[From the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe]

The Torah portion of Lech Lecha relates that Avraham built three altars to G-d.1 Rashi , basing his commentary on the Midrash2 , explains that Avraham built the first altar “upon hearing G-d’s promise that he would have children, and that they would inherit the land of Israel.”3

Rashi goes on to state that he erected the second altar — in the vicinity of Ai — because “he saw in his prophecy that his progeny would stumble there through the sin of Achan. He therefore prayed for them there.”4

However, no explanation is given by Rashi as to the reason for Avraham’s third altar, since Avraham built it out of his simple love of G-d upon his arrival in the city of Chevron.

Our Sages inform us5 that “G-d gave Avraham a sign that all that transpired with him will transpire with his children as well.” This is so because the actions of the Patriarchs serve as an antecedent and a catalyst for the subsequent actions of their descendants.

Thus, the altars built by Avraham empowered his progeny to successfully bring offerings upon the altars in the Mishkan and the first and second Beis HaMikdash.

How did Avraham accomplish the building of these three altars?

The Gemara relates6 that the altars performed three primary functions: they provided sustenance to the entire world; they negated any harsh decrees against the Jewish people by bringing about atonement for their sins; and they caused the Jewish people to be loved by G-d.

These three functions correspond to the three general categories of offerings: Olah — which were wholly consumed upon the altar; Chatos — atonement offerings; and Shelamim — peace offerings:

The Shelamim — parts of which were eaten by those who brought them — symbolize the altar’s function of providing the world with sustenance; just as the owners were able to physically sustain themselves by eating parts of the offerings, so too is the “entire world sustained in the merit of the offerings.”

Chatos — offerings that brought atonement — served to negate any and all harsh decrees, and caused the Jewish people to be forgiven for their sins.

The wholly consumed Olah , offered “entirely for G-d’s glory,”7 without any ulterior motive, served to make the Jews even more loved by G-d.

The bringing of offerings was deemed to be so important that the generic term “service” (Avodah) is applied to it.8 It thus follows that in our day-to-day service to G-d, which mirrors the “service of offerings,” we will also find the three above-mentioned categories:

First and foremost is the ongoing service of Torah and mitzvos — similar to the Shelamim offering — which continually provides a Jew with his physical and spiritual sustenance.

The second general aspect of Divine service — similar to the Chatos offering — is that of repentance and atonement; even when one — G-d forbid — transgresses, one is able to gain forgiveness through repentance and atonement.

However, a Jew achieves total unification with and attachment to G-d only through the service of mesirus nefesh — complete, absolute and selfless dedication, similar to the wholly consumed Olah offering.

In this state, a person dedicates himself to G-d not for the sake of physical or even spiritual reward, but solely for the sake of G-d’s glory, with no thought of self. By acting in such a manner a Jew becomes “ever the more loved by G-d.”

Avraham’s building of three altars and their effect on his progeny can be understood accordingly: he thereby laid the foundations for the three general aspects of Divine service practiced by the Jewish people throughout history.

The first altar — built upon hearing G-d’s promise about children and the land — relates to the physical and spiritual sustenance achieved through the ongoing service of Torah and mitzvos.

The second altar — wherein he prayed that the sin of Achan be forgiven — involves repentance, atonement and forgiveness.

The third altar — for which Rashi provides no reason at all — symbolizes that aspect of service which transcends reason: the service of mesirus nefesh.

“Down Is Up”

The name of a Torah portion is, of course, indicative of its general content, inasmuch as the title applies equally to all its verses. This is also true regarding Lech Lecha , “Go for your own sake” — a title that implies a continual moving forward.

The general meaning of forward movement in the life of a Jew, prefigured by the journey of Avraham — the first Jew — is a constant spiritual elevation through divine service, the reason for which man was created.9

The beginning of Lech Lecha describes how Avraham fulfilled G-d’s command to “move forth from your land, birthplace and father’s home,”10 by completing his father’s journey to Eretz Yisrael. It then goes on to chronicle how Avraham continued to journey in the direction of Jerusalem and the Beis HaMikdash.11

The above facts thus detail Avraham’s constant spiritual climb, forever attaining more sublime spiritual levels.

However, soon afterwards the Torah relates how a famine in Eretz Yisrael forced Avraham to descend to Egypt, a land whose spiritual degradation was such that is was called the “abomination of the earth.”12

How does this descent conform with a title that refers to continual spiritual ascent?

Our Sages inform us13 that “All the events that transpired with the Patriarchs serve as a sign to their progeny.” This means that not only were these events the forerunners of similar ones involving the Jewish nation, but also that the trailblazing of the Patriarchs brought about those ensuing events.

Thus the Zohar says14 that Avraham’s descent to Egypt led to the subsequent exile of the Jewish people there, and understandably, Avraham’s ensuing ascent from Egypt made possible the Jewish people’s subsequent exodus and elevation. Similarly, since Avraham left Egypt “heavily laden with livestock, silver and gold,”15 the Jewish people would leave Egypt with great wealth.

Accordingly, it is to be understood that the ultimate meaning of Avraham’s descent into Egypt is indeed alluded to in the title Lech Lecha ; his descent into Egypt was a necessary prerequisite to his subsequent ascent, “heavily laden with livestock, silver and gold.” Therefore, this descent was part and parcel of his later ascent.

The same holds true with regard to our own spiritual debasement in the present Exile — an exile rooted in the Egyptian exile, the source of all later exiles.16

The ultimate intent of this exile is the enabling the Jewish people — through their spiritual service under the most trying circumstances — to reach an even loftier level than that attained during the time of the Beis HaMikdash.17 Thus, the present descent is in itself truly part of the coming ascent.

The above helps immeasurably in terms of our own spiritual service. When one ponders the current state of the world, one may well despair of ever vanquishing the spiritual darkness and illuminating the world with the light of Torah and mitzvos.

In truth, however, all these descents and concealments are merely external. On a more sublime level, since G-d conducts the world according to His will and since He desires that all creation attain spiritual perfection, even those things that seem to indicate darkness and a headlong fall are but a prerequisite for refinement, illumination and soaring ascent.

