EMOR – INSIGHTS IN RASHI – THE JOY OF MITZVOS

Vayikra, 21:1: HaShem said to Moses: Say to the Kohanim, the sons of Aaron, and say to them: Each of them shall not contaminate himself to a [dead] person among his people.” Rashi, Vayikra, 21:1: sv. Say to the Kohanim: “’Say’ (emor) and ‘say’ (amarta), [the repetition is] to warn the adults with regards to the children.” HaShem twice uses the expression of ‘saying’ when instructing Moshe Rabbeinu to teach the laws of purity of the Kohanim. Rashi, based on the Gemara, explains that the repetition is coming to teach us that the Kohanim must also teach their sons to observe these laws. This teaches us a principle in chinuch that applies to all of Torah; that a parent must ensure that his children observe the Mitzvos. Rav Baruch Sorotskin zt”l asks in the name of his father, Rav Zalman Sorotskin zt”l, since this lesson applies equally to all other Mitzvos, why, then, was it taught davke in the context of the Mitzvos of the Kohanim? He explains that there is a significant factor that makes it more difficult to educate young Kohanim in their Mitzvos; with regard to other Mitzvos, all Jews are equally required to observe the Torah and therefore there is less chance that a Jewish child will be influenced to do something forbidden by his fellow children. Only the non-Jews do not observe the laws of the Torah and there was little risk that a child would think their actions are acceptable for a Jew who follows the Torah. However, the laws of the Kohanim are unique in that most Jews do not have to observe them. Therefore, there is the added risk that a young Kohen will not realize the severity of the Mitzvos that only pertain to Kohanim. Accordingly, the Torah chooses these Mitzvos in particular to stress the significance of educating one’s children in the Mitzvos. The challenge that in those times was greater with regards to Kohanim, now seems to apply to all Jews. This is because, sadly, there are many Jews who do not observe the Mitzvos. Moreover, even within the groups who do strive to observe the Mitzvos, there are many different levels of sensitivity with regard to areas such as use of modern technology and involvement in the secular world. How, then, does a person strive to bring up his children to adhere to the level of values that he aspires to and not be adversely influenced by others? An answer to this question can perhaps be found in the words of Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l in his commentary on this verse in Emor. He explains, based on Rashi, that the two lashonos (expressions) of ‘saying’ come to teach us that there are two aspects in educating our children about Mitzvos. The first is simply to teach them about their obligations and the accompanying challenges that they will need to overcome. However, this alone is insufficient; for if a child only hears this then he may feel that he is not strong enough to overcome the numerous challenges that he will inevitably face. Accordingly, the second ‘saying’ comes to add that the father must communicate the joy of keeping Mitzvos to his children. In this way the child will receive the message that Torah observance is not simply a difficult challenge that must be overcome, rather it is the source of our well-being in this world as well as the next. In this vein, Rav Feinstein mentioned a phrase that was common amongst Jews of previous generations: “it is difficult to be a Jew”. He says that children that heard this message from their parents were being implicitly taught that Torah observance is a yoke that one must bear, despite all the challenges and difficulties it involves. As a result, many of these children grew up to see Torah as a burden and rejected it in their desire to achieve a ‘better’ life. In this vein, the following story was told; in the early part of the twentieth century many Jews who moved to America faced the tremendous challenge (nisayon) of not working on Shabbos. Most employers insisted that their employees work on Shabbos and if they refused they would be instantly fired. Many Jews succumbed to this nisayon and worked on Shabbos. Yet there were a minority who remained steadfast in their Shabbos observance despite the great challenges that this posed. There were two such men who did this, yet their children developed very differently. One of them merited to have children who devotedly followed in his footsteps to be G-d fearing Jews. But the children of the other man did not grow up in the same way and rejected Torah observance. This second man once approached Rav Aaron Kotler zt”l and asked him why his children had not followed in his footsteps whilst those of his friend did. He answered that whilst both men refused to work on Shabbos they expressed very different attitudes to their children. This man would return home on Friday after he was fired and come to the Shabbos table despondent, saying how difficult it was to keep the Torah in America. He constantly bemoaned his financial situation and worried about how he would find another job. His children would hear this and see how difficult Shabbos observance was; Shabbos, and by extension, all Torah, in their minds, became a difficult, unpleasant burden that only brought pain and sorrow every week. Unsurprisingly, as soon as they grew up, they were unwilling to undergo such ‘suffering’ and dropped Shabbos and the other Mitzvos. In contrast, his friend came home with an entirely different attitude. He came to the Shabbos table with great joy and enthusiasm, happy to have remained steadfast in his Shabbos observance. He saw it as a privilege to have stood up for the honor of Shabbos and was confident that HaShem would enable him to provide for his family. Thus his children grew up seeing Torah observance as the key to a rewarding and meaningful life. This essential lesson from Rav Feinstein and Rav Kotler provides us with the key to answer our original question. Our children will inevitably see others of different levels of Torah observance and standards, however if they are taught that observing the Torah is a joyous opportunity then they are far more likely to not be tempted by seemingly ‘easier’ or more ‘pleasurable’ lifestyles. One example of this is how parents approach Jewish holidays that require considerable work and preparation, such as Pesach. If the atmosphere in the home is one of tenseness at the burden of having to clean the house then the children will likely grow up with the attitude that Pesach is a burden. But if the hard work is approached in a positive way then they will see Pesach as a time of great happiness. One final vital point is that it is very difficult, if not impossible, to communicate the joy of Torah observance to one’s children, if the parent does not feel that joy himself. Children are influenced far more by how we live, then what we say. Thus, as well as a key message in chinuch, this is an essential lesson in our own lives; that Torah is the only way to achieve true meaning and life satisfaction. If we inculcate that into our own lives then our children will surely emulate us.

