The Lord spoke to Moses, saying:   Pinchas the son of Eleazar the son of Aaron the kohen has turned My anger away from the children of Israel by his zealously avenging Me among them, so that I did not destroy the children of Israel because of My zeal. Therefore, say, “I hereby give him My covenant of peace. (Bamidbar 25:10-12) 

It was a dark chapter for our people. We had fallen into the abyss of immorality with the nation of Midyan.  Pinchas saw the terrible Chilul Hashem (Desecration of God’s name) and took decisive action to stop this downward spiral. His actions were not motivated by anger or resentment; they were a manifestation of his love, care and concern for his people. As a result, God rewards him with the covenant of peace, bris shalom.   

Pinchas was fortunate in that he was given the covenant of peace. We too must work to create this bris shalom for ourselves. Especially during this period of time, the Three Weeks, we must try to right our historical wrongs. Our current 2,000+ year diaspora came about as a result of sinas chinam, unwarranted hatred. Our greatest threat has never been the Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and Romans; our greatest threat is often ourselves. Our inability to love each other as we should is often at the root of many national issues.   

Our Torah is filled with many beautiful and meaningful mitzvos (commandments). These mitzvos teach us how to create and sustain a relationship with God and with one another. Imagine for a moment if you were to be asked, which is the most important of all of God’s commandments? Which mitzvah do you think outweighs the rest?  Perhaps, it is Shabbos or Bris Milah (circumcision), both of which are referred to as an “os” (sign) between God and His nation. Perhaps, it is not any one particular mitzvah but a unit of mitzvos like the Aseres HaDibros (Ten Commandments), which are the spiritual centerpiece of our Torah. In fact, the great sage, Rav Saadiah Gaon explains that all of the 613 mitzvos are derivatives of the Ten Commandments. Long before you and I pondered this question, the great rabbinic sages were conducting this very discussion. 

You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself (Leviticus 19:18); Rabbi Akiva said, “This is an important principle of the Torah.”  Ben Azai said, “This is the narrative of the generations of man on the day that God created man, in the likeness of God He created him” (Genesis 5:1), is even more important (Sifra, Kedoshim). 

Rabbi Akiva and his disciple Ben Azai were trying to figure out what is the most important, core principle we have in our Torah. Rabbi Akiva explains that everything comes from loving the other. This is reminiscent of the story of the gentile who approached the great sage Hillel and said, “I want to convert on the condition that you (Hillel) teach me the entire Torah standing on one foot.” To which Hillel responded, “That which is despicable to you, do not visit upon the other.” Rabbi Akiva continues this tradition and explains that the mitzvah of “V’Ahavta L’Reyacha Kamocha; Love your fellow as you love yourself” is the most important tenet of our belief. If you can’t love another, how can you love God? If you can’t love someone who you can see, touch, and experience, how can you love that which is amorphous and beyond the scope of human comprehension? If you work to love your fellow Jew, you will come to love God.   

Ben Azai, Rabbi Akiva’s trusted disciple, disagreed with his rebbe (teacher). However, at first glance we don’t understand Ben Azai’s statement. There is no mitzvah contained in the verse he quoted. This verse, from the fifth chapter of Bereishis (Genesis), begins a list of the life-spans of the generations beginning with Adam. What is the nature of Ben Azai’s disagreement with Rabbi Akiva? Rav Asher Weiss advances a beautiful insight. Ben Azai says, “My great teacher, Rabbi Akiva, if only we could be as pure as you. It would be wonderful to think that we could love each other as we love ourselves. But this aspiration is fraught with so many problems. There are people who have wronged me, and it is difficult for me to forgive, let alone love them. There are people who do bad things, and who is to say they deserve my love. There are people who are simply not “loveable” as a result of their temperament and disposition. And therefore, I would like to suggest something else. There is something greater and more important than love – respect. We can’t love every other Jew, but we can learn to respect them. “This is the narrative of the generations of man on the day that God created man, in the likeness of God He created him (Genesis 5:1).” Every Jew is made in the image of God and for that alone (s)he deserves my respect. To require us to love one another is a tall order, but to respect each other; this is attainable.”   