Thus, since the present state of affairs is truly part and parcel of the coming ascent. The world overall is indeed becoming holier day by day, and ultimately will attain completion as a wholly fit dwelling place for G-d.

Based on Likkutei Sichos , Vol. V, pp. 57-63.
FOOTNOTES
1.     Bereishis 12:7, 12:8, 13:18.
2.     Bereishis Rabbah, conclusion of ch. 39.
3.     Rashi, Bereishis 12:7.
4.     Ibid. 12:8.
5.     Tanchuma, Lech Lecha 9; similarly in Bereishis Rabbah 40:6.
6.     Kesuvos 10b.
7.     Midrash Tadsheh; Sefer Raziel HaMalach.
8.     See commentaries on Avos 1:2.
9.     Conclusion of tractate Kiddushin.
10.     Bereishis 12:1.
11.     Bereishis Rabbah 39:24.
12.     Bereishis 42:9.
13.     See Tanchumah, Lech Lecha 9; Bereishis Rabbah 40:6.
14.     Zohar, Lech Lecha.
15.     Bereishis 13:2.
16.     See Likkutei Sichos IX, p. 178, fn. 28.
17.     See Pesachim 87b; Torah Or , 6a; Or HaTorah , Lech 86a.

Parshat Lech Lecha 5769

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 (http://iawaken.org)

Yesterday does not predict tomorrow

Timeless values rather than transient, political events are the subjects of these essays. But this week’s events in the United States are not transient and they are far more than political. They call for comment.

The US elections are the third event in eight years that permanently changed the course of global history. But there is something even more startling about those events than the changes they ushered in. In all three cases we saw the failure of yesterday to predict tomorrow.

The three events were 1) September 11th; 2) the current financial crisis; and 3) the Obama landslide victory.[1] In each case the instruments traditionally relied upon to predict future trends proved incapable of doing so. In each case the world, including its experts, was taken by surprise and shocked out of complacency.

The United States had a sophisticated intelligence system that was caught unaware in 2001. The world of finance was driven by complex models designed by brilliant minds using cutting edge technology, but it could not foresee the collapse of US credit markets. Even Alan Greenspan told Congress last month that he was in a state of “shocked disbelief.” Barack Obama’s victory was not a surprise (although not very long ago many considered it impossible and even in September McCain’s lead was considered within the margins of polling error), but its landslide dimensions were. None of the polls predicted anything like it.

Yesterday is over

The reason that none of these events were predicted is because the future is no longer a continuation of the past. No longer can one use yesterday’s tools, data and trends to predict tomorrow. Yesterday is over. One needs a deep understanding of today to predict tomorrow. As it Pirkei Avot (Ethics of our Fathers) says: “A wise man is one who is roeh et hanolad – who can visualize that which has just been conceived.” Many of the factors that drove the course of history for decades and maybe centuries drive it no more. New factors have been born that drive it now. Mr. Obama seems to see those factors and uses them.

Change is not new to the world, but this change is. Unlike most change that is linear, this changes is not. It is discontinuous. This means it is not a natural extension of past events. It is initiated by an unpredictable wave of new phenomena. The direction of linear change can be predicted, discontinuous change cannot. Large volumes of data can inform us about the past and provide near-certainty about a linear future but can predict nothing about a discontinuous future.

All security is fragile

All three of these events bring a common message: the fragility of security. On 9/11, human imagination and religious passion shattered the world’s most powerful fortresses of might and money. It was the triumph of misguided religious fervor over the complacency of material security.

The collapse of the world’s financial markets wiping out the savings of millions of people, showed us how fragile our monetary system is. The Chafeitz Chaim[2]saw the great depression as a lesson to the world that neither a society nor an economy can function without faith. People invest because they have faith in the future and in one another. When they lose that faith they disinvest and markets collapse.

Barack Obama did not launch his campaign from the traditional powerbases of conventional politics. He understood that the majority of Americans do not feel secure in what has been and are seeking new territory. He touched the souls of America’s youth by offering them hope. He recognized that the new generation is not apathetic, spoiled and entitled, but disillusioned with leaders, teachers and offerings that cannot nourish their souls.

Religion, faith and hope

Conventional predictors did not factor in the roles of religious fervor in warfare, the need for faith in business and the need for hope in government. Those predictors missed the degree to which people will make sacrifices for leaders that nourish the soul and talk to it, and to the degree which business that is not underpinned by faith is not sustainable. These predictors are unable to deal with factors such as hope and faith that cannot be measured.

More than half of the people in the world are of a young generation with changed norms, paradigms of thought and even values. When treated with condescension, this generation withdraws into its fantasy worlds of technological distraction and general apathy. But when touched, this generation’s energy is beyond anything previously seen. The polls could not measure the power of ordinary people with extraordinary spirit whose hearts were ignited by a man who offered them a cause and gave them faith.

This new generation has lost faith in business, government and even religious institutions but they have faith in themselves, in each other and in the future. Technology allows them to connect with each other without needing yesterday’s social, political and religious institutions and structures. Leaders and educators need to learn new ways to access the energy and deep yearnings of young people as President-elect Barack Obama did or they will lose them as Sen. McCain did.[3]

Let go of yesterday and welcome tomorrow

Yesterday is over and to embrace the future we need to let go of some of the past. This is key to moving ahead in the rapidly changing landscape in which we are living. In the opening of our parsha, our father Avraham, embedds into Jewish DNA the ability to leave the past behind and move into an uncertain future.

Go, Avraham is told, from everything that is familiar to you, to territory that you cannot know or imagine, territory that I, G-d, shall show to you. Do this not only for the impact you will have in the world, but also for your own good and your own benefit (Rashi 12:2). Avraham’s departure from his homeland is not an act of reckless adventurism. Avraham walks into unchartered waters because although he does not know to where he is going, G-d does. He is going to a very specific place; a place chosen for him by G-d, who will lead him there. The knowledge of G-d’s part in our uncertain futures is what provides us the security with which to stride forward.

In unpredictable times, faith in the future can be a hyped up illusion created by desperation. Real faith in a real future needs to be founded on emunah and bitachon (belief and trust). Belief and trust are the vehicles that help us move into an uncertain future that we cannot see.