EMOR - UNDERSTANDING THE OMER

The Parsha outlines the Mitzvos involved with the Omer offering. On the second day of Pesach we are commanded to bring an offering of barley in the Beis HaMikdash and the Torah further instructs us to count forty nine days from the offering until the day before Shavuos. Rav Yosef Salant zt"l in his sefer, 'Be'er Yosef' asks a number of questions about the Omer . Amongst them he notes that the Omer offering was the same volume as the other Mincha offerings - a tenth of an eiphah . Yet this is the only offering in which the volume is described by the name 'Omer' as opposed to simply saying, 'a tenth of an eiphah'. What is the significance of this change in name? Secondly, he brings the Sefer HaChinuch who writes that purpose of Sefiras HaOmer (counting the Omer) is to count towards the day of the Giving of the Torah (Matan Torah), Shavuos. We count to demonstrate our excitement about reaching this holy day . Rav Salant points out that from the Sefer HaChinuch's explanation it is difficult to see any specific connection between the Omer and Matan Torah, rather it simply seems that there were 49 days between the two events and so we count from one towards the other. Is there a connection between the seemingly separate occasions of the Omer offering and Shavous? He answers the first question by noting that the other time the word 'Omer' is used in the Torah is with regard to the Manna that the Jews received in the desert. In Parshas Beshalach the Torah states that Hashem commanded the people to gather from the Manna, "an Omer per person. " The Medrash also connects the Omer offering with the Manna. It tells us that the Omer offering was some kind of acknowledgement from the Jewish people to Hashem of the Manna that they received in the desert. Rav Salant explains that during their time in the desert the people did not have to exert any effort in order to attain their sustenance. The Manna came directly from heaven without any input from the people. Further, no matter how much Manna a person tried to gather, he would never be able to take more than he was allotted, rather he would receive exactly what he needed. Because their sustenance was provided for, the people were free to involve themselves in learning Torah and Avodas Hashem. However, when they entered Eretz Yisroel, the Manna from heaven stopped and they were required to acquire their livelihood (parnassa) through physical effort. With this change came a new danger: When a person sees his toiling bear fruit, there is the risk that his reliance on Hashem will weaken and he will come to attribute his success to his own hard work. In order to prevent this from happening, the Torah gave us the Omer offering; we offer the first produce of the season to Hashem, acknowledging that only He is the Source of our sustenance and not our own hishtadlus. By connecting the Omer to the Manna through the same term of volume, the Torah stresses that in truth there was no difference in how we attained our food in the desert and in Eretz Yisroel. In the same way that Hashem provided us with food in the desert, He was the source of our sustenance once that miraculous period ended. The only difference is that now we no longer merited to experience open miracles and therefore we had to exert a measure of physical effort in order to attain our parnassa. The 'Be'er Yosef' adds a beautiful proof of the connection between the Manna and the Omer. He brings the Gemara in Kiddushin that says that the Manna stopped falling when Moshe Rabbeinu died, but the people continued to eat what was remaining until they entered the land on the 16th of Nissan . We also bring the Omer offering on that very date! Thus, every year, we begin counting the Omer on the day that the Manna stopped to further teach ourselves that the sustenance represented by the Omer is a continuation of the sustenance epitomized by the Manna. He then goes on to explain the connection between the Omer and Shavous. Thus far we have see how the Omer teaches us that our livelihood comes from Hashem. However, such an awareness is not sufficient; we must also realize that earning a parnassa is not an end in itself, rather it is a means to a greater end - to enable us to have enough menuchas hanefesh so that we can focus on Avodas Hashem and learning Torah without being overburdened by concerns about our livelihood. In this vein, the Torah connects the counting of the Omer to Shavuos to teach us that the purpose of the sustenance that is symbolized by the Omer is to take us to Matan Torah, to enable us to learn and observe the Torah effectively. Thus, for forty nine days we count the Omer, thereby infusing ourselves with the realization that Hashem is the only Source of our livelihood and