Such a powerful lesson. Perhaps, it isn’t possible to love everyone, but I must work on my ability to respect the other. There is a societal trend to vilify anyone who does not share “my” views. This is true on an individual and on a national level. Even the most “open minded” of people often lack tolerance for opinions and views that may differ from their own. The Jewish people are comprised of multiple streams. I identify as a Torah Jew who tries (I admit, that I must try harder) to adhere to the laws of the Torah as they have been handed down for thousands of years. I vehemently disagree with other interpretations of Judaism and am fiercely protective of my faith. I will not compromise in matters of Halacha (Jewish Law), and I will resist those who try to tell me that Judaism must consistently adapt or cater to contemporary sensitivities or various types of ‘isms” (I know this sounds strong – I am a traditionalist). But at the same time, I respect the right of my fellow Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform brothers and sisters to have their views. Even within the big tent of Orthodox Judaism we have many different streams. I often find it difficult to figure out my place. Maybe it’s because deep down, I wish it wasn’t this way. No matter what I agree or disagree with – I pledge to my fellow Jews that our dialogue will be with respect and love.  This is the Ben Azai way. 

It is true, at the end of the day, decisions must be made, action must be taken, and someone’s opinion will not be accepted. But if we hear the other and validate the other in the course of a dialogical process, perhaps, we can emerge from the most difficult of discussions as brothers. 

This past week we observed the fast of the 17th of Tammuz.  It was on this day thousands of years ago that the walls of Jerusalem were breached. Three weeks later our beloved Beis HaMikdash (Temple) was set ablaze. So much of the hardship, so many of the heartbreaking difficulties were the result of infighting, factionalism, and indifference to the other. We don’t have to agree – we just have to respect.  We can do better, we can be better.  

What is the most important mitzvah of the Torah? I’m not sure – much greater men have pondered this question and the answer still seems far from reach. But here is what I do know. The path forward must be lined with love for our fellow Jew. But before we can love, we must learn to respect. Some think that the way to demonstrate allegiance to one’s beliefs and ideologies is to disparage those who believe differently. If I can knock down your belief, then mine must be stronger. We can disagree. And if we feel there are problems and religious or intellectual inconsistencies within other approaches to Judaism, we should vigorously discuss and debate. We need not compromise our beliefs and values we hold dear in order to make someone else feel happy, accepted, or validated.  But we must respect the other no matter how deep the divide or disagreement. Why?  “…for in the likeness of God, He created him;” we are each a beautiful Tzelem Elokim (image of God). May we be privileged to see this Divine identity within ourselves, and may we be courageous enough to see it within one another. (Reprinted from 5777) 

“Moses spoke to the Lord, saying: ‘Let the Lord, the God of spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the congregation, 

who will go forth before them and come before them, who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the Lord will not be like sheep without a shepherd.’ The Lord said to Moses, ‘Take for yourself Joshua the son of Nun, a man of spirit, and you shall lay your hand upon him. And you shall present him before Elazar the Kohen and before the entire congregation, and you shall command him in their presence. You shall bestow some of your majesty upon him so that all the congregation of the children of Israel will take heed.’” (Bamidbar 27: 15-20) 

Over the course of the last few Parshios, Moshe had experienced the passing of his sister, Miriam and his brother, Aharon, and he had accepted the reality that he would not enter Israel. As a devoted leader, Moshe beseeched God to appoint an able shepherd to lead, look after, and love the flock. Moshe would not lead them into the Promised Land, but he did all he could to ensure they would be cared for.

But with the passing of Miriam, Aharon, and ultimately Moshe, the Jewish nation fundamentally changed. An era would come to an end and a new chapter was written. On a purely practical, day to day level, it had been the merit of these holy individuals which had actively sustained the nation.

“Rabbi Yossi the son of Rabbi Yehuda said:  The Jewish people had three good leaders (providers); Moshe, Aharon and Miriam. In the merit of these three leaders, three gifts were given to the Jewish people; the well, the cloud and the manna. The well was in the merit of Miriam, the cloud in the merit of Aharon, and the manna in the merit of Moshe.” (Taanis 9a)

Each gift was uniquely related to the individual personality. Miriam was a matriarchal figure for the Jewish people. She showered them with love, concern, and care. Water represents chessed (kindness), and therefore, the miraculous well was given to us in her merit. Moshe gave the people spiritual life by bringing down and then teaching the Torah. Just as he gave us spiritual nourishment, in his merit, we were physically nourished with heavenly bread. But what is the connection between Aharon and the clouds? Why was it in Aharon’s merit that this Divine protection was provided?

