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Parsha Perspectives: Lasting Letter (Shlach)

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“The Lord spoke to Moses saying, “Send out for yourself men who will scout the Land of Canaan, which I am giving to the children of Israel. You shall send one man each for his father’s tribe; each one shall be a chieftain in their midst.” So, Moses sent them from the desert of Paran by the word of the Lord. All of them were men of distinction; they were the heads of the children of Israel … These are the names of the men Moses sent to scout the Land, and Moses called Hoshea the son of Nun, Joshua (Bamidbar 13:1-3, 16).”

We have all had ideas that in the moment appeared to be good and solid and in retrospect were flawed and impetuous. Our ancestors were just a few steps away from the actualization of the promise Hashem had made to Avraham. The Land we had dreamed of and pined for was within arm’s reach. Moshe appointed tribal representatives to go in and scout the land. The goal, to bring back necessary reconnaissance information and inspire the people to enter, engage, and conquer the land. Before dispatching the scouts, Moshe pulled Hoshea aside and gave him a special blessing in which he changed Hoshea’s name to Yehoshua. The commentaries are intrigued by the meaning and timing of this name change, but I want to focus your attention on a moving passage in the Yerushalmi (Sanhedrin Chapter 2):

Rav Huna said in the name of Rav Acha: The (letter) YUD that God took from the matriarch Sarah’s name (Sarah was originally Sarai) came and prostrated itself in front of God and said, ‘Master of the Universe, You have uprooted me from the name of this great and pious women, what will be with me? God explains, ‘Do not fear, in the past you were the last letter in (Sarah’s) name, now you will be the first.’

The Rabbis explain that the letter “YUD” which was added to Hoshea to make it Yehoshua was the YUD removed from Sarai’s name when she became Sarah. What is the connection between Sarah and Yehoshua? There are many approaches, but there is something else I would like to focus on. What intrigued me most was the distressed YUD. The YUD is the smallest letter in the Hebrew alphabet. Perhaps, the YUD represents the YID (Jew in Yiddish). There are times in life when we feel so small, times in life when we feel insignificant and then when we finally manage to achieve some level of connection, it is often taken from us as a result of circumstances beyond our control.

There are so many within our community who feel marginalized and small. There are those battling mental illness whose scars are not visible on the outside. Yet, day after day, these individuals and their families face overwhelming challenges that at times seem insurmountable. There are those who have difficulties with life relationships. Men and women who have so much love to give but can’t seem to find the right way to express their feelings or don’t have a partner who is receptive. There are those who struggle financially and feel trapped in their mountain of debt and obligation. And of course, there is the community of cholim (those who are physically ill) whose life and the lives of their family members focus on treatments, appointments, trials, and clinical studies, desperate to find the cure that can restore health and normalcy. There are many beautiful and holy YUDs who are struggling and are trying to find their way. And often, these YUDs open their hearts before God and say, “Ribbono Shel Olam (Master of the Universe), I feel so lost; I feel so listless. I thought I had a place in this world, and now I am not sure.” To which God responds, “My dear YUD, I promise there is greatness and beauty waiting for you. You feel like you are at the end of your rope, I promise you that your circumstances represent new opportunities for growth and self-actualization.”

The YUD may be the smallest letter, but it has incredible power and potential. You see, YUD is the one letter which also represents the name of God. The smallest letter, yet the most powerful one. Sometimes, it is the smallest Yid (Jew) who can disseminate the greatest amount of light.

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Parsha Perspectives: Standing Together (Behaaloscha)

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The Torah recounts an interesting event. As Moshe reviews the laws of Pesach and the details of the Paschal lamb offering, a group approaches worried they will miss out on this beautiful opportunity because of their impure state. “We are ritually unclean [because of contact] with a dead person; [but] why should we be excluded so as not to bring the offering of the Lord in its appointed time, with all the children of Israel? (Bamidbar 9:6-7). Moshe doesn’t immediately know the answer to this dilemma and instructs the people to wait until he obtains an answer from God. “Moses said to them, stand here (imdu), and I will hear what the Lord instructs concerning you (Bamidbar 9:8).” Immediately, God instructs Moshe regarding the laws of Pesach Sheyni (the second Passover), a special make-up date for those who were either too far from Jerusalem or were ritually impure and therefore unable to offer the Korban Pesach on Pesach itself.