Is the President-elect selling hype or hope? “Yes we can”, is hype. “Yes, with the help of G-d, we can” is hope.

Notes:

[1] I am in no way linking Obama’s election to the previous two events in respect of their destructiveness and damage, only the scale of their impact and the degree to which experts did not anticipate them.

[2] Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan (1838-1933)

[3] These ideas will be expanded in my upcoming leadership book, “Lead by Greatness.”

Parshat Bereishit 5769

©Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 (http://www.iawaken.org)

The Wisdom of Trust

The creation of Adam and Chava on the sixth day, inaugurated a short period of intellectual and spiritual grandeur for man, a grandeur that lasted for no more than six hours.[1] Then it was shattered – not by Chava or Adam eating from the forbidden fruit of the Eitz Hada’at, but because their union was compromised by the poison of mistrust.

Adam and Chava were super-intelligent. They were “arumim” (Chakimim, wise, according to the Targum Yonattan). Their wisdom however was not vested in their individual beings but in the unit of their togetherness: “Vehayu Lebasar Echad” (and they will exist as a single being). “And they were, the two of them together, man and wife, wise.” (Bereishit 2:24-25)

It is Adam who first compromises the integrity of their partnership. After Hashem instructs them not to eat of the Eitz Hada’at, Adam of his own accord uses the principle of siyag (a legal “fence” designed to make transgression less likely), and tells Chava that not only is eating the fruit forbidden but touching it is forbidden too. The snake (nachash) slyly proves to Chava that no harm results from touching the fruit, leading her to question the authenticity of the entire instruction that her husband purportedly received from Hashem. “Perhaps,” she thinks to herself, “the entire instruction my Rebbi (this is the last time she refers to her husband as rebbi,) gave me, is a lie.” (Avot DeRabbi Nattan 1)

Had Adam trusted Chava at the outset; had he taken her into his confidence, told her precisely what the Divine prohibition was and then taught her the principles of siyag, Chava would never have been seduced by the nachash. Had Chava trusted in her husband, she would not have succumbed to the snake’s seduction. Insufficient trust shattered the purity of their union, diminished their wisdom, and opened the door to the snake.

Adam interpreted his role of husband as one of master rather than partner; his role of rebbe as controller rather than teacher. With the best of intention, he underestimates Chava, and deprives her of the right to understand Hashem’s word precisely as it was given. Instead of reinforcing his role as husband and rebbe, he loses both his new wife’s trust and the title “rebbe” that she had conferred upon him.

Separateness, Shame and Sin

When trust is intact and each party looks out only for the other, there is true oneness. Loss of trust introduces suspicion: “Perhaps the entire instruction my rebbi gave me is a lie.” With suspicion Adam and Chava lose the oneness of their union; “otherness” is introduced into their relationship as for the first time each feels the need to look out for themselves too. No longer are Adam and Chava Bassar Echad, a single being. Now, albeit in relationship, they are two independent beings.

With separateness comes the possibility of shame. One only feels shame when one has experienced separateness. Adam and Eve’s nakedness (the other translation of “arum”, Onkelos’s translation) was not a factor when they both comprised one being, when they were bassar echad. Now, in their alienated state of separateness where trust has fractured that oneness of being, they each experience nakedness before the other and before Hashem.

Mistrust and its resulting separateness have done more than create shame. They have also created the platform for the snake, the nachash, (according to Seforno – 3:1, an allegorical reference to the yetzer harah,) to launch its relentless attacks against Adam and Chava and all their future generations. Mistrust, suspicion, and the resulting need for self protection open the door to ego: man’s enemy of his own uprightness.

Husband and Rebbe: Leader and Teacher

A husband does not dominate a subordinate; he leads a team. Leading doesn’t mean controlling, it means influencing. Men are comfortable trusting their wives’ integrity with regard to the kashrut of their kitchens. They can be equally comfortable trusting their wives’ intellectual integrity and commitment to act in unison with their shared values and beliefs. That is what a team is; that is how a team works. By serving Adam an Eitz Haada’at dish, Chava shows him what destructive power woman has over man if she really wishes to undermine him. Trust is the foundation of respect, it is the cement of partnership.

In a similar way a rebbe doesn’t control; he shares and teaches. Teaching doesn’t mean dictating and issuing edicts. Teaching means explaining, imbuing others with understanding, and empowering them to make their own, well informed choices. By no longer calling him Rebbe, Chava shows Adam that when a rebbe bullies and controls, he loses his status as rebbe.

Smartness in Synergy

The word “arum” used to describe the intelligence of the Adam-Chava unit, is a word that implies strategic “smartness.” This is the smartness that two people have to confront any challenge when they think and act as a team. This is the smartness that Adam and Chava lost when they lost their togetherness. Even today, when two parents act as a single unit of common values each more concerned for the other than for themselves, they find within themselves a divine intelligence greater than any knowledge they could have learned from any self-help book with which to raise their children. When the children sense a split, however, the parents lose that intelligence, and are outwitted time and time again by little people a fraction of their age and experience!

Adam and Chava were the first case of synergy: as a unit they contained a greater intelligence and human greatness than the sum of their individual strengths. But they could not sustain their greatness[2] as a couple showing each other unconditional trust and respect. They lost their togetherness and they lost the special intelligence with which they were blessed as a single unit. It is the challenge of every couple to claw their way back to the original Divine intention of marriage: Vedavak be’ishto, vehayu lebassar echad. veyiheyu sheneihem arumim – chakimmim – Ha’adam ve’ishto. And he shall become a companion (TY: veyitchabbar) to his wife and they will both exist as one being. And (once again) as a couple they will have wisdom, man and his wife.

Notes:

[1] Bereishit Rabbah 18:6

[2] Targum Yonattan

Parshat Ki Teitzei 5768

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 (http://www.iawaken.org)

“The Power of Pride”

I was the second speaker of the day. I walked up to the podium with a knot in my stomach. I was following immediately after Ian Thomas, an inspiring wildlife guide turned public speaker. His topic is “The Power of the Pride,” showing how lions use pride as a tool of leadership. Ian enthralls his audience, and after he finished they were in no mood to listen to me.

