Online Torah Classes with Rabbi Shmuel Silber

Daily and Weekly Torah Shiurim Available!

You are here: Home / Archives for Parsha: Weekly Torah Portion

Parsha Perspectives: Tzav-Everyday Miracles

by

“And the flesh of his thanksgiving peace offering shall be eaten on the day it is offered up; he shall not leave any of it over until morning.” (Vayikra 7:15)

Among the various sacrificial details contained in this week’s Parsha, the Torah teaches us the laws of the Korban Todah (thanksgiving offering). This offering was brought when a person was saved from a life-threatening or inherently dangerous situation. It was a sacrificial rite which enabled the individual to thank God for deliverance and salvation.

The Imrei Emes (Rav Avraham Mordechai Alter of Gur, 1866-1948) raises a fascinating question.  Every korban (sacrificial offering) has a consumption window. You are permitted to eat the sacrifice for a certain amount of time. After that permitted time has elapsed, the korban becomes nossar (left over) and prohibited. Most of the sacrificial offerings were consumed for two days and one night.  Yet, the Korban Todah could only be consumed for one day. This is especially intriguing given the fact the Todah is a very large offering comprised of multiple loaves. Why does the Torah only allow a shorter time for consumption?

The Rebbe provides a beautiful insight:

“Korban Todah, mi’viin oso al ha’nes, v’harey b’chol yom va’yom misrachashin itanu nissim chadoshim. V’eych yochlu mi’nes shel emesh al neys shel ha’yom.”
Meaning: “The thanksgiving offering is brought for a miracle (which God has performed for the individual).  Each and every day God performs new miracles for us. How can we eat and celebrate yesterday’s miracle, when we have to celebrate today’s miracle?”

We experience miracles every day. Sometimes they are supernatural, but more often, they are cloaked in the ordinary and mundane circumstances of daily living. Our job is to discern the miraculous events which surround us. You can only eat of the Korban Todah for one day (the day on which it is offered), for tomorrow you must not focus on the miracles of yesterday, you must devote yourself to seeing and discerning the miracles of today.

We are in the midst of the month of Nissan, a month of incredible miraculous activity. There were plagues, manna from the heavens, a well which followed us during our sojourn in the desert and a variety of other jaw-dropping feats from Above. We might not have seen these great miracles, but we do have a front row seat for the miracles which occur for us every day. Just think: I opened my eyes, I flexed my fingers, I stood on my own two feet. I can speak, I am able to think and I am able to take care of my bodily needs. I have a warm coat, shoes without holes and a full stomach. I have some money in my wallet and parents who love me. There is a roof over my head and clothing in my closet. Are these events any less miraculous than the splitting of the sea? Truth be told, I should have to bring a Korban Todah each and every day, to thank God for the incredible miracles He has bestowed upon me. Every day generates its own distinct Todah obligation. I have the obligation to actively look for my daily miracles. I must carve out time to contemplate the incredible blessings and events which unfold around me every day.

We don’t yet have the opportunity to bring an actual Korban (sacrifice), so we must do the next best thing; offer our thanks with our words. Take the time to say, “Thank you Hashem for all of the miracles. I know that I often focus on what I lack and what is deficient and broken. But I want You to know, if I could, I would bring You a Korban Todah every day. Until that day comes, I give You one simple word, Todah; thank You for the miracles of my past, thank You for the miracles of my present and I thank You in advance for the miracles which have yet to unfold.”

