THE ROOT OF LASHON HARA - TETZAVEH

Chazal tell us that the various items of clothing of the Kohen Gadol served as atonements for the sins of Klal Yisroel. The meil atoned for lashon hara. One of the striking features of the meil was that it was fully techeiles, the color that resembles the Kisay HaKavod.[1] What is the connection between the techeiles of the meil with atonement for lashon hara? The Chofetz Chaim zt”l explains by quoting a Tana d’bey Eliyahu that says that lashon hara rises up to the Kisay HaKavod. This means that a person who speaks lashon hara will have to face judgement in front of the Kisay HaKavod. The techeiles on the meil of the Kohen Gadol would serve as a reminder that our words have great spiritual power[2].

Thanks to the drive against lashon hara there is far more awareness as to the halachos and hashkafo of shemiras halashon. Nonetheless, lashon hara remains as being one of the most difficult aveiros to avoid - there are a number of reasons for this, including the fact that we speak so much and that there is strong social pressure that makes it very hard to avoid negative speech.

However, perhaps there is a deeper cause to lashon hara that lies at the root of much of the lashon hara spoken. Halacho acknowledges that we derive pleasure from speaking negatively about others - we see this in the laws of constructive speech: There are times when it is permissible and even required to speak lashon hara in order to prevent damage, however even this is forbidden if the speaker is pleased in his heart to cast the perpetrator in a bad light. This is difficult to understand - there are many aveiros for which there is an obvious taiva, such as arayos, however there is no obvious physical pleasure derived by speaking lashon hara. Why is there such a drive to speak negatively about other people?

It seems that the root cause of the pleasure of speaking lashon hara is that it provides an artificial boost to our self-worth: If we feel a lack of self-worth there are two ways in which we can boost it - one is to get involved in constructive activities and improve our character. In this way we feel more fulfilled and positive about ourselves. However, there is another, easier option; We often tend to value ourselves in relation to others, consequently our self-image is often dependent upon how we compare to those around us. By criticizing them we knock them down, thereby we now see ourselves in a more favorable light in comparison. For example, if we feel lacking in a mida such as intelligence, by criticizing someone else in that exact same area can help us feel better about our own level of intelligence.

This would seem to the explanation of Chazal’s statement that a person only criticizes others about a flaw that they themselves possess. Chazal understood the psychological needs of people to feel good about themselves and that a prime way of trying to do so is by knocking down others in their very own areas of weakness.

Of course the rise in self-worth derived from speaking lashon hara is artificial and very short-lived. After a short while the speaker’s true sense of inadequacy returns and he feels the need to criticize more in order to boost himself. Any person who has tried to refrain from lashon hara can testify that on the occasions when they held themselves they did not feel any lacking - on the contrary they felt better about themselves for doing the right thing.

There are two important lessons that can be dreived from this understanding of lashon hara. Firstly we must be highly vigilant of our intentions when we speak negatively for a constructive purpose. This is especially true in the delicate area of criticizing other groups or ideologies within Judaism. Indeed the Manchester Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Sega zt”l said that only great tzaddikim can speak critically of other groups. One reason for this may be that tzaddikim are secure in themselves and have no psychological need to criticize people. However, everyone else is prone to feelings of lack of self-worth and we may express righteous condemnation of those that we disapprove of for reasons that are not leshem shamayim. This constitutes lashon hara midoraysa and it is surely wise to heed the words of Rav Segal and to never risk transgressing such a serious aveiro.

The second lesson is that if we see in ourselves the desire to disparage others then we must do a cheshbon hanefesh to discover its source. Very often, it may arise because of a lack of self-worth. But instead of putting down others, we can feel better about ourselves by improving our midos and striving to be active and productive members of society. May we all be zocheh to purify our speech and learn the lesson of the meil.

[1] Arachin, 16a.
[2] Chofetz Chaim Al HaTorah, Parshas Tetzaveh

THE MEIL AND THE KETORES - TETZAVEH

"You shall make the Robe of the Ephod entirely of turquoise wool.... You shall make on its hem pomegranates of turquoise, purple, and scarlet wool, on its hem all around, and gold bells between them, all around; a gold bell and a pomegranate, a gold bell and a pomegranate on the hem of the robe, all around.[1]"

One of the Vestements of the Kohen Gadol was the Meil, a robe that was adorned with bells and rang whenever the Kohen Gadol walked. The Gemara in Arachin discusses how all of the Kohen Gadol's Vestements atoned for a particular aveiro; the meil atoned for the sin of lashon hara. The Gemara explains that the meil, which made a loud kol (sound) should atone for lashon hara which makes a loud kol. However, the Gemara brings a seemingly contradictory braissa[2] that says that the ketores (incense) that was used in the Mishkan atones for lashon hara. It answers that there are two different types of lashon hara; the ketores atones for a more 'quiet' form lashon hara, when the speaker hides his true feelings from the subject of his criticism and therefore the 'victim' of the lashon hara has no awareness that someone is criticizing him. In contrast, the lashon hara that is atoned for by the meil is characterized by the speaker making no secret of his true feelings about the victim to the extent that the victim is very likely to be aware of what is being said about him[3].

