Weekly Inspire

The first section of Parashat Emor presents the special laws that apply to the kohanim , the additional restrictions that they need to be observe because of their unique status in the nation. When Hashem tells Moshe to teach these laws to the kohanim , He says, אמור אל הכהנים...ואמרת אליהם – "Speak to the kohanim …and speak to them," indicating that there are two different "speakings." Rashi brings the Midrash's explanation of this repetition: להזהיר גדולים על הקטנים – "To warn the adults with respect to the children." Meaning, Moshe was to teach these laws to the kohanim , and also to instruct the kohanim to teach these laws to their children. The obvious question arises, is this not true about the entire Torah? Isn't there an obligation on all parents to teach their children what the Torah requires of them? Why specifically in the context of the unique laws of the kohanim must Hashem emphasize the parents' responsibility to pass these mitzvot onto their children? The answer, I believe, is very important – for all of us, and not just for the kohanim ... Kohanim have the challenge of explaining to their kids that they cannot do certain things that other people can do. Their children might likely resent having special restrictions that others don't have. And so the Torah needs to emphasize to the kohanim that they must meet this challenge. Hashem says to Moshe, אמור אל הכוהנים בני אהרון – "Speak to the kohanim , the sons of Aharon ." He was telling them to emphasize the great privilege they have to descend from Aharon, the first kohen , to excite them with the awareness that they are special. The kohanim are to speak of their status with pride, depicting it to their children as a badge of honor. This way, the youngsters will not resent the additional restrictions entailed. This idea is very personal for me. Growing up in Deal, my father was a Rabbi and my mother was a teacher. We did not have lots of money for extras like most others in the community. But not only did we not feel that we lacked anything, but to the contrary – we felt a special sense of pride. We felt proud to be a family of Torah, a family of Torah leadership and education, a family of hesed , a family that contributed so much to the community. The gap in materialism between us and others was not a factor at all. We were proud to be a family of Torah and hesed . Sadly, many people spend lots of money that they don't have, or put themselves under a great deal of pressure to afford certain things, because they're worried about their reputation, about how people will talk about them. This is unfortunate – and wrong – for several reasons. One of which is that people who will talk negatively about somebody who hosts simple affairs, who drives a simple car, or who lives in a simple house, will likely talk negatively about him no matter what he does. It is delusional to think that we can make sure everyone thinks highly of us. I know as a Rabbi that I cannot possibly expect to win everyone's respect and admiration. There will always be people who look down on us or who criticize us, for whatever reasons. But additionally, it is a terrible mistake to make material things our source of pride, what we're all about, the thing that our lives revolve around, as our "brand" and "label." Seeking fulfillment and happiness through material things is like eating pretzels when you're thirsty – rather than quenching the thirst, it makes you even thirstier. True joy and contentment are achieved when we live with meaning and purpose, when we fill our lives with things that really matter, that have real value. Of course there is nothing wrong with enjoying material blessings. The problem becomes when we turn materialism into the primary focus of our lives, into our primary goal, into our source of pride and of our sense of accomplishment. This will leave us feeling empty and unfulfilled. True fulfillment comes from making our lives primarily about Torah, spirituality, hesed , contributing to the community, helping people. This is where we should be seeking our feelings of pride and gratification, and our sense of accomplishment. להזהיר הגדולים על הקטנים . Our responsibility to our children is to fill them with pride over our identity as a Torah family, as a hesed family, as an idealistic family, as a family that lives each day the way Hashem expects His special nation to live.