Why the need for the word, “Imdu, stand here?” Why not tell the people “chaku, wait”, or just simply tell the people, you will get back to them as soon as God gives you proper instructions?

The Baal Shem Tov (Rav Yisroel Baal Shem Tov 1700-1760) was known to have prayed an exceptionally long Shmona Esrei (Amida prayer). For many it was difficult to wait for the Baal Shem Tov to finish, and so, they would leave the Beis Midrash to make Kiddush (on Shabbos and Yom Tov), eat something, and would then return to the Beis Midrash for the Chazzan’s repetition. However, the Baal Shem Tov’s closest disciples would always remain with their beloved Rebbe. It once happened that the students felt faint and decided they would leave the Beis Midrash for just a few minutes, eat and drink a bit, and then return for the conclusion of davening (thinking they had much time until the Baal Shem Tov finished). Much to their surprise, when they returned, they found the Baal Shem Tov sitting and waiting as he had already finished davening. The students were baffled, “Rebbe, every day your Shmona Esrei is long and intense, and today it was much shorter. Is everything alright? Did something occur?” The Baal Shem Tov said, allow me to explain with a mashal (parable). There was a man who saw a beautiful bird perched atop a tall tree. The man wanted more than anything to see the bird up close and see its unique features and characteristics. However, he was short, and the tree was tall. So, he gathered a group of his closest friends, and each man stood on the shoulders of the other until the first man was hoisted to the top of the tree and able to look upon this beautiful and unique creature. The Baal Shem Tov paused, Imagine, if the man on the bottom of this human chain decided he was hungry and went home to eat something. The entire group would come tumbling down to the ground. The Baal Shem Tov continued, when I daven, I am able to reach the highest levels of the celestial sphere because I am surrounded by all of you – I stand on your shoulders. Your presence supports and hoists me up to places I could not reach on my own. My merits only take me so far, but together we are able to stand before God, Himself. And so this morning, when all of you left the Beis Midrash, I lost my footing and tumbled downward.

The Baal Shem Tov continued, “This is the meaning of the verse of this week’s Parsha, Imdu V’Eshmiah Mah Yitzaveh Hashem Lachem, Stand here, and I will hear what God commands you.” Moshe was telling the people, if you stand by me, then I will be able to hear God’s voice. If I can stand on your shoulders, then I will be able to reach great heights – but if you leave, if I am alone, I don’t know if God will converse with me.

We must recognize that we can only be truly great in the company of others. We need each other to actualize as individuals and as a nation. We must build bonds of friendship and unity with one another because this is the key to our personal success. There are things we can achieve alone, but there is so much more we can do together. Alone we can accomplish good things; together, we can soar to the greatest heights.

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Parsha Perspectives: Death & Determination (Naso)

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It is in this week’s Parsha that we are introduced to an important personality – the Nazir. He is a man who takes a vow to abstain from wine, cutting his hair, and coming in contact with the dead. Why would someone take such a vow? To attain a higher level of life sanctity. The Nazir is a person who has lost his way, has become too entrenched in the material world, and is looking to hit the life reset button. His behavior is extreme, but it is designed to allow him to ultimately find the middle path of synergistic partnership between body and soul.

But sometimes the best laid plans go awry.
“If someone in his presence dies unexpectedly or suddenly, and causes the nazirite head to become defiled, he shall shave off [the hair of] his head on the day of his purification; on the seventh day, he shall shave it off. And on the eighth day, he shall bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons to the kohen, at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. The kohen shall prepare one for a sin offering and one for a burnt offering and atone on his behalf for sinning by coming into contact with the dead, and he shall sanctify his head on that day. He shall consecrate to the Lord the period of his abstinence and bring a lamb in its first year as a guilt offering; the previous days shall be canceled because his naziriteship has been defiled (Bamidbar 6:9-12).”