However, this explanation of the Gemara seems to pose a new difficulty; why is it necessary for there to be two separate functions of the Mishkan to atone for the single sin of lashon hara; why can't either the meil or the ketores atone for both 'loud' and 'quiet' lashon hara? Moreover, it would seem that loud lashon hara is significantly more damaging than 'quiet' lashon hara. Therefore, if the meil has the power to atone for the more severe form of lashon hara, then it should surely be able to atone for the seemingly less damaging 'quiet' lashon hara?

In order to answer this question it is necessary to understand more specifically the negative aspects of these two forms of lashon hara: Loud lashon hara is very damaging in that the victim is aware of the evil speech that is directed towards him and this naturally causes him great pain. In this aspect, loud lashon hara is considered more destructive than its quieter counterpart. However, there is a certain way in which 'quiet' lashon hara is more pernicious than loud lashon hara. Quiet lashon hara is characterized by the perpetrator of this grave sin behaving in a two-faced manner towards his victim; in front of him he is very friendly, but behind his back he slanders him mercilessly and instructs the listeners not to reveal his true feelings to his unfortunate fellow. Since the victim is totally unaware that he is being vilified, he makes no efforts to protect himself from these attacks and they may continue unabated. In contrast, the victim of 'loud' lashon hara is far more likely to find out about the lashon hara spoken about him, consequently he will be able to protect himself.

With this understanding we can now explain why it is necessary for there to be two separate functions of the Mishkan to atone for lashon hara. Each form of lashon hara is more detrimental in some way than the other. Consequently, whilst the meil has the capacity to atone for the damaging aspect of 'loud' lashon hara it cannot atone for the harm caused by quiet lashon hara. Similarly, the ketores can atone for the pernicious features of 'quiet' lashon hara but it cannot do so for the areas in which 'loud' lashon hara is more damaging.

What is particularly striking about this explanation is that in some ways speaking lashon hara in a hidden fashion is worse than doing so in a blatant manner. The Chofetz Chaim zt"l discusses how speaking lashon hara of the 'quiet' kind can also involve a transgression of the Mitzvo, "do not hate your brother in your heart (loh sisna es achicha bilvavecha)[4]." The simple understanding of this Mitzvo is that one only transgresses it when he keeps his hatred in his heart and does not reveal it to anyone, including the subject of his hatred. However, if he expresses his hatred even in a negative way, he does not transgress 'loh sisna' because he did not keep the hatred in his heart[5].

The Chofetz Chaim argues that this is not necessarily the case; a person may hate his fellow and tells others of his hatred, but act towards him in a friendly manner. This, the Chofetz Chaim writes, is also a transgression of keeping hatred in one's heart. He explains that the root of the sin of keeping hatred in one's heart is that the subject of the hatred is unable to protect himself from the person who despises him. Consequently, if the 'hater' hides his true feelings to his fellow he is guilty of loh sisna even if he tells others about his hatred. We learn from the Chofetz Chaim the above concept that 'quiet' lashon hara has a particularly insidious aspect to it, in that its victim is totally unable to protect himself from the silent bombardments that he is subjected to.

There may be occasions in a person's life where he develops a dislike for someone. It is self-evident that this loathing does not justify speaking lashon hara. We learn further from the Gemara in Arachin that acting towards him in a two-faced manner makes the lashon hara even more destructive. Chazal tell us that Yosef's brothers were wrong in hating him, but to their credit they did not act in a hypocritical manner towards him. The lesson we derive from the brothers' behavior towards Yosef is that whilst it is wrong to hate someone, it is far worse to hide that hatred of him and speak badly about him behind his back. This hanhago only succeeds in causing enmity and machlokes. The ideal course of action is to try to resolve the situation by speaking to the subject of his hatred in a calm and reasonable manner and strive to resolve the issue in a mature fashion. By acting in an honest and candid manner, one can greatly improve his relationships with those around him.

[1] Tetzaveh, 28:31-34.
[2] A source that dates from the time of the Mishna.
[3] Arachin, 16a. My Rebbe, Rav Yitzchak Berkovits Shlita gave this explanation of what the Gemara meant by 'loud' and 'quiet' lashon hara.
[4] Kedoshim, 19:17.
[5] See Rambam, Hilchos Deos, Ch.6, Halachos 5-6; Ramban and Rashbam, Kedoshim, 19:17. Needless to say one is not permitted to express one's hatred in a hostile fashion, such as by shouting or striking his fellow Jew.

