Podcasts about parasha

The Torah in Parashat Shoftim (18:15) introduces the command to obey the instructions of a prophet. Once someone has been confirmed as an authentic prophet, the Torah commands, "Elav Tishma'un" – we must heed everything he tells us to do. The Rambam discusses this command in Hilchot Yesodeh Ha'Torah (9:3), and he explains that it includes an obligation to obey a prophet in the exceptional case where he instructs doing something that the Torah forbids. Even when the prophet tells the people to transgress a Torah law – we are required to comply. However, the Rambam adds, this depends on several conditions. Firstly, and most obviously, the prophet must have previously established his credentials and been recognized as an authentic prophet of G-d. Secondly, this requirement applies only if the prophet calls for a temporary suspension of a Torah command. If, the Rambam writes, a prophet announces the permanent abolition of a Torah law, then not only should he be disobeyed – he is determined to be a false prophet, and must be put to death. The final condition is that the prophet calls for suspending a Torah law other than the prohibition against idol-worship. A prophet who calls upon the people to worship a foreign deity, even as a temporary measure, must not be obeyed. The Rambam draws our attention to a classic example of a prophet who called for a temporary suspension of a Torah command – the story of Eliyahu's confrontation with the prophets of the idol Ba'al. As we read in the Book of Melachim I (chapter 18), Eliyahu assembled the people at Mount Carmel for a "showdown" with the pagan prophets. He invited the prophets of Ba'al to offer a sacrifice to Ba'al, after which he would offer a sacrifice to Hashem, so that the sacrifice which received a response would prove who the true Deity is. The prophets of Ba'al offered their sacrifice, which of course elicited no response, whereupon Eliyahu offered a sacrifice which was miraculously consumed by a fire that descended from the heavens. The people then realized the fallacy of paganism, and the truth of Hashem's existence. Now offering a sacrifice outside the Bet Ha'mikdash constitutes a grave Torah violation, punishable by "Karet." Nevertheless, the people were required to accept Eliyahu's decision to offer a sacrifice on Mount Carmel as a temporary measure necessary for the purpose of opposing the pagan prophets. Rav Meir Simha Ha'kohen of Dvinsk (1843-1926), in his Meshech Hochma (Parashat Re'eh), offers an insight into why the Rambam pointed to this specific incident as an example of a prophet calling for the suspension of a Torah law. He notes that when the Torah introduces the prohibition against offering sacrifices outside the Bet Ha'mikdash, it explains the reason for this command – so that people will not sacrifice to foreign deities ("Ve'lo Yizbehu Od Et Zivhehem La'se'iriim Asher Hem Zonim Aharehem" – Vayikra 17:7). By requiring that all sacrifices must be brought to the Bet Ha'mikdash, the Torah helps ensure that people will not offer sacrifices to false gods. It thus emerges that this prohibition – which Eliyahu temporarily suspended at Mount Carmel – is associated with the prohibition against idolatry, as it is intended as a safeguard against foreign worship. Hence, the Meshech Hochma writes, a prophet does not actually have the authority to suspend this command. As we saw earlier, a prophet must be disobeyed if he orders the people to worship foreign deities – and presumably, this should extend also to commands intended to distance the people from idol worship, such as the prohibition against sacrificing outside the Bet Ha'mikdash. Nevertheless, the Meshech Hochma explains, Eliyahu was allowed to suspend this prohibition, because he did so for the specific purpose of leading the people away from idolatry. Seeing how the worship of Ba'al had become rampant among the nation, Eliyahu realized he needed to resort to drastic measures to convince the people to worship G-d, instead – and this necessitated offering a sacrifice outside the Bet Ha'mikdash. Therefore, although a prophet may not suspend a prohibition associated with the prohibition of idolatry, this is allowed when it serves to distance the people from idolatry. The Meshech Hochma explains on this basis why the Rambam chose specifically this example of a prophet temporarily suspending a Torah law – because this is the most extreme case of a prophet's legitimate suspension of a Torah command, a situation that we would have assumed would require the people's disobedience. Specifically this story exemplifies the extent of the prophet's authority, how he must be obeyed even when he calls for the temporary suspension of a law associated with the prohibition of idolatry when he deems this necessary to lead the people away from idolatry.

The Torah in Parashat Re'eh commands us to give charity. It instructs that when there is a person in need, "you shall surely give to him, and your heart shall not feel bad when you give to him, because on account of this matter G-d shall bless you…" (15:10). The plain meaning of the word "Biglal" ("on account of") in this verse is that Hashem rewards those who generously give charity with great material blessings. The Gemara (Shabbat 151b), however, teaches that this word can be read as an allusion to a "Galgal" – "wheel." The "wheel of fortune," the Gemara states, is always turning. Those who enjoy financial success today can lose their fortunes in an instant, and those who currently struggle can suddenly see great blessing. The Torah therefore urges us to show compassion to the needy and lend them the assistance that they so desperately need, because we never know when the tables might be turned and we will come to them for assistance. The Kabbalists add yet another interpretation of this verse, reading the word "Biglal" as an allusion to "Gilgul" – the reincarnation of souls. As we saw, this verse begins by urging us to not only give charity, but to do so wholeheartedly, with pure intentions – "and your heart shall not feel bad when you give to him." We should give not begrudgingly, because of pressure, or for the sake of our reputations, but rather because we sincerely wish to help our fellow Jew in need. The Torah thus warns that if we give with the wrong intentions, then "Biglal Ha'dabar Ha'zeh" – we will be forced to return to the world in a different "Gilgul." The Kabbalists develop this concept further based on the Mishna's teaching in Pirkeh Abot (4:11) that each Misva that a person performs creates for him a "Praklit" – an angel that advocates for him before the Heavenly Tribunal. The best thing we can do to earn G-d's protection is perform more Misvot. However, just as a human being has both a body and a soul, angels likewise have two components – a physical component and an inner, spiritual component. Kabbalah teaches that the Misva act that we perform creates the angel's physical being, whereas our pure intentions when performing the Misva create its "soul." In order for our Misva to have the effect of creating a "Praklit," it must be complete; the action must be performed properly, and with the right intention. When we perform a Misva for ulterior motives, although we are credited with the fulfillment of a Misva, it does not create a "Praklit" that can advocate on our behalf. The Kabbalists thus teach that if a person gives charity for the wrong reasons, he will return to the world in another life as a pauper. Poor people genuinely wish they had the ability to give charity and help those in need. And thus in this second "Gilgul," the person will have the thought and the desire to give Sedaka. This yearning to give charity will supply the sincere intention that was lacking during his first sojourn in this world, and will combine with the charity he gave to comprise a complete Misva that will create a complete angel who will advocate on his behalf. We now begin the month of Elul, when we prepare for the judgment of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. As we know, charity is one of the most effective means we have to ensure a favorable judgment, and it is therefore customary to increase our charitable contributions during Elul and during the days in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. This is among the best things we can do to bring "Praklitim" – "defense lawyers" – with us to the "trial" so they could plead on our behalf. However, in order for this to work, our motives must be sincere. We need to put aside our ego, our preoccupation with fame and prestige, our concern for our reputation, our obsession with the way other people see us – and do the right thing precisely because it is the right thing. When we give Sedaka for impure motives, we fulfill a Misva – but a deficient Misva. For our charity to be whole, we need to give with sincerity, without trying to impress or be noticed. Our Sedaka will then create perfect angels who will stand before G-d and plead our case, so that we will be blessed with a year filled with joy, happiness, peace and good fortune, Amen.

Parashat Ekeb includes the second paragraph of our daily Shema recitation ("Ve'haya Im Shamo'a"), in which the Torah promises that G-d would reward our observance of the Misvot with material prosperity. Hashem says that if we observe His commands, "I will provide the rain of your land in its time" ("Ve'natati Metar Arsechem Be'ito" – 11:14). Rashi comments: "You did what is incumbent upon you, so I, too, will do what is incumbent upon Me." The question arises as to what prompted Rashi to make this remark, and how this enhances our understanding of the verse. Is it not obvious that Hashem here is promising adequate rainfall as a reward for our compliance with His commands? What does Rashi seek to clarify? A brilliant explanation of Rashi's comment was offered by the late Rebbe of Lubavitch. He suggested that Rashi was addressing a question that arises from a comparison between this verse and an earlier verse which similarly promises rainfall as a reward for Misva observance. In the beginning of Parashat Behukotai (Vayikra 26:4), G-d pronounces that if we obey His commands, "I shall grant your rainfall in its time" ("Ve'natati Gishmechem Be'ito"). There, Hashem promises to provide "Gishmechem" – "your rainfall," whereas here, in Parashat Ekeb, He promises "Metar Arsechem" – "the rain of your land." In other words, Parashat Behukotai speaks of "our rainfall," as though we are given some kind of special rain, while Parashat Ekeb speaks of the land's rain, the rain that the land naturally requires. The clue to understanding this discrepancy, the Rebbe explains, is found in Rashi's opening comments to Parashat Behukotai. There Rashi writes that the blessings described in that section are promised if "Tiheyu Amelim Ba'Torah" – the people "toil" and invest intensive efforts in Torah study. Here in Parashat Ekeb, by contrast, the Torah speaks of a time when Beneh Yisrael simply obey the Torah, but are not necessarily striving for more, applying themselves diligently to Torah learning. In Parashat Behukotai, then, the Torah refers to an exceptionally high spiritual level, in reward for which G-d promises not just rainfall, but "your rain" – a supernatural rain that is especially catered to our needs, that falls at precisely the right time and precisely the right manner that works the best for us. The rainfall promised in Parashat Ekeb, however, is a natural rainfall that will suffice to provide the food we need, but not beyond that. The Rebbe explained that this is Rashi's intent in making the comment, "You did what is incumbent upon you, so I, too, will do what is incumbent upon Me." Rashi anticipates the question of why this verse uses the expression "Metar Arsechem," as opposed to the verse in Parashat Behukotai, which uses the verse "Gishmechem." The answer, Rashi is telling us, is that the Torah speaks here of Beneh Yisrael doing "what is incumbent" upon them – without striving for more. In Parashat Behukotai, the Torah promises the special, supernatural rain that Beneh Yisrael deserve when they not only fulfill their basic obligations, but passionately pursue spiritual greatness by devoting their time and efforts to the intensive study of Torah. In Parashat Ekeb, Beneh Yisrael are described as merely satisfying their requirements, and so although they are of course worthy of significant rewards, they do not earn the special reward of "Gishmechem." In this brief remark, then, Rashi teaches us to always strive for more, to reach beyond the simple fulfillment of our religious obligations, and to pursue excellence in our service of Hashem.

Este audio es parte del estudio de Tora en el Centro de Estudios Nazarenos.