The Nazir tried his best, but an unavoidable circumstance puts a corpse in his proximity. The days observed fall by the wayside, and the Nazir must restart the fulfillment of his vow. The Beis Yisroel (Rabbi Yisroel Alter of Gur, 1895-1977) explains that the Torah is conveying a deeper message. The Nazir represents a person looking for more out of life. He realizes that he is not living the life he should be living; he is not becoming the person he is capable of being. So, he decides to make dramatic life change. Sometimes, you just have to bring life to a grinding halt in an effort to recalibrate and plot a new course for the future. The Nazir found the strength and adopted a new approach (for a limited amount of time). But then he failed. He finds himself in proximity to a corpse, and everything ends; he must start all over again. He is determined and tries to better himself, and his vow ends in failure. He is tamei, impure and back to square one. But it is here, in these details, that God teaches us how to deal with failure. “V’kidash es rosho ba’yom ha’hu, and he shall sanctify his head on that day;” on the day he finishes his purification process, he gets back up and starts all over again. There is no time for lamenting; there is only time to get up, dust off, and start again. As King Solomon wrote in Proverbs, “For a righteous man can fall seven times and rise, but the wicked shall stumble upon evil (24:16).” Everyone stumbles and falls, the righteous get back up, the wicked stay down.

But there is one more piece. The above-mentioned section ends, “… the previous days shall fall away (be cancelled).” In order to have a meaningful second chance and a new beginning, one must let go of the feelings of pain and failure of the past. In the aftermath of failure, I think to myself, “I wasted so much time and so many resources on this initiative, idea, or mission which never materialized.” A person could feel demoralized in the aftermath of failure, and that prolonged feeling could prevent a person from trying again and believing that things can be different in the future. Sometimes, you just have to let go in order to move on.

The message of the Nazir is a message for us all. We all fail, and we all fall; this is an inevitable reality of the human condition. What is our response to life failure? Get back up and try again. Clean up your wounds, let go of the past, and make another go at it. We may not identify with the restrictions of the Nazir, but his quest for holiness and elevation inspires us all.

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Parsha Perspectives: Making the Honor Roll (Bamidbar)

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The Lord spoke to Moses in the Sinai Desert, in the Tent of Meeting on the first day of the second month, in the second year after the exodus from the land of Egypt, saying. Take the sum of all the congregation of the children of Israel, by families following their fathers’ houses; a head count of every male according to the number of their names (Bamidbar 1:1-2).

The fourth book of the Torah begins in a rather non-dramatic fashion – a count, a simple tallying of the tribes. But why was this necessary? At first glance it would appear this was done in preparation for entry into the Land of Israel. The Jewish people would have to raise an army to fight against the indigenous nations of Canaan. God commands Moshe to count the men from age twenty in order to ascertain the size of the national fighting force. However, Levi is counted separately from the other tribes and is reckoned from the age of one month. This leads Rashi to explain that it was not to gauge the size of the potential army, rather, “Mitoch Chibasan L’fanav Moneh Osam B’Chol Shaah, Because of His (God’s) love for them (Jewish people); He counts them at every moment.” This was not a utilitarian count, it was a love count. God commands Moshe to count to show the people how much He cares about us as a nation and as individuals.

But then something fascinating occurs. “These are the descendants of Moses and Aaron on the day that the Lord spoke to Moses at Mount Sinai. These are the names of the sons of Aaron: Nadab the firstborn Abihu, Elazar, and Ithamar (Bamidbar 3:1-2).” The Torah begins to list the offspring of Aharon and Moshe and yet, only Aharon’s children are mentioned and Moshe’s are not. What is the meaning of this omission?