The loud din eventually settled. In a quiet voice I asked the audience whether Ian had shown them how lions make each other proud and how they can make even baboons feel proud. They shook their heads quizzically. “You see,” I said, “The reason Ian didn’t show you that is because lions cannot make others feel proud. Only humans can. Making others feel good about themselves is a G-dly trait, it comes from the Divine within each of us. This is why we should not learn leadership from animals; we should learn leadership from G-d.” You could hear a pin drop.

Feeling and transmitting emotion

The same applies to many emotions. We are capable not only of feeling a wide range of emotions but also of transmitting those emotions to others. This is the role of art. Art does not convey information. Art conveys feelings. Looking at a landscape of a scene you could never have been at, still allows you to feel something of what the artist felt as he or she looked at that scene. A great work of fiction can give you the feel of a place in the world or a time in history at which you could not have been present. Music and drama do the same thing.

We transmit not only positive emotions. We can transmit negative emotions too. We can radiate negativity, sadness, and cynicism just as we can radiate happiness, optimism and joy. We can demotivate people and we can uplift them. We all know the effect of being around people who are draining with their negativity compared to being around people who radiate positive energy.

Ve’ahavta lerei’acha kamocha (“And you will love your friend like yourself”) requires not only that we do and want good things for others. It also requires that just as we like to feel good, we should transmit good and positive energy to those around us helping them to feel good too. Just as we like to feel confident about ourselves and have some fun, so we should inspire others to feel that way about themselves and enjoy their lives too.

The Joy of Love

Our responsibility to make others feel good applies in greatest measure to those closest to us, to those we love: our children, our husbands and most of all, our wives. The Rambam (Nashim 15:19) forbids a man from habitual depression and anger in his relationship! (Interestingly he does not apply the same stringency to women in this regard!) Part of a man’s role is to bring joy to his wife on every level. Vesimach et ishto (“and he shall make his wife joyful”) is a directive in our Parsha (Devarim 24:5). The Gimattria (numeric value) of the word vesimach, says the Ba’al Haturim, is 354; the number of days in the lunar year – less one. This indicates that a husband is required to bring his wife joy each and every day of the year (except on Yom Kippur when his focus is elsewhere).

However, according to the Targum Yonattan, the meaning of this verse is somewhat different. Much to the dismay of Rashi, the Targum Yonattan translates the verse with a minute but vitally important difference. He says that the word et in this verse does not indicate that the next word is the object of the sentence as et usually does, but that et in this case means “with” which it occasionally does. The husband is required to rejoice with his wife rather than to make her feel joy. She is his partner rather than the object of his joy-spreading!

Rashi objects on the grounds that the Hiphil form of the verb vesimach makes it a transitive verb requiring an object. If the verse were to mean what Targum Yonattan suggests, the word should have been vesamamch (and he will rejoice) rather than vesimach (and he will generate joy). It must therefore mean, says Rashi, that he will make his wife happy.

The Targum has a different way to deal with the Hiphil, causative, form of vesimach. He agrees, I believe, that vesimach means “and he will cause joy”, he will radiate happiness. But not just to his wife. Rather, the Targum says, he will radiate joy to the world, to everyone WITH his wife. Leveraging off his own marital bliss he will be a beacon of joy radiating happiness out into the universe from which everyone will benefit. Positive energy is not limited by distance or boundary. A happy husband’s positive energy inspires the whole world in some small way. This is the power of the individual; the power of human emotion and energy. Vesimach, and he will make others joyful, et ishto asher lakach, together with the wife he married.

The home and the intimate relationship between man and woman in that home, are the conditions for happiness. The couple’s happiness adds to the world’s happiness, their joy is the world’s, their playfulness and fun adds to the level of playfulness in the entire universe. This is perhaps why the community is an integral part of a wedding celebration; it is a public occasion requiring a minyan. The community has an investment in every marriage for the happiness of every couple cascades into the lives of all of humanity.

Be joyous in yourself and in your relationship. Deal with negative stuff promptly and get it out of the way so that you can quickly get back to your happiness. Happiness is something you owe to yourself and to each other. Your joy uplifts us all. Indulge in it generously.

Parshat Shoftim 5768

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 (http://iawaken.org)

Last evening I wrote a list of my incomplete tasks and projects. I wrote down everything I could think of that was awaiting decision, action, completion or abandonment. Stunned by the length of the list I understood why I was feeling so drained, overwhelmed, somewhat unfocused and generally miserable!

Unresolved issues and incomplete projects clutter the mind and block our energy. I am sure you have felt the liberation of un-cluttering a space, whether a desk, a computer filing system, a room in the house or a closet. There is an ease, a lightness and a clarity that comes with a clean-out. The clarity and lightness, and the high energy and focus that follow a mental clean-up is far greater even than the feeling after a physical clean-up.

Unfinished projects can be things as trivial as unreturned voicemails or as serious as unfinished masechtot (Talmudic Tractates), incomplete construction or business projects, and relationships that are unresolved.

Some incompletion is due to not having made a decision. Some of it is due to not having acted on a decision that has been made, and some is not having completed tasks that have been started. We’ll look at each of those categories:

No Decision

In an indecisive state we can fool ourselves into believing that two or more doors are open and we are not yet decided which to walk through. We are deluded into feeling we have the freedom of multiple options. The truth is we are paralyzed. We have no freedom at all. None of the options are open doors until we actually choose one of them. Not making a choice is disempowering and paralyzing.

It is helpful to perceive indecisiveness not as a decision pending, but as a decision made. Indecisiveness is a decision not to act at all! Recognizing that indecisiveness is in itself a decision, and accepting that it is a decision not to act, enables us to close the issue or it forces us into a different decision: a decision to act. Either way we break the paralysis and move on.

Imagine a person agonizing over whether or not to go on Aliyah. He believes that until he makes his decision his options are open and thast holds him back from deciding. However, if he accepts that his ambivalence is a decision for the status quo, he might confront the fact that for now he has made his decision: he is not going on Aliyah. This will either propel him into making a different choice, or still the turbulence of his agonizing dilemma.

