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Israel was in the heat of the War of Independence and Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz had just been blessed with the birth of a baby boy. Shells rained from the sky as the Rabbi and a family member who accompanied him made their way to attend the Bris Milah (circumcision). When the shells began falling they would take shelter in houses along the way, and then continue the journey to the Bris.

During a break in the shelling they saw an injured child, arms and feet in bandages, through one of the doorways they passed. The sight of this young casualty tore at the Rabbi’s heart and he stood by the doorway with tearful eyes. His companion urged him to continue on to the Bris celebration, but the Rabbi remained locked in his tracks. “Some foolishly think that sharing the burden with someone only means to offer assistance,” he explained. “His injuries have already been addressed, and I can no longer physically help the boy, but I can still share his pain.”

The Jewish encampment was ready to travel forward to the promised land when Miriam the prophetess was stricken with Tzaraas (spiritual leprosy). For her sake millions of men, women and children delayed their journey. Rashi comments that she merited this immense honor, because as a child she stood and watched her baby brother Moshe float down the Nile River. Miriam couldn’t help her brother — she could only watch and offer her heart’s pain. (Otzros HaTorah, 120)

Hardly a day passes without hearing of a car accident, a death in a family, a lost job, or a house burning down. With today’s swift communication, and with the common obsession to stay on top of the news, tragic stories have lost their edge, and we’ve become almost numb to the burden of others. If we can offer assistance, we certainly should, but In most cases there’s little we can do to physically help. We can’t lend a hand, but we can still lend a heart. There’s an abundance of hurt and anguish in the world, but there’s so many hearts that can be offered in support.

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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Passover has Matzah, the Seder, and wine. Sukkos has the Four Species and the Sukkah. But what does Shavuos have?

It has the Torah! This is the day when God gave the Torah to the Jewish people. And because our holidays are not simply commemorations, but eternal links back to the sanctity of each Holy Day, this is the day when G-d renews His ultimate gift and enables us to grab our share.

It is truly the ultimate gift, the most important thing we have. Eating Matzah is a great Mitzvah, but it’s not equated to the combination of all the other Commandments. Sitting in a Sukkah, likewise. But Torah? “Learning Torah is equal to them all!”

I realized in the past few days that sometimes writer’s block comes because the topic is simply too big. To talk about the value of Torah should take a lifetime. It is the be-all and end-all of Jewish survival throughout the ages; it is why we are still here and still calling ourselves the Jewish people.

Do we really understand that? I don’t think so, because it defies human understanding. Our Sages tell us that it is the Torah that makes the Jewish people defy the rules of anthropology. The rule in question goes like this: whenever a nation is conquered by a new power with new beliefs — even “conquered” from within, such as by Communism, much less taken over by a foreign culture, much less if the inhabitants are exiled to other lands — within generations, the old ways die out. Yet the beliefs of all the nations that conquered us have vanished, and it is ours that remain. Nothing remains of the old idolatries of the Egyptians, Babylonians, Greeks and Romans. And not only is our Torah still here, its influence has spread. As a nation we are reviled, but our Torah is treated as sacred by more than half the world.

The Torah is truly our link to eternity — and this Shavuos, may we all be able to grasp eternity as never before.

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Last night I got one of “those” shopping carts. Finding it blocking the supermarket door, I figured this cart was somehow meant for me. As I prepared to push it down the aisle, though, my misfortune became clear: the wheels forcefully veered to the right. My shopping experience would now be marred by the constant need to realign my shopping cart!

Man would naturally take advantage of every opportunity to grow in his relationship with the Creator, if it were not for a force that constantly pushes him off his desired path. The human soul has every desire to reunite with its source, the Al-mighty Himself. While the nature of our spirit is to mature and reach upward, our physical nature stunts the growth and pulls us in undesired directions.