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) explains:

“For in all these chapters of numbers, only those are mentioned of the dead who formed the separate branches of the tribes and families, but of the living only those are named who had some official public position as Nesiim (tribal princes) and Kohanim (priests). But our Moses allowed his sons to be quite absorbed in the masses without any special distinction, he did not even have a small position, a tiny title, a small badge for his own children (Bamidbar 3:1).”

There were two different groups of individuals listed in the counting – those who founded the major families and had since died and those who became contributors and assumed active positions of leadership within the Jewish people. Moshe’s sons are not counted by name (they are included in the total tally) because they did not contribute to the Jewish people in a substantive manner; they were absorbed in the masses. Aharon’s sons were given the mantle of the priesthood. They served, they contributed, and they gave.

Our precious Torah is conveying to us a truly profound lesson. Life is about rolling up your sleeves and seeing what you can do to advance your family, your community, your people, and your world. Too often, we sit back and expect others to do for us, to give to us, and to provide for us. Too often, we expect that others will do the heavy lifting while we sit on the side and benefit from the fruits of their labor. This unfortunate mindset is prevalent in many areas of life. Spouses assume that the other will do the necessary work to improve the marriage – I’m ready and willing to have a blissful marriage, but you, my significant other, should do all the work. Parents want their children to be committed and passionate Jews but sometimes fail to be true spiritual role-models. We are quick to point out the flaws in our schools, shuls, communities, leaders, and nation – but are we committed enough to actually work to improve them?

The counting conducted in the beginning of Bamidbar is no ordinary count – it is the “who’s who” of the Jewish people. It is a distinguished list of names of the living and dead. It is the Judaic honor role that pays homage to those who dedicated themselves to advancing the nationhood and destiny of the Jewish people. For whatever the reason, Moshe’s children did not follow in the footsteps of their illustrious father. They did not lead lives of committed contribution; they did not dedicate their abilities and talents to the Jewish nation.

Our goal is to forge a meaningful identity that will continue to inspire even when we are no longer here. We must roll up our sleeves. We have to work, we have to contribute. We cannot be spectators in our personal, communal, and national lives. We must rise to the occasion and make a difference whenever and wherever we can. This Shabbos we will read the names of men who lived thousands of years ago but through whose efforts we live today. Let us become the kind of people whose efforts will shape the world in which we live and whose memories will inspire for generations to come.

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Parsha Perspectives: Personal Worth (Bechukosai)

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“And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, Speak to the children of Israel and say to them: When a man expresses a vow, [pledging the] value of lives to the Lord … (Vayikra 26:1-2)”

The Book of Vayikra ends with a discussion of “erech” (valuation) vows. A person has the ability to pledge their “value” to the Temple. The Torah provides a framework based on age and gender, irrespective of a person’s abilities, profession, or skill set.

Yet, we find a fascinating detail. The verses state:

“The [fixed] value of a male shall be as follows: From twenty years old until sixty years old, the value is fifty silver shekels, according to the holy shekel … And if [the person is] sixty years old or over, if it is a male, the value shall be fifteen shekels … (Vayikra 26:3,7)”

Why this significant shift in value? A man above the age of sixty loses close to two-thirds of the value he possessed between the ages of 20-60. How are we to understand this change?

The Imrei Emes (Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter, Rebbe of the Hasidic dynasty of Ger, 1866-1948) explains this dynamic. Every person has an intrinsic value. We each have a worth. Even if we make mistakes, bad decisions, fall and fail; we possess holiness and Godliness within. This is the deeper meaning of erech vows. From the time a baby is 30 days old until one draws his last breath, (s)he has value. But our innate value is directly related to our ability to change. The power of change is the greatest gift God has given us. No matter what I have or have not done – I can become someone better and holier. Change is always possible no matter when, no matter where. However, the reality is that the older we get, the more set in our ways we become, and the more difficult change becomes. As we get older, change is still possible, it just may not be probable. My “value” is fundamentally linked to my ability to change. Therefore, the individual between 20-60, representing the prime of life, has the highest value, because his ability and probability of change is highest. Once the individual is over sixty, the ability for change is still present, but the danger of becoming set in one’s ways is a bit more pronounced, and as such, the erech value of such individual decreases.