Sourcesheet

Parsha Perspectives: Vayikra-Time for Change

by

It has been a busy week. It began with a Bar Mitzvah on Motzei Shabbos, a wedding on Tuesday, and a funeral on Wednesday. Truthfully, this is not all that different from what a typical week looks like. The difference was, the Bar Mitzvah was on Zoom, the wedding livestreamed on YouTube. The funeral took place in the parking lot of our shul, in the pouring rain, with 10 men, standing 6 feet apart, while I delivered a eulogy standing under the open trunk door of the minivan containing the casket. These are challenging times. During these last two weeks we have seen the normal rhythms of life come to a grinding halt. The way we do everything has changed. The social and religious norms that many have known their entire lives have changed. It feels like everything is different. As Jews, it is our sacred mission to realize that within every set of circumstances is a lesson to be learned. God speaks to us in times of good and in times of challenge.
This week I learned a lot. From the funeral I conducted, I was reminded that life comes to an end. I realized that there are things I have to fix in myself and I can’t delay it any longer. I must do teshuva (repentance). I have been to and conducted many funerals and yet I never had this feeling before. We are living with the specter of illness hovering above us at all times and we are constantly confronted by the reality of our mortality. It really hit me – I won’t be here forever. And if I won’t be here forever, what do I want to accomplish? Who do I want to be? What will be my legacy? Am I leading a meaningful and fulfilling life? Is Hashem happy with me? Am I happy with myself? This is probably the appropriate reaction after any funeral, but it must have been the driving rain, the grayness of the sky, the 6 feet in between each of the attendees and the contemplative state I find myself in that propelled me to the inner recesses of my soul.
I have learned a lot by watching our dedicated doctors, nurses, Hatzalah members, who day in and day out, care for the sick. We are told to distance, isolate and quarantine. We are told to take all the necessary precautions to stay healthy and avoid spreading this dreaded virus. And yet each and every day these precious men and women put themselves in harms way to care for us and to protect us. They put themselves in danger to care for people they often don’t even know. I have been watching them and I have been learning from them. And so, I must ask myself, is there anything I sacrifice for? Do I give enough of myself to the community and others in need? Do I help only when it is convenient or am I willing to put myself out there for the needs of the other? When I see someone who is suffering or in pain, am I willing to stop what I am doing and help? Do I possess a real sense of empathy and compassion which propels me to take action when there is a need? I have always had great respect for our medical professionals and first responders, but as of two weeks ago, they have become my ultimate life teachers.
As I mentioned before, this was also a week of incredible simcha (celebration). I learned that the ability to generate genuine joy is not related to the menu, centerpieces, venue choices or apparel options. I listened to a Bar Mitzvah boy deliver his Dvar Torah with genuine simcha despite the lack of “party” trappings. I danced with my sons in my home as the Bar Mitzvah boy and his family danced in their home and yet, somehow, we were all together. I saw a bride and groom who possessed so much love for each other and yet all they had was one holy Jew playing the guitar for them. We live in a time of unparalleled affluence (IY’H the market will recover) and too often we think that it is the material trappings which create the joy around life events. Lest you think that this is a rant against materialism, in full disclosure, I too (really) enjoy the finer things in life. But we must strive to create balance. The COVID-19 crisis will come to an end IYH. The question is, who will we be on the other side of this crisis?  Will we breathe a sigh of relief and go back to business as usual? Or will we take a critical look at how we do things and consider changing course? We have seen firsthand that you can create incredible joy with very little. It is the people who make the simcha jubilant. In fact, we see this concept in this week’s Parsha:
“And if a person (nefesh, soul) brings a meal offering to the Lord, his offering shall be of fine flour. He shall pour oil over it and place frankincense upon it.” (Vayikra 2:1)
Rashi comments: “And if a person brings: [literally, ‘And if a soul brings.’] Regarding all the sacrifices which were donated voluntarily, the only instance where Scripture states the word נֶפֶשׁ ‘soul’ is in the case of the meal-offering. Now, who usually donates a meal-offering? A poor man [because flour is less expensive than birds or animals]. [Hence,] the Holy One Blessed is He, says: ‘I account if for him as if he has sacrificed his very soul!’” [Menachos 104b]
God says to us – Lest you think that the wealthy man’s offering is more important than the poor man’s; it is not the value of the offering that matters, it is the feeling, the heart, the emotion you invest that is most important to me. God doesn’t judge successful spiritual service by the girth of the animal you bring. He bases it on the joy and commitment with which you serve.
Imagine if we stop making Bar Mitzvahs that are full catered affairs and create an incredible amount of social pressure. Perhaps, a beautiful kiddush and then meals for family only? Do we need a full Bo Bayom celebration in additional to a Bar Mitzvah celebration? Imagine if we accept that weddings should always be family with a few close friends of the families and of the chosson (groom) and kallah (bride). Do we realize the financial and social pressure we would remove from so many of our brothers and sisters? Do we need to plan a l’chaim, vort and wedding? Save the money (and time) and give it to your children, keep it and go on vacation, give it to charity. I have seen firsthand how simchas become a source of incredible tension for families. It is expensive to be an observant Jew, and most don’t have thousands of dollars lying around to spend on a celebration. But there is pressure. There is pressure from family, community and friends. A pressure to keep up. No one wants to be the person who does things differently. Again, in full disclosure, I too have made (and paid) for these extravagant events. I am not advocating for forcing people or enacting communal standards which require people to do or not do certain things. I am a believer in free choice. Every person has the right to make their own decisions and plan their own celebrations. I just feel that we need to start thinking about this now. Because when all of this is over, we will run back to shul (synagogue), yeshiva, school and the office, and the rhythm of life will once again pick up. But right now, we all feel it – the world is changing, we are changing, something is different.
When all of this is over, I hope I can find the courage to do things differently in many areas of my life.
Sourcesheet