We are to worship G-D alone and not fall prey to idolizing things in our lives that He blesses us with. Listen to Rabbi Toby's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Vaetchanan at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

We lezen meer met de synagoge: Deut.3:23-7:11, Jes.40:1-26, en Hebr.12:18-2De komende 7 weken staat de vertroosting na Gods oordelen centraal. Mozes en het volk mochten de berg Horeb niet naderen of aanraken voordat zij de stem van de shofar een langgerekte hoorden geven. Maar die Stem en de verschijnselen waren zo ontzagwekkend dat zij enkel vreze en beving waren. Zij zagen dat de HEERE een verterend vuur is. Het volk verzocht de stem uit het vuur niet langer te hoeven horen.Daar ontvingen zij het eerste verbond en de verbondsvoorwaarden, de tien woorden. Gehoorzaamheid zou hen wijsheid en leven geven en het land doen beërven. Volken en hun afgoden zouden erdoor onderworpen en verdreven worden. Wanneer het volk echter zou nalaten om tegen de afgodendienaars te strijden en hun afgoden weg te doen, dan zou hun dat opbreken en doen struikelen. Allen die Baal-Peor achterna liepen hebben dat echter met de dood moeten bekopen. Je kunt de tien geboden niet ongestraft vervangen door geboden van mensen en overheden. In onze maatschappij zie je dat echter op alle fronten wel gebeuren. In Zweden heeft men onlangs zelfs het Satanisme in de wet als religie erkent. In Amerika vernielen ze de monumenten voor de tien geboden en vervangen die voor afgodsbeelden.Paulus waarschuwt in Hebr.12: 25 Ziet dan toe, dat gij Hem, die spreekt, niet afwijst. Want als genen niet ontkomen zijn, toen zij Hem afwezen, die zijn godsspraak op aarde deed horen, hoeveel te minder wij, als wij ons afwenden van Hem, die uit de hemelen (spreekt). Onze God is een verterend vuur. Zij hebben Hem afgewezen. Daardoor zijn zij in ballingschap gegaan. Maar Hij zal hen vertroosten en doen terugkeren tot Tsion Jesaja 51: 4 en tot Torah, tot Hemzelf.  Want wij zijn genaderd tot de berg Tsion, de stad van de grote Koning, tot God, de Rechter over allen. Van Tsion zal zijn scepter, de Torah uitgaan naar alle volken, Jesaja 2:3 en wij zullen naar de Stem van de goede Herder horen en vrede vinden. Hoe zouden we kunnen en durven naderen zonder een volmaakte Middelaar die Zijn levensbloed, Zijn ziel ten borg stelde voor u en voor mij.Presentator,Robert BernsSupport the show

Porque cobrimos com as mãos os olhos ao dizermos o Shema Israel? Já entrou na jaula com um tigre feroz? O que você faria se ele avançasse na sua direção. Ouça

The Torah in Parashat Vaet'hanan (4:2) introduces the prohibitions known as "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra" – adding onto the Torah's laws, and detracting from the Torah's laws. Rashi explains that this refers to adding onto or detracting from a particular Misva. He gives the examples of wearing Tefillin with parchment containing more or fewer Parashiyot (sections of text) than the Torah requires. There are four Parashiyot which are to be inserted in the Tefillin, and if a person adds a fifth Parasha, then he transgresses the prohibition of "Bal Tosif," and if he includes only three Parashiyot, then he violates "Bal Tigra." Another example given by Rashi is waving more than four species on Sukkot, or fewer than four. The Ramban comments that the prohibition of "Bal Tosif" includes also introducing a new Misva to the Torah. If a person comes along and makes up a new law, claiming that this should be part of the Torah, he violates the prohibition of "Bal Tosif." Conversely, one who decides that a certain Biblical command is no longer part of the Torah transgresses "Bal Tigra." The Ramban clarifies that this applies only to one who introduces a new law and claims that it is obligatory as a Biblical imperative. The Sages enacted numerous obligations and prohibitions, but they made it very clear that these are not included in Torah, but are rather provisions that they saw fit to legislate to meet a particular need. And, they stipulated that the laws they enacted are treated differently than the laws of the Torah, with greater leniency. Thus, they do not violate the prohibition of "Bal Tosif." The Gaon of Vilna (1720-1797) brilliantly noted that both interpretations are correct, and rooted in the text of the Torah. The prohibition of "Bal Tosif" appears not only here, in Parashat Vaet'hanan, but also later, in Parashat Re'eh (13:1). However, the contexts of these verses reveals that they address two different commands. Here in Parashat Vaet'hanan, the command of "Bal Tosif" appears after Moshe tells the people, "Listen to the statutes and laws which I am teaching you to observe" (4:1). Moshe is telling Beneh Yisrael that he was going to present to them the Misvot, and he then warns them not to add more laws or to reject any of the laws that he was teaching them. In Parashat Re'eh, however, Moshe says, "Each thing that I am commanding you – you shall ensure to observe; do not add onto it, and do not detract from it." It seems clear that in this verse, Moshe speaks of each particular Misva, urging the people to observe every Misva precisely as he commands, without adding onto the Misva or taking anything away from it. The Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala (Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, 1785-1865) follows this general approach of the Vilna Gaon, but he notes a different distinction between the two verses. The command here in Parashat Vaet'hanan is formulated in the plural form – "Lo Tosifu…Ve'lo Tigre'u" – whereas the command in Parashat Re'ei appears in the singular form – "Lo Tosef…Ve'lo Tigra." The Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala thus suggests that here in Parashat Vaet'hanan, the Torah is addressing not an individual, but rather the Sanhedrin, the highest rabbinic body, which represents the entire nation. These scholars, the leading Sages of Israel, are the ones who need the warning not to change the Torah by introducing new laws or doing away with existing laws. In Parashat Re'eh, by contrast, the Torah is addressing the individual, who has no authority and would thus never think to introduce a new Misva, or eliminate a Misva. He needs the warning not to add onto or detract from specific Misvot, such as by adding an additional Parasha to the Tefillin or removing a Parasha. This command reminds us of the timelessness of the Torah, that at no point does it become "outdated" or in need of modification. Already from the outset, when the Torah was given, we are told that it and all its commands are eternal and eternally binding. Today's world is, of course, very different from the world at the time of Matan Torah, and the changing circumstances may affect the practical application of certain Misvot, based on the details of each Misva's requirements as determined by our oral halachic tradition. But never can we say that a Misva is no longer binding simply by virtue of the fact that many centuries have passed since the Torah was given. Each and every Misva is eternally relevant, and we are bound to all the Misvot no less now than our ancestors were millennia ago.

The Mishnah in Masechet Ta'anit (26b) describes how Tu B'Av – the 15 th of the month of Av – was an especially joyous occasion, a day when shidduchim (matches) were made. The girls would wear fine clothing and go into the vineyards. The young men would then come and choose a bride. The Gemara (31a) adds that the girls would try to draw the young men's attention to their qualities. The girls with an attractive appearance would say, "Set your eyes upon beauty." The girls from distinguished families would say, "Set your eyes upon the family." Those with neither of these would say, "Make your decision for the sake of Heaven." What did these girls mean by telling the young men to marry them "for the sake for Heaven"? The answer is that the Gemara here is teaching us a critically important lesson about maintaining hope and faith. Some people feel confident about themselves because of their natural gifts and talents – such as appearance – and others feel confident because of their family background, because of their connections. But some people feel that they have nothing going for them, they have nothing special about them. Singles might despair because they feel they don't have what it takes to get married. People might feel anxious about their financial future because they feel they don't have what it takes to make a good living. The Gemara teaches us that nobody should ever despair because Hashem is with him, because he is committed to living לשם שמיים , for Hashem's sake. When a person begins feeling incapable or inadequate, he needs to remember that Hashem believes in him – and so he must believe in himself. The girls in the vineyards were not only talking to the boys – they were talking to themselves, saying, "I know Hashem believes in me, I know He wants me to get married, and I know that He will get me married. I believe in Him – and I believe in myself." The story is told of a couple that was married for a number of years without children, and so they contacted an organization that helps couples struggling with infertility. The fellow from the organization said he wanted to meet them in the city for lunch to discuss their situation and how the organization might be able to help. On the phone, they went through various options of places where they could get together for lunch. Growing impatient, the husband said, "Look, I need a child, not a tuna sandwich." "I know," the fellow from the organization replied, "but the point here is that Hashem can send you a child as quickly as he can send you a tuna sandwich." So often a person desperately needs something and he doesn't believe in his ability to attain it. He needs to remember that whatever it is that he needs can come as easily the food he orders at a restaurant. We should never doubt ourselves. Even when we feel we don't have what it takes, Hashem always ensures that we do.

There is nothing of this world for us to fear when our confidence rests in Ad-nai, who goes before us and is our strength. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Devarim at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

Conhece a história do Papagaio que foi passar férias no navio com um mágico ? Kkkk o que isso pode ter a ver com a forma como levamos a vida. Ouça