moreover, that His purpose in doing so is to enable us to get close to Him through learning and keeping his Torah. The lessons of the Manna have had great relevance throughout Jewish history. In the time of the Prophet Yeremyahu, the people had made working a greater priority than learning Torah. Yeremyahu exhorted them to make learning Torah their main focus. They replied by claiming that they needed to work in order to survive . Yeremyahu responded by bringing out a container of Manna that was stored in the Beis HaMikdash . He showed them that Hashem has many ways of providing man with his parnassa and that he should realize the futility of focusing on one's physical sustenance to the exclusion of his spiritual well-being. We no longer have the container of Manna to arouse us, however we still have the Mitzvo of counting the Omer - it stands as a constant reminder that there is no benefit in working beyond the boundaries of acceptable hishtadlus (physical effort) because ultimately Hashem is the sole provider of our parnassa. Moreover, it teaches us to remember that the purpose of having our physical needs is so that we can focus on the main Avoda of growing closer to Hashem . These lessons are applied differently to each individual, there is no 'right' amount of time one should spend working, learning, and being involved in other spiritual pursuits. However, during this period of Sefiras HaOmer it is worthwhile for each person to make his own cheshbon hanefesh of the balance of his involvement in gashmius and ruchnius. Does he work more than is really necessary? In his spare time, does he focus on ruchnius or does he 'bring his work home with him'? By asking such questions a person can hopefully internalize the lessons of the Omer. May we all merit to receive our livelihood without difficulty, and have ample opportunity to grow closer to Hashem.

EMOR – OUR PORTION IN OLAM HABA

The Parsha ends with the distressing story of the Mekalel, the son of an Egyptian man, and Jewish woman, who committed the grave sin of blasphemy and as a result was punished with the death penalty. The episode begins with the words, “the son of an Israelite woman went out – and he was the son of an Egyptian man – among the Children of Israel…” Chazal and the commentaries point out that the significance of the words, “went out” is unclear. Rashi, quoting the Medrash, explains that the Torah is telling us that, “he went out of his Olam (world).” The commentaries explain that this means that he forsook his portion in Olam Haba through the terrible sin that he committed. The Taz in his commentary on the Torah, notes further the use of the language, that he left “his world” as opposed to, “the world”. The Taz explains: “The explanation seems to be, that, from the day of his birth, every member of the Jewish people is connected to the Upper World [ie. Olam Haba] in a Holy place. But when he sins he leaves that place where he is connected; therefore it says that he ‘went out’.” This explanation provides us with an important understanding of the Torah outlook with regard to reward and punishment in Olam Haba. One may think that a person in this world has no intrinsic connection to Olam Haba, rather when he dies and goes up, he will receive prizes (like in a raffle) for the Mitzvos he did, and will lose things for the sins he did. The reward that is ‘Olam Haba’ is viewed upon as being his prize. The Taz shows us that that is not the case – rather from his birth, a Jew is intrinsically connected to Olam Haba – what is the cause of this connection? It is obviously his soul; by dong Mitzvos he nourishes his soul and thereby ‘improves’ the nature of the Olam Haba that he will ‘receive’. By sinning he damages his soul and thereby loses certain elements of his Olam Haba – and without teshuva he has to go to Gehinnom to cleanse himself from the impurities on his soul because of the sin . The sin of the mekalel was so great that he lost his Olam HaBah . Thus, we see from here that that reward and punishment in the next world is not arbitrary, rather a person creates his own Olam Haba or lack thereof. There is a second important lesson that can be derived from the Taz: Some religions believe that people are intrinsically evil because of the sin of Adam, and that one must get out of that state of inherent evil. We see from the Taz that the exact opposite is true. We are intrinsically good and Holy and connected to Olam Haba - our job is just not to lose it, rather to tend to our Portion well. This concept is brought out by the Mishna in Sanhedrin which states: “Every Jew has a Portion in the World to Come…” The commentaries ask is it true that every Jews gets Olam Haba? Indeed the Mishna later enumerates the people who get no Olam Haba! The answer is