DEFINING EVIL - PARSHAS ZACHOR

In the end of Parshas Ki Seitsei, the Torah commands us to remember the attack of Amalek against the Jewish people, when we were leaving Mitzrayim. This mitzvo is fulfilled by reading the portion that commands us with regard to this remembrance. Towards the end of the portion we are also commanded to wipe out the memory of Amalek - this means we must destroy any Amalek adult, child and animal.[1] A person may find the command to destroy a whole nation difficult to understand.

Indeed this mitzvo troubled the righteous King, Shaul HaMelech when he was commanded to destroy the whole nation of Amalek. Understanding the underlying mistake in this episode will help us answer the question above. The Prophet tells us that, on Hashem's command, Shmuel HaNavi instructed Shaul to wipe out the whole nation, including the women, children, and animals. Shaul defeated the Amalekim in the subsequent battle, and did kill everyone with the exception of the Amalekite King, Agag, and a few animals.[2] The gemara offers an explanation as to Shaul's reluctance to kill all the Amalekim. It tells us that Shaul made a kal v'chomer[3]; he noted the mitzvo of egla arufa[4] - this is a solemn ceremony that takes place upon the murder of a person in between two cities. It demonstrates the Torah's concern with regard to a single death, and its emphasis on the value of human life.[5] Shaul reasoned that if a single human life had so much value, all the more so that is the case with regard to a whole nation.[6] The gemara further tells us that in reaction to Shaul's 'merciful' reasoning, a Bas kol (Heavenly voice) came out, and said, "do not be overly righteous".[7] A short time later, Shaul was pursuing David HaMelech as he felt David threatened Shaul's kingship. David took refuge with a group of Kohanim who lived in the city of Nov. Unaware of Shaul's enmity to David, they fed David and provided him with a sword.[8] When Shaul heard about this, he ordered the murder of the whole city. At that time, another Bas Kol came out, saying, "do not be overly evil."

The Medrash makes a puzzling observation connecting these two incidents: "Anyone who is merciful in a situation where he should be cruel, eventually, he will be cruel in a situation where he should be merciful.[9] The Medrash states clearly that it is inevitable that one who is inappropriately merciful will come to be cruel in an unsuitable manner. Why is this course of events so certain? My Rebbe, Rav Yitzchak Berkovits shlita explains that Shaul's underlying mistake was that he put his own natural emotions before the Torah's commands.[10] Accordingly, in a situation where his natural sense of justice contradicted with a command to kill children, he chose his emotions ahead of detaching himself from his emotions in order to fulfill Hashem's word. However, in another situation, his emotions communicated to him a very different message; he perceived that David was a threat to his whole family, therefore he felt that anyone helping David was also a threat to his family and must be killed. Again, he placed his emotions before the Torah's instructions and ordered the ruthless murder of innocent people. Now we can understand the inexorable connection between Shaul's misplaced mercy and his inappropriate cruelty. A person who follows his emotions to the side of 'mercy' is nonetheless at the whim of his emotions and not morality as defined by the Torah. Therefore it is inevitable that on a separate occasion his emotions will pull him in a different direction and cause him to be overly cruel.

The account of Shaul’s failure to wipe out Amalek ended when Shmuel HaNavi personally struck down King Agag. The Ralbag brings out a remarkable point in this incident. Shmuel had Agag brought in front of him in chains. When Agag saw the righteous Shmuel, he exclaimed: “sar mar hamaves”.[11] The Ralbag understands that Agag was saying that the bitterness of death had now gone away. This is because when he saw Shmuel he recognized his attributes of kindness and mercy, and thus he presumed that Shmuel would show mercy upon him. However, Shmuel quickly corrected Agag, telling him that he deserved to die, and he subsequently killed him. Shmuel was a merciful person because, in general, the Torah encourages the trait of mercy. However, on this occasion, Shmuel knew that mercy was inappropriate and, in this instance, the seemingly ‘cruel’ act of killing was the moral course of action because that was HaShem‘s will.

These incidents help us recognize that one cannot define morality according to his own subjective feelings and beliefs. When a person acts in such a way, he can begin to justify all kinds of evil actions. Indeed this is a common trend in secular society. People that do not believe in an objective morality feel free to define what constitutes ‘murder‘, for example. Thus, they judge that killing unborn fetuses or terminally ill people are valid courses of action. The Torah Jew recognizes that all human attempts to define morality are subject to terrible misuse. The only valid way of defining morality is by following the Torah's guidelines. Indeed morality, like everything else in the universe, was created and defined by HaShem. Accordingly, when a person finds it difficult to understand the moral nature of a Mitzvo in the Torah, this does not mean that the Mtizvo is immoral chas v’Shalom. Rather, it means that the person is following his own natural emotions and inclinations. The Torah encourages emotional expression, but only after a person has channeled his emotions through the prism of Torah. Then, he can shift his emotions to be in line with Torah morality.

With such an understanding, we realize that if HaShem commands us to destroy an entire nation, then that is the moral course of action. Indeed it is commendable to try to understand why the Torah makes such a command, and with some contemplation as to what Amalek represent, it is not difficult to understand.[12] Nonetheless, the foundation is to recognize that the Torah conception of morality is the only valid one.