In the beginning of the second chapter of Megilat Echa (2:1), the prophet Yirmiyahu bemoans, "Hishlich Mi'shamayim Eretz Tiferet Yisrael" – "He cast the glory of Israel down from the heavens to the ground." The plain meaning of this verse is that the Hurban (destruction) had the effect of lowering the Jewish People from glory to ruin. They had been in the "heavens"; they were favored, cherished and blessed by the Almighty, who resided among them in the Bet Ha'mikdash. With the Hurban, this lofty stature came crashing down to the ground, and they were now lowly and shattered. Perhaps, however, this verse could be read differently, as describing not what G-d did, but what the Jews did. The "Tiferet Yisrael," the Jews' source of glory and pride, was lowered from the "heavens" to the "ground." Our source of glory is supposed to be the Torah, the Misvot, spirituality, our service of Hashem. This is what we are to regard as our "Tiferet," our greatest source of pride, and our highest priority. But the Jews of the time lowered their "Tiferet" to the "ground" – to the realm of materialism and vanity. The "Tiferet Yisrael" – our source of pride – had been our intensive Torah learning, our devotion to Misvot, our faith and our religious commitment. But it was lowered to the "ground." People no longer took pride in spiritual commitment, and instead glorified wealth, material assets, beautiful homes, fancy clothes, luxury vacations, and their portfolios. Indeed, the Gemara (Nedarim 81a) teaches that the Bet Ha'mikdash was destroyed "She'lo Berchu Ba'Torah Tehila" – because the people of that time did not recite Birkat Ha'Torah, the Beracha before Torah learning. This means that they did not regard their Torah learning as sufficiently important to warrant a Beracha. They learned Torah, but they did not prioritize it, they didn't value it, they didn't accord it the importance it deserves. They directed their focus and the bulk of their attention toward their pursuit of wealth and material luxuries, rather than toward the service of Hashem. We find an allusion to this concept in the Torah, as well. Twice in the Torah we read harsh warnings of "Kelalot" – devastating curses that would befall Am Yisrael because of their misdeeds – once at the end of the Book of Vayikra, in Parashat Behukotai, and once toward the very end of the Torah, in Parashat Ki-Tabo. The Ramban (Rav Moshe Nahmanides, Spain, 1194-1270) posited that the first of these sections – the one in Parashat Behukotai – predicts the destruction of the first Bet Ha'mikdash, whereas the second section – in Parashat Ki-Tabo – predicts the fall of the Second Commonwealth. In Parashat Ki-Tabo, the Torah tells us the reason why G-d would bring these tragedies: "Because you did not serve Hashem your G-d with joy and with a good heart, out of an abundance of everything" (28:47). The final two words of this verse – "Me'rob Kol" ("out of an abundance of everything") – indicates that the people of the Second Temple period were plagued by excessive indulgence, by the pursuit of "an abundance of everything." This was their passion and their primary ambition, and this had the effect of compromising their service of Hashem. As we know, the Gemara (Yoma 9b) attributes the destruction of the second Bet Ha'mikdash to the sin of Sin'at Hinam – baseless hatred among the people. When we prioritize Torah and Misvot, when our attention is directed primarily at serving Hashem properly, we are less prone to jealousy, competition, and pettiness. If our priority is serving Hashem to the best of our ability, then we have relatively few reasons to fight with other people. But when our focus is on the pursuit of wealth, we are far more vulnerable to envy and hostility. We are more triggered by what other people say to us and about us, and we are more embittered by even trivial things. One of the root causes of Sin'at Hinam is "Me'rob Kol," the frantic and obsessive pursuit of wealth. Of course, the Torah does not frown upon making money and enjoying one's money. There is nothing wrong with the desire to live comfortably, or with working hard so one can afford to live comfortably. The Torah does not encourage poverty. The problem is when we turn this pursuit into "Tiferet Yisrael," our source of pride and glory, our highest priority, our primary goal in life, our ultimate objective. We must live every day with the goal of serving Hashem. Even if we devote the majority of our day to our careers or enterprises – which, as mentioned, is perfectly legitimate – our primary ambition must be Abodat Hashem, the devoted service of the Almighty. If we ensure to make this our priority, we will find ourselves living with far less jealousy, far less hostility and resentment toward other people, and far less negativity. And we will then, please G-d, become worthy of the arrival of our final redemption and the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash, speedily and in our times, Amen.

Once, as I was giving a class about the halachot of Tishah B'Av, I mentioned the law regarding work on this day – that Halachah permits working on Tishah B'Av, but the Rabbis teach that one who does so will not see blessing from his efforts. Although work is permitted, we are warned that no blessing will result from work performed on Tishah B'Av. As I was teaching this halachah , it dawned on me that Tishah B'Av is one of two days on the Jewish calendar when working is allowed but will not bring berachah , the other being Purim. I started thinking, what do these two occasions have in common? Why specifically on these days are we advised that although working is allowed, it will not bring us blessing? The answer, I believe, is that these are the two days when we are commanded to feel the "mood" of the Jewish People. Halachah teaches משנכנס אדר מרבים בשמחה – we all increase our joy when the month of Adar begins, and משנכנס אב ממעטים בשמחה – we all decrease our joy when the month of Av begins. Purim and Tishah B'Av are days marked by a national mood. Jews across the world are happy and jovial on Purim; and Jews across the world are sad and somber on Tishah B'Av. If somebody goes to work, as though it's just a normal day, he is separating himself from the Jewish People. He's too preoccupied with his own affairs to participate in the nation's joy, or in the nation's pain. And when we separate from Am Yisrael , when we're too focused on ourselves to think about the rest of the nation, there's no berachah , there's no blessing. One of the races in the Olympics every four years is the 4 X 100 meters relay. Each nation is represented in this race by four runners, each of whom runs for 100 meters and then passes the baton onto the next runner. For decades, the United States consistently won the gold medal for this race, because it has the fastest runners. More recently, however, the U.S. has had less success – not because its runners aren't as fast, but because they haven't been able to pass the baton smoothly to the next runner. As Jews, our job is not only to "run fast," to reach the finish line ourselves, but also to "pass the baton" to the people around us. Our "race" is not only individual, but national. We need to run together. And this means that we can't just be looking out for ourselves. We need to be looking out for one another. Rabbis aren't the only ones saying this. Our bitterest enemies are saying this, too. Sapir Cohen is a young woman who was captured by Hamas terrorists on October 7, 2023, and released 55 days later. She has since shared that at some point before she was freed, the terrorists who held her captive showed her the news reports on TV. She saw the vigils being held in "Hostage Square" in Tel-Aviv, attended by Israelis from all backgrounds, spanning the political spectrum. She noticed that this was not the same Israel as the country she lived in on October 6 th – a country that was bitterly divided. Her captor told her that the fierce in-fighting among Israelis before October 7 th encouraged them, the terrorists. They knew that when Israelis are fighting with one another, they are so much weaker and so much more vulnerable. They saw the fighting and felt confident that their attack could succeed. משנכנס אב ממעטים בשמחה . On Tishah B'Av, we mourn together – because we need to rebuild together. In order to recover from the hurban (destruction), in order to bring our final redemption, we need to "pass the baton" to one another. It's not enough for each person to decide what he needs to do personally, which mitzvot he needs to observe better, which personal improvements he needs to make. Of course this is very important. But we need to do more than that. We need to remember to "pass the baton," to look around at all our fellow Jews, no matter how different they are from us and from each other, and extend a hand. We need to run this race not alone, but as a nation, and this means reaching out to every fellow Jew in need and to feel closely bonded and connected to the entire Jewish Nation.

Mulheres com Talit e Tefilin!? Música no Shabat!? Desde quando existe o REFORMISMO? PARASHÁ DEVARIM CURTIU A AULA?FAÇA UM PIX RABINOELIPIX@GMAIL.COM E NOS AJUDE A DARMOS SEQUÊNCIA! #chassidut #mistica #judaismo #Parasha #tora #torah #Midrashim #judeu #rabino #judia #judeu #israel #rebe #rebbe #devarim #dvarim #mistica #kabala

Uma explicação incrível do Rebe sobre a Parashá DevarimA conexão entre os judeus e a Terra de Israel é totalmente diferente que a ligação entre povos e suas terras. Pois as outras nações não têm um conexão essencial com suas terras, por isso precisaram guerrear para conquistá-las. Já Israel, pertence essencialmente ao povo judeu, de tal modo que nem precisariam de guerras e armas para conquistá-la (se fossem direto do monte Sinai, sem o pecado dos Espiões).CURTIU A AULA?FAÇA UM PIX RABINOELIPIX@GMAIL.COM E NOS AJUDE A DARMOS SEQUÊNCIA! #chassidut #mistica #judaismo #Parasha #tora #torah #Midrashim #judeu #rabino #judia #judeu #israel #rebe #rebbe #devarim #dvarim #mistica #kabala

Remembering God's faithfulness—not boasting in ourselves—keeps us grounded in His promises, preserving our identity and guiding us faithfully into the future. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Matot-Masei at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

O que tem a ver tribos com galhos? Qual o real poder das palavras. Como um advogado com 12 filhos encontra um apartamento para alugar? Kkkk ouça

Bringing Am Yisrael Together We read in Parashat Matot of the request made by the tribes of Reuven and Gad to permanently settle in the region east of the Jordan River. Beneh Yisrael had captured this territory from the kingdoms of Sihon and Og, and Reuven and Gad – who owned lots of livestock – saw that this land had vast amounts of pasture which was well-suited for their herds. They thus approached Moshe and asked permission to make this area their permanent home instead of crossing into the Eretz Yisrael. Moshe granted their request after receiving their promise that they would participate in the battles waged by the other tribes to conquer the Land of Israel. Surprisingly, the Torah tells that when Moshe distributed this territory, he apportioned shares not only to the tribes of Reuben and Gad, but also to part of the tribe of Menashe. This tribe is not mentioned at all previously in this story. From what we can tell, the people of Menashe did not come with Reuben and Gad to Moshe to ask for this land. Why, then, did part of the tribe of Menashe receive a portion in Eber Ha'Yarden (the region to the east of the Jordan River) together with Reuben and Gad? One answer can be suggested based on a mysterious comment by the Midrash, teaching us about the background to the division of the tribe of Menashe. Back in the Book of Bereshit, we read of how Yosef's brothers sold him as a slave to merchants who brought him to Egypt, where he ultimately rose to the position of vizier. When famine struck the Land of Israel, Yosef's brothers came to purchase grain from Yosef – not realizing that this was his brother. Before they made their way back to Eretz Yisrael, Yosef ordered his advisor – whom the Midrash identifies as his son, Menashe – to plant his goblet in the bag of the youngest brother, Binyamin, to frame him as a thief. Later, after the brothers left Egypt, Yosef told Menashe to run after them and charge them with theft. When the goblet was discovered in Binyamin's bag, the brothers tore their garments, as tragedy had now befallen the family. The Midrash comments that since Menashe had caused the brothers to tear their garments into two halves, the tribe that descended from him would similarly be "torn" into two pieces, with part of the tribe residing in Eretz Yisrael, and the other part residing east of the Jordan River. At first glance, the Midrash seems to be saying that Menashe was punished for causing his uncles anguish. But if we probe deeper, we will see that to the contrary, Menashe was actually given a great privilege to split into two halves. A number of commentators explain that Yosef's intention in framing Binyamin was to determine whether his brothers had fully repented for their sin of selling him as a slave – by putting them in a situation where another younger brother would be in trouble. Yosef framed Binyamin to see if the brothers would do everything they could to save him and bring him home – just the opposite of how they treated him, driving him out of the family. As we know, Yehuda stepped forward to offer himself as a slave in Binyamin's stead, showing that the brothers had indeed fully repented and changed. At that point, Yosef revealed himself to his brothers, and the family was reunited. Menashe made the brothers rend their garments – but in so doing, he brought the family back together. This process, unfortunately, entailed the pain of "tearing," but it had the effect of mending the rupture that had plagued the family for many years. With this in mind, we can return to the story of Reuben and Gad. Moshe feared that Reuben and Gad's settlement across the river would cause a rupture in the nation. The Jordan River was a natural border that could have divided the nation into two, resulting in Reuben and Gad's dissociation from the rest of the nation. Moshe therefore devised a plan – he would have half of one of the other tribes live together with Reuben and Gad across the river. Having half of a tribe on one side, and the second half on the other side, would help ensure that the river would not become a border separating between the two regions, that there would be ongoing contact and communication between the tribes in Eretz Yisrael and the tribes in Eber Ha'Yarden. For this crucial purpose, Moshe selected the tribe of Menashe – the tribe whose ancestor is credited with bringing the family together. Menashe had bequeathed this quality to his descendants, and so they were the best choice to ensure that Am Yisrael remains united despite the geographic separation between them. Just as Menashe had united the family by planting the goblet in Binyamin's bag, so would his descendants assure the unity of the Jewish Nation by living on both sides of the Jordan River and connecting all the tribes with each other.

