Likutei Torah Gleanings of Divrei Torah on Parashat Hashavuah via the Internet
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2) A “TORAH OF LIFE” The expression “a Torah of life” (Torat chayyim) is familiar to us from the prayer service: in the blessing “Ahava Rabba” we thank God for teaching us “chukkei chayyim, statutes of life,” and in the “Sim Shalom” blessing we mention that He has given us a “Torah of life.” There are several reasons why the Torah is referred to in this way. First, Torah comes from God, Who is the Source of life. The Torah first became manifest to us as the voice of the living God speaking from Mount Sinai to all of Israel. From that time onwards, as the Torah expanded into the Tanakh, Mishna, Gemara, and the writings of the great Torah sages of all generations, it remained essentially an interpretation and elaboration of the words of the living God. Second, the Torah is called a “Torah of life” because it gives life and leads towards life, as we declare in the “Ahavat Olam” blessing in the evening service: “For they [the words of Torah] are our life and the length of our days.” It is interesting to note that the blessings over the Torah actually point to a contrast between Torah and life: we bless God for having given us “the Torah of truth,” and thereafter we say that He has “implanted within us eternal life.” However, most of the commentators explain that the expression “eternal life” (chayyei olam) parallels “the Torah of truth” which precedes it. In other words, the “Torah of truth” is itself “eternal life,” for by engaging in Torah a person inherits eternal life. In Bava Metzia (33a) the same idea is formulated in halakhic terms: “One’s father brought him into this world, but one’s teacher – who imparts to him wisdom – brings one to the eternal world.” A third reason for the title “a Torah of life” is the vitality and ongoing development that characterize Torah. The Gemara (Chagiga 3b) draws a comparison in this regard between Torah and the plant kingdom: “Just as this plant is fertile and multiplies – so the words of Torah are fertile and multiply.” Similarly, the final mishna in Bava Batra (175b) draws a parallel between dinei mamonot and a flowing spring. Although a mikve – like a flowing spring – purifies those who are ritually impure, a spring continually replenishes itself and never stands still, and therefore a spring is preferable to a standing mikve (Mikvaot 1:7). This is also the nature of Jewish civil law. A final reason for the term “Torah of life” is that, in contrast to many other cultures which glorify death, the Torah occupies itself with life and sanctifies it. There is no death worship in Judaism. By delving into the tiniest details of all aspects of life, Halakha expresses its respect and appreciation for life in all its forms. The Torah addresses every part of a person’s life and strives to sanctify all of it – including everything from creative life, through economic life, to the most everyday and material of daily activities. The message that arises from the Torah’s occupation with these spheres is that every moment of life has significance, and can serve as the springboard to spiritual elevation. In the Jewish view, a live dog is preferable to a dead lion. So long as a person is alive, he may progress and sanctify himself. But when he is dead, he is removed from the world of sanctification and the fulfillment of Halakha. Some people posit that a “Torah of life” is a Torah that shows consideration for the realities and necessities of life. According to this view, Torah sages should enact rabbinic rulings and interpret Halakha with a view towards addressing life’s issues. In practice, this approach is popular mainly in specific areas of Halakha, in which the halakhic authorities have been especially lenient throughout the ages, such as their consideration for the anguish of “chained women” (who are refused divorces by their husbands) and the suffering of the poor. This is not the place to treat this extensive subject in detail, but it should be emphasized that in this regard both extremes are wrong. On the one hand, there are those who insist that for every issue and in every instance there must be a halakhic solution, and the only problem preventing the release of all the “chained women” in the world is the timidity and laziness of the halakhic authorities. On the other hand, there are those who declare that the world of Halakha is self-contained, and no values need be taken into consideration other than purely halakhic ones. In my view, a true Torah sage must feel a dual obligation: towards Torah and towards the Jewish people, and he must find the “golden mean” that balances the needs of these two factors.
