his community was getting deported and murdered on a daily basis. In it (beginning of ch. 2), he wrote about his dramatic theological change of heart. He was a Nitra chasid, and had been previously opposed to Zionism. But after seeing what was happening all around him, he wrote an entire sefer explaining why religious Zionism and a return to Eretz Israel was actually the correct approach. In one chapter, he discussed what redemption would look like in light of so many conflicting reports in the words of Chazal. He concluded that redemption could take place in a number of different ways, either miraculously and overnight, or slowly and progressively, via natural means. If the redemption takes place via natural means in an evolutionary fashion, he wrote, it would happen via righteous and good people who would lead the Jewish people back to Eretz Yisrael. His only caveat is that we have to put on the proper spectacles to make sure that we recognize exactly who is good and who isn’t good. If our idea of a good leader is someone who is shomer mitzvot and has a long beard, then we might not recognize the true redeemers. He pointed to this Midrash about Yerovam ben Yoash. Yerovam wasn’t righteous in the conventional sense, but he did have one saving quality: He cared deeply about his people and was willing to be moser nefesh (make great sacrifice) for them. He was genuinely upset if someone would suggest that a righteous Jew committed wrong, as he demonstrated in his protestations about Amos.

Derekh Eretz Is The Key

Rav Teichtal concluded that just because the leaders of the Zionist movement aren’t religious, does not mean that they aren’t good and worthy of leading our people back to Zion. Just look at Yerovam ben Yoash. We derive the same lesson from the normal Haftarah of Tazria-Metzora (which is preempted because of Rosh Chodesh), about the four Metzoraim, the four lepers. Despite being outcasts from their community, they were the heroes of the story, responsible for ending a siege and famine within the nation. The real key to redemption for Klal Israel is how we speak to each other, how we show proper derekh eretz to each other even when we profoundly disagree, and how we give others the benefit of the doubt and not speak or believe Lashon Hara about others. We should live and let live and recognize the greatness that exists in people regardless of their levels of observance. It’s important to recognize the Yerovam’s of our time and see their greatness for what it is. If we can do that, then we’ll truly usher in the redemption of all our people, may we see it, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

The Truest of Gifts

Three years ago, when the Coronavirus was just beginning to disrupt normal life in different parts of the world, an article appeared in Lehrhaus by Dr. Jeremy Brown, describing an old Jewish practice that was performed during times of plague. This practice became known as the “Shvartze Chassuneh,” or the Black Wedding, and it was performed as a measure to eliminate the plague from the Jewish community. It involved the Jewish community finding a destitute pair of orphans who had no parents to marry them off, making a shidduch between the two, and sponsoring their wedding. The additional twist was that the wedding was held in a cemetery, usually near the graves of the holiest people in the cemetery. In 1865, there was a terrible locust plague in northern Israel. The Jews of Safed made multiple Chuppot for orphans in the Safed cemetery, in-between the graves of the great tzadikim Rav Yoseph Karo and the Ari z”l. Shortly thereafter, there was a cholera outbreak in Jerusalem, and the Jewish community made a lavish wedding atop the Mt. of Olives. The wedding was attended with much fanfare by the entire community. Surely, during a time of plague, communal fasts are called for, collective prayer services with Tehillim, all that we understand. But why do a wedding? And why in a cemetery, of all places?!

"Adam" vs "Ish"

At the beginning of Vayikra, the Torah launches into the sacrificial process (1:2):

דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם אָדָם כִּי־יַקְרִיב מִכֶּם קָרְבָּן לַיקֹוָק מִן־הַבְּהֵמָה מִן־הַבָּקָר וּמִן־הַצֹּאן תַּקְרִיבוּ אֶת־קָרְבַּנְכֶם

The Torah describes a human being as an “Adam.” This is an unusual term to describe a person who wishes to bring a Korban. Nowhere else in Leviticus, when describing a person bringing a sacrifice, is the term “Adam” used. It’s rather used only when describing a person, like a leper, who contracts spiritual impurity. Why does the Torah open the sacrificial order with “Adam” and not with the more normative word for a person, “איש” – “Ish”? The simplest conclusion is that in order to bring a sacrifice before Hashem, which in and of itself is a humbling, self-abasing act, one needs to feel like they are like nothing, like the earth itself. Man is called Adam because he derives from the soil, the “אדמה” – “Adamah”. If we are describing a person who feels wretched about a sin they’ve committed and wishes to atone through a Korban, it’s natural to think that the word Adam should be used to describe him or her.