[1] It should be pointed out that the Minchas Chinuch (Mitzvo 604) points out that we cannot technically fulfill this mitzvo because we cannot identify who is really an Amaleki. This is because the Assyrian King, Senchariv moved around all the nations to the extent that their true identity was lost.
[2] Shmuel 1, Ch.15.
[3] This is a kind of logical argument, which is best translated as "all the more so".
[4] Literally meaning, the 'calf with the broken neck'.
[5] See Parshas Shoftim, 21:1-9 for the details of this mitzvo.
[6] Yoma, 22b. There are a number of difficulties with this gemara, foremost amongst them of how Shaul could disregard Hashem's clear instructions to wipe out the whole nation. See Ben Yehoyada, Anaf Yosef, and Rif in Iyun Yaakov for approaches. In this essay, we will follow the simple meaning of the gemara, that Shaul felt it was immoral to wipe out the whole nation of Amalek.
[7] This is part of a verse from Kohelel, Ch.7.
[8] Shmuel 1, Ch.21.
[9] Koheles Rabbah, 7:33, 16. Medrash Tanchuma, Metsora, 1.
[10] It should be noted that Shaul HaMelech was a very great tzaddik, and, the sins of great people recorded in Tanach are always magnified so that we can relate to them.
[11] Shmuel 1, Ch.15:32.
[12] One way to help understand what Amalek represents it to equate them to the Nazis yemach shemam. By doing this, one would find a command to destroy them as being far more understandable.

KEEPING HOPE - PURIM

The Gemara tells us that the terrible decree to destroy the Jewish people was a punishment for their partaking of the banquet of Achashveirosh[1]. Throughout the period of the first Beis HaMikdash, the Prophets were rebuking the Jewish people for terrible sins, including Avoda Zara, and yet they were never sentenced to universal destruction - why was such a drastic punishment reserved for the seemingly mild aveiro of eating at Achashveirosh’s banquet?

In order to answer this question let us first discuss the intentions of Achashveirosh in throwing such a lavish banquet. Chazal tell us that the drinks were served in the keilim that were used in the Avoda in the Beis HaMikdash. The King even dressed himself in the clothes of the Kohen Gadol - what was he trying to achieve by doing this? Rav Chaim Halpern Shlita explains that up till this point in time, Achashveirosh had been worried about the prophecy of Yeremyahu that the Jewish people would return to Eretz Yisroel and rebuild the Beis HaMikdash after 70 years. The King calculated that the 70 years had now passed without any sign of the prophecy being fulfilled. Consequently, on the exact day that he had calculated that the time was up he held the feast - he was trying to tell the Jews that they should give up hope of the Beis HaMikdash and that they now had an alternative source of happiness - his Kingdom. Therefore, he dressed up as the Kohen Gadol to show that he was their new leader, and he gave them the Temple vessels to show them that there was no point in waiting any longer for the Beis HaMikdash to be rebuilt[2].

Unfortunately, the Jewish people accepted the King’s message and willfully joined in the Seuda, even drinking from the Temple vessels. They gave up hope - they terminated their desire for a Second Beis HaMikdash, and turned to a new future, being loyal subjects of the King and his Empire. What in effect they had done was give up on the unique role of the Jewish people as the Chosen People who were meant to serve as a Light Unto the Nations. They forsook any hope of a return to Eretz Yisroel and a new Beis HaMikdash. What they did not realize is that the Jewish people’s whole right to existence is based on their unique role in the world. Hashem cherishes the Jewish people because of its willingness to serve as an Am Segula who teaches the world to know Him. Now that they did not want to assume this unique role they automatically forsook any right to exist. Measure for measure, they were sentenced to destruction[3].

How did the Jewish people overturn the decree of destruction? The Gemara tells us the conversation that took place when Haman came to inform Mordechai of the honor that the King wanted to bestow on him. Haman found Mordechai learning Torah: Haman asked, “What are you learning?” Mordechai answered, “When the Beis HaMikdash existed, a person who gave a Mincha offering would bring a handful of flour and it would atone for him.” Upon hearing this, Haman replied, “your handful of flour will come and overturn my ten thousand silver shekalim.[4]” This Gemara is very difficult to understand - what was the significance of what Mordechai was learning and why did it make Haman realize that he would be defeated? The Ponevezher Rav[5] explains that Haman knew that his hope of success lay in the defeatism that the Jewish people expressed at the Seudas Achashveirosh. He saw that Mordechai was teaching about laws that only apply when the Beis HaMikdash is standing - he realized that the Jewish people had done teshuva and reignited their desire for a new Beis HaMikdash. They still had hope that they could continue in their unique role as the Light Unto Nations, and consequently Haman knew that if they had not given up on Hashem then He would not give up on them.