In addition to speaking of a “Torah of life” (Torat chayyim), we also speak of a “life of Torah” (chayyei Torah). By this we mean a life that is based upon Torah – and this is true on several different levels. First, a “life of Torah” is built on the foundation of the Torah’s commandments; it is the Torah that directs one’s path. On the most basic level, we are speaking of a life guided by Halakha; one makes one’s decisions and acts in accordance with the Torah’s directives. But beyond this, a Jew who lives a life of Torah senses continually the weight of his or her responsibility as a commanded being. This constant awareness is unique to the Jewish religion and to the Jewish nation. There are many religions in which a person experiences God as the Creator, the Redeemer, the All-Powerful, and the Source of kindness, but a Jew experiences God primarily as the Law-Giver and the One Who commands. A person who lives a life of Torah operates in accordance with this constant consciousness: as he or she wakes up in the morning, goes to work, eats, and even as when preparing to sleep. There is no activity – even the most seemingly mundane and insignificant – that does not consult the Shulchan Arukh for guidance. But a life of Torah is more than just a life founded upon halakhic awareness. Along with the commandments that comprise Halakha, Torah also includes a whole system of values that establish the proper relationship between a person and God, the community, and the world in general. A true life of Torah is one in which the spirit of Halakha influences one beyond its straightforward demands and prohibitions. A person who lives a life of Torah understands that the Torah does more than just delimit parameters of the permissible and the forbidden. It influences our attitudes towards all areas of life, such as politics, economics, and spirituality. A certain kippa-wearing professor one defined himself as an “observant secular Jew.” This is certainly an extreme and exaggerated definition, but it does reflect the lifestyle of some people who call themselves “religious.” In their view, Torah merely defines the playing field and establishes the “rules of the game” within which life is to be lived. They believe that one can think, feel and do as one pleases, as long as one does not break any of the technical rules. A true life of Torah is not a secular life that features the observance of the commandments; rather, it is a life in which Torah is the “game” itself, not just the framework of its rules. A person may be a shoemaker, a physicist or an economist, but if Torah lives within him and the focus of his life is the aspiration to “sit in God’s house all the days of my life” – then this person lives a life of Torah. Such a person does not feel that Torah limits or constricts his life; rather, he feels that it guides and inspires him. In this sense, a life of Torah is not just a life that is permissible according to Torah, but a life with Torah at its center. In various contexts, the Gemara mentions the definition of a person “whose profession is Torah” (e.g. Shabbat 11a). Two of the greatest Rishonim – Ramah (Responsa, 248) and Rosh (Responsa, 15:8) – maintain that this definition refers to anyone whose aspiration is to “sit in God’s house,” and who organizes his life on the basis of this aspiration. According to this definition, even a person who spends most of his day in a laboratory, for example, and only sits down to learn Torah at the end of the day – even this person may be considered one “whose profession is Torah.” This status stems from his feeling that he engages in the other spheres because he needs to – for his own benefit or for that of society – but his main desire is to “dwell in God’s house all the days of his life.” Even if a person does not devote his entire day to Torah study, the main question is how he relates to his occupation and what he does with his free time. What is common to all of these definitions is the negation of contrast or distinction between Torah and life. Torah and life – by their very definition – do not compete with one another. In its most perfect and ideal sense, “life” is defined as such specifically when it is a life of Torah, hinging on Torah values and on the aspiration towards involvement in Torah. Similarly, the ideal sense of “Torah” is a Torah of life in that it addresses life, promotes life, and rewards those who engage in it with eternal life. Any approach that attempts to negate these definitions and to draw a distinction between Torah and “true life” is alien to servants of God. Only a view that identifies true life as a life of Torah can guide us on our spiritual path, on the road leading forever upward towards the House of God. (This sicha was delivered in Summer 5761 [2001].) Project Genesis: Rabbi Yissocher Frand Chumras Must Be Stage-in-Life Appropriate This week's parsha contains the people's complaint about their lack of meat. The Almighty's response was sending of massive quantities of pheasants (Slav), which the people consumed and subsequently died. The Torah tells us "The meat was still between their teeth, not yet gone, when the wrath of Hashem flared against the people, and Hashem struck a very mighty blow against the people." [Bamidbar 11:33] The Talmud derives the prohibition of eating dairy foods after meat (milchigs after fleishiks) from the expression "the meat was still between their teeth". One of the reasons for this prohibition is that we see from this pasuk [verse] that meat remains between a person's teeth after he has consumed it and thereby, he will in effect be eating meat and milk together if he eats milk products following the eating of meat. In discussing the laws of waiting between meat and dairy dishes, the Talmud [Chulin 105] quotes Mar Ukva as stating "Regarding this matter, compared to my father, I am like vinegar compared to wine. My father would wait 24 hours between meat and cheese, and while I would not eat meat and cheese in the same meal, I would eat cheese at the next meal, even the same day." This is the basis of the famous dispute among the early commentaries as to the meaning of the phrase "the next meal". Some Rishonim interpret literally that a