Weekly Inspire

Parashat Ki-Tavo begins with the mitzvah of bikkurim , which requires farmers to bring the first ripened fruits to the Bet Ha'mikdash , and present them to a kohen . In one sense, bikkurim resembles other agricultural mitzvot which obligate a person to give the first portion of his produce to Hashem. On the other hand, the mitzvah of bikkurim has something unique, an element that we don't find with other mitzvot , and that is a requirement to make a special declaration when arriving in the Bet Ha'mikdash . This declaration, known as מקרא ביכורים , recounts the origins of our nation, recalling how our ancestors were enslaved in Egypt, cried out to Hashem, and then were miraculously freed, eventually coming into the Land of Israel. The farmer concludes by announcing that he has brought his first fruits to Hashem. These pesukim are familiar to us from the text of the Haggadah at the seder , where we use these pesukim as the springboard to discuss the story of our ancestors' enslavement and the miracles of Yetziat Mitzrayim . Why does the farmer give this whole speech? Why is it not enough for him to bring his first fruits and present them to the kohen in the Bet Ha'mikdash ? I occasionally have the experience of looking at a painting and wondering how much it cost. Due to my limited knowledge of art, I often cannot tell if a painting is a simple work, worth maybe $200, or is a rare collectors' item, worth perhaps tens of thousands of dollars. Often, we look at something which seems to us pretty ordinary, when it's actually a priceless object. This is true of life's experiences, as well. Life gets so busy, so pressured and so chaotic, that we so often don't appreciate the value of the moment. The brief conversation with a child who comes home from school. The dinner table. The family get together. The ride in the car with a spouse or child. These are precious moments, but because we're always feeling pressured and we're always rushing, we don't appreciate them. We rush through them instead of being fully present. Later in the parashah , we read a section where Moshe Rabbenu warns of the calamities that would befall the Jewish People if they abandon the Torah. One of these warnings is והיו חייך תלויים לך מנגד – "Your lives will be hanging in front of you" (28:66). This pasuk is generally interpreted to mean that the people would face such grave danger, that their lives would be "hanging," always at risk. However, somebody shared with me a different reading – that the people would be so pressured, so anxious, that their lives would be "hanging" in front of them instead of being actually lived and experienced. It would always seem that our lives are "hanging," that we're constantly under pressure, desperately trying to do what we need to do, to the point where we're not living. With this in mind, we can perhaps understand the law of מקרא ביכורים . The Torah didn't want the farmer to simply bring his first fruits to the Bet Ha'mikdash . It wanted the farmer to be fully present, and fully aware of the precious value of this moment, of what it means that he grew fruits in Eretz Yisrael . He was required to reflect on what this moment meant – that Hashem performed miracles for his ancestors, and brought them out of slavery so they could live in a special land and produce their own fruit. This seemingly simple event should be appreciated. This is not a $200 painting; this is a priceless moment. Institutions of Torah learning as known by the word yeshivah , which literally means "sitting." Rather than referring to them by the act of studying, we use the word yeshivah , because it connotes ישוב הדעת – focus and concentration. A yeshivah is not merely a place of learning. It is a place of focused attention on learning, a place free of distractions, a place where a student is fully present, concentrating solely on his growth as in Torah. Let us resolve to strive to always be present and focused in everything we do. Instead of right away thinking of the next thing on our schedule or our "to-do" list, let's instead be present in the moment. Whomever we're talking to, let's be present and focused on that person. Whichever mitzvah we're involved in at any given moment, let's be present and focused on that mitzvah . Whatever task we need to take care of, let's be present and focused to get it done the right way. Let's recognize and appreciate the precious value of every small moment. If we live with this mindfulness, being presented and focused, then we will feel so much more accomplished, knowing that each moment of our lives is a priceless "piece of art."

