Behar: The Price of Tea in China

This week's parasha begins with the classic seemingly irrational juxtaposition in Jewish literature. God commands Moshe regarding shemitta (The Sabbatical Year) at Mt. Sinai. Since the location of the command seems unnecessary, the commentators deal with the question, "What does shemitta have to do with Mt. Sinai???" This cry has withstood the test of time and even serves as the Jewish version of the question "What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"

Other difficulties regarding this parasha exist as well. The continuum of Emor and Behar deal with special events throughout the Jewish calendar. How does this fit in with the first seven parshiyot of Vayikra which, on the most obvious level, deal with human holiness and purity.

The final question relates to the beginning and end of the parasha. The last verse of Behar repeats the verse from Kedoshim "And you shall keep my Sabbath and awe my Mikdash, I am G-d." Significantly, the two institutions mentioned here, Sabbath and Mikdash, parallel the two institutions which our parasha opens with, Shemitta and Mt. Sinai. Shabbat and shemitta contain an obvious relationship - they both become holy as the seventh unit of cycle. Mt. Sinai and the Mikdash as well, though less obvious, correspond, especially according to the Ramban, for whom the Mikdash represents a concretization and perpetuation of the Sinai experience the connection becomes quite compelling.

The two imperatives associated with Shabbat and Mikdash at the endof this weeks parasha, "Mora" and "Shmira," highlight two different themes which essentially exist in both. Shmira emphasizes the holiness of the institution in and of itself. Mora articulates the idea that this fixture stands as an asylum from the mundane. The awe associated with Mikdash stems from the fact that it contrasts the remainder of all other places. These two elements become floating categories which can be applied to nearly any type of holiness - independent holiness and contextual holiness. As we have seen throughout the last fifteen parshiyot, ever since the Revelation at Mt. Sinai, both types of holiness can permeate all three dimensions of creation - Time, Space and Spirit. The beginning of Sefer Vayikra deals thoroughly and primarily with human holiness, from the Kohein Gadol (High Priest) down to the Jew at work. In Emor the Torah turns to holiness in time, and this continues through Behar as well.

The part of Behar which lies sandwiched between the bookends of Shemitta/Mt. Sinai and Shabbat/Mikdash deals primarily with Shemitta and Yovel (Jubilee) but contains an interesting theme. Many commandments mentioned here deal with normal, everyday business transactions but then relate back to Shemitta somehow. Everything seems to point to the overarching idea that "Le-Hashem Haaretz Umloah" - the world is God's. All wealth and prosperity comes as His gift, and we must use it accordingly. This means honesty, charity, and even a prohibition of overcharging (after all of that, it still has something to do with the price of tea in China). Shemitta embodies this aspect of holiness - spending a full year reliant on God for sustenance puts the wealth of the ensuing six years in a totally different perspective. Of all of the times imbued with holiness, that of Shemitta seems to highlight specifically the aspect pertaining to contextual focus- Mora. The religious awareness supplied by Shemitta relates directly to our behavior during the six non- Shemitta years. Shemitta itself, however, has very few commandments dealing with active holiness such as special prayers or mitzvot (Yovel, on the other hand, may be exactly like Shemitta in action, but highlight more of the second aspect of kedusha- Ve-kidashtem et shnat ha-chamishim [Sanhedrin 13b]).

At the opposite end of the spectrum lies one institution which stands as pure independent holiness unrelated to environment or context. For one brief moment in history, there was a place where God and man first met face to face. It was a holy place - no man could set foot upon it (in line with Shmira- restrictive action, unlike Shemitta, where the restriction serves as a reminder, here it establishes transcendence) - but nevertheless, its holiness did not overflow into the surrounding areas to the degree that it does in Jerusalem and Israel (there are 10 concentric levels of holiness from Israel into the Holy of Holies). This place, of course, was Mt. Sinai.

Significantly, we can now see that the mention of Mt. Sinai fits extraordinarily well with the section on Shemitta- they mark the extremes of the different aspects of holiness. However, to remind not to always focus upon extremities and to realize that holy institutions can embody both aspects, the Torah implores us "Shabtotai tishmoru u-Mikdashi tira'u." Shabbat, besides becoming the spiritual focus of the entire week, must contain the independent, transcendent element as well. Mikdash perpetuates the Sinai experience to this day, and has at its center the Ark containing the shattered remnants of the first tablets- the only vestige of the initial Sinai encounter. Nevertheless, it must stand at the center of our national religious geography and consciousness. We must introduce this element of Mora into Mikdash. What a fitting conclusion to a fifteen-parasha excursion into the definition, perpetuation, and hierarchical implementation of the Jewish idea of Holiness.

Courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion - www.etzion.org.il

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Bechukotai: The Pursued with no Pursuer

Parashat Bechukotai contains the first of the two tokhachot, the 'admonitions,' in which God warns of what will happen to us if we turn away from Him and His mitzvot (Vayikra 26:15-46). Towards the beginning, we are told that we shall fall before our enemies and that they shall rule us. We are then told that we shall flee; yet no one will be actually pursuing us (Vayikra 26:17). This is, presumably, a way of portraying utter terror. People are running away, yet, no enemy is present.

 

Rabbeinu Heschel of Krakow (circa 1595-1664) asks why the admonition relates that there is no one actually pursuing. Surely it is preferable to flee and not be pursued, than actually to be pursued! He answers this question by quoting a medrash in Parashat Emor (Vayikra Rabba 27:5), which teaches that God always seeks after one who is persecuted (the word"nirdafholds both meanings: pursued and persecuted). The argument is radical: "Even if a righteous man pursues a wicked man, nevertheless, 'God seeks after the pursued' (Koheleth 3:15)." God takes up the case of the persecuted, regardless of his own merit. Therefore, says Rabbeinu Heschel of Krakow, were we actually to have pursuers, God would have to come to our aid. However, since we would be fleeing without pursuers, we would not have hope of deliverance without merit.

 

Perhaps the logic is the following: God always comes to the aid of the persecuted. This means that whenever there is a rift between two people, God will take the side of the persecuted. It says something about how God intervenes in the world, and in history. But it does not mean that if someone brings upon himself a psychological obsession of being persecuted, he may hope to receive automatic attention from God.

 

This may be an important insight regarding various forms of suffering from anti-Semitism. Often, memories of persecution trigger a psychological state in which individuals, or communities, feel unstable, although, in reality, there is no danger present. It would seem that this verse relates to such a condition. Specifically then it may be especially hard to find God, and feel His closeness. No one is pursuing. There is no meaning to taking the side of the pursued individual, as, in reality, there is no chase.

Courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion - www.etzion.org.il

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Behar: Giving Charity with Illogical Insistence, but Wisely

 

In Parashat Behar we are prohibited from taking interest (Vayikra 25:35-38). Rather, we are told, when "your brother" begins to fall you must "hold onto him" (Vayikra 25:35). This is one of the sources of the mitzva to give charity. The verse ends with the additional qualification that the declining individual "shall live with you". Both the term "to hold onto", and the stipulation "he shall live with you", are in need of clarification. They seem to imply something concerning the nature of charity.

 

In Torat Kohanim the sages interpret this verse in a manner that reveals matters of great importance to us, relating to widespread issues in modern society. The first peculiarity, the phrase, "you shall hold onto him", is understood as suggesting a continuous and persistent action. Even if it is necessary to uphold the declining person repeatedly, we are commanded to provide support again and again. The commandment to give charity is not a one-time action of giving another a chance. Often, one that falls financially once, does not succeed in rehabilitating himself at the first opportunity. It is not our business whether the other is to be blamed for his repeated decline; we have an obligation to support him. Perhaps the poor individual does not know how to use intelligently the money and support that he receives; this, however, does not discharge you of your responsibility.

 

There is one exception to this rule. Often the declining individual is not only unsuccessful in using the support he receives in order to extricate himself from his sad situation, he even uses it to fall farther. In such a situation, the good intended helping hand becomes a catalyst in the spiraling cycle of self-destruction. Our sages understood this verse to relate to such a situation also: "perhaps even if you are causing him to be lost to bad influence? Therefore it says: 'with you'."

 

The aim of your continuous and repeated support must be for the weak individual to "live with you". As elsewhere in the Torah, "with you" is understood to imply a closeness and identification. The care one gives must be aimed at rehabilitation; the goal must be for the poor to be integrated into society. While one must provide support even if this objective is not fulfilled successfully, one must ensure that it is not being undermined.

 

We are obligated to never leave the declining, but return almost illogically to support one that cannot untangle himself from his troubles. This must, however, never become an act of simplistic apathetic piety. One must ensure that the assistance does not become an added aspect of the individual's fall. Charity must be given with an almost illogical insistence, but this must be joined by a prudent concern.

Courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion - www.etzion.org.il
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Bechukotai: Living Together

The Jewish people have never been a large nation. Our strength lies in quality, not quantity. Nonetheless, precisely because we are so few in number, every Jew counts. Our vulnerability makes it incumbent upon us to work together as we strive to meet our mandate of being a holy nation that is a light unto the rest of the world. 

Sina'at chinam, indifference towards others, is something that is much more deadly to us than most. Other nations can fight with each other, even to the extent of civil wars, survive more or less intact and move on. For the Jewish people, such actions are catastrophic. In fact, we have yet to recover from the last civil war we fought—over the issue of how to deal with the Roman conquest of Israel. The fighting that ensued, pitting those who wanted accommodation with the Romans versus those willing to fight to the bitter end, led to the destruction of the Jewish state and the beginning of a long period of Jewish suffering. 