In this last lesson of Sefer Vayikra, God conveys to us, His beloved children, that we each have value. Too often, we assume that our mistakes and missteps deprive us of worth; there is nothing further from the truth. We each have incredible value until we draw our last breath. The way to actualize and amplify your personal worth is to tap into the gift of change. The more we are willing to change, the more value our life has.

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Parsha Perspectives: Do No Harm (Behar)

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“And you shall not wrong, one man his fellow Jew, and you shall fear God, for I am the Lord, your God (Vayikra 25:17).”

The Torah is replete with laws that govern our inter-personal conduct. We are taught how to treat each person and the property of the other. We are obligated to help another in need and to be sensitive to the challenges and difficulties of our fellow Jew. So, what is the Torah coming to teach us in the above quoted verse? We are commanded to help and aid when another is in need. Is it necessary to tell us that we “shall not wrong” another? What is being added here that has not been conveyed in the commandments that precede and follow these words?

The Talmud (Bava Metziah 58b) explains that this verse comes to warn us against a very specific transgression – wronging another with our words.

Our Rabbis taught: “You shall not therefore wrong one man his fellow Jew;” Scripture refers to verbal wrongs. E.g., if a man is a penitent, one must not say to him, ‘Remember your former deeds.’ If he is the son of proselytes he must not be taunted with, ‘Remember the deeds of your ancestors.’ If he is a proselyte and comes to study the Torah, one must not say to him, ‘Shall the mouth that ate unclean and forbidden food, abominable and creeping things, come to study the Torah which was uttered by the mouth of Omnipotence!’ If he is visited by suffering, afflicted with disease, or has buried his children, one must not speak to him as his companions spoke to Job, ‘Remember, I pray thee, whoever perished, being innocent?’

Words are powerful and can deliver a blow far more debilitating than any fist. The Talmud teaches us important principles in the realm of interpersonal conduct. Don’t dwell on things of the past that cannot be changed. Don’t tell a person that as a result of his past mistakes he has limited his future. Don’t try to give insight into the suffering of another – true omniscience is reserved for God. Every person carries a burden of their past. Every person has things they wish they could change but cannot. Every person has things they wish they could do over, but life does not afford us that opportunity. Be sensitive to this reality – be sensitive to the burden of the other.

But there is another message as well. The great Chassidic leader, Rav Simcha Bunim of Pshischa (1765-1827) writes, “Who is a Chassid (pious individual)? One who goes above and beyond that which is required. The Torah tells us not to wrong another – this is the law. Piety, to go above and beyond requires that we not wrong ourselves.”

The Rebbe teaches us a profound lesson. We all make mistakes. We do things that are wrong. We engage in behaviors and actions that we know are beneath us and undermine our personal growth. As a result, we begin to look down on ourselves, we begin to feel we are worthless, devoid of potential and lack any prospect of becoming holy and significant. Don’t wrong yourself. Don’t compound the sin by losing faith in yourself. It is important to remember that despite engaging in negative activity – at our core, we are good. God created each of us with a beautiful and pure soul, and no matter how many mistakes we make, this soul remains intact; this soul remains unsullied.

And you shall not wrong, one man his fellow Jew, simple words that yield profound lessons. Words hurt and can create irreparable damage. Don’t visit pain upon the other – don’t visit pain upon yourself. We face so many challenges, both personal and national. We have obstacles and hurdles that we must overcome. Don’t create additional obstacles for another with hurtful and harmful words. Don’t create additional barriers for yourself with negative self-perception and image. Build up the other, build up yourself, and pave the way for accomplishment and fulfillment. (From 5779)

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Parsha Perspectives: Make it Count (Emor)

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And you shall count for yourselves, from the morrow of the rest day from the day you bring the Omer as a wave offering seven weeks; they shall be complete. (Vayikra 23:15).