that the Mishna does not say that every person ultimately receives Olam Haba rather that they all have a Chelek (Portion), and it is up to them to maintain and develop that portion. But if they neglect their job then they are in danger of losing it, as was the case with the people mentioned in the Mishna. An analogy of owning land can be used to help further understand the Mishna. The portion described here is like a plot of land; each person inherits a bare plot of land. It is up to him to tender the plot and plant it so that healthy crops grow in it. If at the end of one’s tenure of the crop, he has developed it well, then he can reap the rewards of his hard work. If, however, he neglects the crop, then it will remain undeveloped, and if he mistreats it, by throwing dangerous chemicals into it, for example, then he will damage it. At the end of his tenure, he will be left with a useless piece of land. So too, we are all born with a lofty soul that is our connection to Olam Haba. If we observe the Torah and Mitzvos then we will elevate our soul so that after our deaths our souls will be fitting vessels to enjoy the spiritual wonders of Olam Haba. If, however, we neglect and damage our souls, then they will be so badly stained that they will not be able to benefit from Olam Haba, and that soul will have to undergo the painful process of Gehinnom in order to be able to enter Olam Haba. We have seen how each Jew has an inherent connection to Olam Haba and that the way we conduct ourselves in this world determines the state of our portion in the Next World. There are is a very important practical lesson that should be derived from this knowledge. A person’s yetser hara (negative inclination) sometimes tells him that even if he acts incorrectly, HaShem will forgive his transgressions and he will avoid negative consequences, without having to do teshuva. However, this understanding is totally incorrect – when a person sins, he automatically damages his soul – it is not a matter of HaShem ‘letting him off or not’, rather HaShem has set up a system whereby there are natural spiritual consequences to one’s actions. Thus, just like in the physical world, it is understood that certain actions, such as walking off the roof of a building will cause great damage, the same is true in the spiritual world. Only teshuva can rectify the damage done by the sin.

Parachat Kedochim – Qui est prioritaire ? – Le point de vue de Rachi (Yehonathan Gefen)

u ne te vengeras pas et tu ne garderas pas rancune aux enfants de ton peuple ; tu aimeras ton prochain comme toi-même – Je suis Hachem. » (Yayikra, 19 : 18) Rachi commente, sur les mots « Tu aimeras ton prochain comme toi-même » : Rabbi Akiva dit : « C’est un principe fondamental de la Thora. » Ce précepte bien connu de la Thora ordonne à l’homme de se comporter avec son prochain comme il agit envers sa propre personne. Rachi rapporte les paroles de Rabbi Akiva qui explique qu’il s’agit d’un principe fondamental de la Thora. Les commentateurs expliquent que de nombreuses autres mitsvot sont basées sur celle d’aimer son prochain. Le ‘Hatam Sofer zatsal note une contradiction entre ces paroles de Rabbi Akiva et un autre principe que ce dernier énonce autre part. La Guemara dans Baba Metsia parle du cas de deux personnes qui se retrouvent dans le désert et seule l’une d’entre elles a une gourde d’eau. Il reste suffisamment d’eau pour que l’une d’elles, seulement, puisse survivre et atteindre un endroit habité. Que doit faire la personne à qui appartient la gourde ? Ben Betéra tranche qu’elle ne peut pas laisser son compagnon mourir seul, et qu’ils doivent donc partager le contenu de l’outre . Rabbi Akiva objecte, et déduit de la Thora un concept appelé « ‘hayékha kodmim » ; cela signifie que l’on a le droit de donner priorité à sa vie plutôt qu’à celle de son prochain. Rabbi Akiva tranche donc que le propriétaire de la gourde doit la garder . Le ‘Hatam Sofer zatsal écrit que ces deux dictons de Rabbi Akiva semblent se contredire. Son explication de la mitsva « Aime ton prochain comme toi-même » implique apparemment que l’on doit considérer autrui comme soi-même, tandis que le principe de « ‘hayékha kodmim » sous-entend que la personne en question passe avant . Il propose une réponse intéressante, faisant la distinction entre le monde spirituel et le monde matériel. Le cas rapporté dans Baba Metsia concerne le monde physique, la gachmiout – Rabbi Akiva estime alors que les besoins physiques de l’individu passent avant ceux de son prochain. Mais, dans Parachat Kedochim, Rabbi Akiva fait référence à la spiritualité, la rou’haniout. Dans ce domaine, il statue que l’on doit considérer autrui exactement comme soi-même. Pour étayer son opinion, le ‘Hatam Sofer affirme que c’est la raison