Hamaayan / The Torah Spring Edited by Shlomo Katz Vayikra "True Strength" Volume 24, No. 23 5 Nissan 5770 March 20, 2010 Sponsored by Nathan and Rikki Lewin, in memory of her father Rabbi Morris E. Gordon (Harav Eliyahu Moshe ben Yitzchak Dov z"l) Rabbi and Mrs. Barry Greengart on the yahrzeit of his mother Yuta bat Yosef a"h The Katz family in memory of grandfathers Yitzchak ben Yisrael Hakohen Katz a"h Menashe Yaakov ben Klonimus Kalman Reiss a"h Today's Learning: Nach: Hoshea 7-8 Niddah 5:2-3 O.C. 446:1-3 Daf Yomi (Bavli): Sanhedrin 36 Daf Yomi (Yerushalmi): Berachot 67 The Midrash Tanchuma quotes the opening verse of our parashah, "He called to Moshe, `vy'daber' / and Hashem spoke to him . . . ," and comments: Thus it is written (Tehilim 103:20), "Bless Hashem, His angels; the strong warriors who do His bidding, to hear the voice of His word." Says the midrash, "Bless Hashem, His angels"--this refers to the prophets, who are called angels, as it is written (Bemidbar 20:16), "He sent an angel and took us out of Egypt." Similarly, it is written (Divrei Hayamim II 36:16), "But they only insulted the angels of G-d and scorned His word and taunted His prophets." The midrash continues: "The strong warriors"--Rav Huna said in the name of Rav Acha that this refers to Yisrael, who placed "doing" before "hearing" (see Shmot 24:7), just as the above verse says, "The strong warriors who do His bidding [first, and then], to hear the voice of His word." Rabbi Yitzchak the Blacksmith said that "the strong warriors" refers to those who observe the shemittah, for they see their fields and their trees being treated as if they are ownerless [because everyone is allowed to pick from them], yet they restrain themselves and say nothing. Our Sages have taught, "Who is strong? One who restrains his yetzer." [Until here from the midrash.] What led the midrash to relate the opening verse of our parashah to the above verse in Tehilim? R' Avraham Meir Rosen z"l (Warsaw; 19th century) explains: Our parashah opens with Hashem calling to Moshe. One would expect what follows to be an affectionate form of speech, but the Torah instead uses the verb, "vy'daber," which our Sages understand to imply a pointed, even harsh, form of speech (as opposed to "va'yomer," which is a softer form). Why? To answer this question the Torah describes the high levels that Moshe reached. He could "take" Hashem's message even if it was harsh and did not need to have it watered down, unlike Bnei Yisrael who were not able to stand directly hearing Hashem at Har Sinai. (Be'urei Ha'ma'amarim) ******** "He called to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him . . ." (1:1) A midrash pliah / enigmatic midrash states: Thus it is written, "Shema Yisrael, Hashem is our Elokim, Hashem is One." R' Nosson Sternhartz z"l (1780-1845; foremost student of R' Nachman of Breslov and transcriber of his teachings) explains in the name of his rebbe: It does not say in our verse who called to Moshe. This is because all of Hashem's Names represent His manifestations, while the call to Moshe came from a "higher place" than any manifestation. Only after the initial call did Hashem manifest Himself in one of His Names and then speak to Moshe. G-d's revelation must be filtered through many levels before it reaches us. Indeed, the small "aleph" in the opening word, "Vayikra," alludes to 1,000 (in Hebrew, "eleph") "lights" (levels of revelation) of G-d that were lost to us because of the sin of the Golden Calf. Similarly, when we recite Shema, we do not immediately say, "Hashem is our Elokim." First we must prepare ourselves to receive the "light." This is what we are doing when we begin, "Hear, Yisrael!" We are preparing ourselves. (Likutei Halachot: Hil. Ma'akeh 4:7) ******** "If his offering is a shelamim / peace-offering . . ." (3:1) R' Yosef Bechor Shor z"l (France; 12th century) writes: The reason it is called a "shelamim" / peace-offering is that the altar gets a part, the kohanim get a part, and the owners get a part. This is the way of peace, i.e., that everyone eats together. (Bechor Shor) ******** "If a person will sin and commit a treachery against Hashem by lying to his comrade regarding a pledge or a loan or a robbery; or by defrauding his comrade." (5:21) R' Dr. Leo Adler z"l (1915-1978; rabbi of Basel, Switzerland) writes: The Tosefta [a collection of teachings that post-dates the Mishnah but pre-dates the Gemara] relates: Rabbi Reuven met a philosopher in Teveryah, who asked him, "Who makes himself hateful in this world?" Rabbi Reuven answered, "He who denies his Creator." "But how does that make him hateful to men?" the philosopher wondered. Rabbi Reuven replied, "Honor your father and mother; do not murder; do not steal; do not bear false witness--No man breaks these laws without first denying G-d." What is the basis for Rabbi Reuven's