Weekly Inspire

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.

In one of the more famous pesukim in the Torah, Moshe Rabbenu tells the people in Parashat Va'et'hanan (4:4), ואתם הדבקים בה' אלוקיכם חיים כולכם היום – "And you, who are attached to Hashem your G-d, are all alive today." One of the commentaries offers us insight into the pasuk by noting that the gematria (numerical value) of the word חיים ("alive") is 68, which is twice the gematria of the word דל , which means "impoverished" or "lowly." Only a person who is exceptionally דל – humble, with "double" humility – can achieve the level of דבקים בה' אלוקיכם , of being "attached" to Hashem. When a person lives with extreme humility, recognizing his frailty, his weaknesses, his faults, his unworthiness, and his dependence on Hashem for everything, then he is constantly connected to Hashem. He is at all times acknowledging all that Hashem has done for him, thanking Hashem for everything he has, and praying to Hashem for everything that he needs. And when a person reaches this level, then he is truly חיים – "alive." Many people intuitively think that they are more "alive" and successful when they are self-assured and aggressive in pursuing what they want. The Torah is teaching us that to the contrary, a key to a happy, fulfilling life is "double" humility, submitting to Hashem's will and placing Hashem at the center of everything. If a person lives for himself, only for his own gratification and enjoyment, rather than for the higher purpose of serving Hashem, then his life is empty and lacks meaning. There is another pasuk in the Torah where we find the root דבק – "attached," and that is in the Torah's description of marriage: על כן יעזוב איש את אביו ואת אמו ו דבק באשתו – "Therefore, a man leaves his father and mother and attaches to his wife" (Bereshit 2:24). In marriage – like in one's relationship with Hashem – "attachment" requires humility and selfless devotion. ודבק באשתו means creation a deep, genuine emotional bond, and this cannot happen without selflessness. It requires listening, accepting, acknowledging, validating, understanding, and being flexible. All of these qualities demand humility, putting one's own ego and one's own interests to the side in order to make room for somebody else's needs. This week marks Tu B'Av, the day which the Mishnah (Ta'anit 26b) says was one of the two most joyous days of the year. It was a day when the unmarried girls would go out into the vineyards, and the young men would come and shidduchim were made. The Mishnah tells that the girls would all wear borrowed dresses, so that those from poor families would not feel embarrassed. One of the commentaries pointed out that this arrangement ensured that the girls would not feel overly proud. When people borrow clothing, they feel somewhat less comfortable and proud of themselves. When people are preparing for marriage, one of the most important qualities is humility. If a person is too consumed with himself, if a person is too self-absorbed, then he cannot take someone else's feelings, needs, wishes and preferences into account, and the marriage is not likely to be a happy one. Marriage is about דביקות , attachment, and this requires selflessness. When a husband and wife succeed in building that attachment, then they can be said to be truly חיים – "alive," with joy and vitality, connected in a way that brings unparalleled fulfillment and happiness.

Many people, understandably, are confused about what the period of Ben Ha'metzarim – the Three Weeks from Shivah Asar Ba'Tammuz through Tisha B'Av – is all about. We observe certain mourning practices, and abstain from a number of activities, culminating with Tisha B'Av, when we fast, sit on the floor, and mourn. What is the purpose of this mourning if we then just resume our normal routines? What's the value of "losing" three weeks of fun during the summer? Why is this necessary? The answer is likely found in the opening verses of Megilat Echah , the collection of lamentations written by the prophet Yirmiyahu after the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash , which we read on Tisha B'Av. This Megillah begins: איכה ישבה בדד, העיר רבתי עם היתה כאלמנה.. בכו תבכה בלילה ודמעתה על לחיה אין לה מנחם מכל אוהביה... דרכי ציון אבלות מבלי באי מועד כל שעריה שוממין... How does she [Jerusalem] dwell alone, the city with so many people? She has become like a widow… She cries intensely at night, and her tear is on her cheek; she has no one from all her loved ones to console her… The roads of Zions are in mourning, without anyone coming for the holidays; all its gates are desolate… These opening pesukim clearly emphasize one theme: loneliness. The city that was once teeming with people is now alone, desolate, empty. It is like a widow, who lies alone, without anyone to wipe her tears, to bring her comfort. When people are hurting, the pain is made so much more intense by the feeling of loneliness, by having no one who understands, who commiserates, who provides emotional support. Our job when a friend or family friend is hurting is to make sure that person doesn't feel alone. If there is practical assistance that we can provide, then of course we should try to provide it. But if not, this doesn't mean we can't help. We can – and must – help by showing up, by being there, by calling, by reminding the person that he or she is not alone. This does not mean we are to be sad around the clock when somebody close with us is hurting. We can still enjoy and live a happy life. But we have to make sure that this person does not feel alone. Our Sages teach us that as long as the Bet Ha'mikdash remains unbuilt, Hashem Himself is in exile. He does not have His home, so-to-speak. It is as though Hashem is in pain. And this is what the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, and Tisha B'Av are all about – making sure Hashem is not "alone." During these weeks, we need to show Him that we care, that we have not forgotten about Him, that we understand that things aren't the way they're supposed to be, that He's "suffering." Different occasions on the Jewish calendar require us to connect to Hashem in different ways. The period we are in now requires us to connect to Hashem by feeling His pain, by sharing in His sadness, by showing that we are not indifferent to the "exile" of the Shechinah . One of the commentaries suggested an analogy to a businessman who did everything he could to help his sons and secure their financial future. He bought them homes and gave them money so they could jumpstart their own businesses, borrowing money against his own enterprise. The business couldn't keep up, and he ended up going bankrupt and struggling to repay his debts. One day, his friend saw him sitting and crying. The friend sat down next to him to offer some comfort. "It's not just that I lost all my money," the man said through the tears. "It's that my sons no longer talk to me. I did all this for them, I sacrificed all this for them, and they're not even in touch. That pain is just too much to bear." The pasuk describes Yerushalayim's weeping with the words בכו תבכה , as though there are two different types of crying. Hashem "cries" because He is in exile, but also because His children don't care. Hashem has done so much for us, and we benefit from His blessings each and every day, just like the sons of the man in the story. The period of the Three Weeks is the time to show Him that we care, that we feel His pain, and that we are ready to do what we can to heal it. May we all rise to the occasion and be worthy of the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash and the return of the Shechinah , אמן .