pour laquelle Rabbi Akiva estime qu’il s’agit d’un principe fondamental de la Thora. N’aurait-il pas pu simplement dire que c’est un principe fondamental ? L’ajout des mots « de la Thora » vient préciser que dans le monde de la Thora, c’est-à-dire la spiritualité, il faut prendre l’ordre d’aimer son prochain comme soi-même au sens littéral et se conduire avec lui comme avec soi-même . Cette explication a pour corollaire qu’un homme doit être prêt à cesser sa propre étude pour enseigner à quelqu’un d’autre . Cela devient difficile à comprendre ; en effet, on nous demande, par là, de placer l’autre avant nous-mêmes et non au même niveau. En vérité, lorsqu’une personne inculque un savoir à une autre personne, elles sont toutes deux avantagées – l’élève apprend, mais le professeur profite également de son enseignement. Une autre question peut être posée sur l’explication du ‘Hatam Sofer. Pourquoi doit-on faire une distinction entre le domaine physique et le spirituel quand il s’agit de considérer son prochain ? Pourquoi, dans la rou’haniout, faut-il agir avec l’autre comme avec soi-même tandis que dans la gachmiout, on peut avoir la priorité ? En réalité, le peuple juif est une seule entité, sur le plan spirituel. Les commentateurs le comparent à un corps spirituel dans lequel chaque Juif a une part. Cela correspond au concept de « kol Israël arévim zé lazé » — chaque Juif est garant de son prochain. Au point que lorsqu’un Juif faute, on estime que d’autres Juifs ont également commis la faute . Par contre, au niveau physique, chacun est indépendant, tout simplement parce que chaque corps humain est distinct de l’autre. C’est la raison pour laquelle, bien qu’il y ait une obligation de se soucier des besoins physiques de son prochain, il n’est pas obligatoire de le considérer exactement comme soi-même. L’analyse du ‘Hatam Sofer ainsi que ses implications dans la halakha (loi juive) ne font pas l’unanimité . Néanmoins, d’un point de vue théorique, cette idée s’applique à tout le monde. Elle nous rappelle que le bien-être spirituel d’un autre Juif doit rester au centre de nos préoccupations – pas simplement parce que l’on doit se soucier d’autrui, mais parce que son échec est le nôtre et que ses réussites sont également les nôtres.

Entendiendo el verdadero significado de jésed

La luz de la Torá - Kedoshim (Levítico 19-20) Por Yehonasan Gefen La Torá enumera en la parashá de esta semana las diferentes relaciones prohibidas y sus castigos, y hacia el final de la lista declara: “El hombre que tome a su hermana, la hija de su padre o la hija de su madre, y vea su desnudez y ella vea la desnudez de él, jésed es, y serán apartados de la vista de los miembros de su pueblo; habrá descubierto la desnudez de su hermana y cargará con su iniquidad (1)”. Este versículo presenta un problema obvio: la descripción de una relación incestuosa como jésed. El jésed normalmente se traduce como bondad, por lo que cabe preguntarse, ¿qué bondad tiene la inmoralidad? Para responder esta pregunta debemos redefinir nuestro entendimiento de jésed. Una definición más precisa de jésed sería “un rasgo caracterizado por límites desbordados o ausentes”. Una importante consecuencia de esto es la benevolencia, ya que el jésed causa que la persona quiera compartir con los otros de forma abundante, rompiendo sus límites de egoísmo. Sin embargo, esta es sólo una de las tantas manifestaciones de jésed, y como en todas las características de personalidad, el jésed también tiene aspectos negativos. Una manifestación negativa del jésed es que la persona puede perder el sentido apropiado de los límites. El comportamiento inmoral involucra ignorar la aseveración de la Torá de que ciertas relaciones rompen los límites adecuados. Consecuentemente, la Torá describe ciertas formas de inmoralidad como jésed. Hay dos prominentes personajes de la Torá que representan aspectos negativos del rasgo de jésed: Ishmael y Lot. Nuestros sabios nos enseñan que Ishmael estaba profundamente involucrado en robo (2) e inmoralidad (3). La actitud de lo mío es tuyo y lo tuyo es mío lleva a creer que uno tiene el derecho de usurpar la esposa y las posesiones materiales de los demás. Lot creció en el hogar de Abraham y por lo tanto se acostumbró a hacer jésed con los demás, algo que quedó demostrado en su gran hospitalidad en Sodoma. Sin embargo, Lot claramente desarrolló un entendimiento de jésed pervertido, por ejemplo, cuando la gente de Sodoma amenazó con abusar de sus huéspedes, él prefirió ofrecer en cambio a sus propias hijas. Él hizo jésed con sus invitados a expensas de sus propias hijas (4). ¿Por qué Ishmael y Lot aplicaron tan mal el rasgo de jésed? La respuesta es que su jésed no fue adquirido en base a las pautas de la Torá, sino que fue resultado de la genética y de