The great Chassidic master Rav Yisroel of Ruzhin (1796-1850) provides a beautiful insight. In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of our Fathers), the great sage Hillel tells us, “Be of the disciples of Aharon, love peace, pursue peace, love people and bring them closer to Torah.” Aharon’s entire life mission was to create bonds of brotherhood and friendship between man and his fellow. He took it upon himself to settle disputes, help with relationship dynamics, and attempt to restore equilibrium to the familial structure. “Aharon was a pursuer of shalom (peace) and made every attempt to amplify the feelings of shalom throughout the nation. It was through his influence that people came to truly love one another. From the breath (of the kind and loving words they said to one another) that emanated from their mouths, the clouds of Glory were created.” The clouds weren’t simply given to us; they were a result of the kind words, compassionate actions, and loving care that we exhibited towards one another. It was the breath created through kind and harmonious speech which created the clouds. This is the meaning of the Gemara. In the merit of Aharon’s life-work of creating shalom, love, respect, and harmony, we, the Jewish people, engaged in the type of speech and behavior that created the clouds.

We can create clouds even when we don’t travel together as one camp. We can create Ananei HaKavod (clouds of glory) through our actions. By going out of our way for one another, performing acts of chessed, and refining our interpersonal behavior, we create magnificent, majestic clouds that can shield our people. The Talmud explains that the clouds served three purposes: to protect us from the elements, to protect us from our enemies, and to level mountains and other obstacles which stood in our way. When we blanket ourselves in shalom, we are shielded from our enemies. When we blanket ourselves in the performance of chessed, we need not worry about the elements. When we are united as a people, no mountain stands in our way.

We lost our beautiful and holy Bais HaMikdash (Temple) because of internal strife, hatred, and animosity. During these weeks when we mourn all that we have lost, we must bolster the clouds. Each and every day, we must do something to contribute to building and sustaining shalom in Klal Yisroel. We must work harder on our relationships. We must strive to do something meaningful for another at least once a day. We must learn how to

interact with dignity and respect to our fellow Jews who may not share our personal beliefs or practices. We must be careful and appropriate regarding how we speak to and about our gentile neighbors of all races and colors. We must make sure that our Shuls are not only holy places of learning and prayer but also bastions of chessed (kindness). We must try to avoid infighting and machlokes, and when we do clash, to figure ways to make shalom and restore peace. We yearn for redemption and salvation, yet we forget that we hasten this process with a kind word to someone whom we may not know, a “gut Shabbos” to a visitor in Shul, a phone call to someone who is struggling or not socially connected.

We must remember that we need each other because it is only together that we can create the clouds. Let us hope that our words and actions over the coming days and weeks will forge, cement, and bolster our magnificent and eternal Ananei HaKavod. May these beautiful clouds shelter and protect us until the coming of Moshiach. (Reprinted from 5779)

“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying:  Pinchas the son of Eleazar the son of Aaron the kohen has turned My anger away from the children of Israel by his zealously avenging Me among them, so that I did not destroy the children of Israel because of My zeal. Therefore, say, ’I hereby give him My covenant of peace.’”  (Bamidbar 25:10-12)

“In a place where there is no man, try to be the man.” (Ethics of Our Fathers 2:6). Pinchas saw a terrible wrong being committed and decided to act. We had fallen into the abyss of immorality with the nation of Midyan, a terrible Chillul Hashem (Desecration of God’s name) was occurring and no one was taking a stand. Pinchas became the man and sprang into action. His actions were not motivated by anger or resentment; they were a manifestation of his love, care, and concern for his people. For his spiritual heroism, God rewarded him with the covenant of peace, bris shalom.

Pinchas was fortunate in that he was gifted the covenant of peace, as peace is often exceptionally elusive. We too must work to create this bris shalom for ourselves. It is during this period of the Three Weeks that we must try to right our historical wrongs. Our current 2,000+ year diaspora came about as a result of sinas chinam (unwarranted hatred). Our greatest threat has never been the Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and Romans; our greatest threat is often ourselves. Our inability to love each other as we should is often at the root of many national issues.

Our Torah is filled with many beautiful and meaningful mitzvos (commandments). These mitzvos teach us how to create and sustain a relationship with God and with one another. Imagine for a moment if you were to be asked, which is the most important of all of God’s commandments? Which mitzvah do you think outweighs the rest? Perhaps, it is Shabbos or Bris Milah (circumcision) both of which are referred to as an Os (sign) between God and His nation. Perhaps, it is not any one particular mitzvah but a unit of mitzvos like the Aseres HaDibros (Ten Commandments) which are the spiritual centerpiece of our Torah. Long before you and I pondered this question, the great rabbinic sages were having this very discussion.