person is allowed to say the Birkas HaMazon and begin a new meal (of dairy products) immediately following the conclusion of a meat meal. Others (Ramba"m and Shulchan Aruch) interpret that a person must wait the amount of time between the morning meal and the evening meal, which is the source of the custom to wait 6 hours between meat and milk. Be that as it may, Mar Ukva said he was spiritually not in his father's league. His father waited 24 hours and he merely waited until the next meal. The question should be asked – why in fact did Mar Ukva NOT follow the custom of his fath er? While there may be some parental stringencies (chumras) to which a son might not realistically aspire, this would not seem to be one of them. All that is involved here is waiting. What is so hard about that? Perhaps we would understand if his father used to spend a full hour davening Shmoneh Esrei. A son may realistically argue that he is not on his father's level – and cannot drag out his Shmoneh Esrei for a whole hour! But why couldn't Mar Ukva wait 24 hours after meat in order to follow his father's tradition in this area? We learn from this Gemara that observing stringencies for the sake of doing stringencies, when one is not really on that spiritual level is a very hollow act. A person can adopt a certain practice, but if he is not ready for that 'chumrah,' if he is not ready for that spiritual level, then it can become a self-defeating act of piety. It may indeed lead to feelings of emptiness and spiritual regression when one takes on levels of super piety that he is not "ready for". This is a very important lesson that people should learn about chumras. I was told that a certain Jewish books store sells baseball caps that have a caption: "I keep chumras that you haven't even heard of." A person must know where he is holding in the spiritual world. Halachic chumras are not a one-size-fits all religious expression. They must be appropriate to one's level of ascent of the ladder of spirituality. Dovid HaMelech [King David] asks "Who will ascend (mi ya'aleh) the Mountain of Hashem?" [Tehillim 24:3]. Undoubtedly many will say "I can do it!" But then Dovid HaMelech adds "And who will maintain his location (mi yakum) in His holy place?" It is easy to say that I can jump up there and go where I do not really belong, but who can really stay there and maintain his elevated stature? Only the few good men for whom stringencies are meaningful should embark on the road of ultra-piety. This is not the proper approach for the masses. Many people think they can ascend the Mountain of Hashem, but most of those who jump up there do not succeed in remaining at that elevation on a permanent basis. This is the lesson of Mar Ukva. It is also the lesson taught by the Gemara [Yoma 47a] which relates that Kimchis had 7 sons who became High Priests because she was so modest that "the beams of her house never saw the hairs of her head" (She would always keep her hair covered even in the privacy of her own home). The Gemara comments that "many tried to do what Kimchis did, but they were not successful". Why not? Anyone can keep their hair covered at all times. But only Kimchis and a select few like her can keep their hair covered at all times, even in the privacy of their own homes, as the result of an acute sense of the presence of the Ribono shel Olam [Master of the World] and what tznius [modesty] is all about. It is not a chumra that is appropriate for everyone. Moshe's Lack of Ego Qualified Him To Be The Most Trustworthy in G-d's House The Parsha ends with a validation of who Moshe Rabbeinu was. This is one of the Torah's greatest testaments to his unique status. Miriam and Aharon complained that Moshe Rabbeinu had separated from his wife. G-d tells them: "Please hear My words. If there shall be prophets among you, in a vision shall I make Myself, Hashem, known to him, in a dream shall I speak with him. Not so is My servant Moshe, in My entire house he is trusted. Mouth to mouth do I speak to him, in a vision and not in riddles, and at the image of Hashem does he gaze." [Bamidbar 12: 6-8] Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzato (RaMCha"L) writes in the Derech Hashem that other prophets only grasped small details that the L-rd wished to reveal to them. However Moshe Rabbeinu merited that the entire order of creation be revealed to him. Everything was opened to him. He had the keys, so to speak, to Heavenly secrets that were never given to anyone else. This is alluded to in the pasuk "In all My House he is the most trustworthy." [Bamidbar 12:7] Rav Shimshon Pinkus, z"l offers the following example. A business owner may have a trusted employee who is trusted with the books and all the inner running of the business operation. And yet there will be certain personal business secrets that remain off limits even to him. He is trusted "only" 99.9%. Still, there remains that slight distinction between the owner of the business and his employee. After all, the employee is a different individual, who has his own ego and may have his own agenda. The owner and the employee are not the same. When the Torah says regarding Moshe Rabbeinu "In all My House he is the most trustworthy" it means there are no reservations on G-d's part about Moshe's trustworthiness. He could be given over all the information about G-d's business, as it were. Why was Moshe worthy of such unique trust? It is because "The man Moshe was the most humble person who