While communal discord leads to exile, the opposite is also true. Exile leads to further discord, condemning us to a vicious cycle of fighting and suffering. The Torah in this week's parsha lists a series of misfortunes that will befall us for neglect of Torah—the longer we are obstinate in our refusal to follow G-d's word, the greater the punishment. Towards the end of these dire curses the Torah warns us, "And they stumble, one against the other, as if chased by a sword, even when there is no one pursuing. And there will no means of standing up before your enemies" (Vayikra 26:37). This verse follows on the heels of the Torah foretelling our exile from the land (apparently due to ignoring the laws of the shmitta, the sabbatical year). 

When people are uprooted from their natural surroundings, their natural instinct is to become closer to one another; just think of your reaction to seeing a stranger wearing a kippa on a foreign airplane. Somehow, two Jews travelling will gravitate towards each other, something they might not do if they are sitting at opposite ends of shul. Our joint needs propel us together. 

Yet the Netziv, who witnessed 19th century state anti-Semitism firsthand, points out that against the natural instinct to join together in times of travail, the Jewish people have often intensified their bickering. As terrible as the consequences of sina’at chinam are when we dwell in our own land, it has even more severe consequences when we are concentrated outside the land of Israel. While dwelling in our own country serves to unite us—no matter how bitter our disputes may be—as a people scattered to foreign lands, it is only our unified front that can ensure our survival. Too much fighting amongst ourselves will allow for our defeat, even "when there is no one pursuing". 

This infighting, Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch points out, is the unfortunate natural consequence of galut, exile. Living in fear of attack by the enemy, we tend to think of ourselves and ourselves only. The solidarity necessary for us to confront our adversaries is forgotten as the need to preserve ourselves becomes dominant. This has been the fate of the vast majority of Jews throughout history. The small remnant that survives today—some 12 million of us, astonishingly little after 4,000 years of history—are the exceptional ones. We survivors have managed to rise above thinking only of ourselves, fulfilling the Talmudic maxim that the Jewish people are merciful, modest and dispensers of loving kindness. 

Yet while the unbelievably warm Jewish heart has allowed us to survive in the coldest of climates, we have not managed to fully eradicate sina’at chinam from our midst. Our peaceful return to the land is predicated on replacing this cancer with ahavat chinam. Only when we "will confess the sins and the sins of the fathers" (26:40) will G-d "remember the covenant with Jacob and My covenant with Isaac and My covenant with Abraham and the land I will remember" (26:42). 

The Talmud instructs us to read parshat Bechukotai, containing these words of reproof (tochecha), just before the holiday of Shavuot. On Shavuot, we stood at Sinai "with one heart, as one person". We must strive to recreate the atmosphere of Sinai, allowing the curses of the tochecha to be relegated to past history. 

Courtesy of Torah in Motion - www.torahinmotion.org

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זעקה בוטה

 

ספר תהלים נפתח (א-ב) ב"אשרי האיש", באמונת הגמול ליחיד, ומיד בצמוד אליו - "למה רגשו גוים... על ה' ועל משיחו" - הפרט והכלל, היחיד והיחד.

גם כאן, מיד אחרי ההתמודדות האמונית הקשה מול הצלחת הרשעים וייסורי הצדיקים, באה ההתמודדות מול החורבן הנורא, עם תיאורים דומים למגילת 'איכה', ועם זעקה בוטה לישועה קרובה, בלי לחכות לדורות הבאים!

'ריבונו של עולם, "הַבֵּט לַבְּרִית"! אַל תִתֵן ניצחון לאויביך, וחרפה לשמך'

אַתָּה פוֹרַרְתָּ בְעָזְּךָ יָם, שִׁבַּרְתָּ רָאשֵׁי תַנִּינִים עַל הַמָּיִם - שלדי דינוזאורים היו ידועים בתרבויות הקדומות, וכך תוארה אצלם מלחמה  מיתולוגית נגד התנינים ביצירת העולם המוכר לנו; התורה שללה תפיסה זו, שכן כתוב (בראשית א, כא) – "ויברא א-להים את התנינִם גדולים" (ראו רמב"ן שם) – אבל בנביאים (ישעיהו כז, א; נא, ט-י), ובתהלים משמשים ה'תנינים' כמשל על רשעי עולם, וכן באיוב (מ-מא).


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הכאב יהיה לנצח?

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שאלת הגמול - השיא

 

במזמורי 'אסף' לדורותיהם באה לידי ביטוי העזה גדולה בחשיפה מרחיקת לכת של לבטים קשים - רגשות יראה ואמונה מול מציאות מזעזעת המאיימת למוטט כליל את עולמו של המשורר המאמין, אשר ממשיך להיאחז באמונתו למרות הכל.