la crianza. Como vemos, incluso un rasgo que generalmente es positivo como el jésed puede tener ramificaciones indeseables si no se aplica de la manera correcta. Por ejemplo, una persona con una inclinación natural al jésed puede realizar acciones de bondad de una forma o en una cantidad equivocada. Por ejemplo una persona puede terminar siendo extremadamente bondadosa con sus amigos y olvidar cuidar lo suficiente de su propia familia. Otro ejemplo de esto es una persona caracterizada por el rasgo de jésed que tiene problemas para ponerse límites en diferentes aspectos de la vida, como ser puntual o confiable, porque le resulta difícil poner un límite a su tiempo. Es más, si una persona no tiene bien definidos los límites puede que le resulte difícil evitar la falsedad ya que la honestidad requiere la capacidad para adherirse a los límites de la verdad. La personificación del balance correcto de jésed es Abraham. Él claramente tenía una tendencia natural hacia el jésed, pero no permitió que sus inclinaciones naturales lo guiaran ciegamente. En cambio, cuando necesitó hacerlo, contuvo e incluso negó su jésed. En muchas ocasiones Abraham fue puesto en situaciones que lo forzaron a restringir su jésed (5), pero tuvo éxito en esas difíciles pruebas y demostró que su jésed no era controlado por su inclinación natural sino por su temor a Dios. Otro error común que suelen cometer las personas naturalmente bondadosas es esperar que las demás personas sean tan dadivosas como ellas. Consecuentemente no dudan en exigir que otros les hagan favores importantes, ya que ellos harían lo mismo por los demás. Sin embargo, pese a que la Torá nos exige que seamos muy generosos, también nos pide que tratemos de no depender de la bondad de los demás, como dice el Rey Salomón: “quien odia los regalos vivirá (6)” Nuestros Guedolim siempre rebasaban de jésed pero de todas formas solían rehusarse a aceptar cosas de los demás para sí mismos. Un ejemplo sorprendente es el del Brisker Rav, Rav Itzjak Zev Soloveitchik. Cuando Rav Soloveitchik era rabino de Brisk, había muchos niños de madres solteras pobres, y estas madres no podían criarlos. Nadie quería asumir la tremenda responsabilidad de cuidar a esos niños. ¿Qué hacían las pobres madres? Iban en medio de la noche y ponían a sus hijos en el umbral de la casa del Brisker Rav. Cuando llegaba la mañana y el Rav encontraba al niño llorando a su puerta, inmediatamente lo llevaba al interior de la casa y asumía la responsabilidad de encontrar a alguien que lo cuidara. Si no tenía éxito entonces él mismo se encargaba de las necesidades del pequeño (7). Pero a pesar de que el Brisker Rav ofrecía su ayuda constantemente era muy cuidadoso de no aceptar regalos de ningún tipo incluso en las circunstancias más difíciles. Cuando llegó a Palestina en 1941 junto con Rav Eliezer Yehudá Finkel, el Rosh Ieshivá de Mir, fue detenido en la oficina de control de pasaportes. La delegación que esperaba a los rabinos se enteró que no tenían dinero suficiente para pagar el impuesto de media lira (aproximadamente 80 shekels), y a quien no pagaba no se le permitía ingresar. Uno de los líderes de la Agencia Judía ofreció pagar el impuesto para el Brisker Rav, pero este se rehusó firmemente, diciendo: “Jamás en mi vida acepté dinero de nadie”. Después de mucha deliberación, un viejo residente de Brisk tuvo una idea. Entró a la oficina y se acercó al Brisker Rav: “Los miembros de la comunidad de Brisk que han venido a Israel quieren que el Rav continúe sirviendo como nuestro Rav. Le pagaremos al Rav un salario, al igual que hicimos en Brisk. Por lo tanto, quiero darle o mejor dicho prestarle dinero al Rav para que pague el impuesto, el cual posteriormente será descontado de su salario”. “Esa es una oferta que puedo aceptar”, dijo el Brisker Rav y aceptó el dinero (8). Puede que el Brisker Rav haya heredado el rasgo de jésed naturalmente o puede que no haya sido así, pero de todas maneras él sobresalió en la forma correcta de jésed al mismo tiempo que evitó sus aspectos negativos. Hemos visto que jésed no sólo significa bondad, sino que representa la propensión a desbordarse y la ausencia de límites, y vimos también que esto puede ser utilizado tanto para bien como para mal. Es más, hay una gran diferencia entre una persona que tiene el rasgo de jésed gracias a la genética o al hábito y una que lo ha desarrollado dentro de la perspectiva de la Torá. Quiera Dios que todos utilicemos el rasgo de jésed sólo para bien. Notas: (1) Kedoshim 20:17. (2) Rashi, Lej Lejá 16:12. (3) Rashi, Vaierá 21:9. (4) Ver Rambán, Vaierá 19:8. (5) Por ejemplo, cuando Dios le dice que eche a su hijo Ishmael y, más aún, cuando le ordena matar a su hijo Itzjak. (6) Mishlei 15:27. (7) Lorinz, “Bemejitzatam”. (8) Lorinz, “Bemejitzatam”.