We've all had the experience of being at a sebet or some other function, standing near the dessert tables, when a child pushes us away in a frantic rush to get to his favorite treats. Would we say that this kid is selfish? That this kid doesn't care about other people? I wouldn't say that. This kid might not necessarily be selfish. He's just clueless. He is thinking so intently about the piece of cake or the cookies on the table, that he does not realize that he's shoving the people in his way. This kind of behavior is not limited to kids. Parents of married children frequently find themselves being the victims of "cluelessness." Their married child comes over with the kids, they make themselves at home, the kids play with the toys, food is prepared and fed – and then they leave, not realizing that the toys are scattered all over the place, the sinks are full of dirty dishes, and of course the highchair is filthy… The young couple isn't selfish. They're just clueless. They're just not paying attention. They're focused on taking care of their kids, so they're not thinking about their parents… Another example is rubbernecking. Sometimes we're sitting in traffic, inching forward for a half-hour wondering what's causing the jam. Finally, we see what happened: there was an accident on the other side of the highway – but everyone on our side feels the need to slow down and look to see what happened. When a driver slows down to look, he doesn't think to himself that he's delaying the hundreds of people driving behind him. Parashat Maseh talks about cluelessness. It addresses the situation of a רוצח בשוגג , somebody who killed another person by accident. If this happened due to circumstances beyond one's control, then he is not punished at all. But if there was some negligence involved, then he is required to move out of his town and relocate in a specially-designated city called an עיר מקלט (city of refuge) in order to earn atonement. The Rambam gives a number of examples of the kind of cases that require a person to move to an עיר מקלט . One is if he's climbing down a ladder, and he falls and kills someone. Another is if he is lowering a heavy object from a roof or window with a rope, and it slips, falls and kill someone. If we are involved in activities that are potentially dangerous, we can't be clueless. No matter how good our hearts are, and regardless of the fact that we would never in a million years think to hurt somebody – we are still guilty if we are not paying attention, if we are not opening our eyes and our minds to consider how our actions are impacting other people. King Shlomo, in a pasuk in Mishleh (10:13), speaks about this phenomenon of cluelessness: בשפתי נבון תמצא חכמה ושבט לגו חסר לב – "Wisdom can be found in the lips of the wise, and a rod shall strike the body of he who lacks heart." The Malbim describes a חסר לב this way: מי שאין לו הנהגה כלל, ונהג תמיד כפי שעולה על רוחו לפי שעה פעם כה ופעם כה . This means a person without discipline, who always acts on impulse, however he feels like it at any given moment. Such a person needs a שבט לגו – a rod striking his body – to wake him up, to get him to be alert and mindful. In virtually every family, there's that one person who shows up late to every Shabbat or holiday meal they're invited to. Showing up late is another example of a חסר לב , of someone who just doesn't think, who is clueless. He doesn't consider the fact that a whole group of people are sitting around and waiting because of him. Let's all try to move from cluelessness to attentiveness, from thoughtlessness to thoughtfulness, from mindlessness to mindfulness. It might be tempting to act כפי שעולה על רוחו לפי שעה , the way we happen to feel at the moment, without giving too much thought to what we're doing, but this is not how we're supposed to live. We are supposed to be mindful and to pay attention to what we're doing, to take other people into the equation, to make sure that our actions are bringing joy and blessing to the people around us, and not, Heaven forbid, the opposite.

G-D can only guide us when we still ourselves and wait quietly and expectantly for Him to act on our behalf. Listen to Rabbi Toby's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Pinchas at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

HEBREW CONGREGATION OF HOUSTON1. Awakening2. Identity3. How to Move Forward

Qual o ponto fraco de um homem? Quem comanda a vida dos homens? A TORÁ reconhece o papel da mulher ou isso foi uma conquista de agora? Ouça

Parashat Pinhas tells the story of Benot Selofhad – the five daughters of a man named Selofhad, who died in the wilderness leaving behind only these five daughters, without any sons. As Beneh Yisrael were preparing to enter the Land of Israel, these women approached Moshe and asked that they inherit the portion in the land that had been earmarked for Selofhad. Moshe consulted with Hashem, who informed him that indeed, when there are no sons, a person's daughters inherit his estate. The Torah introduces this story by identifying Selofhad as "Selofhad, the son of Hefer, the son of Gilad, the son of Machir, the son of Menashe, from among the families of Menashe, the son of Yosef" (27:1). Rashi raises the question of why the Torah found it necessary to mention Yosef in this context. We are, quite obviously, already well-aware of the fact that Menashe was one of the two sons of Yosef. Why are we reminded about Yosef in the introduction to the story of Benot Selofhad? Rashi answers that the Torah wanted to draw an association between these five women and their righteous ancestor, Yosef, whose legacy their carried through their love for the Land of Israel. Yosef made his brothers promise before his passing that they would bring his remains to Eretz Yisrael for burial, out of his deep love for Eretz Yisrael. And his descendants – Benot Selofhad – similarly displayed their commitment to Eretz Yisrael by approaching Moshe and imploring him to give them their father's portion of the land. Later commentators questioned how Rashi saw in Benot Selofhad's request an expression of love for the Land of Israel. Seemingly, they just wanted property; they give no indication that they longed specifically for a portion of Eretz Yisrael. Imagine a youngster is participating in a program and the people running the program are serving pizza and nothing else. If the youngster comes forward and asks for a slice of pizza, does this necessarily show his love for pizza? Of course not. He's hungry and wants food, and pizza is the food that's being served. By the same token, it seems, Benot Selofhad simply wanted property. How did Rashi know that Selofhad's daughters felt special love for Eretz Yisrael? One answer given is that Rashi inferred this from the timing of the request. Selofhad died many years earlier, yet his daughters came forward to claim their inheritance rights only now, as the nation prepared to cross into the Land of Israel. They did not ask for any of Selofhad's possessions throughout all the years after his passing. He undoubtedly had valuable assets, but this did not concern them. The fact that they approached Moshe only now, on the cusp of Beneh Yisrael's arrival in the land, shows that they felt a special connection to Eretz Yisrael, following the legacy of their illustrious ancestor, Yosef. The Netziv (Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin of Volozhin, 1816-1893) offers a different explanation. As mentioned earlier, Selofhad was a grandson of Gilad, the son of Machir. Later (Bamidbar 32:40), we read that the family of Machir was given a portion in Eber Ha'Yarden – the territory east of the Jordan River – as their permanent area of residence. Selofhad, as a member of this family, should thus have had rights to a piece of land in this region, and not in Eretz Yisrael. His daughters, however, asked that they be given a share not in Eber Ha'Yarden, but in the Land of Israel. They would not have been satisfied with territory in the region settled by the Machir family. Due to their great love for the Land of Israel, they insisted on receiving land in Eretz Yisrael instead of the region settled by their father's family – and Rashi thus understood that they, as loyal heirs of Yosef, shared his special love and commitment to the sacred land that Hashem has given us.

Será que D'us precisa de MIM? Qual a importância da minha REZA?Parasha PINCHASCURTIU A AULA?FAÇA UM PIX RABINOELIPIX@GMAIL.COM E NOS AJUDE A DARMOS SEQUÊNCIA! #chassidut #mistica #judaismo #Parasha #tora #torah #eliahu #pinchas#mulherjudia #Midrashim #judeu #rabino #judia #judeu #baityehudi #rebe #rebbe #zohar #reza #pinechas #tefila

Parasha Chughat 1 by Rabbi Benjamin Lavian

Parasha Chughat 2 by Rabbi Benjamin Lavian

Num. 22:2 – 25:9 , Micha 5:6(7)–6:8Support the show

We are Different Parashat Balak tells of how Balak, the king of Moab, summoned Bilam and hired him to place a curse on Beneh Yisrael so they would be annihilated. The plan backfired, as G-d repeatedly forced Balak to bless Beneh Yisrael, instead. Bilam began his first blessing by noting that Balak brought him from his homeland, Aram, for the purpose of cursing Beneh Yisrael (23:7). We must ask, why is this detail important? Of what significance is it that Bilam was brought to Moab specifically from the region of Aram? A deep answer to this question was suggested by Rav David Tevel of Minsk (1794-1861), in his work Nahalat David. He explains that Balak's scheme was not at all rash or haphazard; it was very carefully devised and crafted. Balak explored the origins of this nation – Beneh Yisrael – by whom he felt so threatened, and he discovered that they originated from Aram Naharayim. It was there where Abraham Abinu was raised, and from where the family later journeyed toward the Land of Israel. Balak figured that his best chance to destroy Am Yisrael would be by finding someone with the same origins, another person from Aram. As we know, the greatest pain that can inflicted upon someone is from somebody close to him. (Thus, for example, an insult from an immediate family member hurts far more than an insult from somebody who is not part of the family. And an insult from a community member hurts far more than an insult from a total stranger.) Balak thought that if he could bring somebody from Aram to oppose and inflict harm upon Beneh Yisrael, this would be their undoing. His strategy was to bring someone from Aram, an "insider," who could bring Beneh Yisrael down. However, the Nahalat David explains, Balak made a grave mistake. He did not realize that although Abraham indeed grew up in Aram, he had since been completely detached from his background. When G-d first spoke to Abraham, He commanded him to leave his country, his birthplace, and his father's home (Bereshit 12:1) – referring to not simply geographical relocation, but to complete dissociation from his past. Abraham's move to Eretz Yisrael constituted a clean break from his family background, the start of something completely new. The Nahalat David explains that this is why Abraham and Sara were naturally unable to beget children, and they produced a child through a miracle. The establishment of Am Yisrael marked the creation of an entirely new line, with no biological connection to Abraham and Sara's family background. This is also why Abraham and Sara's names were changed – from Abram to Abraham, and from Sarai to Sara – to indicate that they underwent a fundamental transformation and rebirths. Indeed, Bilam pronounces in his first blessing, "For from the top of rocks I see them, and I look upon them from the hills" (23:9). Rashi writes that this refers to the Abot (patriarchs) and Imahot (matriarchs). Bilam was saying that Beneh Yisrael are rooted in greatness, stemming from their sacred, righteous ancestors, and thus cannot be cursed. The Nahalat David explains that Bilam was observing that Beneh Yisrael's roots extend no further than the Abot and Imahot. They do not trace their lineage back to Abraham's parents and forebears – because they are a fundamentally new and distinct entity, bearing no connection at all to Abraham's origins in Aram. As the verse continues, "Hen Am Le'badad Yishkon U'ba'goyim Lo Yit'hashab" – "Behold, they are a nation that dwells alone, and is not reckoned among the other nations." The "genes" of Aram, so-to-speak, never made it to Avraham Avinu's descendants. They have no attachment to any other people, and so Balak's plan was doomed to fail already from the outset. The Jewish People are different, and we are meant to be different. Beliefs, values and lifestyles that are accepted and popular among other nations are not necessarily acceptable to us. The things that the surrounding society prioritizes and celebrates are not necessarily for us to prioritize or celebrate. We must always live with a sense of "Am Le'badad Yishkon" – that we dwell alone, with our own traditions, our own beliefs, and our own way of life.