“You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself (Leviticus 19:18); Rabbi Akiva said, ’This is an important principle of the Torah.’ Ben Azai said, ’This is the narrative of the generations of man on the day that God created man, in the likeness of God He created him’ (Genesis 5:1), is even more important.” (Sifra, Kedoshim)

Rabbi Akiva and his disciple Ben Azai were trying to figure out what is the most important, core principle we have in our Torah. Rabbi Akiva explains that everything flows from loving the other. This is reminiscent of the story of the gentile who approached the great sage Hillel and said, “I want to convert on the condition that you (Hillel) teach me the entire Torah standing on one foot.”To which Hillel responded, “That which is despicable to you, do not visit upon the other.” Rabbi Akiva continues this tradition and explains that the mitzvah of V’Ahavta L’Reyacha Kamocha, (Love your fellow as you love yourself) is the most important tenet of our belief. If you cannot love another how can you love God? If you cannot love someone who you can see, touch and experience, how can you love that which is amorphous and beyond the scope of human comprehension? If you work to love your fellow Jew, you will come to love God.

Ben Azai, Rabbi Akiva’s trusted disciple disagreed with his rebbe (teacher). However, at first glance we do not understand Ben Azai’s statement. There is no mitzvah contained in the verse he quoted. This verse, from the fifth chapter of Bereishis (Genesis) begins a list of individual and generational lifespans beginning with Adam. What is the nature of Ben Azai’s disagreement with Rabbi Akiva? Rav Asher Weiss advances a beautiful insight. Ben Azai says, “My great teacher, Rabbi Akiva if only we could be as pure as you. It would be wonderful to think that we could love each other as we love ourselves. But this aspiration is fraught with so many challenges. There are people who have wronged me, and it is difficult for me to forgive, let alone love them. There are people who do bad things and who is to say they deserve my love. There are people who are simply not “loveable” as a result of their temperament and disposition. And therefore, I would like to suggest something else. There is something greater and more important than love – respect. We cannot love every other Jew, but we can learn to respect every Jew. “This is the narrative of the generations of man on the day that God created man, in the likeness of God He created him (Genesis 5:1).” Every Jew is made in the image of God and for that alone (s)he deserves my respect. To require us to love one another is a tall order, but to respect each other; this is attainable.”

Such a powerful lesson. Perhaps, it is not possible to love everyone , but I must work on my ability to respect the other. There is a societal trend to vilify anyone who does not share “my” views. This is true on an individual and national level. Even the most “open minded” of people often lack tolerance for opinions and views that may differ from their own. The Jewish people are comprised of multiple streams. I identify as a Torah Jew who tries (I admit that I must try harder) to adhere to the laws of the Torah as they have been handed down for thousands of years. I vehemently disagree with other interpretations of Judaism and am fiercely protective of my faith. I will not compromise in matters of Halacha (Jewish Law) and I will resist those who try to tell me that Judaism must consistently adapt or cater to contemporary sensitivities or various types of “isms.” Yet at the same time, I respect the right of my fellow Orthodox, Conservative and Reform brothers and sisters to have their views. Even within the big tent of Orthodox Judaism we have many different streams. I often find it difficult to figure out my place. Maybe it is because deep down I wish it were not this way. No matter what I agree or disagree with, I pledge to my fellow Jews that our dialogue will be with respect. This is the Ben Azai way.

It is true, at the end of the day decisions must be made, action must be taken, and someone’s opinion will not be accepted. But if we hear the other and validate the other in the course of a dialogical process, perhaps, we can emerge from the most difficult of discussions as brothers.

This past week we observed the fast of the 17^th of Tammuz. It was on this day thousands of years ago that the walls of Jerusalem were breached. Three weeks later our beloved Beis HaMikdash (Temple) was set ablaze. So much of the hardship, so many of the heartbreaking difficulties were the result of infighting, factionalism, and indifference to the other. We do not have to agree, we just have to respect. We can do better; we can be better.

What is the most important mitzvah of the Torah? I am not sure – much greater men have pondered this question and the answer still seems far from reach. But here is what I do know: The path forward must be lined with love for our fellow Jew. But before we can love we must learn to respect. Some think that the way to demonstrate allegiance to one’s beliefs and ideologies is to disparage those who believe differently. If I can knock down your belief – then mine must be stronger. We can disagree. And if we feel there are problems and religious or intellectual inconsistencies within other approaches to Judaism we should vigorously discuss and debate. We need not compromise our beliefs and values we hold dear in order to make someone else feel happy, accepted, or validated. But we must respect the other no matter how deep the divide or disagreement. Why?  “…for in the likeness of God, He created him;” we are each a beautiful Tzelem Elokim (image of God). May we be privileged to see this Divine identity within ourselves and may we be courageous enough to see it within one another.