UNDERSTANDING THE OMER

On the second day of Pesach, we are commanded to bring the Omer, a barley offering, in the Beis HaMikdash. The Torah further instructs us to count forty-nine days from this offering until the day before Shavuos. Rav Yosef Salant, ztz”l, in his work Be'er Yosef, asks a number of questions about the Omer. Among them, he notes that the Omer offering was the same volume as the other Minchah offerings: a tenth of an eiphah. Yet it is the only such offering described by the name “Omer” as opposed to simply as “a tenth of an eiphah.” What is the significance of this name? In addition, the Sefer HaChinuch states that the purpose of sefiras haOmer (counting the Omer) is to count toward the day of matan Torah (the giving of the Torah), Shavuos. We count to demonstrate our excitement about reaching this holy day. Rav Salant points out that it is difficult to see any specific connection between the Omer and the giving of the Torah. Rather, it seems that there were simply forty-nine days between the two events, and we count from one toward the other. Is there a connection between the seemingly separate occasions of the Omer offering and Shavuos? Rav Salant answers the first question by noting that the other time the word omer is used in the Torah is with regard to the manna, which the Jews received in the desert. In parashas Beshallach, the Torah states that Hashem commanded them to gather from the manna “an omer per person.” The Midrash also connects the Omer offering with the manna. It tells us that this offering was the Jews’ way of thanking Hashem for the manna. Rav Salant explains that during their time in the desert, the Jews did not have to exert any effort in order to attain their sustenance. The manna came directly from Heaven without any input from the people. Furthermore, no matter how much manna a person tried to gather, he would never be able to take more than he was allotted; rather, he would receive exactly what he needed. Because their sustenance was provided, the people were free to involve themselves in learning Torah and other forms of serving Hashem. However, when the Jews entered Eretz Yisrael, the manna stopped, and they had to earn a living through physical effort. With this change came a new danger: When a person’s toil bears fruit, his trust in Hashem may weaken, and he may attribute his success to his own hard work. To prevent this from happening, the Torah gave us the Omer offering. We offer the first produce of the season to Hashem, acknowledging that only He—rather than our own efforts—is the Source of our sustenance. By connecting the Omer to the manna through the same unit of volume, the Torah stresses that in truth there was no essential difference in how we attained our food in the desert and in Eretz Yisrael. Just as Hashem fed us in the desert, He was the Source of our sustenance once that miraculous period ended. The only difference was that now we no longer merited open miracles, so we had to exert a measure of physical effort in order to make a living. The Be'er Yosef adds a beautiful proof of the connection between the manna and the Omer. According to the Gemara in Kiddushin, the manna stopped falling when Moshe Rabbeinu died, but the people continued to eat what remained until they entered the land on 16 Nisan. We bring the Omer offering on that very date! Thus, every year, we begin counting the Omer on the day the manna stopped to further teach ourselves that the sustenance represented by the Omer is a continuation of the sustenance epitomized by the manna. Rav Salant then explains the connection between the Omer and Shavuos. Thus far, we have see how the Omer teaches us that our livelihood comes from Hashem. However, such an awareness is not sufficient. We must also realize that earning a living is not an end in itself, rather, it is a means to a greater end: having enough peace of mind that we can focus on serving Hashem without being overburdened by concerns about our livelihood. In this vein, the Torah connects the counting of the Omer to Shavuos to teach us that the purpose of the sustenance symbolized by the Omer is to take us to matan Torah, to enable us to learn and live the Torah. Thus, for forty-nine days we count the Omer, infusing ourselves with the realization that Hashem is the Source of our livelihood and that, moreover, He acts as that Source to enable us to get close to Him through learning and observing His Torah. The lessons of the manna have had great relevance throughout Jewish history. In the time of the prophet Yirmeyahu, the Jews had made working a greater priority than learning Torah. Yirmeyahu exhorted them to make Torah study their main focus. They replied by claiming that they needed to work in order to survive. He responded by bringing out a jar of manna stored in the Beis HaMikdash. He showed them that Hashem has many ways of providing man with a livelihood and that one should realize the futility of concentrating on his physical sustenance to the exclusion of his spiritual well-being. We no longer have that jar of manna to arouse us, but we still have the mitzvah of counting the Omer. It stands as a constant reminder that there is no benefit in making more than a reasonable effort to support ourselves, because ultimately Hashem is the sole Provider of our livelihood. Moreover, it teaches us that He provides for our needs so we can focus on the main avodah of growing closer to Hashem. These lessons apply differently to each individual. The amount of time one should spend working, learning, and being involved in other spiritual pursuits varies from person to person. However, during this period of sefiras HaOmer, each person should make his own accounting of the balance of his involvement in physical and spiritual matters. Does he work more than necessary? In his spare time, does he focus on spirituality or bring his work home with him? By asking such questions, a person can internalize the lessons of the Omer. May we all merit a livelihood without difficulty and ample opportunity to grow closer to Hashem.