מזמורי 'אסף' אינם מדור אחד של "אסף ואחיו" מימי דוד (דברי הימים א טז, ז, לז; כה, א-ג), ולא רק צאצאים רחוקים מימי חזקיהו (דברי הימים ב כט, ל), כי אנו מוצאים כאן מזמורי חורבן גמור של העיר והמקדש (במיוחד עד ועט). לכן מדובר ביצירה רב דורית של 'אסף ובניו', מימי התפארת וההוד עד חורבן בית ראשון, ומעט אחריו. 

במזמורי 'דוד' (לו עד מא) כבר מצאנו ויכוח דרמטי בנפש המשורר, בהתמודדות עם ה'רָשָע' שבקרב לִבו (לו), עם קולות מרגיעים המאמינים בגמול הנכון, שיגיע לרשעים בדומה להשקפתם של רֵעֵי איוב (לז), עם מזמורי 'איוב' (לח/לט), ועם "שיר חדש" של התאוששות והתחזקות (מ/מא).

אבל "מזמור לאסף" מביא את ההתלבטות הפנימית בשאלת הגמול, לשיא.

המשורר מודה, שכמעט התמוטטה אמונתו בצדק וביושר, מפני ההצלחה המדהימה של רשעי עולם, עד שאמר בלִבו, שביטחונו בצדק הוא לשווא, ולכן גם אין טעם להתאמץ לנהוג ביושר. כל זה עד למפנה דרמטי.

יש שתי אפשרויות לפרש את המפנה:

האפשרות הפשוטה (או הפשטנית) היא, שהמשורר גילה את סופם ואת חיסולם של הרשעים, איך ייעלמו ברגע אחד - ואז נרגע, התאושש ושב לדבקותו בא-לוהים ביתר ביטחון ועוז.

האפשרות המעמיקה יותר היא, שהמשורר הגיע לנקודת מבט רוחנית מתוך מבט של קדושה, שבה אין עוד שום משמעות וערך ל'הצלחות' הרשעים והם נעלמו מתודעתו, ברגע אחד נמחקו, הסיוט הכפרני התפוגג, והמשורר גילה מחדש את משמעותה המופלאה של "קרבת א-להים".


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בטחון בנהג

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בן של

 

באיזו זכות יכול בן לשבת ולמלוך על כסא אביו, ועוד לשלוט "מִיָּם עַד יָם, וּמִנָּהָר עַד אַפְסֵי אָרֶץ" (עב, ח)? הלוא המוות הוא קצה הגבול של כל אדם באשר הוא, ומלכות נצח שמורה לא-לוהים לבדו?!

בכמה מזמורים (סוף מא, סא) מצאנו את חלומו של דוד לשבת לפני ה' לעולם:
"אָגוּרָה בְאָהָלְךָ עוֹלָמִים...
נָתַתָּ יְרֻשַּת יִרְאֵי שְׁמֶךָ –
יָמִים עַל יְמֵי מֶלֶךְ תּוֹסִיף...
יֵשֵׁב עוֹלָם לִפְנֵי אֱ-לֹהִים" (סא, ה-ח),

ואת התודה הגדולה על הזכות "לִהְיוֹת לְעוֹלָם לְפָנֶיךָ" (שמואל ב ז, כט) -  הזכות הזאת התממשה בשלמה על כיסא דוד. אבל בניגוד למזמור מה, שם מתוארים חיי שלמה מנקודת המבט של היופי והזוהר, החכמה, הפאר והנשים, במזמור עב הזכות היא רק אחת – "אֱ-לֹהִים מִשְׁפָּטֶיךָ לְמֶלֶךְ תֵּן, וְצִדְקָתְךָ לְבֶן מֶלֶךְ".

שופט צדק אשר מושיע אביונים וחלשים, בדיוק כמו החזון המשיחי של ישעיהו (יא), רק לפניו יכרעו ברך "וְיִשְׁתַּחֲווּ לוֹ כָל מְלָכִים" (עב, יא).  

שני הפסוקים האחרונים שבמזמור הם ברכה קדומה, שהיו אומרים אותה בסופי מזמורים, ובמיוחד בסיום קובצי מזמורים (כמו חמשת ספרי תהלים). אנו מוצאים חתימה דומה בסוף המזמור שלפני הארון (דברי הימים א טז, לה-לו). הברכות הקדומות היו באות יחד עם מזמורי תפילה, ורק בדור יבנה, אחרי החורבן, נשמטו רוב המזמורים ונותרו הברכות לבדן.[5]  

הפסוק האחרון איננו הערה על סידור ספר תהלים, כי יופיעו מזמורי "לְדָוִד", גם בהמשך, אלא הוא חוזר למזמור עב, כדי לומר לנו שהמזמור על שלמה מהווה חתימה למזמורי דוד, כי המלכת שלמה היא הסתלקותו של דוד.


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