Decision, but no Action

How many times have you heard people say, “From tomorrow I plan to…” and then announce a decision to make a significant change in life or habit; like starting a diet, or a learning program or undertake some chore they have been delaying? We so often say “From tomorrow” because we are not fully resolved and the future never really arrives. There is always a tomorrow unless we are confronted with an externally imposed deadline of serious consequence. So when you hear, or say, “From tomorrow..” don’t take yourself or the other person seriously. You know that is simply another way of saying “I would like to….but I probably won’t”.

“Al tomar keshe’eppaneh eshaneh”, do not say, “when I turn the corner I will change, because you may never turn the corner.” A decision not acted upon is not a decision at all. Decisions that are followed by immediate action gain the energy of momentum and have a chance of completion. When we complete the Sefer Torah on Simchat Torah, we do not undertake to start again the following Shabbat. We begin to read Bereishit immediately. We begin to build our Sucot on Motzei Yom Kippur, not the next day. When you have made a decision, seek an action that you can immediately begin and start the process of execution. Even a small action will give life to your decision, and energy to its fulfillment.

Action but no Completion

There is a special quality to completion. After completing even a short masechet of Gemarrah, we make a celebratory siyyum. We do not make a siyyum after learning three times the amount of a longer masechet that we have not yet completed. Siyyum means completion: we celebrate completion. When one person begins a mitzvah and another ends it, the one who ends it gets rewarded for the mitzvah even if he or she did much less than the person who started. A mitzvah is not a mitzvah until it is complete. An action is not an action until complete. Accomplishment is not a word that can be applied to something incomplete.

Focusing on the end point is vital. Setting aside the time needed to get to the endpoint helps. Taking on new tasks and projects before old ones are either deliberately abandoned or completed, (or at least have a plan for completion,) will only add to your frustration and anxiety. Use the joyous celebration of finishing the old to propel taking on the new.

Winning Needs Focus

The length of a person’s life is generally predetermined and we can do little to lengthen or shorten it other than acts of self-destruction or negligence. There are times though, when we put ourselves into situations that can shorten our allotted time on earth. One such case is going into war, even a Milchemet Mitzvah (a war that is a Mitzvah), without being able to focus fully on the battles at hand. (See Ibn Ezra Devarim 20:5 and 7). Our Parsha gives three examples of uncompleted projects in the arenas of home, business and relationships: 1)One who has built a house and not yet occupied it; 2) one who has planted a vineyard and not yet eaten from it; and 3) one who has betrothed a woman and not yet married her.

In each of these cases the individual’s mind cannot be vacant for the focus, passion and energy of warfare. Their heads are occupied with incomplete projects that clutter their minds and drain their energy. They are urged to go back home and attend to their unfinished business before rejoining their brethren in battle. We too should address our unfinished projects and get them behind us as we clear our focus for the exciting challenges that lie ahead of us each day of our lives.

Looking at my sadly long list of incomplete tasks and projects I categorized them into those that needed decision, those that needed action and those that needed completion. I promised myself I would begin on them the next day….and then I caught myself….. I began to work on just one of them last night.

Parshat Matot 5768

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 – http://iawaken.org

Contaminating Flavors

Gourmet chefs know how flavors retained in the walls of their cooking utensils can contaminate dishes. Cultures such as the Japanese, with highly developed taste senses, will often keep their utensils for specific foods and wash them up separately. We too are sensitive to flavor, but as the Nation of Hashem, we are more concerned about the pollutant flavors of Issur and Tumah (two different forms of negative spiritual energy that can attach to food and utensils) than we are about culinary contamination. Hashem teaches Benei Yisrael in this week’s Parsha, how to cleanse the utensils of Midyan of those spiritual contaminants to make them fit for Jewish usage. These laws are the foundation of our laws of the kashrut of keilim (utensils):

Laws of Kashrut of Keilim

If a keili (utensil) contains non-kosher food, not only may we not eat that food, but we may also not use that utensil for hot kosher food if the non-kosher food it previously contained was hot. The reason is because flavor is absorbed in the sides of the keili, and ta’am ke’ikkar – flavor has the spiritual and halachik properties of the food itself.

There is a way to repair that keili and make it fit for kosher use. The parsha teaches us a second principle, keboll’oh kach polltoh – a keili will discharge the flavors it has absorbed if the same level of heat is applied to it as was used when it absorbed the non kosher food’s flavors initially. So a pot in which non-kosher was cooked (in liquid) will discharge those flavors if it is immersed in boiling water. This is called hag’allah.

A pan in which non-kosher food was grilled (without water) must be subjected to the intense heat of a direct flame to cleanse it of its contaminant. This is known as libun.

A utensil that has not been used for non-kosher food but comes from a non-Jewish source, only needs to be immersed in the cold waters of a mikvah. This is called tevilat keilim.

Human Keilim

We can learn a lot more from the parsha and its laws of hechsher keilim (repairing utensils from non-kosher contaminant), than how to repair utensils that have become non-kosher.

Human beings are also utensils. We contain life’s experience, we absorb them, we discharge them. Experiences come and pass. Yet, each experience of our lives leaves behind a flavor that we carry within us deep in the fiber of our cellular memories. Long after our conscious minds have forgotten experiences and events, the flavors of those moments can emerge to either enhance or contaminate later experiences.

Think of a very young child who was abused by an overbearing teacher. Long after that child is a grown adult who has rationalized the futility of stereotypical generalization, he or she may still experience flavors of fear and resentment when they encounter overbearing authorities that remind them of that teacher.

Like dishes and saucepans, we absorb, retain and accumulate the flavors of what we have contained long after the contents have been washed away by the passage of time. Negative flavors we hold within us can spoil and contaminate otherwise positive experiences later on.

However, we too can kasher ourselves. We can cleanse ourselves of the contaminants absorbed in the walls of our beings over long periods of time. Where there was intense experience during the absorption of the negative energy, intensity will be needed in the cleansing. Like hag’allah and libun the process of purification matches the process of contamination: keboll’oh kach polltoh.