Het oude is voorbijgegaan. Zie, alles wordt nieuw. Een nieuwe generatie is in het laatste jaar van de woestijnreis te Kadesh gekomen. Daar sterft de profetes Mirjam. Daar horen Mozes en Aäron dat ze het land Kanaän niet inmogen. Daar vallen er velen door de vurige slangen. En weer moeten ze omlopen. Alles wordt nieuw? Het lijkt er eerder op dat alles tegen zit, dat alles in de dood eindigt. Wat heerlijk is dan het ritueel - de choekat van het reinigingswater tot ontzondiging. Daar begint de parasja Choekat mee en in het licht van het voorschrift voor ontzodiging moeten we deze hele parasja lezen. Want rein en onrein staat altijd in verband met het leven en de dood. Wie in aanraking komt met de dood - en wie komt dat niet? - die wordt onrein. In dit Leerhuis zien we hoe de as van de jonge koe, de rode vaars, de Israëliet ontzondig en we zien hoe het verlossende en plaatsvervangende werk van de Messias heerlijk naar voren komt in deze choekat. Num. 19:1 – 22:1 , Richt.11:1–33Support the show

Sefer Bamidbar | Chukat | 5785 | Taking Initiative, by Rav Ezra Bick What's the difference between the first generation in the midbar and the second? Three short incidents in the middle of the Parasha define the change in the Jewish people after thirty years.

Parashat Hukat tells the famous story of Meh Meriba – Moshe Rabbenu's sin of striking the rock to produce water after G-d had instructed him to speak to the rock. Hashem punished Moshe, decreeing that he would not have the privilege of entering the Land of Israel along with the rest of the nation. Numerous different approaches have been taken to explain the nature of Moshe Rabbenu's mistake, and to answer the question of how Moshe, the greatest prophet who ever lived, a man of such towering spiritual stature, could have disobeyed G-d's explicit command to speak to the rock. A particularly fascinating explanation is offered by the Hatam Sofer (Rav Moshe Sofer of Pressburg, 1762-1839), who notes a mysterious nuance in G-d's command to produce water by speaking to the rock. Hashem said to Moshe, "You shall speak to the rock and it shall give forth its water, and you shall bring water for them out of the rock…" (20:8). Surprisingly, Hashem here twice mentions the production of water: 1) "and it shall give forth its water"; 2) "and you shall bring water for them out of the rock." It seems that Moshe was to extract water from the rock in two different stages through his speech. The Hatam Sofer solves this mystery based on the conclusion of this verse: "Ve'hishkita Et Ha'eda U'be'iram" – "you shall give water to drink for the congregation and their animals." The rock was to produce two streams of water – one for the people, and one of their animals. The Hatam Sofer explains that throughout the forty years which Beneh Yisrael spent in the wilderness, they ate heavenly food – the manna – but drank ordinary water. This water was provided through supernatural means – a well which miraculously traveled with them, in the merit of Miriam, Moshe's righteous sister – but the water was ordinary water. The manna originated from the heavens, and was spiritual food, whereas the water itself was no different from regular water that the people were accustomed to drinking. But now, as Beneh Yisrael were entering the final stage of their sojourn through the wilderness, they were ready to be brought to an especially high spiritual level. To this end, Moshe was to speak special words of Torah and prayers to the rock so it would produce a special kind of water – spiritual water, the liquid equivalent of the manna, that would uplift the people to great heights. This explains why the Torah speaks of two kinds of water. Moshe's words were to cause the rock to pour forth a stream of spiritual water for the people, and a second stream of regular water for their animals. Moshe, however, was afraid of producing this special spiritual water for the people. He feared that if they would then sin after having ingested this water, this would be unforgivable. Once they would reach such lofty spiritual heights, any failure would be deemed an especially grave transgression, and they might, Heaven forbid, be severely punished. It was thus out of compassion that Moshe struck the rock instead of speaking to it. He exclaimed, "Listen, O rebellious ones – shall I bring water for you out of this rock?!" (20:10). He was, in essence, telling the people, "I know you will in the future be rebellious – I therefore cannot produce the spiritual water for you." He instead struck the rock and produced regular water, which both the people and their animals drank, as implied by the verse, "Va'tesht Ha'eda U'be'iram" ("The congregation and their animals drank" – 20:11). When the Torah tells of Hashem informing Moshe and Aharon of their punishment for disobeying, it refers to Hashem with the Name of "Havaya," which is associated with G-d's attribute of compassion. This indicates that G-d's anger was tempered by compassion – because Moshe acted as he did out of genuine love and concern for Beneh Yisrael. He did not, Heaven forbid, intend to disrespect G-d's authority by disregarding His command. Rather, he was overcome by sincere love for the people, and wanted to protect them. For a towering Sadik of Moshe Rabbenu's stature, this was considered a sin. For us, though, the story of Meh Meriba provides us with an example of unbridled Ahabat Yisrael – love for our fellow Jews. In this specific instance, Moshe's love for His people resulted in his doing something which G-d disapproved of. But we can only wish to have the same level of Ahabat Yisrael as Moshe Rabbenu. We are to follow this example of genuine, heartfelt concern for each and every one of our fellow Jews, to the point where we are willing to do whatever we can to help them.

KorachDe lezingen van parshat Korach zijn Numeri 16:1 – 18:32 en 1 Samuël 11:14 – 12:22. Vandaag focussen we in het bijzonder op Numeri 17:9-15 (16:44-50). In dit gedeelte is God zo boos op de Israëlieten dat Hij hen allemaal om wil brengen door een plaag. Op bevel van Mozes neemt Aäron snel een vuurschaal met reukwerk en bewerkt daarmee verzoening midden in het kamp. De plaag wordt gestopt en Aäron staat tussen de levenden en de doden in. Wat heeft dit te maken met voorbede, aanbidding en Woord verkondiging? Kunnen wij ook nog (geestelijke) plagen stoppen vandaag de dag? En hoe dan…?!Support the show

The Torah begins the story of Korah's brazen uprising against Moshe Rabbenu by introducing him as "Korah, son of Yitzhar, son of Kehat, son of Levi." Rashi notes that the Torah traces Korah's genealogy back to Levi, but it stopped there, without going one generation further, mentioning "the son of Yaakob." This was done, Rashi explains, in fulfillment of Yaakob Abinu's request before his passing. In Yaakob's parting words to his sons, when he addressed Shimon and Levi, he proclaimed, "Bi'khalam Al Tehad Kebodi" – that his honor should not be associated with their "congregation" (Bereshit 49:6). This refers to the "congregation" assembled by Korah for the purpose of challenging the authority of Moshe Rabbenu. Yaakob did not want his name mentioned in the context of this sinful uprising, and so the Torah identified Korah only as "son of Yitzhar, son of Kehat, son of Levi," without adding, "son of Yaakob." Several later scholars addressed the obvious problem with Rashi's comments – his assumption that the Torah should have traced Korah's lineage all the way back to Yaakob. Rashi says that the Torah would have mentioned also "son of Yaakob" if not for Yaakob's request that his name be omitted – but why would Yaakob's name have needed to be mentioned? For that matter, why did the Torah bother tracing Korah's lineage even back to Levi? The Torah already presented the genealogy of the tribe of Levi, back in the Book of Shemot (6), and Korah's family background is included there. Why did the Torah go through the trouble of telling us that Korah was the "son of Yitzhar, the son of Kehat, the son of Levi," and why would it have added also "son of Yaakob" if Yaakob hadn't asked not to be mentioned? A fascinating answer is given by the Maharal of Prague (Rav Yehuda Loew, 1512-1609), in his Gur Aryeh. He explains that the Torah wanted to emphasize the extent of Korah's evil in launching this uprising against Moshe, by noting his distinguished lineage. Korah himself was a prominent member of the nation, among those who carried the ark during travel, but also descended from outstanding Sadikim – Yitzhar, Kehat, Levi, and the patriarchs. Of course, Korah's revolt would have been a grievous sin no matter who he was, but his prominent family background made it particularly severe. This is why the Torah made a point of mentioning his distinguished, righteous predecessors – and would have gone as far as mentioning also Yaakob Abinu, except that Yaakob asked that his name be omitted from this context. The Maharal's explanation brings to mind an insight of the Maggid of Dubna (1741-1804) regarding a verse in Parashat Behukotai (26:42). This verse appears in the section known as the "Tocheha," where G-d warns of the dreadful calamities that He would bring upon Beneh Yisrael as punishment for their misdeeds. G-d in this verse proclaims that He would remember the covenant He made with the patriarchs. It seems that He is now offering consolation, emphasizing that despite His anger, and although He would be punishing the people, He would nevertheless have compassion due to His covenant with the Abot. However, the next verse then continues the description of the exile that the Jewish People would suffer on account of their sins – indicating that the comforting conclusion of the Tocheha has not yet begun. The Maggid of Dubna thus explains that in this verse, G-d warns the people that their wrongdoing is exceptionally severe because of whom they descend from – the sacred patriarchs, with whom Hashem made a special covenant. As heirs of this covenant, and members of this special nation, their misdeeds are considered graver. The Maggid draws an analogy to two people who committed the same minor misdemeanor – a prince, and a poor peasant. The peasant is sentenced to several weeks of prison, whereas the prince is handed a ten-year jail sentence. The reason is that the prince's offense is far more grievous due to his family background, because he is the king's son, a member of the royal family. We, Am Yisrael, must live with this awareness, that we are royalty, that we are "princes," the children of Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. As members of the "royal family," who have received and studied the Torah, which instructs us how to live a "regal" lifestyle, more is expected of us than of other people. We are bidden to maintain the high standards demanded of Hashem's special nation who represent Him to the rest of the world, and always strive to be worthy of this unique privilege.