The nisayon of the Jews in the time of Purim was to maintain hope during trying times. This nisayon continues to this very day and when we demonstrate weakness in it, our enemies gain encouragement that they can defeat us. The story is told of an infamous Arab terrorist who discussed the time he spent in an Israeli prison, after which he resumed his evil activities with even greater zeal. He said that, whilst in prison, he had initially decided to renounce his ‘career’ as a terrorist, feeling that his violent actions could not succeed in destroying Israel. However, one Pesach, he saw an Israeli guard eating a pitta. Knowing about the issur of eating chametz he inquired as to why the Jew was not observing this law. The Guard answered him that these laws are no longer of any importance. Hearing this, he decided that a people who had given up on their heritage could indeed be defeated. In stark contrast, after Napoleon had conquered yet another nation, he was shocked to see that the Jews were in grief. They explained to him that it was Tisha B’Av and they were mourning the destruction of the Temples. He asked them when this occurred and they explained that it was nearly 2000 years earlier. Upon hearing this he exclaimed that a people who kept such a strong connection to their heritage would surely never be destroyed.

We live in a time where the test of yeush exists on many different levels. For non-observant Jews, the test is obvious - not to completely abandon their heritage by assimilating into secular culture. But the nisayon applies to everyone in some form: Firstly, one may be tempted to give up on the millions of secular Jews, arguing that they are irretrievably lost to assimilation. This is of course a highly erroneous attitude and experience has proven that secular Jews can be quite easily reconnected to genuine Judaism. A second nisayon is that keeping the mitzvos does not necessarily preclude yeush - indeed the Jews who ate at the King’s banquet were still makpid only to eat kosher food. A person can keep mitzvos and still wonder if there will ever be a Third Beis Hamikdash and if Mashiach will really come. Moreover, yeush can plague our personal lives, persuading us that we have no possibility of achieving greatness. The story of Purim teaches us that we need never give up hope, both for the Jewish nation and ourselves as individuals - and as long as we maintain our desire to be the part of the Am Hashema we can be assured that He will protect us from all of our enemies.
[1] Megilla, 12a.
[2] Shaarei Chaim, p.170.
[3] The Gemara in Megilla, 12a cites another cause of the decree of destruction - that the Jewish people bowed down to an image of King Nebuchadnezzar. This is also problematical, because the commentaries state that this did not constitute real idol worship. Why they would be punished in such a strict way? Perhaps we can answer this in the same vein - Nebuchadnezzar wanted the people to recognize him, and not Hashem, as the ultimate power. When they bowed to his image they demonstrated acceptance of his dominance, implying a similar yeush of their role as Avdei Hashem. Consequently, measure for measure Hashem threatened that He would no longer act as their King, protecting them from their enemies.
[4] Megilla, 16a.
[5] Quoted in Ohel Moshe, p.150.

LAZINESS - TERUMA

TERUMA

The Parsha begins with Hashem instructing Moshe Rabbeinu to tell the people to bring the raw materials necessary in order to build the Mishkan (tabernacle). "This is the portion that you shall take from them: gold, silver, and copper; and turquoise, purple and scarlet wool; linen and goat hair; red-dyed ram skins; tachash skins, acacia wood; oil for illumination, spices for the anointment oil and the aromatic incense; shoham stones and stones for the settings, for the Ephod and Breastplate[1]."

The Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh zt"l points out that the order of the materials mentioned is difficult to understand; the shoham stones and the 'stones of the settings' are the most valuable of all the items in the list, therefore logically they should have been mentioned first. He answers by bringing the Medrash that informs us of the background to the donation of the precious stones. They were brought by the Nesi'im (princes) after everything else had already been donated. The Nesi'im had initially planned to wait for everyone else to bring their contributions to the Mishkan, and whatever was lacking, the Nesi'im would then give. However, their plan backfired when the people, in their great enthusiasm, gave everything that was needed with the exception of the precious stones. The Medrash goes on to say that Hashem was displeased with them because they were so late in giving to the Mishkan. Their 'punishment' was that the 'yud' in their name was omitted at one point in the Torah[2]. Accordingly, the Ohr HaChaim explains that since the donation of the precious stones involved some kind of error, they are mentioned last in list of the materials given to the Mishkan, Despite their great material value, the spiritual failing that resulted in their donation by the Nesi'im meant that they were inferior to all the other materials in the list.

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz zt"l asks that it is still unclear why Hashem was displeased with the Nesi'im. Their reasoning for delaying their donation seems to be very understandable - why are they punished for a seemingly innocent miscalculation? He answers by quoting Rashi's explanation for their punishment: Rashi states; "because they were initially lazy, they lost a 'yud' in their name[3]." Rashi is revealing to us that the real reason that the Nesi'im tarried in bringing the gifts was because of laziness! Beneath all their seemingly valid justifications for their actions lay the trait of laziness.