Sometimes Hashem sends us the pain we need to purify ourselves with, and when He does we embrace that suffering as a gift from Hashem, an opportunity to grow, to do things differently and to detoxify. However, when He does not, we are not required, or even permitted to invite suffering. The Torah does not encourage self-flagellation, fasting and other forms of self-inflicted punishment common in other religions.

There are other ways we can experience the intensity of moral hag’allah and libun. We can purify ourselves with the intense discomfort of serious Torah study,[1] acts of Tzedaka (charity) or other actions of mesirut nefesh (sacrifices for higher cause). Redirecting our energies, investing effort for higher purpose even at personal cost and studying Torah, referred to as fire and as water, cleanse the deepest recesses of cellular memory and remove the toxins of negative energy that accumulate there. We can detox even when the toxins have reached fatally high levels: Hatzedakkah tatzil mimavet (Tzedakkah saves from death).

The Three Weeks

We are in a painful period of recalling events buried deeply in our national cellular memory: the events around the Churban (destruction of the Temple and devastation of Israel and its People). This is not a time to try escape the pain and to seek distraction. The halachot of this period are designed to keep us present in the pain and mindful of its cause. That way we can use the pain of this time to cleanse and detoxify our selves from contaminating memories, flavors of negative experiences. In this way we can come to the month of Elul, a period of Divine intimacy, somewhat cleansed, pure and ready to engage with our G-d.

[1] See Vilna Gaon referred to in R. Chaim Valoshner’s Ma’aseh Rav.

Parshat Pinchas 5768

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008

The Imperfection of Knowledge

Wisdom is mysterious and human knowledge is not absolute. There is a dimension of wisdom that eludes even the wisest of men. “Fifty pathways to wisdom were created in the Universe” says the Gemarra,[1] “and all were given to Moshe except one.” Human knowledge will always lack at least one dimension of understanding, and therein lies its mystery.

Wisdom is like an onion. Each time that new insights peels away another layer of ignorance or confusion, we find yet another layer of questions and mysteries. At its core, this “onion” of knowledge carries a secret, a secret known to no one but G-d Himself: the fiftieth gateway to wisdom.

This applies even when man must make halachik decisions or decide in a matter of justice between two litigants in a court of law. “Ki Hamishpat Leilokim hu”, says Moshe,[2] “for the decisions of Justice are ultimately in G-d’s domain.”

If this is so, how are we meant to make halachik decisions? Even if a judge, Poseik or Rav is inherently competent and qualified, how is he to decide on matters of justice if his knowledge is always incomplete, never absolute?

Intellectual Fearlessness

Moshe gives guidance on that matter in the same verse: “Lo Taguru mipnei Ish,” he says, “show no cowardice before any human.” This implies two character requirements in addition to academic competence and practical qualification. The first is a fearless intellectual independence; the second is an implied fear of G-d (do not fear any human, fear only Hashem). In addition to knowledge and wisdom, courage and Yir’at Shamayim are the requirements of a Poseik.

But if no Rav or Poseik can have perfect knowledge, and every person is missing at least one element of understanding and knowledge since even Moshe only grasped 49 of the 50 pathways to wisdom, how can he ever make a valid halachik determination? Moshe himself provides the guidelines: “Anything too difficult for you, bring to me and I shall hear it.” In this statement of advice Moshe erred;[3] an error that caused him severe and eternal embarrassment later on. This is the story:

Tzlofchad’s Daughters

Oddly, the Torah appears to originally have “omitted” a straightforward but necessary Halachah. We are told the detailed laws of inheritance barring what happens to a deceased man who leaves no sons but does leave daughters. The daughters of Tzlofchad are such a case in our Parsha. They reason that although nowhere does the Torah specify their rights to inheritance, this certainly ought to be the law. They put their argument before the lower courts of the nation[4] who, although they agree with the women, refer the case to a higher court out of respect for a Law that as yet had no precedent or code and would need to be innovated. The higher court in turn referred it up for the same reason, until it was referred to Moshe himself. Astonishingly, Moshe’s mind blanked and although the case should have been “cut-and-dried” he needed to refer it to Hashem. Hashem affirms the logic of the Tzlofchad girls, and records Moshe’s intellectual “lapse” for posterity.[5]

What was so wrong in Moshe advising the judges to bring difficult matters to him? Interestingly, Moshe did not say “if you encounter difficulty, bring it to me.” He assumed they would encounter difficulty and instructed them to bring those inevitable difficulties to him. Moshe assumed that other judges who did not have the privilege of studying the Torah from Hashem Himself, would surely not have the same level of knowledge needed to make halachik decisions. And herein lay his error: No one has absolute halachik knowledge, not even he. Absolute knowledge cannot therefore be a precondition for competent halachik decision-making. It is this latitude that gives a Rav the right to pasken (make halachik decisions) provided he has an authentic semichah (Rabbinic ordination) authorizing him to pasken and holds a recognized position[6] as a Poseik. This is so even if there are other rabbis whose knowledge exceeds his. Perfect knowledge is not a requirement. Competence is; Yirat shamayim (G-d fearing) is; and intellectual courage is.

Often as individuals we need to make decisions regarding our own lives, and we feel humbled and overwhelmed by the enormity of the decisions and their implications. In these situations it helps to be mindful that we cannot have perfect knowledge. We will err as even Moshe sometimes did. We will not be accountable for what we did not and could not have known. All we can do is be our best. Make decisions with as much information as we can and with a great deal of Yiras Shamayim and personal courage. We can also follow Moshe’s advice and avoid all intellectual cowardice and fear of public opinion, as we do what we know is right and follow it to the best of our abilities.

The Prominent “Nun”

This is the reason why the Nun (14th letter of the Hebrew alphabet) at the end of the word “mishpattan,” is enlarged.[7] Nun is numerically 50. It reminds us that no one but G-d could truly know all fifty dimensions of the law that applied to the daughters of Tzlofchad, nor any other law for that matter. Still, had Moshe not claimed superior knowledge, he would have made the decision. In effect the daughters of Tzlofchad themselves were able (though not technically qualified) to make the decision; the lower courts certainly could have made the decision. Perfect knowledge is not a requirement for halachik decision-making; nobility of character is.

