Parasha Insight

The Journey Parashat Re'eh concludes with the Misva known as Aliya Le'regel – appearing before G-d in the Bet Ha'mikdash three times each year, on the holidays of Pesach, Shabuot and Sukkot. The Gemara in Masechet Hagiga (3a) makes a comment that sheds light on the nature of this Misva, and on the vital lesson that it teaches us. King Shelomo exclaims in Shir Hashirim (7:2), "Ma Yafu Fe'amayich Ba'ne'alim, Bat Nadib" – literally, "How beautiful are your steps in shoes, the daughter of the generous one." The Gemara interprets this verse as a reference to the journey that Beneh Yisrael would take to the Jerusalem before the holidays for the Misva of Aliya Le'regel. And the expression "Bat Nadib" ("daughter of the generous one") means that Beneh Yisrael are the descendants of Abraham Abinu, who was called "Nadib," as he was exceptionally generous and giving. The Gemara here seems to draw a comparison between two journeys: Beneh Yisrael's journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash for the holidays, and Abraham Abinu's journey. On one level, this refers to Abraham Abinu's journey from his homeland to Eretz Yisrael, about which the Midrash teaches that Abraham received reward for each and every step. Abraham's journey was not merely a means to an end, a practical necessity to fulfill G-d's command to settle in Eretz Yisrael. Rather, the journey itself was inherently meaningful and valuable, and he thus earned reward for each step. Likewise, Beneh Yisrael's journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash was itself a Misva. Indeed, we call this Misva "Aliya Le'regel" – going to the Bet Ha'mikdash for the holiday, emphasizing the process of "Aliya," of journeying. The Misva was to undertake the journey, to make the effort, to go through the trouble of going to appear before Hashem. On a deeper level, when the Gemara mentions Abraham Abinu in the context of the people's journey to Jerusalem, it refers to his journey through life. The Rambam writes that Abraham was born into a family of idolaters, and he himself worshipped idols. At the age of 3, Abraham began questioning and inquiring, thinking about the world, how it came into being, and who governs it. This theological journey which began at the age of 3 continued for 37 years, as it was only at the age of 40 that Abraham arrived at the belief in a single Creator. The journey of Aliya Le'regel parallels Abraham Abinu's extraordinary spiritual journey, his lengthy, step-by-step process of growth – because Aliya Le'regel, too, is a process of spiritual preparation. A person cannot simply appear before Hashem in the Bet Ha'mikdash without first preparing himself. The "footsteps," the trek to Jerusalem, was an obligatory process of growth, of putting oneself in the proper mindset to appear before Hashem in the Bet Ha'mikdash. The Kabbalists teach that the domain of place parallels the domain of time. The Bet Ha'mikdash, the most sacred place on earth, parallels the Yamim Noraim – the period of the High Holidays, the most sacred days of the year. Yom Kippur, the apex of this period, corresponds to the Kodesh Ha'kodashim, the inner sanctum of the Bet Ha'mikdash, whereas Rosh Hashanah, the onset of this period, is represented by the Azara, the courtyard of the Bet Ha'mikdash where the people would assemble on the three pilgrimage festivals. It emerges, then, that the period of Elul – the month of preparation for Rosh Hashanah – parallels "Aliya Le'regel," the journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash. The month that we begin this coming week is a time of journeying, of growth, of "Aliya" – elevation, lifting ourselves higher, so we come prepared to the "Bet Ha'mikdash," to Rosh Hashanah, when we stand before the Almighty for judgment. It is no coincidence that Parashat Re'eh is always read on the Shabbat preceding Rosh Hodesh Elul. Throughout the Book of Debarim, Moshe Rabbenu is preparing the people for life in the Land of Israel. But in this Parasha, for the first time, he speaks of "the place which G-d shall choose" – referring to the Bet Ha'mikdash. In this Parasha, Moshe prepares the people for the Bet Ha'mikdash, explaining what his special site is and the special laws pertaining to it. This is precisely what the month of Elul is all about – preparing ourselves for the "Bet Ha'mikdash" of time, for Rosh Hashanah, by growing and lifting ourselves, one beautiful "footstep" at a time, bringing us ever closer to Hashem and to spiritual greatness.