The Mesillas Yesharim writes at length about how laziness can prevent a person from fulfilling his obligations properly. He writes: "We see with our own eyes many many times, that a man can be aware of his obligations, and he is clear about what he needs for the goodness of his soul... yet he weakens [in his Avoda] not because of a lack of recognition of his obligations or any other reason, rather because of the powerful laziness that overcomes him." He continues that what is so dangerous about laziness is that one can find several 'sources' to justify his inaction. "The lazy one will bring numerous sayings of the Sages, verses from Tanach, and 'logical' arguments, all of them justifying his confused mind into lightening his burden ... and he does not see that these arguments do not come from his logical thought, rather they stem from his laziness, which overcomes his rational thinking.[4]" Accordingly, he warns us that whenever we have two choices we should be very weary of choosing the easier option, because our root reason for doing so may very likely be laziness.

The Mesillas Yesharim is teaching us that even the most 'valid' arguments may simply be veils for a person's desire to avoid pushing himself. We see a striking example of this in the Introduction to Chovos HaLevavos. He writes that after planning to write the sefer he changed his mind, citing a number of reasons: “I thought my powers too limited and my mind too weak to grasp the ideas. Furthermore, I do not possess an elegant style in Arabic, in which the book would have been written… I feared that I would be undertaking a task which would succeed [only] in exposing my shortcomings... Therefore I decided to drop my plans and revoke my decision.” However, he recognized that perhaps his motives were not completely pure. “I began to suspect that I had chosen the comfortable option, looking for peace and quiet. I feared that what had motivated the cancellation of the project had been the desire for self-gratification, which had driven me to seek ease and comfort, to opt for inactivity and sit idly by.” To the eternal benefit of Klal Yisroel he decided to write the Sefer and it is difficult to imagine Klal Yisroel being bereft of its spiritual guidance. The reasons that he initially cited why he should not write the sefer seem fair and logical, but he recognized that, on his level, they were tainted by a desire for comfort. If someone as great at the author of Chovos HaLevavos nearly fell victim to the yetser hara of laziness, how much is everyone at risk of being ensnared by this destructive trait. A person generally does have seemingly valid reasons for why he may choose to ignore possible avenues in which he could improve hs Avodas Hashem but he must be aware that his true motivation may be laziness.

The yetser hara of laziness is so cunning that it can clothe itself in some of the most admirable of traits, in particular that of humility. Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l addresses a common tendency of people to underestimate themselves by claiming that they are greatly limited in their talents and that they can never achieve greatness. He writes that this kind of humility really emanates from the yetser hara.[5] It seems that this attitude actually derives from laziness, which is really a manifestation of the desire for comfort. It is not easy to achieve greatness; it requires great effort and the willingness to face setbacks and even failure. This is difficult, therefore it is very tempting for a person to ‘write himself off’ and thereby exempt himself from even trying - this is certainly the more ‘comfortable‘ option.

Constantly, throughout a person's life he is given the opportunity to improve himself and attain great heights in his own Avodas Hashem and his influence on others. We see from the lesson of the Nesi'im that perhaps the single most powerful factor preventing him from achieving his potential is a desire for comfort that stems from laziness. This causes a person to 'create' numerous 'reasons' as to why he does not push himself in the way that he could. The Mesillas Yesharim teaches us that he should recognize that these excuses are very often simply the atsas yetser hara and that he should disregard them and proceed in his efforts to grow and accomplish. May we all merit to overcome this powerful yetser hara and make the correct choices even if they are difficult.


[1] Teruma, 25:3-7.
[2] Vayakhel, 35:27. See Sichos Mussar of Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz zt"l , for an elaboration of the significance of losing a 'yud' in their name. (p.214).
[3] Rashi, Vayakhel, 35:27..
[4] Mesillas Yesharim, End of Ch.6.
[5] Darash Moshe, Parshas Nitzavim.

STRIKING THE RIGHT BALANCE - TERUMAH

The Torah states regarding the walls of the Mishkan: “The center crossbar shall go through the middle of the beams, from one end to the other.[1]” The Targum Yonasan writes that the center crossbar was made with wood that came from the trees that Avraham Avinu planted for the purpose of doing chesed for the travelers. Why was this wood in particular used to take such a prominent position in the Mishkan? Rav Zelig Pliskin Shlita explains that it is to remind us that even whilst we are devoting ourselves to Hashem, we should never forget to have compassion for our fellow man, who is created in G-d’s image[2].