Notes:

[1] Rosh Hashanah 21a

[2] Devarim 1:17

[3] Of course were it not that Chazal themselves (Rashi Bamidbar 27:5)make this comment we never could, as no human being can grasp Moshe’s greatness, nevermind identify his errors.

[4] Tanchuma 9

[5] Sanhedrin 8a

[6] Whether formal or informal.

[7] Rabbeinu Bechiye Bamidbar 27:5

Ego – “Now you see it; now you don’t”

Parshat Chukat 5768

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 (http://www.iawaken.org)

Ash and Dust – Sota and Para

Travel with me on an imaginary trip forward (or backward) into a time when the Beit Hamikdash is operational.

We stroll and we observe. We see two strange, seemingly unrelated practices. First, we see a Kohein fixing a drink. The scene is sad. Conflict, fear and resentment permeate the atmosphere. He is mixing sand and water for the Mey Sota (Waters of a Sota). A man requested that his wife avoid ongoing privacy with another man. After ignoring his request, he accuses her of unfaithfulness. Drinking this water will prove her either guilty or innocent. If innocent, cleansed of the negative energy between them, the couple will reconcile in peace and joy. Later, a righteous son of Abrahamic stature will be born.

In a different place a Kohein is mixing another inert powder, the ashes of a Para Aduma (Red Cow), with water, the source of life. This mixture also cleanses negative energy; the negative energy that attaches to a Jew when he has contact with a dead body. This mixture however will not be drunk; it will be sprinkled.

The intersection of Masechet Sotah in the current Daf Yomi program with Parshat Parah in this week’s Parsha, begs a comparison that the Gemmara (Sotah 17a) provides: “Rava researched[1] and discovered that as a consequence of Avraham’s humble declaration ‘and I am merely dust and ashes,’ his children were privileged with two mitzvot: the ashes of the Red Cow and the dust of the Sotah (water).”

The Yeast in the Dough

Ash and dust are also correlated in the laws of chameitz (food containing unleavened bread or yeast). Before Pesach we must destroy any chameitz we own. This destruction, according to R. Yehuda[2] requires the reduction of chameitz to ashes. But when we perform the act of bittul chameitz (canceling our attachment to chameitz), we use the phrase “let it be (to me) like the dust of the earth.”

Chameitz is often referred to as se’or she’ba’issa (the yeast in the dough). This means it represents the ego, which bloats the personality. Destruction of ego, the primary practice of Pesach, has two forms: it can be reduced to ashes by means of burning or to dust by means of grinding. Ash is sterile, unable to produce any life at all whereas dust nurtures vegetation and supports life. There are times when ego needs to be rendered as sterile as ash, and other times when it has a use and gives rise to life.[3]

Can’t live with it; can’t live without it

Ego needs to be kept in check at all times; but in our general activities, some degree of ego is necessary. “Were it not for the Yeitzer Hara (ego), men would not build homes nor marry women!”[4] Not so in the study of Torah. In the study of Torah there is no place for ego at all. Even the tiniest amount of ego is devastatingly destructive to the study of Torah[5] (like tiny quantities of chameitz on Pesach).

Part of the practice of Torah study, is the “burning” of our ego as we burn the chameitz. We burn it with the heat of our creative passion in the ecstasy of our learning, where being true is more important than being right. In our general activities we learn to crush our egos too. In business we submit ourselves to the needs of our customers or work for the wellbeing of our employers. When we love, we do so selflessly and unconditionally. Yet in both business and love there is a dimension of conquest for a man that is entirely absent from Limud Torah. Conquest is a function of ego. Ego, after it has been crushed into dust, still plays a part in business and in love. From dust’s virtual inertia, life, success and love grow and flourish.

Moral Heroism: Hakoveish et Yitzro

Avraham demonstrated the elimination of his ego in both senses: he was both dust and ashes. His ego was entirely inert with respect to his service of G-d, but in his relationships and business activities he was able to use his ego to produce life. And this translated into these two mitzvot generations later.

In the case of Sota, out of the dust of an almost broken marriage, after both the husband and his wife’s egos have been crushed but not destroyed, love and life blossom. But Para Aduma teaches us the principles of Torah learning: This is the “Chukat Hatorah[6]“;and “this is the Torah- A man who dies in a tent[7]” or as Chazal read it “a man who kills his ego in the tent of Torah study”. In the study of Torah ego is to be utterly sterilized, it must be burnt into ash.

It would be so much easier if like the religions of Asia, we merely had to kill our egos entirely, or like Western materialists we were free to live by our egos. But neither is what the Torah demands of us. The Torah challenges us to become artful in the juggle of the ego. Burning it into nothingness in some areas and crushing it into dust that can still produce, in other areas. We are not to bluntly destroy our egos but to conquer them, able to apply our egos where they are needed, and silence them where they are not. Who is a hero? One who has conquered his ego, hakoveish et yitzro.[8]

Notes:

[1] A translation for “dorash” that I learnt from Reb Simcha Wasserman ztz’l

[2] Pesachim 27b

[3] See Keren Ora Sotah 17a

[4] B.R: 9:9 cf. Yomah 69b

[5] Tosfot Berachot 17a

[6] Bamidbar 19:2

[7] Bamidbar 19:14

[8] Avot 4:1

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2008 (http://iawaken.org)

Seeing Different vs. Looking Different

The meraglim (spies) were exceptionally great people to start with and that is the hardest part of the story.

I cannot imagine the gedolim (great Torah leaders) of our generation doing what the meraglim did. I certainly cannot imagine it of the gedolim of the generation in Europe before the war, and earlier. We couldn’t picture the Chofetz Chaim or the Vilna Gaon, the Rishonim, Amoraim, or Tana’im, doing what the meraglim did. Then how can we picture the gedolim of the generation who stood at Sinai stooping to such levels?

Different individuals who go through the same situations or see the same sights may experience those situations or sights very differently from one another. We should not assume that we understand what another person has experienced or is experiencing even if we have been through exactly the same situation. We are different from one another and we experience the world and life differently.