Adam HaRishon

But the Midrash has a different approach. The word “Adam” hearkens back to the very first man, whose hallmark was not humility, but rather great holiness, purity, and righteousness. As Rashi cites: “Just as original Adam did not bring his offerings from stolen property, since everything belonged to him, so shall you not bring your offerings from stolen property.” This is just one example for expressing how one has to be pure not only in intent but also in deed when bringing their offering. Why doesn’t the Midrash use the simple interpretation of Adam being a term of humility? Bartenura and others explain that the introductory verses of Korbanot do NOT refer to a person who is bringing a Korban because of sin; they rather refer to a person who is coming to the Temple because they are religiously inspired without need for atonement at all. Such a person may not feel wretched because of sin, but is nevertheless inspired to become close to God. This person is like the first Adam, who is holy and pure. The Midrash is teaching an additional lesson: If you wish to voluntary come to the Temple to bring offerings, make sure your motivations are pure, like Adam’s. Don’t come with animals to impress your friends or to feel important. Adam was the only person alive and so he didn’t need to impress anyone. He did it for the purest of intentions, and so should anyone wishing to bring a Korban voluntarily.

The Noam Elimelech & the “Shvartze Chasuneh”

One of the first recorded episodes of the “Shvartze Chasuneh” occurred in Poland in the late 18th century. The story is told about the great Chassidic tzadik, the Noam Elimelech of Lizhensk. He was once visited by a poor farmer who had a 36-year old single daughter, but had no dowry to offer a young suitor in order to marry her off. Since it was a time of plague, Reb Elimelech decided to arrange a wedding for the woman, and took Lizhensk’s 30-year old bachelor water carrier and arranged for the Chuppah. Some of the greatest early Chassidic luminaries attended: The Kozhnitzer Magid played the violin; the Chozeh of Lublin was the “badchan” (wedding jester). The dancing and singing were intense as everyone immersed themselves into the simcha. Reb Elimelech walked with his student, Reb Shmuel of Kariv, to see the celebration, and he noted that there was a great fire of holiness surrounding the entire assemblage. He remarked to his disciple: “Ribono Shel Olam, I declare that in the merit of this dancing that we have participated in, at least one hot coal awaiting us in Gehenna has been removed from all of us.” This story indicates that it wasn’t the fasting and sackcloth that helped to alleviate the plague. It was rather the selfless rejoicing for another. So often, we make celebrations to reflect to the world who we are. Even the weddings we make for our children are sometimes ways of shining a light on ourselves, and reminding ourselves and all of our friends how necessary we are to the bride and groom and how central a role we play in the lives of family and friends.

Appreciation for everything

It may be why the “Black Wedding” was held in a cemetery. It’s to remind those congregated that life goes on even without us. Every person who is buried here may have once thought: the world can’t function without me. But lo and behold, the world did just fine after they left. To really incorporate the lesson of a plague, we make a wedding for two orphans, people to whom we have no personal connection, whose wedding in no way is being made to impress ourselves or our friends about how important we are to the world and to the community. This young couple is NOT a reflection of us. We make the wedding for them, not for ourselves. This is the original “Adam”. Adam served Hashem with joy not because he needed to show the world what he was doing and to be the center of attention, but rather because he appreciated so much how everything that he had in his life was a gift from God. This is why Adam is associated with the very first Korban mentioned in the book of Vayikra. May we be similarly inspired to offer our gifts of thanksgiving to God while being unconscious of our image being projected to others. May we continue to hear the “קול ששון וקול שמחה” of every bride and groom of the world, in Yerushalyaim Ir HaKodesh, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

We’re All Connected

When all the Mishkan components were finally completed, Moshe felt it necessary to do an inventory of all the materials that were used. After all, Bnei Israel had donated mightily to this project, and Moshe wished to reassure the people that their donations were used properly, and that nothing had been pocketed by himself, the contractors, or the builders for personal gain. Our Sages teach us that even someone who is normally above reproach must make every effort to exonerate oneself in the eyes of the public. One example can be found in Tractate Shekalim (3:2), where it is recorded that the Kohen in charge of extracting coins from the Temple treasury to purchase animals for the Altar could not have any hems in his garment to ensure that no one could suspect him of secretly placing coins in the hem and embezzling Temple funds! This is based on the scriptural dictum (Num. 32:22): “You shall be clean from both Hashem and Israel,” meaning: that it’s not enough to know that you are innocent; you must also exonerate yourself in the public eye.