In the second paragraph of Shema, which appears in Parashat Ekeb, the Torah warns of the harsh punishments that would befall Beneh Yisrael if they abandon G-d's laws. Specifically, it warns of poverty that would be followed by exile from the Land of Israel and dispersion among the other nations. The Torah then commands, "Ve'samtem Et Debarai Eleh Al Lebabchem Ve'al Nafshechem" – "You shall place these words of mine upon your hearts and upon your souls" (11:18). It then commands placing these words upon our heads and arms – in the form of Tefillin – and upon our doorposts – in the form of Mezuzot. Rashi (citing the Sifri) presents a surprising reading of this verse. He interprets the verse to mean, "Even after you go into exile, you shall be distinguished through Misvot – place Tefillin and make Mezuzot, so they will not be new to you when you return." At first glance, Rashi appears to be making as astonishing statement – that after Beneh Yisrael were exiled from the land, the Misvot of the Torah became, fundamentally, no longer obligatory. We need to observe the Misvot only so they are not forgotten, so they will not be "new" to us when the final redemption arrives and we return to the land. The Torah thus tells us in this verse that after the exile, we should continue performing the Misvot, such as Tefillin and Mezuzot, to preserve their memory. Numerous later writers sought to explain Rashi's comments. The Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin states explicitly that only Misvot which are inherently linked to the Land of Israel – such as the Torah's agricultural laws – are non-binding elsewhere. All other Misvot, however, are binding even outside the land. How, then, can Rashi write that the Misvot are required only as a commemoration, for the sake of ensuring they are remembered? A particularly fascinating – and meaningful – reading of Rashi's comments was offered in the work Shemen Le'mish'ha (by Rav Asher Anshel Weiss, 1882-1944). At various times throughout our history, the gentile governments forced the Jews to wear a special garment or piece of material (such as the infamous "Yellow Star") to publicize their Jewish identity. This was done so that the hostile gentiles will identify the Jews and will thus mistreat them. The Shemen Ha'mish'ha speculates that this decree might have been sent from Above in response to the Jews' efforts to hide their Jewish identity, to blend in with the gentiles, to compromise their values and traditions for the sake of resembling their gentile neighbors. When the Jews choose not to display their Jewishness, the Shemen Le'mish'ha writes, then Hashem arranges that the enemy nations will see to it that the Jews' Jewishness will be put on full display. When we feel ashamed of our identity, and try to hide it, then the gentile nations ensure to publicize it. The Shemen Le'mish'ha suggests explaining Rashi's comments in this vein. Rashi writes that the Torah here commands that in exile, "Heyu Mesuyanim Be'misvot" – we must be "distinguished," and stand out, through our Misva observance. Even when we live among other nations, we must not conceal our beliefs and practices. We must not be afraid to be different, to look different, and to act differently. The Torah therefore specifies the Misvot of Tefillin and Mezuza – practices which publicize our identity, which involve things that we wear and that we place outside our homes to distinguish ourselves. Rashi explains that the Torah urges us not to conceal our Jewishness "Kedeh She'lo Yiheyu Lachem Hadashim" – literally, "so that you will not have new ones." Meaning, if we fail to observe our Misvot that make us stand out, we will be forced to observe other, "new" practices that make us stand out – in the form of harsh decrees issued for the purpose of causing Jews to suffer hatred and hostility. We must not hide our Jewishness. We should wear it with pride and conviction, ever mindful of the precious privilege we have to be G-d's cherished nation, chosen to study and follow His sacred Torah.