One of the mitzvot which the Torah presents in Parashat Ki-Tetzeh is שילוח הקן – sending away the mother bird. When a person wishes to take an egg or young bird from a best, he must first send away the mother bird before taking her young (22:6-7). The Mishnah (Megillah 25a) instructs that it is inappropriate to say to G-d while praying, על קן צפור יגיע רחמיך – "Your compassion reaches even the bird's nest." The Gemara gives the example of a certain hazzan who was leading the service in the presence of Rabbah, one of the great Rabbis of the Talmud, and this hazzan said to Hashem: אתה חסת על קן צפור אתה חוס ורחם עלינו – "You had compassion on the bird's nest; You shall similarly have compassion and mercy upon us." This hazzan , the Gemara related, spoke improperly, as one should not invoke the bird's nest in his prayer. The Hatam Sofer offers a unique explanation of the Gemara. The bird, he writes, symbolizes the human body, our physical beings. Thus, for example, we read in the Book of Vayikra that after a person was stricken with tzara'at , he was required to undergo a process of purification that included two birds, representing his body's restoration. When the hazzan prayed that G-d should have compassion on us like He has compassion for the bird, he was saying: "Just as You, Hashem, care for our bodies, for our physical wellbeing, making the heart, liver, kidneys, brain, lungs and the rest of our bodies work at every moment, please also help my soul." He was praying for G-d to take care of us spiritually, just as He takes care of us physically. And this is a mistake. When it comes to our physical wellbeing, we are to trust Hashem. We must make a reasonable effort, but with the understanding that the outcome depends entirely on Hashem and not on our hard work or ingenuity. The Shulhan Aruch mentions the custom to read every day the section of the Torah that tells of the manna, and the Mishnah Berurah explains, כדי שיאמין שכל מזונותיו באין בהשגחה פרטית – so that we believe that our livelihood comes through Hashem's providence. The Torah says that if a person in the desert collected more manna than he was supposed to, or less manna than he was supposed to, he would still end up with the amount he was meant to have. We are encouraged to read about this each day to remind ourselves that although we are expected to make an effort to earn a living, the results are determined solely by Hashem, and not by our efforts. When it comes to our spirituality, however, we need to take responsibility. We cannot just sit back and ask Hashem to take care of it for us. We need to be proactive. The greatest Rosheh Yeshiva in the world spend a great deal of time fundraising for their institutions. Of course, they pray to Hashem for help – but they see this as their responsibility. When the Greeks defiled the Bet Ha'mikdash and forbade the Jews from learning and observing the Torah, the Hashmonaim did not just arrange for large prayer gatherings and call for Tehillim groups. They mobilized an army and took up arms to defend the Torah – in addition, of course, to praying to Hashem to make their efforts successful. Elul is the time especially designated for this purpose – to take responsibility for our spirituality. This is the time to stop waiting for inspiration, for someone or something to get us more involved and more committed. More than any other time of year, Elul is when we must take matters into our own hands, when we need to take the initiative and motivate ourselves, push ourselves, and decide that we are going to try harder and grow.

The Torah in Parashat Shoftim discusses the situation of a person who had built a new house but was recruited to the army before he had a chance to live in it. Such a person would be sent home before battle. The Torah refers to this individual as האיש אשר בנה בית ולא חנכו – a person who built a house but has not done חינוך (20:5). Rashi explains: חינוך לשון התחלה – the root ח.נ.ך. means "begin." In this pasuk , לא חנכו means that the person built a new house but hasn't yet begun using it. The word חינוך , of course, is used also in reference to education. And Rashi's brief comment here sheds light on what חינוך is and how parents need to approach it. חינוך means "beginning." That is all. It means we prepare our children for the future, we get them off to a good start by teaching them how to live. It does not mean we control their lives, that we decide their lives, that we don't let them make their decisions. Controlling children is not חינוך . Education requires knowing when to let go, when to let children make their own decisions, to empower them by showing them that we trust them and have confidence in them. The founder of our nation, Avraham Avinu, is called in the Torah אברהם העברי . He is not called "Avraham the Tzadik ," or "Avraham the Holy One." He is called the עברי , which means that he came from the other side of the river. He moved to the Land of Israel, but he was from the other side of the Euphrates River, so he was called העברי . Why is this Avraham's name? Why does it matter that he came from the other side of the river? The answer is that this name expresses Avraham Avinu's most important quality – and the most important quality that we need to develop within our children. As the Midrash explains: כל העולם מעבר אחד, והוא מעבר אחד – the entire world was on one side, and he was on the other side. Avraham Avinu had confidence. He had the confidence to be different, to