Ten spies reported an insurmountable enemy of vast strength and fortification. Two spies, Yehoshua and Kalev saw an opportunity for a G-dly nation to overcome a G-dless enemy that is so filled with fear that they fortify endlessly. The ten saw defeat. The two saw victory.

The ten meraglim saw the same land that Yehoshua and Kalev saw. But they experienced it differently. The differences in their experiences were not caused by anything different in the objects of their experience but in their subjects. It was something inside each of them that caused them to experience the same land so very differently.

The differences between Yehoshua and Kalev and the other ten, were not differences in intellect or in belief in G-d. All twelve of them were equally great in both. The Targum Yonattan refers to them as chariffin (of sharp intellect), Rashi talks of their importance as people and leaders. The differences were in an emotion: they were in different emotional states in that moment and this caused their different experiences of the same event. The ten felt fear. The two felt courage. The ten absorbed their experience into a space of fear and interpreted it there. Yehoshua and Kalev absorbed it into a space of courage, and interpreted their experience as they felt it in that place of courage.

We observe facts; we experience emotions

We often think that we interpret facts, but the story of the meraglim teaches us the fallacy of that assumption. We observe facts but we interpret our experience of those facts not the facts themselves. Our experience of the facts depends on our emotional situation at that time. If we are insecure we could even experience another person’s greeting as inauthentic and manipulative. When secure within ourselves we could experience that same greeting warmly. The meraglim were dispatched in order to observe and report facts. They returned with interpretation, interpretations rooted in their own emotions: fear on the one hand and courage on the other.

Fear and insecurity sours every experience and encounter we have. Courage enhances them. An opportunity for a promotion at work is a cause for anxiety to a person who is in a space of fear. It is a cause for excitement for one who feels secure and courageous. Fearful people dislike and avoid change. Secure people embrace it.

When we are insecure we need to control others, manipulate them and sometimes even abuse them. Most of all we need to undermine their value, in our eyes and in the eyes of others. Lashon Harah and Hotza’at Sheim Rah (slander and libel) are the biggest symptoms of insecurity and fear. In combating a tendency for Lashon Harah we should combat our insecurities if we crave victory.

Fear and Bitachon

The level of fearfulness we experience emotionally at any given point is a function of our theocentricity. If G-d is the center of our universe and we feel connected to Him like a planet orbiting our center, Hashem, then we feel stable, secure and courageous. If our feeling is one that places us at the center with everyone and everything else including Hashem orbiting around us, then we feel fearful and react with symptoms of insecurity. The feeling of a G-d-centered world is just that: a feeling. In the same way the feeling of an I-centered world is a feeling too.

Put a little differently, we may look at how intimate and how close we feel to Hashem at any given moment. If I feel a closeness to Him, I will feel secure and courageous. If I am feeling fear, I am feeling distant from Him. This is how R. Volber treats the meraglim[1] issue. Yehoshua and Kalev felt a closeness to Hashem, the ten did not.

Closeness to and distance from Hashem are emotions too. They are not functions of geographical distance but rather of intimacy. Two people can feel an intimacy even if they are continents away whereas so often intimacy evades two people who even share a home together. Whether or not we feel close to Hashem depends on the feeling we have. This is Bitachon (security in Hashem). Unlike Emunah (belief in Hashem) that is an idea, a belief, Bitachon is an emotion[2].

We feel close to one another when we are caring for their needs. We feel close to Hashem when we care for His needs. The formula for courage and inner-security is therefore quite a simple one. Take some time to focus on what Hashem needs out of the situation that faces you. Get closer to Him by some meaningful learning of an idea in the Torah, some Tefillah or even going emotionally deeply into a chapter of Tehillim. Feel that closeness to Hashem, visualize your desired outcome and stride forward toward your vision of success. Then successful you will be.

Notes:

[1] Alei Shur II, p. 576

[2] See opening sentence of the Chazon Ish’s Emunah uVitachon

By Simon Jacobson (http://meaningfullife.com)

Companies often advertise themselves as “in business for 89 years,” “brewing beer since 1874,” “loyally serving you for six decades.” By invoking generational continuity these businesses are trying to elicit confidence. We tend to trust something that has lasted for an extended time period. It means that the company is time tested, has weathered ups and downs while others failed and has the experience and know-how that you can depend upon. That’s why it has lasted so long.

Never mind that many of these companies have changed hands and are no longer owned or controlled by the founding family. Still, the mere mention of longevity engenders trust in the brand.

That’s why I always feel proud to emphasize that the traditions and ideas conveyed in this column go back thousands of years in an unbroken chain.

This year we celebrate the 3320thyear since the Torah was given at Sinai. Not 89 years, not 1874, not six decades. Three thousand three hundred and twenty years that we have been “in business.” And despite all the radical changes through the millennia and the extreme challenges – through genocides, expulsions, oppressions and every form of assault that brought the Jewish people to the brink of extinction – we stand tall today 3320 years later and live to tell about the events that transpired 3320 years ago.

Not just live to tell about it, but we have a book – actually the best-selling book of all time – that documents in detail a blueprint of how civilized people ought to live.

We study and pore over this book, just as our parents and grandparents did, just as their ancestors did day after day, year after year, century after century, millennium after millennium, all the way back to Moses and his people on that fateful day when they stood at Sinai receiving the Torah.

If this does not inspire awe what does?

It’s true that many people advocating Torah may be doing it an injustice and may be distorting its message. Many others study Torah and follow its guidelines mechanically and often lack soulfullness and personal integration. Some have used Torah in despicable ways.

But all this does not take away from the enduring power of a tradition that has made it through history and stands strong today, as the most influential document of all time – one that serves as the basis of modern democratic institutions and constitutions, advocating principles of virtue and generosity, honoring the equality of all people, the absolute dignity of every individual created in the “Divine Image,” caring for the less fortunate, living in peace with each other while maintaining our individual rights and offering a comprehensive system to spiritualize the material universe in which we live.

Yes indeed, we are “in business” for 3320 years and counting.