This lesson is stressed in the teachings by the Baalei Mussar: One of the great contributions of Rav Yisroel Salanter zt”l was that whilst it is highly commendable to place great care on dikduk hamitzvos in the realm of Bein Odom leMakom nevertheless we should be very careful that this should not be at the expense of others. There are numerous examples of how he put this teaching into practice. On his way to get water for netilas yedayim, a talmid passed through some rooms in which people were sleeping. “Netilas yadayim is a mitvo instituted by our Sages,” commented, R’Yisroel, “but robbing others of their sleep is forbidden by the Torah.[3]” On another occasion a talmid began davenning a spirited Shemoneh Esrei whilst standing by the open window on a hot day. R’Yisroel scolded him for blocking the air for the other people in shul. Another of the great Baalei Mussar, the Alter of Slobodka, also placed great emphasis on mitzvos’ bein odom le chaveiro. He taught that, in doing a mitzvo, we must be very careful not to cause unpleasantness or harm to anyone to avoid forfeiting its rewards. He never gave shmusen during mealtimes and when he prayed with a minyan, either he finished the Shemoneh Esrei with everyone, or he knocked on his shtender to indicate that the congregation should not wait for him[4].

On one occasion one talmid standing in prayer among the others was fervently shaking in every direction with his whole body. After the tefillo, the Alter called the talmid over and said to him, “A person who hits another, even without inflicting damage, is called a ‘rasha’ and is punishable by malkus. Now when you shake you are liable to bump into our neighbor who is standing beside you, and thereby commit - in the midst of your fervent tefillos - a serious transgression for which you will be called a ‘rasha’[5]!

We may never daven in such a way but there are situations where we may unwittingly cause pain or inconvenience to others amidst our Avodas Hashem: For example, it is not uncommon for a person in shul for Shacharis to suddenly be struck by the flying tallis strings of someone who is donning his tallis - this is a classic example of how we must maintain our awareness of others during our own Avoda. Another case is when the Sefer Torah is brought out. It is certainly praiseworthy to kiss it, however, if one is likely to push or shove others on the way then the poskim write that the hidur of kissing the sefer Torah is over-ridden by the requirement not to risk harming our fellow Jew[6]. Another common example of this is that a person who davens a long Shemoneh Esrei can cause a considerable amount of inconvenience to the person standing in front of him. The poskim say that it is recommended for a slow davenner to pray in a place where there are no passers-by[7].

Another aspect in which bein adam lechaveiro can sometimes take second place behind bein adam leMakom is in the areas of chumros. There is a well-known Ramban on the passuk of “be holy” where the Rambam tells us that it is not enough to keep the ikar hadin in terms of our Avodas Hashem, rather we should strive to reach ever higher levels in our relationship with Hashem. There is a less well-known Ramban that makes a similar point with regard to bein adam le chaveiro. The Torah says, “And you should do what is fair and good in the eyes of Hashem..” Chazal say that this passuk teaches us that we should go beyond the letter of the law in our dealings with other people. The Ramban explains that it is not enough to simply keep the ikar hadin of mitzvos bein adam lechaveiro, rather we must realize that Hashem wants us to treat people with a heightened sensitivity to their needs.

A person may have a tendency to emphasize chumros in mitzvos of bein adam leMakom such as kashrus. This is highly commendable but it is equally important to keep ‘chumros’ in the realm of bein adam lechaveiro. There is a well-known episode with Rav Chaim Soloveitchik; he was known as being particularly stringent in his halachic rulings, however one exception was his rulings in the area of breaking Shabbos for health reasons. When asked why he was so lenient in chillul Shabbos, he answered that in fact he was being machmer for the mitzvo of ‘Chay bahem’ that obligates us to break mitzvos in order to save the life of a fellow Jew.

In a similar vein the Imrei Emes understood that the concept of ‘hiddur mitzvo’ applies just as much to our dealings with other people as to out relationship with Hashem. A chassid once asked him if he could borrow a pair of tefillin since he had misplaced his own. The Rebbe lent him a pair, but not just any pair. It was his own set of tefillin, which had belonged to his father, the Sfas Emes. When asked why he gave the chassid his most precious set, he answered that, “the passuk says, ‘Zeh Keili v’anveihu’ from which we learn that one must do a mitzvo in the most beautiful way possible. This concept applies to chesed as well. That is why I gave him the priceless tefillin.[8]” The center crossbar in the Mishkan stood as an eternal reminder that there are two pillars of Avodas Hashem - bein adam le Makom and bein adam lechaveiro, and even at times of the highest devotion to Hashem it is essential to remember our obligations to our fellow man. May we all be zocheh to strike the right balance.


[1] Terumah, 26:28.
[2] Pliskin, Growth Through Torah, Parshas Terumah.
[3] Zaitchik, Sparks of Mussar, p.21.
[4] Ibid. p.165.
[5] Ibid. p.165-6.
[6] Piskey Teshuvos, 2nd Chelek, Simun 148, p.209.
[7] Piskey Teshuvos, 1st Chelek, Simun 102, p.785.
[8] Kaplan, Major Impact, p.161-2.

ATONEMENT FOR THE SALE OF YOSEF - PARSHAS SHEKALIM

"This shall they give - everyone who passes through the census - a half shekel of the sacred shekel, the shekel is twenty geras, half a shekel as a portion to Hashem."[1]

In Parshas Ki Sisa, the Torah instructs every man to give half a shekel (known as machsis hashekel) towards the communal offering given in the Mishkan (Tabernacle). Since the destruction of the Beis HaMikdosh, we no longer merit to have this Mitzvo, however, we remember it every year when we read Parshas Shekalim. Accordingly, there still remain valuable lessons that can be derived from the machsis hashekel.