Nestled amongst the many mitzvos of this week’s parsha is the Omer offering. This was a barley offering, brought on the second day of Pesach which allowed the consumption of chadash (new crop of grain). In addition to the offering, we are commanded to count the days between Pesach and Shavuos. We are to count, seven weeks, forty-nine days, and on the fiftieth day, we celebrate the Yom Tov of Shavuos. This count creates a bridge between Pesach and Shavuos and we are reminded that our emancipation was to enable us to self-actualize through the acceptance of the Torah.

There is an interesting halachik debate as to how to view the mitzvah of counting the days of the Omer. Do we look at this count as forty-nine independent mitzvos? Or is it one long mitzvah comprised of forty-nine parts? The nafka mina (practical difference) is quite significant. What should one do if one missed a day of the count? If you accept the view that each day is an independent mitzvah, then missing one day does not preclude you from continuing forward. However, if you accept the premise that it is one long mitzvah then missing one day would preclude you from continuing on. Halacha L’Maaseh (practically speaking) we accept a hybrid approach. If one misses a day, one must continue to count, albeit without a beracha (blessing).

This approach resonates with life importance as well. How do we look at time? Do we look at time as incremental, individual days or as a continuum? Or to perhaps say it a little differently, how do we gauge a successful life? Is a successful life measured in terms of how one has spent their weeks, months, and years, or is it measured in how we use our days? Of course, the answer is both. To live a meaningful and therefore, successful life, we must develop intermediate and long-term goals. What do we want to accomplish? Who do we want to become? Where do we want to end up? After we identify these goals, we must make a plan to get there. But the thing about long-term goals is that – they are long term. I do not always see movement and momentum with them every day which is why we must also focus on how we use the day. Each and every day is filled with so much opportunity for growth, meaning, and fulfillment. Each day offers us the opportunity to make a difference in our own lives and in the lives of others. What do we each do with the gift of today? How can I take the hours that have been granted to me and make them into something special? This is the dual message of Sefiras HaOmer. Count seven weeks, but at the same time, count forty-nine days. Make a long-term plan but also find the strength to maximize the day.

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Parsha Perspectives: Morality, Moderation and Maturation (Kedoshim)

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“And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, Speak to the entire congregation of the children of Israel, and say to them, you shall be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.” (Vayikra 19:1-3)

We strive for it, we yearn for it, yet we find it difficult to define. We translate the word Kedusha as holiness, but what does it mean to be holy? How can holiness be measured? How do we know if we have been successful in becoming holy people?

The commentaries provide many insights. The Midrash explains that the definition of holiness is “Divine emulation.” Whatever God does, we are charged to do the same. The Talmud elaborates, “Just as God clothed the naked (Adam and Chava), so shall you clothe the naked. Just as God visits the sick (as He visited with Avraham after the bris), so shall you visit the sick…” The Talmud’s examples are focused on chessed (acts of charitable kindness), and so it would seem that the highest form of Divine emulation is to be a Baal Chessed, a kind, giving and charitable person. True Kedusha, pure holiness, lies in the ability to transcend the self and focus on the other.

Rashi provides another definition: “Separate yourself from immorality and sin.” Core holiness is defined by one’s ability to fight against the urges, desires, and wants that often debase us. God can tolerate our shortcomings and mistakes, but we must strive to be a moral nation. Without morality (specifically sexual morality), we are no different than animals. Holiness is the ability to resist temptation and remain on the proper path of life.

Ramban (Nachmanidies) explains that holiness means moderation. Learn to limit yourself even with those things which are permitted to you. The true indication of holiness is the ability to exercise restraint even in those areas in which one can technically overindulge. The trait of restraint is perhaps the most important ingredient in successful living. It is easy to lose oneself in the (permitted) pleasures of this world. We must learn to exercise restraint in the world of the permitted to ensure that we do not cross the line into the world of the illicit. We must learn to say that just because we can have it doesn’t mean we should. This ability to exercise restraint ensures that we can each master our individual wants and passions and not become slaves to them.