assertion? R' Adler explains that it is our verse. If one man lies to another about a financial matter, it is a treachery against Hashem. Why? Because emunah means not only faith, but faithfulness to G-d's command. Thus, the level of one's emunah and his fear of G-d are as much tests of a person's character as are his sense of justice and charity. (The Biblical View of Man p.59) ******** From the Shabbat Zemirot "Majestic One, Beautiful One, Radiance of the universe -- my soul is sick for Your love. Please, G-d! Please heal her by showing her the pleasantness of Your radiance . . ." (From the zemer Yedid Nefesh) R' Yoel Teitelbaum z"l (1888-1979; the Satmar Rav) asks: Why do we call someone who pines for G-d "sick"? The only desire of a true tzaddik is to be close to G-d! Moreover, if Hashem reveals His radiance to this person, will that cure his "sickness" or make it worse? Indeed, we read about tzaddikim of prior generations that their souls were ready to leave them because of their desire to cleave to G-d, and only when Hashem strengthened them could they remain in this world! The Satmar Rav explains: R' Shneur Zalman of Liadi z"l (1745-1813; the first Lubavitcher Rebbe) writes that love of G-d is present deep within the soul of every Jew, even the simplest one, but it is hidden from the person's own consciousness. This is a spiritual illness. And, there is no more serious illness than when one does not know that he is ill. One who knows he is ill can at least seek a cure, but if one does not know he is ill, he will not take steps to be cured. Thus we say, "my soul is sick for Your love"--i.e., my soul is so sick that it does not realize that it should pine for you. "Please, G-d! Please heal her by showing her the pleasantness of Your radiance" so that she will realize what she is lacking. (Quoted in Zemirot Shirin Ve'rachshin p.195) ******** Pesach "This year here; next year, in Eretz Yisrael." (From the Pesach Haggadah) R' Avraham Yitzchak Hakohen Kook z"l (1865-1935; Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Eretz Yisrael) writes: Those things which are not based on what already exists require substantial preparation before they come to fruition. However, that which is innate in nature and is only being held back from being realized by external forces will blossom into existence as soon as those external forces are removed. Our relationship to Eretz Yisrael is not coincidental, but rather natural and of Divine origin. Our entire being is tied to Eretz Yisrael, and any distance between us and it is merely the result of our sins. Thus we can realistically believe that by next year we will already be in Eretz Yisrael. (Haggadah Shel Pesach Olat Re'iyah) ******** "In every generation, a person is obligated to view himself as if he had departed from Egypt." (From the Pesach Haggadah) R' Dr. Norman Lamm shlita (Chancellor of Yeshiva University) writes: Most of us, as we attend the Seder, tend to think back to the sedarim of our youth. As a child -- beginning as a little boy of age six or seven and through my bar mitzvah -- I, my parents and my siblings attended the Seder presided over by my maternal grandfather [R' Yeshoshua Baumol z"l (1880-1948; author of She'eilot U'teshuvot Emek Halachah)]. Zeyde, of blessed memory, was a man short in stature, but great in rabbinic scholarship and personal warmth. The first part of the Seder was most enjoyable: the chanting, the singing, the expectation of rewards for the younger grandchildren for reciting the Four Questions successfully, and the divrei Torah interspersed by the more knowledgeable participants. The memory I most cherish was that of Zeyde, who chanted certain passages of the Haggadah in the melodies of his chassidic home before World War I. His face beamed when he had us, his American-born grandchildren, sing along with him. But then, when it came to the Haggadah's description of the torments of Bnei Yisrael by the sadistic Egyptian taskmasters, Zeyde's mood changed abruptly. He was totally silent as we continued to read aloud from the Haggadah. He said nothing, but tears streamed down his face and onto his beard. I do not recall if anyone else noticed it, but I did. It took me a few years to begin to understand. He was reciting the suffering of the Israelites -- and he wept for them, but also for himself, for he knew that his elderly mother had been shot by the SS when she resisted climbing aboard a cattle car taking Jews to the death chambers. His tears were shed for her -- and for his brothers and sisters and their large families, and for his teachers and his study partners and his students . . . Zeyde's change of mood was his personal illustration of the dual mode of the historic Jewish experience as represented in the Haggadah. Sadness and singing are both part of the seder / order of life. (The Royal Table Haggadah p.13)