Moshe's inventory and corruption

The Midrash relates that after Moshe finished his inventory, he actually came up short. He could not account for 1,775 shekels worth of silver. He became quite nervous, because he knew that some people looked at him cynically, thinking that there was no way that Moshe would be able to resist the temptation of pocketing some of the donations for himself. Hashem Himself had to intervene and caused Moshe to lift his gaze up to the silver hooks – called “vavim” in Hebrew – that were used to link together the curtains of the Mishkan. Because of their small size, Moshe had completely forgotten to include them in the inventory, and these hooks accounted for the deficit. The Jewish people were thus appeased and their suspicions allayed. I recently discovered an addendum to this Midrash which is cited in some medieval sources. After Moshe had gone through this nerve-racking ordeal, he instituted the prayer, “Emes V’Yatziv,” which we recite every morning after the Shema in our daily Shacharis service. After we recite the word “Emes” (“Truth”) at the end of the Shema, we append to it these fifteen words:

וְיַצִּיב וְנָכוֹן וְקַיָּם וְיָשָׁר וְנֶאֱמָן וְאָהוּב וְחָבִיב וְנֶחְמָד וְנָעִים וְנוֹרָא וְאַדִּיר וּמְתֻקָּן וּמְקֻבָּל וְטוֹב וְיָפֶה הַדָּבָר הַזֶּה עָלֵינוּ לְעוֹלָם וָעֶד

—and firm, and certain, and enduring, and upright, and faithful, and beloved, and cherished, and desired, and pleasant, and awesome, and mighty, and correct, and acceptable, and good, and beautiful [is this Shema affirmation to us for all eternity.]

15 "vavs" that connect us all

Ra’avan HaYarchi (12th cent.) writes in his Sefer HaManhig that Moshe instituted these fifteen words, all relating to the truth and integrity of the words of the Shema. He made sure to have each word start with the letter “vav” – translated as “and” – in order to remind us of the fifteen “vav” hooks that Moshe found and which resolved the accounting deficit. The imagery of this Midrash is quite specific, in that Moshe had lost track of the “vavim,” the hooks. Why was this the particular inventory item that he had forgotten? Furthermore, it seems like it’s merely a play on words that “hooks” and the preposition “and” share the same “vav” in Hebrew. What’s the connection? Finally, why was the prayer of Emes V’Yatziv, which is an affirmation of our belief in G-d as expressed in the Shema paragraphs chosen as a reminder of this episode? What is the connection between our affirming the truths of the Shema and reminding us that Moshe was exonerated from suspicion? As many commentaries observe, it’s not a coincidence that a hook and the word “and” are both represented by the letter “vav” in Hebrew. The role of the hooks in the Mishkan was to unify and unite all the disparate curtains into one unified wall hanging in the Mishkan. We “hook” things together in order to unite them, and the letter “vav” serves the same function, which is to append one idea to another linguistically.

A full accounting

Why was Moshe so concerned about making sure that the inventory was correct? According to the Midrash he had heard certain cynical voices within the community who were critical of him and who didn’t trust him. Moshe’s mistake was not seeing the entire community, but rather allowing individual cynical voices to drown out the almost unanimous support that he had garnered as the people’s faithful redeemer and leader. By allowing Moshe to find the hooks, Hashem was teaching a lesson to Moshe, that it’s usually the outliers and those who view themselves as separate from the community who are the ones who are the cynics and naysayers. Moshe, you should not heed those voices, but instead look to the fabric which connects Am Yisrael. If you do so, you will see that the people are good and trusting, and that you have no reason to fear suspicion. When looked at in this light, Moshe was really the guilty party in thinking that his beloved people were cynical and mistrusting of him. Yes, there were individual voices, but he should not have vested so much weight in those cantankerous voices and should have instead seen the loving faces of the vast majority of the nation. As a way of making amends for his mistake, Moshe instituted the Emes V’Yatziv prayer not to remind Am Yisrael of HIS honesty, but to remind Am Yisrael that Moshe was mistaken about the nation’s cynicism and mistrust. My people, he was saying, you are an accepting and loving people, filled with trust and honesty of those who lead you. To prove my point, I will institute a prayer that you will say daily affirming your acceptance of the precepts of the Torah and your unequivocal trust in Hashem and His Torah. By doing so, Moshe was restoring Bnei Israel’s faith in themselves. Emes V’Yatziv is an affirmation of OUR faith and innocent acceptance of our Torah and our Torah teachers.