Parsha Perspectives: Vayakhel/Pikudei-Change & Consistency

by

Numerous Parshios are devoted to the creation and fabrication of the Mishkan and its utensils.  The details contained in these Torah portions are not simply the architectural framework for this sacred space and its vessels; these details contain the roadmap for successful, enriched and meaningful living.

 “Betzalel made the ark of acacia wood, two and a half cubits long, a cubit and a half wide, and a cubit and a half high. And he overlaid it with pure gold from inside and from outside, and he made for it a golden crown all around (Exodus 37:1-2).”

The Talmud (Yerushalmi Shekalim 6:1) explains that the Ark was unique in its construction. It was comprised of three separate boxes. The innermost box was made of gold, the larger one which held it was made of wood, and the largest exterior box (which held the smaller two) was made of gold.  This construction was quite unique. There were utensils made of solid gold and others made of wood coated with gold. Why did the Aron (Ark) have this unique construction of wood enveloped by gold?

The Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760) explains that the Aron was supposed to represent paradigmatic man. Every aspect and detail of the Ark teaches us how to self-actualize and live a meaningful and successful life. The male and female Cherubim (angelic figures perched on the lid of the ark) teach us to be passionate in our relationship with each other and with God. Their upstretched wings teach us that we must aspire to climb higher and accomplish more. The Luchos (tablets), resting in the center, remind us that the Torah and its values must be the foundation, core and center of the decisions we make and things we do. The poles that remained inserted, even when the Aron was at rest, teach us that the Torah and its values are transplantable and must follow us and inform the way we live – wherever we may go.

While both wood and gold can be used for construction their properties are fundamentally different. Gold is inanimate; it is mined from the earth and can be manipulated but cannot grow and cannot change. Wood is alive. The tree takes in nutrients; its branches grow and bear fruit. The tree changes with the seasons and through the years. The Aron contains both of these materials to teach another very important lesson.

Man must be gold and he must be wood.

I must possess golden principles that I will stand by and stand up for no matter what. I must possess a sense of right and good and be able to maintain them no matter how much external pressure I face. I must be rigid in my adherence to the tenets of my faith and the principles of my people. I must have gold-like, immutable resolve to uphold the ideas and ideals I hold sacred.

Yet, man must also learn to be a tree, to be wood-like in his approach to life and others.

I must learn the art of change and recognize that just because I have been a certain way until now does not mean I must continue to be that same person going forward.  I must learn to adapt to new circumstances. Life doesn’t always go the way I planned or hoped – I can be wood, I can grow, I can change, I can adapt. Wood is pliable. I must learn that when dealing with others I cannot always stand my ground, I must learn when to yield for the sake of shalom (peace).