A couple once came to me for advice, explaining that they have several children who are older and still not married. "We're embarrassed to go anywhere," they said. "We know that everyone's looking at us, everyone's feeling sorry for us and talking about what's wrong with us and our children." My response to them was clear and simple. I said: "Get it out of your head. No one's looking at you or talking about you. You're making yourselves upset and anxious for no reason. Go out and enjoy. Stop worrying about what other people are thinking or saying. They have their own problems to worry about. They're not talking about you." I explained that any normal adult who's been through life knows that some folks have a harder time than others – in shidduchim and in everything else. Any normal believing Jew knows that Hashem decides who should get married when, and we do not know and are not supposed to know how He decides these things. So many of the things we worry about, that hold us back and that weigh us down, are simply nonsense. Ideas that our imagination came up with but have no basis in reality. Parashat Maseh begins by listing the 42 places where Beneh Yisrael encamped over the course of their journey from Egypt until their final encampment before crossing into the Land of Israel, a list compiled and recorded by Moshe Rabbenu himself. For the most part, these verses just tell us that Beneh Yisrael journeyed from location X and encamped in location Y. The Torah does not tell us the events they experienced at these locations – not Matan Torah , not the war with Amalek, not the spies. There are, however, a few very unusual exceptions. We are told that in a place called Elim, the people found wellsprings and palm trees. We are told that in Refidim, the people didn't have water. We are told that Aharon Ha'kohen died in Hor Ha'har, at which point the Canaanites were able to attack, because the protective "clouds of glory" which shielded them in Aharon's merit were lost. Why did Moshe choose to mention this small handful of events, while omitting the more major events, such as Matan Torah , the sin of the golden calf, and the sin of the spies? Moshe was showing the people that there were times throughout their travels when they were scared, when they felt vulnerable and insecure, but everything turned out ok. They went into a desert, wondering where they would find water and food – and then they saw that Hashem prepared for them springs and date trees. They later came to a place with no water -and Hashem showed Moshe a rock which he struck, and which then miraculously produced water for the next forty years. When they lost their protective clouds, the Canaanite army attacked, but Hashem helped them and they defeated their enemies. Indeed, Rashi cites the Midrash as comparing Moshe to a father whose son was very ill, and needed treatment far away. On their way back home, the father recalled what happened at every stop along the way – the place where the boy had a fever, where he suffered from extreme pain, and so on. Moshe was showing Beneh Yisrael – and us – that they faced many different challenges over the course of these forty years, but it turned out ok. The situation was not always pleasant, but it always worked out in the end. This is an exercise that we all could – and should – do from time to time: to think about the times when we were very scared, when we were very anxious, when we were very upset, when we were very down, when we were very dejected, and then realize how the situation was somehow resolved. Even if it wasn't resolved exactly the way we would have ideally wanted, we managed. We were ok. When we feel anxious, more often than not, it's because our head exaggerates, turning the problem into something far bigger than it really is, and it imagines things that don't exist. We need to remember that Hashem has always helped us in the past, and He will help us now with whatever it is we're struggling with. Even if things don't turn out the way we want them to, they will turn out ok – because Hashem is in charge.