The Medrash Rabbah offers a surprising reason for the mitzvo, and in particular, why the specific value of half a shekel, must be given. The Medrash explains that the giving of the half shekel is an atonement for the sale of Yosef Hatzaddik by his brothers. The brothers sold Yosef for twenty pieces of silver. This is equivalent to five shekel. Ten of the brothers sold Yosef, each one receiving one tenth of this value, making a half shekel each. Accordingly, since each brother gained half a shekel in the sale, their descendants were instructed to give half a shekel as an atonement.[2] The obvious question to be asked is what is the connection between the giving of half a shekel and the sale of Yosef?

In order to answer this, we need to deepen our understanding of the sale of Yosef. The brothers knew that twelve tribes were destined to come from Yaakov Avinu. Each tribe would have its own unique qualities and they would all join together to combine to make up the Jewish people as a whole, with tribe complementing the others. The brothers decided that Yosef had lost his right to be part of this group, because of what they perceived to be his dangerous attitude and behavior. Therefore, they believed that they could remove Yosef from the destined 12 tribes, and be left with only eleven. The chiddush (novelty) of this approach was that they planned to remove one of the twelve pieces to the puzzle that would constitute the Jewish people. They felt that they could do without Yosef's potential contribution to the Jewish people, and the Jewish people could continue without him.

With this understanding we can now explain how the mitzvo of Shekalim atones for the sale of Yosef. The commentaries note the significance of the fact that one must give half a shekel as opposed to a full shekel. Many explain that it comes to teach us about the importance of unity amongst the Jewish people by showing that each person is only 'half a person' without combining with the strengths of his fellow man.[3] One should not think that he can separate from his fellow Jews and be unaffected. A person who ha this attitude he will be incomplete. In this way, the mitzvo of giving half a shekel can act as an atonement for the sale of Yosef. Yosef's brothers thought that they could get along fine without Yosef's contribution to the Jewish people. Their mistake was that even if they believed him to be erring, he was still an essential part of the Jewish people. By giving half a shekel we remind ourselves that this is not the correct attitude - all Jews are part of a unified whole, and everyone needs to combine with their fellow.

This idea even extends itself to people who are not behaving in the most optimal fashion. Shortly after the mitzvo of giving half a shekel, HaShem commands us to combine a number of spices to make the incense. One of these is the chelbanah, which Chazal tell us has a foul smelling odor. Why then is it included in the ingredients for the incense? The Gemara explains that any communal fast that does not include sinners is not considered a proper fast.[4] Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz zt"l explains that when the Jewish people are not united, then they are not considered one unit, and therefore the power of the community is drastically weakened.[5]

The Bostoner Rebbe zt"l epitomized the attitude that every Jew should be treated with respect regardless of his religious affiliation. His funeral testified to this by the fact that there were numerous people attending who would not be classified as regular Bostoner Chassidim. He expressed his attitude in this area in a couple of brief sentences: "The trouble with our generation is we only love our fellow man if he's like us - if he davens in my shtiebel [6], if he has the same Rebbe, if he goes to the same yeshiva - then [he says] 've'ahavta lereyecha'. If he's not 'camocha', then I have no business with him." In a similar vein, he said, "When people try to disassociate one group from another, that's part of the 'torah' of sinas Yisrael (hatred of Jews). Every person can improve. Every group can improve. But it doesn't mean that these people have to be blackballed because some people think that they're not exactly the way they are..."[7]

We have seen how the Medrash connecting the episode of the sale of Yosef to the mitzvo of giving half a shekel, teaches us that we should realize that we should never 'blackball' other Jews, regardless of who they are. May we all merit to learn from the words of the Bostoner Rebbe zt"l and emulate his actions, in striving to unite all Jews.


[1] Ki Sisa, 30:13.
[2] Bereishis Rabbah, 84:17. With commentary of 'Matnos Kehunah'. One may ask, that according to this reasoning, the descendants of Yosef and Binyomin (who was not involved in the sale) should be exempt from this Mitzvo. It seems that there are other reasons for the Mitzvo of Shekalim which obligate every man to give it, however the amount of half a shekel is fixed by the calculation made by the Medrash.
[3] See Tallelei Oros, Shemos, chelek 2, p.202 in the name of the Chida, and beshem amroo, Shemos, Ki Sisa, 30:13 in the name of Arvei Hanachal (author of Levushei Srad on Shulchan Aruch).
[4] Krisus, 6b.
[5] Sichos Mussar, Maamer 54, p.231.
[6] This is a term used for a place of prayer.
[7] Quoted in Mishpacha Magazine, Issue 287, 22 Kislev, 5770, p.41.