The Torah in Parashat Va'et'hanan (4:2) introduces the prohibitions known as "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra" – adding to, or diminishing from, the Torah. Rashi explains that this refers to the way we observe the Misvot. If a person adds a fifth piece of parchment to the four pieces of parchment in the Tefillin, or if he adds a fifth species to the Arba Minim on Sukkot, then he violates "Bal Tosif," whereas if he uses only three pieces of parchment in the Tefillin, or only three species on Sukkot, he violates "Bal Tigra." The Ramban writes that "Bal Tosif" refers to adding a new law to the Torah, like a new holiday, whereas "Bal Tigra" means doing away with a Misva. Curiously, immediately after Moshe presents these commands, he recalls the tragedy of Ba'al Pe'or – the time when many members of Beneh Yisrael worshipped Pe'or, the deity of the nation of Moab. Moshe reminds the people that everyone who worshipped Pe'or was killed by a plague sent by G-d, whereas those who did not survived. What might be the connection between Ba'al Pe'or and the prohibitions of "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra"? Why did Moshe bring up the tragic event of Ba'al Pe'or in the context of these commands? Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz (1902-1979) answers this question by noting the very unusual way in which Pe'or was worshipped – its followers would defecate on the idol. We must wonder, what kind of religion would come up with such a peculiar mode of worship? And what made Pe'or so appealing that Beneh Yisrael were lured to this type of idolatry? The answer is that to the contrary – Pe'or was the most appealing of all religions, because it championed the complete lack of restraint and boundaries. Defecating on the idol meant the elimination of all rules and limits on behavior, the belief that one can do whatever he pleases whenever he pleases, that anything goes, that even bodily functions – which humanity has always demanded be performed in private – should be performed freely. What made Pe'or so enticing was its rejection of self-discipline and self-restraint, and encouraging its followers to act upon their instincts without holding back. Rav Shmuelevitz explained that Moshe was warning the people about what happens when the Torah's system of laws is viewed as malleable, as subject to the people's approval. If a person feels entitled to modify the Torah, and introduces even a slight change – that small change is like a small hole in a fence. And a fence with a hole is not a fence. While it might not happen immediately, slight modifications to the Torah can lead to "Pe'or," to a point where anything goes, where there are no longer any iron-clad rules. This danger exists in both directions – when adding or detracting from the Torah. There were movements that began with one small "detraction," by taking away one Misva or one time-honored tradition, and this led to eventually abandoning the entire Torah. Conversely, when Rabbis try to "add" to the Torah, introducing stringencies and customs which the people find too burdensome, the people are likely to just give up observance altogether. Moshe therefore warns against both adding and detracting, insisting that we adhere to the Torah's laws without trying to modify it one way or the other. The Ramban, in his comments to this verse, writes that despite the prohibition of "Bal Tosif," the Sages introduced the holidays of Hanukah and Purim because they found allusions to these celebrations in the Torah itself. They were reluctant to approve of these new holidays, but they eventually did so – only because the Torah makes subtle reference to these two occasions. Rav Yosef Salant ( 1885-1981) added that this might explain the unusual features of these holidays. The Megilla reading, the primary Misva on Purim, does not take place on the same day in all places; the first Mishna in Masechet Megilla teaches that there are several different dates on which the Megilla was read in different locations under different circumstances. And the Misva of Hanukah candles, as we know, has three different gradations. The Gemara establishes that the minimum level requires just a single candle each night, the higher level is lighting a candle for each member of the household, and the highest level – which is what we of course do – is to add a candle each night. Although the Sages eventually approved the establishment of these new holidays, they ensured that they would be observed somewhat unusually, that they would not be as straightforward as the holidays established by the Torah, to make it clear that they were not adding onto the Torah. This shows how careful the Rabbis were when it came to introducing new customs or practices. They understood the danger of making even a slight hole in the fence, in giving the impression that the Torah is subject to modification. We must remain steadfastly loyal to the Torah and to our traditions, and never think that we know better, that we're smart enough to make up our own rules.