swim against the current, to stand alone. When the whole world was worshipping idols, he taught the belief in Hashem. When the whole world was selfish and corrupt, he taught and exemplified kindness and generosity. He followed his beliefs and convictions even when the entire world followed different beliefs and convictions. This is what our children need, especially in today's world. They need confidence. They need to believe in themselves. And one of the ways we give them this confidence and this belief in themselves is by getting involved, but not getting too involved; by setting limits, but knowing when to allow them to decide. If we pull away completely, then we are not giving our children confidence. We are conveying the message that they aren't important enough, that they don't matter enough, for us to care. But if we smother them, if we exert too much control, then we make them feel feeble and incapable. This is the difficult balancing act that parenting requires us to do. Somebody told me a remarkable story about Rav Yaakov Ruderman, the revered Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Yisrael in Baltimore, who was recognized as one of the leading Torah sages in the United States. When his wife passed away, he moved in with one of his children, and he shared a bedroom with a grandson. He walked into the room and saw posters of famous sports stars on the walls. He asked his grandson who these people were, and his grandson – embarrassed – told him. "You like them?" the great Rosh Yeshiva asked. "Yes I do," the boy replied. "Well if you like them," Rav Ruderman said, "then I LOVE them!" This is a beautiful example of חינוך , of preparing a child for adult life through empowerment, by showing them that they are valued, that their interests are important to us. When we take interest in their lives while respecting their space and allowing them to make decisions, they feel our respect and our trust, and this gives them the confidence to stand מעבר אחד , alone on one side, to resist negative influences and live according to their beliefs and values.

Parashat Re'eh presents the precious mitzvah of tzedakah , the obligation to lend financial assistance to those in need: לא תאמץ את לבבך ולא תקפוץ את ידך מאחיך האביון. כי פתח תפתח את ידך לו... Do not harden your heart and do not shut your hand from your brother, the pauper. Rather, you shall open your hand to him… A famous pasuk in Mishleh (10:2) teaches וצדקה תציל ממות – "and charity saves from death." On one level, this means that charity saves the recipient from death. Poverty can be a form of "death." A person living in a constant state of financial stress does not truly live. By relieving a person's financial strain, one effectively restores his life. And, in reward, Hashem saves the donor from fatal decrees that had been issued against him. But additionally, charity saves from death in the sense that it defines the essence of life. We earn the privilege of continuing to live if we fulfill the purpose for which we were put here in the first place – to open our hands, to give, to contribute. In the Book of Shemuel I we read the story of Naval, a wealthy man to whom David sent his men to ask for food and provisions while they were are in the run. Naval rudely and apathetically rejected their request and turned them away. Soon thereafter, G-d killed him. This was a man who lived with his fists tightly clenched, keeping everything he was given for himself, and refusing to share it with anybody. Therefore, he did not deserve to live another day. If a person is not giving, then he cannot continue living – because giving is the essence of life. Appropriately, this man was named נבל , which means "repugnant" or "disgraceful." Living with clenched fists is disgraceful. It is a betrayal of the very purpose of life. It hurts to see people who have so much but refuse to share what they have with others. We are created precisely for the purpose of פתוח תפתח את ידך , opening our hands and giving to other people. We are here not to make the world perfect – something only G-d can do – but rather to live with open hands, to help anyone we are capable of helping in any way we can. The Gemara (Berachot 4b) teaches that one who recites three times each day the chapter of Tehillim known to us as Ashreh (145) is guaranteed a share in the next world. The reason this chapter is so special, the Gemara explains, is because of one particular pasuk in this chapter: פותח את ידיך ומשביע לכל חי רצון – "You open Your hands and satiate every living creature who wants." When we pray, we acknowledge the fact that Hashem is פותח את ידיך ומשביע , that He provides our needs. And if we want Him to "open His hands" to give to us, then we must open our hands to give to others. A pasuk elsewhere in Tehillim (121:5) describes Hashem as our "shadow": ה' שומריך ה' צלך על יד ימינך – "Hashem is your protector; Hashem is your shadow on your right side." This has been explained to mean that G-d acts towards us in accordance with the way we act. When we walk in the sun and produce a shadow, the shadow does what we do. If we lift our right arm, the shadow's right arm is raised. If we move our left leg, the shadow's left leg moves. Hashem is our "shadow" in the sense that He mimics our conduct. The more generous and giving we are to other people, the more generous and giving He is to us. And the more passion, energy and zeal we invest in giving, the more He steps in to assist us in our efforts.