Combating cynicism's ugly truth

It is so difficult these days to rise above the cynicism and unadulterated lashon hara that pervades the media. I think that one of the lessons of this Midrash is that when we feel separate from others, we become cynical and mistrusting of everyone else. When we view ourselves as part of a larger group, we become more accepting of others, and the individual cynical voices are drowned out by our realization that we are part of a larger collective that is loving and accepting. Perhaps Moshe felt more mistrusted specifically because he was the leader of Israel, which perforce made him feel somewhat separate from the collective. We all, from time to time, give in to the cynical voices in our head. We allow ourselves to think the worst of our fellow man and our fellow Jew. But in reality, we’re just allowing ourselves to see the ugly outliers and we fail to see the beauty of the vav’s of the collective Am Israel who, as a whole, are beautiful, faithful, and trustworthy. When we forget the vav’s, the glue that connects us all, we allow the ugly voices to take over. Especially in a world of social media where people relate to each other from a distance without really knowing who our “friends” are, it’s easy to lose sight of the vav’s that connect us, and to see the worst in humanity emerge. Let’s try to reunite with each other in society, so that we can put aside those cynical voices and start to see the “Emes V’Yatziv” that is within each and every one of us. May our faith in humanity bring us to a greater faith in Hashem, and may this bring us to the ultimate Redemption, may we see it, bb”a.

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin

Moshe petitions God

In his Guide for the Perplexed (1:54), the Rambam discusses an important dialogue between Moshe and Hashem in the aftermath of the Golden Calf. As the people sinned, Hashem informed Moshe that He was going to annihilate them. Moshe prayed to Hashem to spare them, and his prayers were answered (32:14). Nonetheless, Hashem informed Moshe that there would be lasting repercussions of their sin, and that through their sin, some kind of distance had been created between G-d and Israel. Moshe, noting that he was appointed to be the leader of Israel, then made two petitions of Hashem. The first was (33:13):

ועתה אם־נא מצאתי חן בעיניך הודעני נא את־דרכך ואדעך למען אמצא־חן בעיניך וראה כי עמך הגוי הזה

If I have found favor in Your eyes, show me now Your ways, so that I might know You and further find favor in Your eyes. See that these people are Your nation. What does it mean to be “shown the ways of G-d”? Furthermore, why did Moshe tell Hashem at the end of his request to “see that these people are Your nation” – what does this have to do with Moshe being shown Hashem’s ways?

Petition #2: Show Your Glory

Before we answer these questions, let’s look at Moshe’s second petition (33:18): “ויאמר הראני נא את־כבדך” – “Moshe said: Now show me Your glory.” What was Moshe asking in this second request? What is the difference between G-d’s “ways” (“דְּרָכֶךָ”) and G-d’s “glory” (“כְּבֹדֶךָ”)? Here is where the Rambam launches into the major thrust of his discussion, explaining how man can never really truly “know” Hashem essentially. The difference between Hashem’s “ways” and His “glory” is that the former means understanding how G-d interacts with the world, while the latter means understanding who Hashem really is innately. To illustrate, I may think that I “know” a public figure based on how he or she interacts with the public, but that may merely be a façade that this person is displaying to the public. I really only know that person’s “ways.” What that person is truly like when they go home and the cameras turn off may be something completely different. Thus, I don’t know that person’s “glory.” Hashem instructed Moshe that it is possible for man to understand how G-d interacts publicly with the world, but it is not possible for man to understand Hashem’s true essence. Man’s intellect simply is not built to process this transcendent information. This is why, when assenting to Moshe’s first request to understand Hashem’s ways, Hashem said (33:19), “אֲנִי אַעֲבִיר כָּל־טוּבִי עַל־פָּנֶיךָ” – “I will pass all my goodness over your face.” “Goodness” is a code word for all of creation, since after creation the Torah records that (Gen. 1:31) “Hashem saw that it was all very good.” Hashem was giving Moshe a glimpse of how He created and maintained all of reality. In this way, Moshe would be able to comprehend how Hashem interacts with all that exists.