Parashat Ahareh-Mot begins with a description of the עבודת יום הכיפורים – the special service performed by the kohen gadol in the Bet Ha'mikdash every Yom Kippur. Whereas in our time, without a Bet Ha'mikdash , the Yom Kippur experience is centered in the shul, in the past it was focused on the Bet Ha''mikdash , where the kohen gadol would offer a special series of sacrifices that would bring atonement for the nation. Surprisingly, though, this series of korbanot (sacrifices) began with a sacrifice that the kohen gadol would offer on behalf of himself and his family, an animal which he was required to purchase with his own money. On this day when the entire nation depended on the kohen gadol , when he represented all Am Yisrael before G-d, and acted on their behalf, he needed to first do something private, to bring a korban for himself and his family. To understand why, let us talk for a moment about celebrities. Many celebrities, despite having more money than they know what to do with, have utterly dysfunctional lives. They get a lot of attention from millions of fans, but they do not have a happy family life. The reason is, very simply, that they are entirely focused on their public lives, without giving much time or thought to their private lives. The fame they enjoy is so intoxicating, and so consuming, that they don't put in the effort needed to build a happy, stable private life. On Yom Kippur, the kohen gadol was the nation's leading public figure. Nobody was more important than him. He was taking center stage. All eyes were on him. Therefore, the Torah commanded him to begin the special service of this day as a private individual, offering a personal korban for himself and his family. He was reminded that his public persona must not overshadow his private identity, that his personal life was no less important than his public life. Indeed, the Torah concludes this section by stating, ויעש כאשר ציווה ה' את משה – that Aharon, the first kohen gadol , faithfully complied with these laws regarding the Yom Kippur service (16:34). Rashi explains: להגיד שבחו של אהרן שלא היה לובשן לגדולתו אלא כמקיים גזירת המלך . To express the praise of Aharon—that he would not wear them for his own grandeur, but rather as one fulfilling the decree of the King. The Torah emphasized that Aharon performed this service with humility, for the sake of serving Hashem and discharging his duties, and not to draw attention to himself and feel distinguished. He kept the public nature of his role in check, and ensured it didn't go to his head and lead him to see himself as more important than everyone else. A famous Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot (4:21) warns of three things that "remove a person from the world" ( מוציאין את האדם מן העולם ), meaning, that can ruin his life. These include קנאה – jealousy – and כבוד – the pursuit of fame and prestige. When a person is too preoccupied with his public image, with the way other people perceive him, with his reputation, this can lead him to neglect his private life, his family, his friends, his self-fulfillment, and his relationship with Hashem. Too many people subject themselves to unnecessary financial stress because they feel the need to "keep up," to do what other people do, to avoid the "embarrassment" of lower material standards. Luxuries turn into necessities for one reason and one reason only – because the neighbors have them. People end up doing things they know are wrong, that they know are harmful, or that they know makes their lives worse, because they are so concerned about their public image, about how they are seen by other people. We need to remember that reputation means very little if we are not living the lives that we are happy with, that we feel comfortable with, that we know is right for us. Even the kohen gadol , at his most public moment, was warned not to neglect his private life – to teach him, and to teach all of us, that what matters most is not what the public thinks about us, but what we think about ourselves, what those closest to us think about us, and, of course, what Hashem thinks about us.

I cannot tell you how many people – youngsters and adults – have told me that they have stopped praying, or have even stopped being observant, because they prayed for something and did not get what they wanted. This is a challenge that everyone faces at some point – and often many times over the course of life – and it has, unfortunately, led many people to give up on tefillah or on mitzvot generally. But this challenge is based on a fundamentally mistaken approach to prayer. People believe that prayer is about getting what we want. When we have some kind of problem, or when there is something that we're lacking, we pray to Hashem so He will solve the problem or give us what we need. But this is not what tefillah is about. The Gemara tells us this explicitly. In a passage that I wish was more famous, the Gemara in Masechet Berachot (55a) teaches: כל המאריך בתפלתו ומעיין בה סוף בא לידי כאב לב – if a person prolongs his tefillah and he "looks into it," then he will suffer heartache. Rashi explains this to mean that if a person prays for a long time with the expectation that his lengthy prayers assure that his wishes will be granted, he is setting himself up for terrible disappointment, because