We lezen: Numeri 13:1-15:41, Galaten 2:3 en de Haftarah Jozua 2:1-24Verspieders verkennen een land , een stad en haar inwoners om na te speuren hoe de stad is te veroveren en het land is in te nemen. Verkennen in het Hebreeuws is – רָגַל ragal doorwandelen, doorzoeken, indrukken opdoen.Het zelfstandig naamwoord is רֶגֶל regel – voet(-zoo), voetstap. Zoals in Jozua 1:3 Elke plaats die uw voetzool betreden zal, geef Ik u.De HEERE Zelf ging in de woestijn drie dagreizen vooruit om de volgende pleisterplaats voor Zijn volk na te speuren –  תּוּר tuwr – Numeri 10:33.In de parashat zendt Mozes op het bevel van de Heilige Israëls 12 verspieders uit met eenzelfde opdracht: “Mozes dan zond hen uit om het land Kanaän te verspieden en zei tot hen: Trekt hier het Zuiderland in en trekt op naar het bergland – עָלָה `alah –, en ziet, hoe het land is, Numeri 13:17. Van dit werkwoord zijn afgeleid Alija la Regel “opgaan naar de voet –  dat is de stad van David en het Heiligdom” en Olim – degenen die opgaan.Je zet je voet op het land (en op de nek van je vijanden) als teken dat je het erfelijk in bezit neemt. Dat gaat niet zonder slag of stoot, maar de HEERE gaat hen met Zijn legerscharen voor in de strijd. Het land is goed naar het oordeel van alle 12 verspieders. De reuzen, Enakieten zijn groot, voor 10 verspieders te groot, omdat zij de HEERE niet volkomen volgen in Zijn voetstappen. Wanneer je hart verdeeld is ben je geen betrouwbaar verkenner en getuige. Je opdracht was om de weg te vinden die de HEERE al gegeven had tot de overwinning.Want de schrik voor Hem lag op alle volken rondom, zoals Rachab tegen de verspieders in Jericho getuigde. En de Enakieten  waren al eerder verslagen in de omringende landen. Deut.2: 20-22 De Ammonieten noemden de Enakieten, Zamzummieten, een groot en talrijk volk, lang als de Enakieten, maar de HERE had hen verdreven en verdelgd, zodat genen hun gebied in bezit genomen en zich in hun plaats gevestigd hadden; evenals Hij voor de zonen van Esau gedaan had, die in Seïr wonen: vóór wie Hij de Chorieten verdreven en verdelgd had, zodat genen hun gebied in bezit genomen hadden en daar in hun plaats wonen tot op de huidige dag. We zullen reuzen op de weg van de HEER tegen komen, maar in de Naam van de HEERE, treden we hen tegemoet.Support the show

Parashat Shelah tells the famous story of the Meragelim – the twelve spies sent by Moshe to see the Land of Israel and report back to the nation. Unfortunately, ten of the twelve spies betrayed their mission, frightening the people and convincing them not to proceed into the land. In telling this story, the Torah makes a point of mentioning that during the spies' excursion through the land, they cut a vine with a cluster of grapes, and they brought it back to the people to show them a sample of the land's fruit (13:23). This appears to have been a very significant act – for in the next verse, the Torah tells that the spies named that location "Nahal Eshkol" – "the Valley of the Cluster," commemorating this cluster of grapes. We must wonder, why was this particular act worthy of such commemoration? Why did the spies consider this such a significant event that they found it necessary to memorialize it by changing the location's name? A closer examination of the text reveals yet another difficulty. The Torah tells that this area was renamed to commemorate "the cluster that Beneh Yisrael cut from there." Curiously, the Torah speaks of "Beneh Yisrael" taking this cluster grapes, when in truth only twelve members of the nation – the twelve spies – performed this act. Why? The answer emerges from the comments of the Seforno (Rav Ovadia Seforno, Italy, 1475-1550) in explaining Moshe's instruction that the spies should bring fruit from Eretz Yisrael (13:20). The Seforno writes that this act functioned as a Halachic "Hazaka" – display of ownership. When a person purchases land, the property Halachically enters his possession in one of three ways – the transfer of money to the seller, receiving from the seller a deed of sale, or performing an act of "Hazaka" whereby he demonstratively establishes ownership over the property. A "Hazaka" can take on several different forms, such as erecting a fence around the property, and performing agricultural work in the land. According to Seforno, this was the purpose of the spies' seizing fruit from Eretz Yisrael. This was intended not simply to bring the people a sample of the land's exceptional, high-quality produce, but also to formally take possession of the Land of Israel. Hashem was giving this land to Beneh Yisrael – but they needed to perform an act of acquisition to establish their ownership. This is the significance of the severing of a vine. Quite understandably, then, this was a very significant act that was worth commemorating, as it marked the point when we formally took possession of our homeland. And, this explains why the Torah speaks of "Beneh Yisrael" cutting the vine – because the spies performed this act as representatives of the entire nation, who thereby collectively became owners over the Land of Israel. This was the moment when the Jewish People established their eternal ownership over our beloved land.

Behaalotekha | Re'uel, Yitro, Chovav, by Rav Yitzchak Etshalom Who was Moshe's father-in-law? In our Parasha, there is a curious conversation between Moshe and Chovav; does Chovav end up accepting Moshe's invitation to join Am Yisrael? Who is Chovav to Moshe and is he also known by other names? Was Yitro the Kohen Midian or was Reuel - and who was Tzippora's father? All of these are addressed in this shiur. Source sheet >>

We read in Parashat Behaalotecha of the formal consecration of the Leviyim as G-d's special servants who would work in the Mishkan. This process included the offering of sacrifices – specifically, one bull as an Ola (burnt-offering), and a second bull as a Hatat (sin-offering). Rav Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev (1740-1809), in his work Kedushat Levi, notes that pair of sacrifices are listed in two different sequences in this section. When the Torah first mentions the requirement to bring two bulls, it mentions first the Ola, followed by the Hatat (8:8). Later, however, in describing the procedure to be followed for the process of consecration, G-d commands Moshe to offer the Hatat and then the Ola (8:2). Rav Levi Yitzhak explains this discrepancy by citing an insight he heard from his father about the general topic of the sequence required when both an Ola and Hatat are offered. In general, the Hatat offering – which is brought for the purpose of earning atonement – is sacrificed before the Ola, which is sacrificed as a gift to earn Hashem's favor. Quite naturally, as the Gemara (Zebahim 7b) explains, the sinner must first achieve a pardon for his wrongdoing before he can then proceed to win the King's favor and affection. Therefore, the Hatat must be offered before the Ola. However, Rav Levi Yitzchak's father noted, we know that the Ola sacrifice does, in fact, achieve atonement – for sins of Mahashaba (improper thoughts). Although a person who is guilty of having bad intentions is not required to bring a sacrifice, he has the opportunity to achieve atonement through the offering of the optional Ola sacrifice. Seemingly, then, the Ola resembles the Hatat, in that it, too, serves to attain forgiveness, and we must therefore ask why the Hatat is offered before the Ola. Rav Yitzchak Levi's father answered based on the general rule that Hashem does not hold us accountable for our wrongful intentions unless they lead to action. One who harbored wrong intentions does not really need an Ola sacrifice for atonement, since he is not liable to punishment for his sinful thoughts. The exception to this rule is idol-worship. One who harbors thoughts of pagan beliefs is liable to punishment regardless of whether or not he acted upon those thoughts. And therefore, Rav Levi Yitzchak's father asserts, when a sin involving idolatry has been committed, the Ola sacrifice indeed precedes the Hatat, because one must first atone for the thoughts which led to the worship, and then for the worship itself. Returning to the sacrifices of the Leviyim, Rav Levi Yitzhak explains that these offerings were brought on behalf of the entire nation to atone for the grave sin of the golden calf. Fundamentally, as this sin was one of idol-worship, the Ola should have been offered first, before the Hatat, and for this reason, in the initial command, the Ola is mentioned first. However, Rav Levi Yitzhak writes, the truth is that Beneh Yisrael did not truly intend to betray G-d and worship the golden calf. They created a graven image not to replace Hashem, but rather as a means through which they mistakenly thought they could draw close to Hashem. While this was, indeed, a grievous sin, and one which resembled idol-worship, the people did not actually worship a foreign deity. Therefore, when these two sacrifices were actually offered, the Hatat was brought before the Ola, as is done in the case of sins other than idol worship.

The Torah in Parashat Naso tells of the special gifts and sacrifices brought by the Nesi'im – the leaders of the tribes – in honor of the inauguration of the Mishkan. To celebrate this event, the Nesi'im donated wagons to be used by the Leviyim to transport the Mishkan during travel, and then each tribal leader offered a series of sacrifices one day. Each day for twelve days, a different Nasi brought these sacrifices. The Torah introduces this account with the words, "Va'yehi Be'yom Moshe Kalot Moshe Le'hakim Et Ha'Mishkan" – "It was on the day when Moshe finished erecting the Mishkan…" (7:1). Rashi observes that the word "Kalot" resembles the word "Kalla" – "bride." This allusion, Rashi explains, indicates to us that on this day, the day when the Mishkan was completed and began functioning, Beneh Yisrael were like a bride entering under the wedding canopy with her groom. This was the day of Beneh Yisrael's "wedding" with G-d. Rashi's comments must be reconciled with the well-established tradition viewing Ma'amad Har Sinai – G-d's revelation to our ancestors at Mount Sinai – as our nation's "wedding" with the Almighty. Indeed, several customs we observe at weddings commemorate aspects of Ma'amad Har Sinai. For example, we adorn the Hupa with flowers, just as Mount Sinai grew beautiful flowers at the time of the Revelation. And it is customary for the groom to leave the Hupa and walk toward the bride to greet her as she makes her way to the Hupa, as G-d is described as coming from Mount Sinai to greet the people as they made their way from the camp to the foot of the mountain ("Hashem Mi'Sinai Ba" – Debarim 33:2). If our "wedding" with the Almighty occurred on Shabuot, the day of Matan Torah, then how can Rashi speak of the day of the Mishkan's inauguration – which happened nearly ten months later – as the "wedding day"? The answer lies in the tragic event that transpired in between Matan Torah and the inauguration of the Mishkan – the sin of the golden calf. We might say that the day of Matan Torah marked the first stage of the wedding process – what we call "Kiddushin" (betrothal). This is the stage when the groom gives the bride a ring and designates her as his wife. The marriage is completed with the stage of "Nisu'in," when the bride and groom go into private for the first time. The "Nisu'in" between Beneh Yisrael and Hashem was to occur forty days after Ma'amad Har Sinai, on the 17 th of Tammuz, when Moshe came down the mountain with the two tablets. This day was to have marked the completion of the "wedding," whereby our nation was fully "married" to the Almighty. In the interim, however, Beneh Yisrael had betrayed G-d – like a bride who was unfaithful to her groom – by worshipping a foreign deity. Under such circumstances, of course, the "wedding" could not continue. Beneh Yisrael needed to repair the relationship through repentance and through the building of the Mishkan. Once the Mishkan was completed, the "wedding" could now be resumed. Therefore, Rashi writes that on the day of the Mishkan's inauguration, Beneh Yisrael resembled a bride going into the Hupa – because this day marked the renewed "wedding" which had been discontinued as a result of the sin of the golden calf. Not coincidentally, Parashat Naso is almost always read shortly after the celebration of Shabuot, the day which celebrates the beginning of our "marriage" with G-d. Parashat Naso tells of the completion of the "wedding," how our nation succeeded in recovering from the tragic failure of the golden calf, in rebuilding our trust and faithfulness, so we could again be worthy of "marrying" Hashem, of entering into a unique, intimate bond with Him. The story of the Mishkan's completion teaches us that we need to earn this special relationship through loyalty and devotion. If we prioritize other interests and concerns over the Torah, if we choose to place our trust in people and forces other than Hashem, then we are betraying Him and thus become unworthy of His special protection and blessings. If we want to benefit from our relationship with G-d, we need to earn it through unbridled fealty to His commands, and by remaining uncompromisingly and unflinchingly committed to the Torah, without being misled by the alluring "golden calves" that threaten to pull us away from our loyalty to Hashem.