ever walked the face of the earth" [Ba midbar 12:3]. Relative to the Almighty, he completely nullified himself. He had no ego when it came to the Ribono shel Olam. His agenda was 100% the agenda of the Almighty such that the Almighty did not have to withhold any secrets from him. Therefore, as the RaMChaL writes, every secret of creation was open to him. Dvar Torah: TorahWeb.Org Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski Shavuos: Dawn of Intellectual Emotion We did our thing. We were up all Shavuos night, and were inspired by the dramatic account of mattan Torah. And now? Business as usual, right? After the awesome revelation at Sinai, Hashem said “Return to your tents” (Devarim 5:27), and commentaries say that the message was, “Here at Sinai you reached the lofty level of spirituality, naaseh venishma. Take this spirituality back to your tents, and conduct your daily lives with the attitude of naaseh venishma.” We must take the spiritual gain of Shavuos with us as we return to our daily routine. The gift of Torah was daas. “If there is no daas, how can one distinguish right from wrong?” (Jerusalem Talmud, Berachos 5:2).”If you have daas, you lack nothing” (Nedarim 41a). The chassidic writings say that in the enslavement of Egypt, the Israelites were bereft of daas. As slaves, they had no opportunity to exercise daas, so it atrophied. During the seven weeks between the exodus and Sinai, they began to reclaim daas, although this was not fully attained until forty years later, as Moses said, “But Hashem did not give you a heart lodaas (to know) …until this day” (Devarim 29:3). The failings that they had on the desert were due to their lack of daas. I used to take offense at the scientific classification of man as homo sapiens, which in simple English means “a baboon with intellect.” It is clear to me that intellect is not the primary feature that gives man his uniqueness and separates him from other creatures. Firstly, it is evident that animals do have intellect. If you observe a lion stalking its prey, one can see that the lion calculates just the right moment to make its attack. Secondly, if intellect is the primary characteristic that defines man, then the person with the highest intellect should be the most ideal human being, and this is simply not true. Prior to World War II, the country most advanced in intellect was Germany. In Happiness and the Human Spirit I elaborated on the concept that it is the spirit rather than intellect that gives us our uniqueness as human beings. But I have gained new respect for intellect and am perfectly comfortable with being a homo sapiens. It is only a matter of putting sapiens, the intellect, to proper use. Yes, animals, too, have intellect, but except for domesticated pets that can pick up human traits, animals use their intellect solely to satisfy their own needs. Animals are driven to act by their bodily desires, and they use their intellect to satisfy them. The animal intellect is a tool that serves the desire. In Tanya, the Alter Rebbe posits that the human being has two spiritual components, one that is identified with the physical body (nefesh habehamis) and one that is identified with the neshama (nefesh elokis). Both of these are comprised of intellectual traits and of affective or emotional traits. The difference between the two is that in the nefesh habehamis, as in all animals, the motivation is provided by the affects, and the intellect is then used to satisfy the affective drive; i.e., the intellect is a tool of the affect. In the nefesh elokis, the Alter Rebbe says, the reverse occurs: The intellect give rise to the affect. This is reminiscent of the story of the doctor who told the patient, “You can eat whatever you like, and here is what you are going to like.” This is a revolutionary idea. Conventional wisdom is that we like something because we like it. Our emotions are spontaneous. You cannot tell someone that he must develop a particular emotion, and that he must like something. The Alter Rebbe’s position, however, is proven by the mitzvah in the Torah, “You shall love Hashem.” One can be commanded to do something, such as to put on tefillin or to sit in a sukkah, or to refrain from doing something, like working on Shabbos. Actions can be legislated, but how can one be ordered to love something? Yet, we are commanded to love Hashem (ahavah) and to be in awe of Hashem (yirah), both of which are emotions that are not subject to volition. But the Torah does not ask the impossible of us. Rambam addresses this question, and says that the way to develop ahavas Hashem is to contemplate His wondrous creations (Yesodei HaTorah 2:2). The commentary explains that Rambam is redefining ahavah to mean not only love, but also adoration, and appreciation of Hashem’s wondrous creations can indeed produce adoration. The Alter Rebbe introduces a novel concept: intellectual emotion. I.e., if a person does not feel love for Hashem, but understands intellectually that Hashem should be loved, that, too, is fulfillment of the mitzvah to love Hashem. Mesilas Yesharim addresses this issue by citing a principle found in Sefer HaChinuch, that behavior can determine emotion. I.e., even if one is unable to feel love for Hashem, if one acts as if one did feel love, these actions will generate love. Whichever approach one takes, the Alter Rebbe’s point is validated. Intellect can produce emotions. This use of intellect is uniquely human, and allows me to