The Thirteen Attributes of Mercy

Hashem then taught Moshe the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy (34:6-7), which the Rambam explains as a further lesson of G-d’s “ways.” Hashem was teaching him how not only He interacts with all of creation in general, but specifically how He interacts with his crowning creation, man, and His system reward and punishment when dealing with mankind. In a brief statement, the Rambam explains why Moshe needed to know this information: As their leader, I need to understand the best way to lead Bnei Israel. By learning Your system of tutelage, I can emulate the way You lead, and I will lead Bnei Israel accordingly. This explains why Moshe said at the end of his request, “See that these people are Your nation.” He was presenting to Hashem that his desire to know His ways was not just out of his own curiosity and desire to grow in his knowledge of God, but that there was a real utilitarian benefit in knowing Hashem’s ways to enable him to emulate God in his leadership role. If you wish me to deal properly with Your nation, Hashem, give me the tools that I will need in order to do so.

Why ask God for help in leading now?

What the Rambam doesn’t explicitly address, however, is why Moshe was making this request specifically now, after the Sin of the Golden Calf. Moshe had already been appointed their leader much earlier, and if he truly felt that he needed leadership skills training, why did he wait until now to make this request? One answer might be that after the Golden Calf, Hashem informed Moshe that He would not be as directly involved with the nation as He had been before the Sin. Moshe understood this to mean that Moshe, as the mortal emissary of Hashem, would now have more responsibility in attending to the needs of the people. He specifically needed now to know how to lead, since Hashem was taking a back seat in His leadership role and leaving most of the job to his underling, Moshe. By analogy, it would be like the CEO of the company telling his second in command, the COO (chief operating officer), that he’s taking a leave of absence. This would be the time for the COO to get debriefed by the CEO about how to run the company. But another way of understanding why Moshe put forth his request now is by noting that Moshe was seeing Hashem as a punishing God of His chosen people for the very first time. He realized that although he had seen Hashem act with vengeance against man when He punished the Egyptians, he had not seen Hashem do the same to His beloved nation, the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. This piqued Moshe’s curiosity, because this meant that he, too, when dealing with the Chosen People, could not always be benevolent. Moshe, too, would have to learn when to be cruel and when to be kind.

Learning from Hashem Amidst Crisis

Of particular interest is that sometimes these kinds of opportunities to “know Hashem’s ways” arise specifically amidst crisis and unfortunate events. We know that we gain better understanding of the human condition when we see people immersed in crisis and pain. As the Talmud (TB Eruvin 65b) states, one of the ways of truly getting to know someone is seeing them when they we become upset. Additionally, we have a better opportunity to make sense of Hashem and how He interacts with us when we are presented with crisis and pain. By witnessing Hashem’s mercy even when He presents us with privation and pain, we can learn how to emulate this behavior even when it is necessary to deal harshly with our opponents. As an example: Before Hashem presented us with the pandemic, forcing us to into lockdown, He gave us amazing technologies that could connect every single human being on the planet virtually, and that could create delivery systems to have things appear at our door with the touch of a button. It’s almost as if Hashem’s attitude was: If I need to discipline my children by confining them, let me provide them with a consoling element in their lives that will enable their confinement to be more tolerable. There are so many more examples, but we must first open our eyes if we are to learn. All of us should be turning our eyes to the heavens and asking God, “הוֹדִעֵנִי נָא אֶת־דְּרָכֶךָ” – please show me Your ways, so that I might know how to live a virtuous life that is filled with benevolence and love even amidst adversity. During these weeks before Pesach, our time of Redemption, let us look forward to a new season of liberation and freedom, and let us always try to take the lessons of this past year and apply them judiciously to our lives until the coming of the ultimate Redemption, bb”a.