En este estudio comentamos la porcion de la Tora segun ha estudiado el More.

Shavuot- Being G-d's Servants The Mechilta famously tells that before G-d gave the Torah to Beneh Yisrael, He offered it to other nations. He first asked the descendants of Esav if they wanted the Torah, and they replied by questioning what the Torah demanded. G-d said that the Torah forbids murder – whereupon the people of Esav said they could not possibly abide by such a command. G-d then offered the Torah to the nation of Moab, and they, too, asked what it entailed. He said that it forbids immorality, illicit intimate relationships – and the people of Moab refused. G-d then offered the Torah to the nation of Yishmael. When they heard that the Torah forbids stealing, they declined. One of the commentators to the Mishna – the Mirkebet Ha'mishneh (Rav David Moshe Abraham Ashkenazi, 1680-1745) – explains the meaning and significance of this story. The Mechilta here is teaching us that accepting the Torah requires accepting the parts of the Torah that we find difficult, that force us to go against our natural instincts and inclinations. Hashem first told the people of Esav about the prohibition of murder – because they were violent by nature, and in order to accept the Torah, they needed to commit to restraining their violent impulse. This is something they were not prepared to do. And the same is true of Moab and immorality, and Yishmael and theft. The first thing G-d told each of them was the command which they would find most difficult – because this is precisely what accepting the Torah requires: that we be prepared to break our nature, to act in opposition to our instinctive tendencies. Rav Yisrael Salanter, in one of his more famous letters ( Or Yisrael , 17), elaborates on this concept, on the need to observe the Torah even when this is difficult, when this requires struggle. He writes that even if a person observes many Misvot, and generally follows a religious lifestyle, he might still not earn the title "Ebed Hashem" – a servant of Hashem. An "Ebed," a servant, is somebody who works ("Obed"). If a person fulfills Misvot only when he finds it convenient, what it does not entail hardship or difficulty, then he is not working, and so he is not actually serving Hashem. We become Hashem's servants only when we commit to observe even those Misvot which we find challenging, to abide by Hashem's rules even when this demands a great deal of struggle. There is a famous Yiddish expression among Ashkenazi Jews, "Shver tsu zayn a Yid" – "It is difficult to be a Jew." This expression is commonly viewed with disdain, as something one should never say, as it reflects a cynical, negative attitude toward Judaism. We are to be proud of Jewish life and always emphasize – to ourselves, to our children, and to others – the unparalleled joy and beauty of Torah life. I would suggest, however, a different perspective on this expression, that it makes an important and powerful comment about what Judaism is all about. Being a Jew means remaining committed even when this is difficult. Of course, Jewish life is, generally, beautiful. But often, it requires struggling to overcome difficult challenges. And accepting the Torah means committing ourselves to follow the Torah even when this requires struggle. Thus, indeed, "it is difficult to be a Jew" – being a Jew means accepting that it will sometimes be difficult. When Hashem came to Beneh Yisrael to offer them the Torah, they immediately responded with the resounding declaration, "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – "We will perform and we will hear" (Shemot 24:7). Curiously, however, the Gemara (Shabbat 88a) tells that Hashem suspended the mountain over Beneh Yisrael and threatened to drop it on them if they did not accept the Torah. Many commentators raised the question of why Hashem needed to threaten Beneh Yisrael after they had enthusiastically expressed their commitment by declaring "Na'aseh Ve'nishma." One answer is that Hashem sought to impress upon them the obligation to observe the Torah under all circumstances, even when it is difficult and inconvenient. It was easy to announce "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – but there would be many times in the future when they would be far less enthusiastic, when Torah observance would be a challenge, when they would need to struggle. G-d therefore held the mountain over them – to make it clear that they were becoming His servants, and this means serving Him even when this requires hard work. We must serve Hashem not only when we are "in the mood," when we feel like it, but even when we don't. Every person has his own set of struggles in Torah observance. What comes easy for one person is a struggle for somebody else. We need to each find our own weaknesses, our own areas of struggle, the parts of Torah observance which pose a special challenge for us. We must then make the commitment to accept this struggle, to work hard, to put in the effort, to do the best we can, to serve Hashem to the very best of our ability even when we find it difficult.

In thos week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses the Torah's outlook on how diversity can be our strength. With a lesson from the Degalim(banners) of the twelve tribes he shows how different strenghts can complement each other. He also explains how the Aron(Ark) carried its carriers and the lesson we can learn from it. Subscribe to The Practical Parsha Podcast. For questions or comments please email RabbiShlomoKohn@gmail.com.To listen to Rabbi Kohn's other podcasts use these links- positiveperspectives.castos.com/ or the-pirkei-avos-podcast.castos.com/ Chapters (00:00:00) - Practical Parasha(00:01:02) - Parshas Bamidbar(00:04:08) - Parasha 2, The Jewish people(00:06:29) - Digalem(00:12:52) - Dgalim(00:15:00) - The Aron

Este comentario es una continuacion de la serie: La Tora que recibi.

Parashat Behar begins with the Misva of Shemita, which requires farmers to refrain from agricultural activity for an entire year every seven years. The Torah refers to this year as "Shabbat L'Hashem" – "A sabbath to God" (25:2), and as "Shabbat Shabbaton" (25:4), a phrase whose meaning is not, at first glance, clear. The Seforno (Rav Ovadia Seforno, Italy, 1475-1549) explains the first expression, "Shabbat L'Hashem," to mean that this year is to be devoted to Hashem. G-d commands farmers to refrain from agricultural work so that they can spend this year involved in Torah learning and prayer. Just as we refrain from work one day a week, Shabbat, in order to spend a day engrossed in spirituality, similarly, once in seven years, farmers are to spend a year devoted to the nurturing of their soul. As for the term "Shabbat Shabbaton," the Seforno writes that this instructs farmers to refrain also from certain activities related to agriculture that are not technically forbidden by the formal laws of Shemita. To understand the Seforno's intent, we must take a step back and examine the notion of the "Takanot" – the laws enacted by the Sages to safeguard the Torah. It goes without saying that the Torah is perfect, and does not and will never require any amending. The purpose of the Rabbis' "Takanot" was most certainly not to "improve" the already perfect Torah. Rather, they were intended to uphold the spirit of the law. It is possible, for example, for a person to avoid all the activities forbidden by the Torah on Shabbat, while treating the day not much different than a weekday. A businessman can run his business on Shabbat without performing any acts that constitute Biblical acts of Shabbat desecration. He can go to his office with a non-Jewish taxi service, manage his employees, and even write with a "Shinui" – a deviation, like with his weaker hand – such that he has a pretty typical business day without transgressing any Torah violations. A person can also spend Shabbat cleaning his garage and washing his car without desecrating Shabbat on the level of Torah law. Clearly, however, this is not how the Torah wants us to spend Shabbat. In addition to the letter of the law, there is the spirit of the law, the purpose for which the law exists. The Shabbat prohibitions are intended to create a certain atmosphere, an aura of serenity, joy, calm, holiness, and spiritual growth. The Rabbis saw that people were observing the letter of the law without observing the spirit of the law. In many areas, they were able to abide by the strict letter of the Torah's commands, but while missing the entire point of these commands. And so the Sages enacted many laws in order to ensure that we not only technically observe the Torah's commands, but also achieve the goals which these commands are meant to lead us to. According to the Seforno, this is the meaning of "Shabbat Shabbaton." The Torah indicates to us that besides refraining from the specific forms of agricultural activity forbidden by the laws of Shemita, farmers must also maintain a certain aura during this year, an aura of spiritual engagement and holiness. To that end, they are to refrain from even technically permissible forms of work, so that the Shemita year will be spent in a fundamentally different way than the other six years. What is true about Shabbat and Shemita is true also of our relationships. In a good marriage, the husband and wife do not need to be told what to do for one another, and what not to do. They understand what the other wants, and they try to fulfill those wishes to the best of their ability. I am reminded of the time when a fellow called me to ask if it was acceptable to miss his evening Torah study in order to go out with his wife for their anniversary. I told him that I don't have time for questions such as these. This should not even be asked. It should be obvious that one owes it to his wife to spend time with her on their anniversary. One does not need to ask a Rabbi to authorize his going out with his wife on their anniversary. This is something that he should not need to be told. The fellow went home and said, "The Rabbi said we can go out tonight." This is now how it is done. A man does not spend time with his wife because the Rabbi said so. He spends time with his wife because he knows that this is what she wants and what she expects. He should not wait to be told – by her or by a Rabbi – that this is what he should do. In our relationship with Hashem and in our relationships with other people, we are to extend beyond the technical "dos" and "don'ts," the strict letter of the law, and try as much as possible to do what we intuitively know they want us to do.

The famous second Mishna of Pirkeh Abot teaches that the world stands on three "pillars": Torah, Aboda (service of G-d), and Gemilut Hasadim (dispensing kindness). These three "pillars" are embodied by our three patriarchs – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. Abraham was the paragon of kindness, devoting his life to helping others. Even after undergoing Berit Mila at an advanced age, he sat outside in the scorching heat looking for people who needed hospitality. He spared no efforts in seeking to help any person who required assistance. Yishak, who was placed on an altar and nearly sacrificed, represents the highest standards of "Aboda," serving Hashem, living one's life in complete subservience to the Almighty and being prepared to make whatever sacrifices He demands. Finally, Yaakob Abinu embodies the quality of diligent Torah study, having spent the first decades of his life fully immersed in Torah learning. In light of this parallel, it seems that the Mishna's list of three "pillars" is presented out of order. We would have perhaps expected the Mishna to list the "pillars" in the order of the three Abot (patriarchs) – beginning with Hesed, followed by Aboda, and culminating with Torah, corresponding to the order of the Abot – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. The answer, perhaps, is that the Mishna wanted to emphasize that we need to learn Torah in order to achieve the other two pillars. Without Torah knowledge, we will not have the information we need to serve Hashem. A person who does not learn Torah will decide on his own how to pray, and how to perform Misvot. He will just make up his service of Hashem. We need to learn Torah in order to know how to perform "Aboda," how to serve Hashem in the right way. This is true also of Hesed. We might think that Hesed is instinctive and intuitive, that we can figure out on our own when and how to help other people. But this, too, is mistaken. The Torah guides us not only with regard to our service of Hashem, but also with regard to Hesed, explaining to us the right way to help people. We need to learn what our responsibilities and obligations are, when we are supposed to help, and what kind of help we are to offer. We find an example in the beginning of Parashat Emor, where the Torah presents a series of laws relevant to the Kohanim. A Kohen is not permitted to come in contact with a dead body, except in the case of the death of an immediate family member. Of course, we know that tending to the burial of the deceased is a precious Misva. But without learning Torah, we would not have known that for a Kohen, this is actually a sin, unless he is dealing with the remains of a family member. Moreover, a Kohen Gadol is not permitted to come in contact with a dead body even in the case of a deceased family member – but he is allowed, and even required, to tend to the burial of a Met Misva, a body that has nobody else to bury it. This is just one example of how we need the Torah to give us the guidelines of when and how to perform kindness. Torah knowledge is indispensable for living a life of Aboda and of Hesed. The "pillar" of Torah is therefore mentioned by the Mishna first – because without it, we can never reach the other two "pillars."