Rav Menachem Mendel of Vorka (1779-1848) looks at this command in a dramatically different fashion. The Rebbe asks, “Is it truly possible and is it fair to ask man to aspire to this level of holiness? Rather, God is not asking us to be like the angels, for this is impossible for physical, carnal man. God simply asks us L’hiyos Kodesh b’madreyga she’hu omeyd bah (be holy wherever you are and wherever you stand), achieve holiness on whatever level you may be, in whatever state you may find yourself.”

God is teaching us to find and achieve holiness in all we do. Often, we compartmentalize holiness. We are holy in certain areas and mundane in others. We may be kadosh (holy) in Shul, yet mundane in the workplace. We may be holy when speaking to God, yet ordinary in the way we speak to others. The Rebbe teaches us that we must infuse holiness in all we do, B’Chol Matzav She’Tihiyu Bo (in every situation that you find yourself). Everything we do in life can serve a higher purpose. When we are in the workplace, we can make a Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name) by conducting ourselves with honesty and integrity. When walking on the street, we can be holy by proactively greeting the other – Jew and Gentile alike. When we watch a sunrise, we can see the greatness of God’s creation. Everything we do can be infused with holiness and meaning.

The Rebbe takes this idea one step further. The real definition of holiness is pushing yourself just a bit further. The enemy of holiness is not impurity or sin; it is complacency. Kedoshim Tihiyu, B’Chol Matzav She’Tihiyu Bo, Hiskadshu V’Alu Kim’ah (be holy, in every situation, in every state of being – sanctify yourself and raise yourself even just a little bit) – just a little bit. All God asks of us is just to try a little harder. Wherever you are holding in life, try to nudge yourself a bit further along your personal, sacred path. God does not ask for perfection or even near-perfection. God asks for effort. You don’t have to reach the finish line to become holy. You just have to start running.

Too often, we shy away from life initiatives because we are not confident we can accomplish what we set out to do. Life is not about getting to the top of your personal mountain; it is about having the courage to begin the climb. And after you start the climb, success is defined by taking one step after the other. They may be small steps and to the outside world it may not even look like you are moving, but you know you are placing one foot in front of the other, and God knows that you are trying. Even if you don’t reach your intended destination or see the actualization of your intended goal, if you have put in the effort and advanced your cause to the best of your ability, you have been successful.

Kedoshim Tihiyu (be holy) – we must strive to emulate our Creator and think beyond ourselves. We must strive to be a nation governed by morality and self-restraint. We must strive to be individuals who find and infuse holiness into everything we do and every experience we have. We must each find the courage to propel and push ourselves forward and work just a bit harder in order to actualize the great potential we possess within. May we each find the strength to continue the journey, advance the climb, and find the holiness that surely awaits. (From 5779)

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Parsha Perspectives: Always There (Acharei Mos/Yom HaShoah)

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Today, Yom HaShoah is a day in which we remember the 6,000,000 kedoshim; men, women, children who died al kiddush Hashem and whose loss continues to send tremors throughout our holy nation. Truth be told, we must remember the 6,000,000 every day. The Holocaust was a catastrophic event which changed the trajectory of our people. No matter how much we grow, succeed, and flourish, this loss will be felt until Moshiach comes and dries our tears. But mourning is never an ends – it must be used as a means. What do we do with this overwhelming tragedy? How do remember and yet find a way to grow? Amazingly, the answer is in this week’s Parsha.

The Torah describes the service of the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur. It was a complicated service with many distinct parts and could only be performed by the Kohen Gadol. One of the spiritual highpoints of this sacred service was the Kohen Gadol’s entry into the Kodesh HaKodashim (Holy of Holies) – only one man on one day of the year was permitted to enter. It was there in the Kodesh HaKodashim that the Kohen Gadol would offer the kitores (incense).