A number of books draw an intriguing – though puzzling – parallel between two periods on the Jewish calendar: the period of Ben He'mesarim (the Three Weeks from Shiba Asar Be'Tammuz through Tisha B'Ab) and the period of the holidays in the month of Tishri. The month of Tishri begins with Rosh Hashanah, and the holiday season concludes with the celebration of Shemini Aseret on the 22nd of Tishri. (In the Diaspora, we observe Shemini Aseret as a two-day celebration, referring to the second day as Simhat Torah, but fundamentally, this is just one day, on the 22nd of Tishri, and this is how it is celebrated in Israel.) According to a number of Rabbis, these two 22-day periods parallel one another, and are linked to one another. This parallelism leads us to an astonishing conclusion – that the final days of these two periods, Tisha B'Ab and Simhat Torah, are connected. This conclusion is astonishing because, quite simply, it would have been hard to come up with any two days on the Jewish calendar that are more different from one another. In fact, these days are polar opposites – and not only because one day is spent fasting, sitting on the floor and mourning, while the other is spent dancing, singing and feasting. Simhat Torah marks the day when the first Bet Ha'mikdash was inaugurated. King Shlomo conducted a two-week celebration in honor of the Temple's inauguration, which culminated on the 22nd day of Tishri. And, for this reason, the Zohar teaches that Shlomo is considered the "Ushpizin" for Shemini Aseret, which is, in a sense, the eighth day of Sukkot. It thus emerges that the day when the Bet Ha'mikdash's inauguration was completed is, remarkably, linked to Tisha B'Ab, the day when the Bet Ha'mikdash was destroyed. If Shemini Aseret is associated with Shlomo Ha'melech, then Tisha B'Ab is associated with Yirmiyahu – the prophet who warned of the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash. Shlomo Ha'melech enjoyed a life of wealth, prestige, peace, comfort and serenity, and he composed Shir Ha'shirim – a joyful, heartwarming book about the intense love between Hashem and the Jewish People. Yirmiyahu suffered misery throughout his life, being constantly taunted and at one point even imprisoned, and then personally witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem and was driven into exile. The book he wrote – Echa, which we read while sitting on the floor on Tisha B'Ab – laments the rupture of the bond between G-d and His people, and the unspeakable calamities that befell our nation at the time of Jerusalem's destruction – the polar opposite of Shir Ha'shirim. Interestingly enough, the Arizal – based on a number of earlier sources – teaches that King Shlomo's soul returned in Yirmiyahu, further underscoring the connection between Simhat Torah – the day associated with King Shlomo – and Tisha B'Ab – the day associated with Yirmiyahu. These two figures shared the same soul, and thus the days that embody their lives' respective missions are closely linked. These two days are linked because Simhat Torah is the day when we celebrate the precious gift of the Torah – and it is through Torah that we become worthy of redemption. The Or Ha'haim (Rav Haim Ben-Attar, 1696-1743) writes that Mashiah does not wish to redeem a nation of ignoramuses. It is only when we recommit ourselves to Torah learning and put in the time and effort to learn that we earn our long-awaited final redemption. Tisha B'Ab is associated with Simhat Torah because it is through the joy of Torah learning, embodied by the festive celebration of Simhat Torah, that we end the exile which we mourn on Tisha B'Ab. In our community – and in many others, as well – we are witnessing a truly extraordinary phenomenon, one which clearly shows that we are well on our way to making the transition from Tisha B'Ab to Simhat Torah, from mourning the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash to celebrating the restoration of the Bet Ha'mikdash. My father recalled to me how in his time, people spent Tisha B'Ab afternoon at the beach. Now, as everyone knows, Tisha B'Ab is likely the greatest day of Torah learning in the entire year. Synagogues are packed with men and women of all ages hearing Torah classes for many hours throughout the day, and some even the entire day. Ironically, in our time, Tisha B'Ab has turned into a "Simhat Torah." Of course, it is still a day of mourning and grieving. But nevertheless, we cannot overlook the drastic change that has occurred, with the entire community – and many other communities – joining together for hours upon hours to learn Torah on this day. This phenomenon is representative of the broader transition that has been taking place in recent years. People are devoted to Torah learning like never before. With all the unique spiritual challenges of our generation which I and many other Rabbis speak about regularly, the amount of Torah being learned on a daily basis in our time is breathtaking. This is a clear sign that we are, gradually, transitioning from Tisha B'Ab to Simhat Torah, from a state of Hurban (destruction) to a state of redemption. May Hashem help us continue this transition, to continue devoting ourselves to Torah learning and inspiring others to do the same, so we may be worthy of Mashiah's arrival and the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash, when we will experience an everlasting Simhat Torah, amen.