there is never any guarantee that one's tefillot will be answered. The Gemara then makes an even more dramatic statement, listing עיון תפילה – praying with the expectation that one's requests will be granted – among the things that cause Hashem to be especially mindful of a person's sins, making it less likely that his wishes will be granted. Prayer is not about getting what we want, for a very simple reason – we don't really know what we want. We can easily imagine Queen Ester praying fervently day after day in Ahashverosh's palace that she should be sent back home to Mordechai. If Hashem had granted her request, the Jews would not have been saved. A person may pray fervently for a certain job, for a certain shidduch , for some outcome – but in reality that thing he prays for is not the best thing for him. Only Hashem knows what is best for us, and so we have no reason to expect Him to grant us everything we ask for. Prayer, then, is not about changing Hashem's mind – because we don't want Him to change His mind! After all, He knows what we need far better than we ever will. Rather, prayer is about changing us. The experience of prayer, of standing before Hashem with a feeling of humble submission and complete dependency, recognizing our unworthiness and how much we need Him, profoundly impacts us. And this process of growth which tefillah inspires is the reason why we pray. This might be the meaning of the Mishnah in the second chapter of Pirkeh Avot that we learn this week. Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel teaches: הוי זהיר בקריאת שמע ובתפילה, וכשאתה מתפלל, אל תעש תפילתך קבע אלא רחמים ותחנונים לפני המקום ברוך הוא. Be meticulous in the recitation of Shema and prayer; and when you pray, do not make your prayer a fixed, routine obligation, but rather [let it be] mercy and supplication before the Almighty. Rabbi Shimon here perhaps addresses the problem we described – of people losing interest in prayer because their requests have not been granted. He urges us to continue praying every day, regardless of our past disappointments – and to pray not mechanically, by rote, just to discharge our obligation, but with feeling and emotion, because this is precisely the function of tefillah , to arouse our feelings of humility, of submission, of dependency, of faith, and of connection to Hashem. The Mishnah concludes, ואל תהי רשע בפני עצמך – one should not see himself as evil. At first glance, this instruction has nothing to do with the rest of the Mishnah. The explanation might be that if a person prays and does not see the results he wished for, he should not conclude that he is sinful, that Hashem does not care about him, or that Hashem think he's evil and undeserving. This is not true at all. Hashem has very valid reasons for doing what He does, for deciding to grant our wishes or to not grant our wishes. It is not that we are unworthy of His kindness – it's that His kindness is not always manifest the way we expect it to, or the way we think we want it to. Prayer is referred to as עבודה – "work," because it's exactly that – work. It's about working on ourselves, working on our relationship with Hashem. Prayer is not a vending machine, where we say words and then get what we want. It's about investing effort to grow, to draw closer to Hashem, and to reinforce our belief that He – and only He – knows what is best for us.

The second Mishna in Pirkeh Avot contains one of the most famous teachings in Pirkeh Avot : על שלשה דברים העולם עומד, על התורה ועל העבודה ועל גמילות חסדים . The world stands on three things – on Torah, on service [of Hashem], and on acts of kindness. This Mishnah establishes that the three "pillars," so-to-speak, of the world are Torah learning, serving Hashem through sacrifices and prayer, and kindness toward other people. However, a later Mishnah in this chapter (18) seems to contradict this statement: על שלשה דברים העולם קיים, על הדין ועל האמת ועל השלום . The world exists through three things – judgment, truth, and peace. This later Mishna lists three other things as the "pillars" that uphold the world. Apparently, there is a difference between the three things upon which the world "stands" ( עומד ) and the three things through which the world "exists" ( קיים ). Rabbeinu Yonah explains that the first Mishna is teaching us the purpose of the world, why we are here. The three pursuits that define our purpose as Jews is תורה , עבודה and גמילות חסדים – serious engagement in Torah study, focused service of Hashem, and looking out for other people with kindness, generosity and sensitivity. The later Mishna, on the other hand, is telling us the three things that the world needs to continue existing, that without which, society would become chaotic and life would be impossible. If there is no justice system, and if people are dishonest and are unable to live with each other peacefully, then the world cannot achieve its purpose. But these three do not define the purpose – they are rather the features that the world needs for the purpose to be realized. Rabbenu Yonah here is teaching us of the crucial need to differentiate between the essence of Jewish life, and the secondary features of Jewish life – a lesson which, I feel, is exceedingly relevant in our time. We need to be very careful not to confuse the "frills" with the core-essence; to distinguish between the "steak" and the "sizzle." There are many beautiful practices which have become common features of religious life today, but which must not be mistaken for the essence of religious life. Many people frequently travel to Israel to receive blessings from great Rabbis, and to pray at graves of tzadikim . Many people belong to Tehillim chat groups. Many people receive and watch two-minute inspiration videos. Many people give money to the Rabbi Meir Ba'al Ha'ness charity and recite a special prayer when they can't find something. I am not at all opposed to any of these; to the contrary, I fully support them and I think they are wonderful. But we need to avoid the mistake of thinking that this is what Torah life is about. Torah life is about תורה , עבודה and גמילות חסדים . תורה – spending significant amounts of time immersed in Torah study, challenging ourselves to understand difficult and intricate texts and to enhance our knowledge and understanding of Torah. עבודה – ensuring to recite all the prayers at the right time and in the right way, with concentration and emotion. גמילות חסדים – working on ourselves to be more sensitive, more generous, more compassionate, more forgiving, more respectful and more patient. Often, when people face some kind of problem – such as a health issue, or a challenge with parnasah (livelihood) – their immediate reaction is to receive a blessing for a Rabbi, say some Tehillim, and give some money to charity. And these are all wonderful things to do. However, this should not be the primary response. The primary response is to do something that is both important and difficult , something that is challenging and which makes a significant difference. Spending time engrossed in high-level Torah study. Making a real effort to recite the entire shemonah esreh with concentration three times every day. Being kind and gracious to people whom we do not feel naturally inclined to be kind and gracious to. Deciding to avoid lashon ha'ra and to instead speak positively about other people. Not getting angry even when somebody does or says something that upsets us. Joining Tehillim groups, watching two-minute inspiration videos, and visiting graves are all wonderful – but these are the "sizzle," not the "steak." The "sizzle" is important – we need the excitement and "hype" that these bring to religious life – but they must not be mistaken for religious life itself. Religious life is about working hard to learn Torah, working hard to sincerely serve Hashem, and working hard to be kind to other people. Let's try to stay focused on what really matters, and make a real effort to excel in the areas that Hashem wants us to excel in.

As we begin telling the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim at the seder , we say: מתחילה עובדי עבודה זרה היו אבותינו, ועתה קרבנו המקום לעבודתו – "Originally, our forefathers were idol-worshippers, but now, the Almighty has drawn us close to His service." In this passage, we reflect upon our nation's humble beginnings, the fact that we descend from people who worshipped idols, and we express our deep gratitude that we now have the great privilege of serving the one, true G-d. However, one of the commentators offered a deeper insight into this passage in the Haggadah . The Haggadah is teaching us that if a person lives his life in a manner of מתחילה , always looking back, then this is a form of עבודה זרה , of foreign worship. So many people fail to grow religiously because they are beset by guilt and shame over things that happened in the past. They can't get over the feeling that their mistakes five, ten, twenty or even thirty years ago define them forever. They can't let go of their regret and embarrassment. Conversely, there are people who feel so proud over great things they did long ago, so they fall into complacency. They decide that their work is done, that they are now exempt, that they no longer need to put in effort, to work hard, to achieve, or to grow in Torah, because they accomplished so much many years ago. These two attitudes are a form of עבודה זרה . This mindset, defining ourselves based on the past, is very foreign to Torah. The Torah teaches us that וע כשיו – an attitude of "now," focusing on the present, and the opportunities that are given to us right now, קרבנו המקום לעבודתו – is what brings us close to Hashem. The way we draw close to Hashem is by staying focused on the present, on the potential we have to achieve right now. We should never feel stuck in the past. What happened ten years ago, or even yesterday, does not mean that I cannot be great today, or that I don't have to be great today. This is one of the reasons why we make a point of recalling our less-than-impressive origins at the seder – to impress upon us this mindset of ועכשיו , that what matters most is not what we did in the past, but how we are choosing to live in the present. Just as Hashem brought our ancestors out of slavery to Pharaoh so they could be His servants, He is likewise prepared to take us out of our "slavery," whatever we feel is holding us back, and help us serve Him better. We aren't stuck and we aren't trapped. We just have to make the decision to be a "today" person, to focus our attention on who we can be today, irrespective of the past.