And the Lord said to Moses: Speak to your brother Aaron, that he should not come at all times into the Holy within the dividing curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, so that he should not die, for I appear over the ark cover in a cloud. (Vayikra 16:2)

“Ki b’anan ey’raeh al ha’kappores, for I appear over the ark cover in a cloud.” What is the “cloud” referenced in the verse? It is the smoke created by the kitores (incense). Hashem conveys to Moshe that Aharon may not enter the Kodesh HaKodashim unless he is performing the kitores service. However, the Lubliner Rav, Rav Meir Shapiro (1887-1933) explains this verse in a different light. The cloud represents times of difficulty, despair, and adversity. During these types of trying times, it is normal to despair and give up. There are turbulent chapters of life that are so overwhelming that a person feels they simply cannot move on. At times, the cloud of sadness and difficulty hangs over the kappores, the lid of life. But even in those moments, “ey’raeh, I will appear (be seen),” for I am always with you. We cannot avoid the challenges of life for they are part of the fabric of existence. We cannot run from tragedy of loss, but we can gain strength from the fact that even when the cloud of adversity hangs over us – Hashem is always with us. We are never alone, we are never forsaken, we are never forgotten.

When we look at the strength and success of our nation, less than a century since the Nazis, may their memory be erased, and their evil cohorts tried to systematically annihilate us – it is nothing short of miraculous. Immigrants who came to this country and Israel with nothing and built families, lives, a State, businesses, Yeshivos and schools – how can one explain this strength and resilience? The Lubliner Rav whispers to us, “my dear children, the answer you seek is in one word, ey’raeh, I will be seen.” There were times when we thought God had forsaken us, there are times when we may have felt alone and abandoned. But we were wrong. You were always there. You are always here. This is the lesson for our people.

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Parsha Perspectives: Coming Home (Metzora)

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It is a prolonged process of rehabilitation and spiritual cleansing. The Metzorah (individual stricken with Tzaraas) was examined and banished. In this week’s parsha we are taught the reintegration process. There is another examination, immersion in a mikvah, sacrificial offerings, and blood applications. Once this is complete, the individual is permitted to resume normal life within the ranks of his people. Just as the initial examination requires a Kohen, the later one does as well.

This shall be the law of the person afflicted with Tzaraas, on the day of his cleansing: He shall be brought to the kohen. The Kohen shall go outside the camp, and the Kohen shall look, and behold, the lesion of Tzaraas has healed in the afflicted person (Vayikra 14:2-3).

These verses are a bit enigmatic. Firstly, which one is it? Is the individual brought to the Kohen, or does the Kohen come to the person? Furthermore, how can the Metzorah be brought to the Kohen when he is still prohibited from entering the camp/community?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) explains that these verses are referring to two distinct aspects of purification. When the (second) verse states, “The Kohen shall go outside of the camp,” this refers to the actual mechanistic process of purification. The Metzorah cannot travel to the Kohen; the Kohen must go to him. The first phrase, “He shall be brought to the Kohen” refers to the inner process unfolding within the Metzorah. The Metzorah is a broken person. He has slandered others and damaged relationships. He has sown the seeds of discord which can often not be uprooted. He needs to introspect and understand why he behaved in this fashion. He needs to make a plan for a different kind of future. He needs to figure out what needs to change. But even before he begins this cognitive and emotional process, Hashem is already pulling him closer. We often think that the process of teshuva (repentance) begins with our decision to be different, but in reality, even before our first thought of teshuva, Hashem is already tugging at our neshoma strings to come back home. When the Torah states, “He shall be brought before the Kohen,” it is referring to this process. The Metzorah is brought, he is taken, he is led. Even before he knows it, Hashem is leading him back to the Kohen, to a better and holier life.

We all make mistakes and hopefully, we all find the strength to do teshuva. But even more than we want to repent, Hashem wants us to come home. This is why He begins our process of teshuva even before we have ever given it thought. He pulls us closer, long before we have thoughts of remorse, repentance, and return. He does not wait for us to get to it together. In His ultimate and overwhelming love for each of us, He initiates our journey home.

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