Man must be gold on his inside and his outside.

I must have the principles, ideas and ideals that I will live and die for. I must know what I believe and stand ready to defend those beliefs no matter how fierce the opposition may be.  But I must possess an inner layer of wood and learn the art of compromise, change, accommodation and collaboration.

The Ark is only fit for service in the Temple if it has these multiple layers. Man can only be successful if he possesses them as well.

Sourcesheet

Parsha Perspectives: Ki Tisa-Don’t Look at the Calf

by

We were confused and overwhelmed. Moshe was gone for over forty days (according to our ancestors’ calculations) and the nation feared the worst. We built the Golden Calf, proclaimed it as our god and committed one of the most severe relationship trespasses in the history of our people. Hashem in His divine wrath, ordered Moshe to descend the mountain. But before Moshe left, God told him of His plan to destroy the Jewish people and begin again with Moshe. Moshe, the loving advocate of the Nation of Israel beggede and pleaded for Divine mercy for the fledgling Jewish nation.

Moses pleaded before the Lord, his God, and said: “Why, O Lord, should Your anger be kindled against Your people whom You have brought up from the land of Egypt with great power and with a strong hand?” (Exodus 32:11)

What exactly was Moshe saying to God? “Why are You so angry?” Did Moshe not understand God’s anger and pain? Had Moshe somehow missed the severity of this act? How could he minimize what his beloved nation had just done? Furthermore, why does the Torah convey this exchange? What are we to learn from it? How are we to grow from this episode?

Rabbi Moshe Alshech (born in Turkey in 1507, and died in Safed in 1593) answers this question with a simple phrase, “HaBeyt u’reeh mey’heychan ba’u (look and see from where they came).”  When someone we love makes a mistake we have two options. We can focus exclusively on the misdeed and mistake or we can take a step back and look at the person in totality, reminding ourselves of his/her positive traits and deeds. Moshe says, “Hashem, I know you are upset and I understand Your feelings of betrayal and sadness. But look how far they have come. This nation left Egypt just a few short months ago and in that short amount of time they have accomplished so much. They followed You into the desert. They followed You into the sea. They sang the magnificent words of Az Yashir with a united soul. They said Naaseh V’Nishma (we will do and we will listen) as one people with one heart. I know they messed up, but don’t just look at their mistakes, look at their accomplishments as well. Don’t just dwell on their failures, be cognizant of their successes.”  Moshe was not minimizing God’s pain – he was trying to frame it appropriately and put it into a proper perspective.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov explains that we are obligated to “Dan es kol haAdam l’kaf zechus (Judge every person favorably).”  We generally understand this to mean that we should try our best to give every person the benefit of the doubt. But the rabbis were ask us to do so much more. We must try to find the good in every person. We must seek out the redeeming qualities within the other – even when the other is profoundly compromised. We must condition ourselves to not only judge favorably; but to see that which is favorable within the other. The Rebbe explains that this is not only true with others – this is true with ourselves as well. We must strive to see the good we possess despite the multitude of mistakes we have made. The ability to see the good in others and the ability to see the good in myself requires one very important thing – perspective. We are able to judge both others and ourselves favorably when we are able to not only to see the negative shortcomings, but the beautiful qualities as well.

In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers, Chapter 2, Mishna 13) Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai asks his students, “What is the proper path a person should choose for himself?” In other words, what is the most important trait to possess? Rabbi Elazar responds, “Ayin tova (a good eye)”. Rabbeinu Yonah explains that a “good eye” refers to proper perspective. The ability to maintain proper perspective in life allows one to navigate all of life’s tumultuous circumstances and maintain relationships with all kinds of people.

It is in this gripping exchange between Moshe and God that the Torah teaches us the all-important need for proper perspective. Don’t just see the calf, see all of the holiness. Don’t just see the mistakes; look at all of the accomplishments. We don’t control many of the situations and circumstances in life – but we absolutely control the way we choose to look at ourselves, at others, and at life.

Sourcesheet