THE OMER – REBBE AVIKA’S STUDENTS

The Omer is characterized by a period of mourning over the tragic deaths of Rebbe Akiva’s 24,000 students. The gemara explains that they were punished because they did not give sufficient honor to each other. However, the Medrash offers a different explanation. It states that they died because they were unwilling to share their Torah with others. How can these two seemingly contradictory maamarei Chazal (saying of the Rabbis) be resolved? In truth it is possible that both failings emanate from the same source: They both came about as a result of a slight lack of appreciation for the importance of Torah . The root of their failure to attribute sufficient honor to their fellow talmidei chachamim was a lacking in some small way in appreciation of the importance of Torah and the accompanying honor one must give those who learn it. It would seem that the Medrash’s criticism that they did not that they did not share their Torah could also emanate from a lack of respect for the importance of Torah. This is borne out from the following gemara, as explained by the Maharal. In Parshas Shelach, the Torah, in describing one who worships idols, says that "he disgraced the word of Hashem." The gemara in Sanhedin ascribes this degrading description to a number of other negative forms of behavior such as denying that the Torah is from HaShem. The gemara adds; "Rebbe Meir says; one who learns Torah and does not teach it is included in the category of, 'for he disgraced the word of HaShem' ." It is very difficult to understand why learning and not teaching can be placed in the same category as truly terrible sins such as denying that the Torah is from HaShem ! The Maharal explains that Kavod HaTorah is greatly enhanced when one spreads the word of Hashem to others. One who does not do so prevents Torah from being learnt by others. Therefore, he disgraces the word of Hashem because through his inaction he hinders the enhancement of Kavod HaShem . We see from the Maharal that a failure to teach others is indicative of a lack of true concern of the honor of the Torah. With this understanding, it seems that the gemara and Medrash are not arguing – both agree that Rebbe Akiva’s students were lacking in a slight degree in the appropriate appreciation for Torah. The consequences of these sins were so significant that all of these great men died, and as a result the gemara tells us that the world was desolate of Torah. This would seem to be a measure for measure punishment of their inability to spread Torah to others – since they did not teach Torah, they were punished that with their deaths, the continuation of the Torah would be under severe threat. This is not the only example where we see that a lack of teaching Torah was the cause of great desolation. The gemara in Avoda Zara describes the first two thousands of existence as being years of desolation (tohu) . This period ended when Avraham Avinu began to teach Torah to the world. At that time, the ‘period of Torah began’. Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l notes that there were individuals who learnt Torah before Avraham Avinu, accordingly he asks how this period can be described as being one of spiritual desolation? He explains that since these men were not going out to teach others, it was impossible for Torah to spread throughout the world. Thus, even though there were individuals learning Torah, it was a time of great desolation. The desolation only ended when Avraham began teaching the world. We have seen how the failure to honor and spread Torah led to the devastating tragedy of the death of 24,000 talmidei chachamim. It is little surprise that the tikun (rectification) of the sin was that the new students should spread Torah. Accordingly, the Medrash informs us of Rebbe Akiva’s exhortation to his new students. He told them. “do not be like the first students.” The Medrash continues that that when they heard this, “they immediately got up and filled all of Eretz Yisroel with Torah.” Based on all the above, we have a new perspective about the reasons for the practice of mourning the deaths of the 24,000 students before Lag B’Omer. Some commentaries have pointed out that we do not mourn the deaths of people for longer than twelve months, no matter how great they are. In the Omer we are not mourning the deaths of the student, rather the devastating loss of Torah that came about as a result of their deaths. By mourning this loss of Torah, we can hopefully increase our appreciation for the Torah and the need to spread it to all Jews.