These challenging circumstances are a product of the Creator Himself, designed to make our relationship with Him a result of meaningful victories over opposition. Something that comes easily is worth very little. Fortunately, G-d also provided us with the means to curb this physical force and set the wheels of our soul back on course. “I created the inclination towards evil, and I created the Torah as it’s antidote.” (Talmud Kiddushin 30b)

The Torah reading of Bechukosai begins “Im Bechukosai Teileichu – If you go with my statutes.” Rashi‘s commentary understands this as an imperative to toil in Torah study. The root word of “BeCHUKosai”, Rav Tzadok HaKohen ztl explains, is ”Chok“ which refers to something engraved. Devoting time and energy into a project has a symbiotic effect  – the project leaves an impression on those laboring over it. Says Rav Tzadok, intense Torah study, wrapping ones mind around the infinitely profound wisdom of G-d Himself, engraves the soul. The greater the dose of intense Torah study, the deeper impression it makes on the spiritual. As a result, the wheels of the soul are gradually realigned, and Man is pulled back on course in his relationship with the Al-mighty. This is what is meant by “Teileichu – you will go.” As we said, the soul naturally goes forward in its growth, its progression towards its Heavenly Source. The toil over the Torah’s wisdom gets engraved on ones heart and sets the soul back on that course.

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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In this week’s reading, the Torah talks about Shabbos, the Sabbath. In this case, however, it comes with an unusual introduction. “Speak to the Children of Israel, and say to them the festivals of G-d, which you shall declare, the Holy Convocation — these are my festivals. Six days shall you do labor, and on the seventh day, it is the Sabbath, a holy convocation, all creative labor you shall not do…” [Lev. 23:2-3] Why does the Torah start talking about festivals, and immediately detour into Shabbos?

One answer, of course, is that the Sabbath is indeed a festival in its own right. But the Ohr HaChayim gives a different answer, especially because the total repeats “these are the festivals of G-d” after this mention of Shabbos, before going through the holidays. As with everything in the Torah, there is no needless repetition; everything has a meaning.

When the Torah says that these are the festivals “which you shall declare,” it is meant quite literally. When there was a Sanhedrin, it was responsible for declaring each new month based upon eyewitness testimony that the moon had appeared. It also decided in what years a second Adar should occur, in order to keep the holidays in their proper seasons. The calendar only became set when Hillel the Second, descendant of Hillel the Elder, realized that the Sanhedrin would be disbanded due to the exile, and laid out a calendar to be used until it formed once again.

His set calendar is a mathematical marvel. It is based upon an extremely precise calculation of the length of both the lunar and solar cycles, without which we would shortly end up with Pesach in the fall (with apologies to our friends in the southern hemisphere, who experience this each year). This is not because Hillel was a mathematician, but because he received this knowledge from earlier generations. The Sanhedrin always knew when it was possible for the moon to appear, yet relied upon eyewitness testimony as long as it was feasible to do so. Israel, by declaring the festivals, helps create these times each year. It is a partnership between Israel and G-d.

The Ohr HaChayim explains: not so, the Sabbath — and this is why the Torah pauses before beginning to describe the festivals. Otherwise, you might think that if the Sanhedrin says so, the Sabbath can also be put off or moved up a day. The Torah tells us that this is not the case. There is no partnership on this occasion; the Sabbath comes every seven days, “ready or not!”

The same is true when it comes to the complete limitation of creative labor on Shabbos. People sometimes mistranslate “melachah” as “work,” and then wonder why it’s okay for the Rabbi to work harder on Shabbos than any other day, and why it’s not okay to take a trip to the beach. This is because “melachah” is creative labor — changing the world.

The Torah tells us that we cannot change the time of the Sabbath, and on the Sabbath, we cannot make constructive changes in the physical world around us. And because we have an innate need to be constructive, to do something — we are left with the spiritual. The restrictions of the Sabbath force us to look inwards. We can’t change the physical world around us; we can only change ourselves, and say things that help others to change themselves as well.

On Shabbos, you can go in and change the world!