accept the appellation homo sapiens. This is more than a philosophic discussion. We are witnessing an unprecedented incident of failure of marriages. As Chana Levitan explains in I Only Want to Get Married Once, western civilization’s concept of “love” is more rightfully called “infatuation,” an affect originating in the nefesh habehamis which gradually wanes, resulting in couples “falling out of love.” It is possible, however, to develop a true love ala nefesh elokis, a love generated by the intellect. Respect for another person and appreciation of that person’s character traits and virtues can produce an ahava which does not wilt with the passage of time. If this concept seems strange, it is because we have been impacted by the idea of “love” that prevails in our environment, which threatens the stability of marriage. If we implement the sapiens properly, to be master of the affects rather than its tool, we can preserve the wholesomeness of marriage. This is the Torah concept of daas, which was given to us at Sinai and which we commemorate on Shavuos. We must take this spiritual gain of Shavuos as we return to our daily routine. Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski Spirituality Deficiency Syndrome In Parshas B’haaloscha we find one of the most remarkable narrations in the Torah. The Israelites grumbled. They were dissatisfied with the manna and longed for the “good old days” in Egypt when they had a variety of foods. “We want meat!” they said. How did Moshe respond? Listen to this. “Moshe said to Hashem, ‘Why have You done evil to Your servant? Why have I not found favor in Your eyes, that You place the burden of this entire people upon me? Did I conceive this entire people or did I give birth to it, that You say to me, “Carry them in your bosom, as a nurse carries a suckling, to the Land that You swore to its forefathers?” Where shall I get meat to give to this entire people when they weep to me, saying, “Give us meat that we may eat?” I alone cannot carry this entire nation, for it is too heavy for me for me! And if this is how You deal with me, then kill me now, if I have found favor in Your eyes, and let me not see my evil” (Numbers 11:4-15). Can we recognize this Moshe? When the Israelites sinned with the Golden Calf, Moshe put his life on the line, saying to Hashem, “If You do not forgive them, take me out of the Book You have written.” Later on, when they lost faith in Hashem and wanted to return to Egypt rather than conquer Canaan, Moshe again pleaded for them. At every step, Moshe was a devoted advocate for the people, and here, when they ask for meat, he says “Did I conceive this entire people or did I give birth to it?” and “If this is how You deal with me, then kill me now.” This is completely out of character for Moshe. Rashi provides the answer. When the Torah says, “Moshe heard the people weeping in their family groups “(ibid. 11:10), Rashi says they were weeping because the Torah forbids some intra-family marriages. That is why they were dissatisfied, but that is not what they said. They attributed their dissatisfaction to the manna. Moshe’s attitude was, “Let them be truthful and tell me what it is that they want, and I can deal with it. But if what they really want is to lift the restrictions against intra-family marriages, but they don’t admit it, how can I deal with them? If I give them all the meat in the world and all the fish in the sea, they will still not be satisfied, because that is not what they want.” Indeed, the Israelites themselves may not have been aware of the real cause of their unhappiness. It is quite common that we deceive ourselves, perhaps because we do not wish to own up to what is really bothering us. We may say, “I’d be happy if I had a better job, a better house, a better car, etc.” Invariably, when we get what we said we wanted, our relief is very short-lived. We are again unhappy, and attribute it to something else. I suspect that many people are unhappy because they are not fulfilling themselves. In Happiness and the Human Spirit I elaborated on this, pointing out that many people suffer from a “Spirituality Deficiency Syndrome,” but instead of recognizing this and leading more spiritual lives, they attribute their discontent to various other causes. The reason for this may be that living a more spiritual life would require much more serious attention to Torah, and particularly to changing our middos. The latter is not easy. Rebbe Yisrael of Salant said, “It is easier to learn the entire Talmud than to change a single character trait.” The Gaon of Vilna said that man was created for the purpose of overcoming his natural inclinations. Failure to do so results in the “Spirituality Deficiency Syndrome,” which is as real as iron deficiency and vitamin deficiency. The latter results in physical symptoms, whereas the former results in chronic discontent. Because we do not wish to exert the effort to change our innate character traits, we project our discontent to other things. This is why Moshe reacted differently to the people’s complaints. “It is impossible for me to satisfy them. They do not admit what they really want, and may not even be aware of it themselves.” This Torah episode provides an important teaching for us. We may delude ourselves, thinking that we know what we need, when the truth is that we are lacking in self-fulfillment. No psychiatric medication can eliminate the unhappiness of the “Spirituality Deficiency Syndrome.” |