Este video es un comenario de la porcion de la Tora estudiado en el Bet Midrash.

We find in Parashat Kedoshim (19:17) the command "Hochi'ah Tochi'ah Et Amitecha" – to reprimand one's fellow who acts improperly, so that he will improve his behavior. King Shlomo, in the Book of Mishleh (9:8), offers advice regarding the proper approach to the delicate topic of Tocheha – reprimanding and rebuking. He teaches, "Al Tochah Letz Pen Yisna'eka, Hochah Le'hacham Ve'ye'ehaveka" – "Do not reprimand the scoffer, lest he despise you; reprimand the wise, and he will love you." The simple meaning of this verse is that King Shlomo is telling us whom to criticize and whom not to criticize. The "Letz," the "scoffer," should not be expected to accept criticism, and so it is best not to criticize him. Many people are simply not receptive to criticism, as they assume they are always correct, and have little interest in hearing what others have to say. Their instinctive reaction to criticism is something to the effect of, "Who are you to talk?" "What do you know?" "Don't tell me what to do." The wise person, by contrast, understands that he has something to learn from all people, even those who are not necessarily as smart as he is. With wisdom comes the humility to recognize that all people, even the brightest and most successful, make mistakes and have more to learn. And so the wise person is open to constructive criticism, and willing to accept rebuke. Therefore, Shlomo tells us not to bother reprimanding the "Letz," the arrogant cynic, but to offer criticism to the wise person who is open to being corrected and advised. Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky (1891-1986) offered an additional explanation of this verse – suggesting that King Shlomo here teaches us not whom to reprimand, but how to reprimand. He is telling us that when we offer criticism, we should do so in a manner that makes the person feel like a wise person, and not like an evil "scoffer." Unfortunately, our instinct when giving criticism is to emphasize the severity of the misdeed, and how ashamed the person should feel for having committed such an act. This approach, while instinctive, is not only ineffective, but counterproductive. If we emphasize to the person the gravity of his wrongdoing, he is likely to either reject the criticism altogether, or simply despair. He will either not want to own up to the fact that he did something terrible, and thus dismiss the criticism, or he will acknowledge the severity of his bad behavior and decide that he's just bad and so there is no reason for him to try to improve. King Shlomo thus advises us, "Do not reprimand the scoffer" – do not criticize in a way that makes the person feel lowly. Instead, "…reprimand the wise" – make him feel important, wise and capable. The right way to criticize is by emphasizing to the individual his greatness, his vast potential, how much Hashem loves him and wants him to do the right thing, how much he is capable of achieving. If we criticize in a manner that makes the person feel "wise" and capable of greatness, then he will embrace the criticism, rather than reject it. This perhaps sheds new light on the continuation of the verse here in Parashat Kedoshim. After commanding, "Hochi'ah Tochi'ah Et Amitecha," the Torah adds, "Ve'lo Tisa Alav Het." This is commonly understood to mean, "and do not bear sin on his account," that is to say, if we fail to criticize, then we are held partially accountable for the person's continued misconduct. Alternatively, however, this could be read to mean, "Do not elevate the sin." When we reprimand, we should not emphasize the severity of the act, which will cause the person to despair. Rather than "elevate" the sin, we should instead elevate the person. We should emphasize not how bad the person behaved, but rather how good he is capable of behaving, how great he can become. This is a critical lesson relevant to education. When raising children or teaching students, the focus must be on building the child's self-esteem, making the child feel capable and helping him realize his potential. Rather than "elevate" the child's inevitable mistakes and failings, we must instead "elevate" his sense of self-worth, so he recognizes how great he can be and sets out to achieve that greatness.

Most of Parashiyot Tazria and Mesora deals with the intricate laws of Sara'at – a kind of infection which would surface on people's skin, garments, or homes. The Torah outlines specific requirements that must be obeyed by a person who sees a suspicious discoloration that might signify the presence of Sara'at, as well as the procedures to be followed should a discoloration be confirmed as Sara'at. A person confirmed to be stricken with bodily Sara'at would be banished from his city until he is cured. A garment with Sara'at, in certain situations, needed to be burned, and a home stricken with Sara'at would, in some instances, be dismantled. The Rabbis explained that Sara'at would befall a person as a punishment for certain sins. Even Sara'at on the body was not a medical condition, some sort of dermatological disorder. It was rather a punishment that G-d would bring upon a person on account of his misdeeds. In light of this, Rav Moshe Alshich (Sefat, 1508-1593) raised the question of why the Torah begins its discussion of Sara'at by addressing the situation of "Adam Ki Yiheyeh Be'or Besaro Se'et O Sapahat…" – where an "Adam" has a discoloration on his skin. "Adam" is one of several different words used by the Torah in reference to the human being, and the Alshich writes that this word refers specifically to "Shelomeh Emuneh Yisrael" – the faithfully observant among the Jewish people. It signifies a high level of obedience to Hashem, and is thus reserved for those who are religiously committed. The question naturally arises, then, as to why it is used here, in Parashat Tazria, in reference to a person stricken by Sara'at. If Sara'at would befall somebody who was guilty of grave misdeeds, then why is he called "Adam" – a title of distinction reserved for the spiritually devoted? The Alshich answers that to the contrary, it is only those who are generally righteous and pure whose bodies are impacted by the impurity of sin. If a person is entirely impure, then the sins he commits do not affect him to such an extent that he would be stricken by Sara'at because of them. It is only if a person is otherwise pure that an occasional misdeed would result in a Sara'at infection. A stain is noticeable only on an otherwise clean garment; if a garment is already covered with mud, a drop of food that falls on it will not be discernible. Likewise, it is only in a generally "clean" soul that the "stain" of sin causes a Sara'at infection. For this reason, the Alshich writes, Sara'at does not occur nowadays – because we are not on a high enough level of purity that the contamination of an occasional sin would leave an impression in the form of Sara'at. The Alshich explains on this basis a word used by the Torah later in this introductory verse: "VE'HAYA Be'or Besaro Le'nega Sara'at" ("And it shall be in the skin of his flesh a Sara'at affliction"). Ironically, the word "Ve'haya" is understood by our Sages as an allusion to joy. When this word is used, the Gemara (Megilla 10) teaches, it indicates an element of celebration. Seemingly, then, the word "Ve'haya" has no place here in the context of Sara'at infections. The Alshich explains that while the manifestation of Sara'at is, of course, very unfortunate, a harsh punishment brought upon a sinner, at the same time, it is a cause for joy, as it shows the person's overall stature of greatness. The fact that his "stain" is discernible proves that his soul is otherwise "clean." The onset of Sara'at thus brings the joy of knowing that one is generally pure and can retain his state of pristine purity through the process of Teshuba, by correcting the misdeeds for which he was punished with Sara'at.

The Torah in Parashat Shemini introduces the subject of "Ma'achalot Asurot" – the forbidden foods, outlining the general principles that govern which foods are permissible for consumption and which are not. In its conclusion of this topic, the Torah connects these laws to the concept of Kedusha, the sanctity of Beneh Yisrael: "Ve'hitkadishtem Vi'hyitem Kedoshim Ki Kadosh Ani" – "You shall sanctify yourselves and be sacred, for I am sacred…" (11:44). This association between "Ma'achalot Asurot" and the concept of Kedusha is underscored by the Rambam, who includes these laws in the "Kedusha" section of his halachic code. To explain this connection, Rav Eliyahu Bakshi-Doron (1941-2020), former Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, draws our attention to an important passage in the Midrash Tanhuma (Shemini, 6), which offers an analogy to a doctor who visited two ailing patients. He noticed that the first patient was gravely ill with little chance of surviving, whereas the second was likely to recover. The doctor told the first patient's family member to feed him whichever foods he wanted, whereas the family of the second patient were given very strict instructions regarding the patient's diet. Since the first patient in any event was not likely to live, the doctor explained, he could be allowed to enjoy whichever foods he wished. The second, however, had the potential to live, and so he needed to care for his health so that he could recover. The Midrash explains that the same is true of Am Yisrael and the other nations of the world. While there is no physical difference between us, and our bodies are no different than the bodies of other peoples, we are destined to "live," as the verse says in the Book of Debarim (4:4), "Ve'atem Ha'debekim B'Hashem Elokechem Haim Kulechem" – "And you, who are attached to Hashem your G-d, are living." Rav Bakshi-Doron explains that we are destined to receive a portion in the next world, in the eternal afterlife, where our souls will exist together with Hashem, and this is the "life" to which we are uniquely destined. We are "sacred" in the sense that we are given the potential to build a special connection with the Almighty. Therefore, we are given a special "diet" that we must follow. We of course do not understand the spiritual effects of kosher food and non-kosher food, but Hashem Himself – the greatest "doctor" – informed us of which foods we must abstain from in order to preserve our spiritual health so we can build a unique connection with Him and become the holy people that we are meant to become. Rav Bakshi-Doron adds that this explains why the laws of "Ma'achalot Asurot" appear here in Parashat Shemini, which also tells of the events that took place when the Mishkan was inaugurated. The purpose of the Mishkan, as Hashem famously told Moshe back in Parashat Teruma (Shemot 25:8), is "Ve'shachanti Be'tocham" – that Hashem would reside among His people. Through the Mishkan, Hashem came to live intimately with us, to dwell within each and every member of our nation. The Mishkan, then, signifies the special relationship that we are to build with our Creator, the unique spiritual potential that we have been given. This is the connection between the Mishkan – the most powerful symbol of our unique spiritual potential – and "Ma'achalot Asurot," the laws we must observe in order to bring that potential into fruition. Hashem chose us to become a special nation – and to that end, He equipped us with special potential and abilities. This does not mean we are naturally better than others – rather, it means that we are given the responsibility and the challenge to rise to greater heights, and we are guaranteed the ability to meet this challenge if we truly strive to. Once we recognize our unique spiritual mission, and the unique potential we have to complete this mission, we will feel more confident and more driven to pursue spiritual greatness, to maximize our potential, and become the great people that we are expected to become.

Abarbanel on the Parasha | Tzav | 5785 | Fire on the Mizbe'ach, by Rav Elyakim Krumbein What does this mean? Join us for this exciting new series in the commentary of the Abarbanel.