Rabbi Akiba's Tears Parashat Matot begins with a number of laws regarding vows, including the authority given to a husband to annul certain vows taken by his wife. The Torah states that in such a case, when a wife takes a vow and the husband declares its annulment, "V'Hashem Yislah Lah" – G-d will forgive the woman (30:13). The Sages understood this verse as referring to a situation where the wife did not know that her husband annulled the vow, and nevertheless proceeded to violate it. For example, the wife declared herself a Nezira, committing to abstain from wine, and she later decided to drink wine despite her vow. As it turned out, she committed no transgression by drinking wine, because her husband annulled her vow of Nezirut. Nevertheless, she requires G-d's forgiveness since she intended to violate the vow. The Gemara (Kiddushin 81b) tells that Rabbi Akiba would weep each time he read this verse. He was overcome by emotion upon seeing that even a person who did not commit a sin requires atonement if he intended to commit a sin. If even such an act – which was actually permissible – requires atonement, then how much more so is a person held accountable when he commits an act that is truly forbidden. A deep explanation for Rabbi Akiva's tears emerges from the teachings of Rav Shimshon of Ostropoli (1600-1648). Ashkenazic communities have the custom of including in the Kinnot on Tisha B'Ab a lament for the Asara Harugeh Malchut – the ten great sages who were murdered by the Romans. The Roman emperor learned the law in the Torah that kidnapping a person and then selling him as a slave is a capital offense, punishable by death. He thus decreed that ten great sages must be murdered to atone for the sin of Mechirat Yosef – when Yosef's brothers committed this exact crime, selling their brother as a slave. Since this crime was committed by Yosef's ten brothers, ten sages were brutally murdered to atone for this misdeed. In truth, only nine of Yosef's brothers participated in his sale as a slave. Binyamin, the youngest, was home and thus not present at the time of the sale, and Reuben tried to rescue Yosef. Thus, this crime was committed by only nine brothers. Rav Shimshon of Ostropoli cites the Arizal as teaching that the Almighty Himself, as it were, was the tenth participant. He decreed that this should happen, and He thus "completed the Minyan," so-to-speak, joining Yosef's brothers in selling him as a slave to Egypt. Now the Kabbalists have identified the specific correspondence between the Asara Harugeh Malchut and the brothers who sold Yosef – meaning, which of the ten great sages corresponds to which of Yosef's brothers. For example, one of these sages was Rabbi Huspit Ha'meturgeman – a great Rabbi who was blessed with a loud, clear voice, and thus worked as the "broadcaster" who would help the Rabbis deliver their lectures. He corresponds to Naftali, who is described as "Ha'noten Imreh Shafer" (49:21) – the speaker of beautiful words. Rav Shimshon of Ostropoli taught that Rabbi Akiba, who was among the ten sages murdered by the Romans, corresponded to G-d, the tenth "participant" in Mechirat Yosef. This is because Rabbi Akiba taught that the Torah's command to fear Hashem extends also to Torah scholars – meaning, just as one is obligated to fear Hashem, so must one show reverence to the sages. As Rabbi Akiba equated, in a sense, Torah scholars with the Almighty, he was chosen to "represent" G-d as one of the Asara Harugeh Malchut. We can now return to Rabbi Akiba's weeping upon reading the verse in Parashat Matot, "V'Hashem Yislah Lah." Rabbi Akiba knew that he represented G-d as the tenth participant in Mechirat Yosef. However, he felt comforted by Yosef's own words many years later, when he explained to his brothers that he felt no resentment toward them for what they did: "Ve'atam Hashabtem Alai Ra'a, Elokim Hashabah Le'Toba" – "You plotted evil against me, but G-d plotted for the good" (50:20). Although the brothers intended to inflict harm, their actions actually brought great blessing and good fortune, as Yosef ended up saving Egypt and the entire ancient world by predicting the seven years of famine and ordering the storage of grain during the preceding years of surplus. Rabbi Akiba thus figured that he – as a representative of Yosef's brothers – would not be held accountable for the sin of Mechirat Yosef, because it in truth turned out to be a blessing, and not a sin. However, when Rabbi Akiva read the verse "V'Hashem Yislah Lah," he wept. He then realized that even if a person's actions ended up being permissible, nevertheless, he requires atonement if he had intended to act wrongly. Rabbi Akiba thus understood that the time would come when an accounting would be made for the sin of Mechirat Yosef. As we approach the observance of Tisha B'Ab, let us all work together to rectify the sin of Mechirat Yosef by striving to be kinder, more compassionate and more forgiving. If Yosef's brothers brought calamity upon future generations through their efforts to harm Yosef, let us correct this mistake by redoubling our efforts to help and bring joy to all our brothers and sisters, even those with whom we have disagreements, and we will then be worthy of our final redemption, Amen.