A man once approached me for advice regarding the following sticky situation that he found himself in. He was exceptionally wealthy, and he had three brothers who were not. For a long time, he was giving his three brothers collectively $1 million every year to help them out. He was able to afford it, except that as his kids were getting older, he wanted to buy them homes and start businesses for them, and did not have enough. He asked me what he should do, as he did not want to create problems with his brothers. This question touches upon a very important issue – the limits of the quality of ותרנות , more commonly called "being mevater " – giving in, foregoing, sacrificing to accommodate others in the interest of avoiding conflict and of being generous. There are many sources in the Gemara that talk about the great importance and great power of this quality. For example, the Gemara in Masechet Rosh Hashanah (17a) tells that Rav Huna Bereh De'Rabbi Yehoshua took very ill and was about to die, but he was allowed to continue living in the merit of this quality, of not being uncompromisingly insistent. Elsewhere (Ta'anit 20b), we learn that Rav Ada bar Ahava earned long life because, in his words, מימי לא הקפדתי בתוך ביתי – he never got angry at his family members, and always let things go. Countless stories are told of people who sought advice from great Torah sages regarding problems and challenges they faced, and the recommendation was to work on this particular character trait, to "be mevater ," to give in, to let go of hard feelings, to keep quiet, to not respond, to sacrifice for the sake of maintaining a peaceful relationship. But are there limits to this quality? Or is a person expected to turn himself into a doormat and let people take advantage of him, for the sake of peace? The Gemara answers this question very clearly toward the beginning of Masechet Ta'anit (4a). The Gemara cites a pasuk in Parashat Ekev (8:9) where Moshe Rabbenu describes the Land of Israel as ארץ אשר אבניה ברזל – "a land whose stones are iron." Clearly, stones are not iron. The Gemara therefore rereads this pasuk to mean, ארץ אשר בוניה ברזל – "a land whose builders are iron." The term "builders," the Gemara explains, refers to Torah scholars, who form the spiritual foundation of the Jewish People. The Gemara says that this pasuk is teaching that a Torah scholar must be קשה כברזל – "hard as iron." In order to accomplish, in order to lead, in order to firmly adhere to one's values and principles, one needs to be tough as nails. Of course, when it is appropriate to "be mevater ," one should certainly do so. If a friend or family member makes a comment we don't like, we should remain silent. If there's some disagreement over a relatively trivial matter, we should give in. If some issue arises that potentially puts the entire relationship at stake, then very often, the right thing to do is give in. But this does mean that a person should let himself be abused and taken advantage of. There are times when a person needs the strength and courage to stand up for himself, to not let things continue the way they are if they cause him harm or pain. If a friend continually speaks insultingly, then the right thing to do is end the friendship. If generously giving money to one's siblings prevents him from helping his children, he needs to have the strength to change the arrangement. If a devoted teacher spends so much time talking to and helping his students that he doesn't have time for his own children, then he needs to set limits. Immediately after teaching that a Torah scholar must be קשה כברזל , the Gemara then adds: אפילו הכי מיבעי ליה לאיניש למילף נפשיה בניחותא – "Nevertheless, a person needs to accustom himself to [speak] softly." At times a person needs to be tough and set limits – but this should be done gently, respectfully, without anger and resentment. There is no contradiction between קשה כברזל and ניחותא , between the strength and courage to change the situation, and remaining calm and avoiding hostility in the process of making that change. This was my advice to the man who was giving his brothers money every year. I recommended that he gently explain to them that he is happy to help them, and they should never hesitate to ask if something comes up and they need some extra money, but that he simply cannot continue the current arrangement. We must live with the feeling that every day is important, rife with possibilities, and full of opportunities to achieve. Therefore, we need to live each day with decisiveness, with leadership, with courage, with strength. We need to fight – not against people, but against situations that stifle us, that hold us back from maximizing our potential and living our best lives. And this fight often takes strength, and requires us to be קשה כברזל – not nasty, not rude, not angry, not bitter, but tough as iron. We are to be both tough and soft – tough enough to overcome the obstacles that stand in our way and to make the difficult changes that need to be made, but soft enough to do it gently and respectfully, without inviting animosity.