Parshat Vayikra
by Rabbi Avi Billet
As we begin a new book in the Torah, we are once again introduced to the sacrificial order. Beyond the reminders of proper behavior that accompany the depiction of sacrifices, what else can we learn from how the sacrifices are told to us, particularly in a world in which we do not have the Temple?
The final passages of chapter 5 speak of offerings for dishonesty. Aside from the need to return stolen items, for example, and pay an additional fifth, the person who was irresponsible with others' property would have to bring a sacrifice.
"He must bring his guilt offering to God. An unblemished ram, worth the prescribed amount, as a guilt offering through the kohen. The priest shall make atonement for him before God, and he will then be forgiven for any commitment of crime for which he is guilty." (5:25-26)
Rabbi Mendele of Rimanov recounted a custom that when the reader would conclude the Torah reading with the words "he is guilty," "l'ashmah va," in order for the reading to not end on such a sour note the congregation would rise and chant a phrase whose words begin with the letters that spell "l'ashmah va": "L'el Asher SHavat Mikol Hama'asim Bayom Hashvii." This phrase means "to God who rested on the seventh day from all that He did."
In the book Otzar HaChaim, the author suggests that perhaps the significance of this phrase being utilized here is that the observance of Shabbos is a way in which people return the idea of creation to the Master of Creation. He created for six days. We honor that through working six days. He rested on the seventh. We honor that gift to the world through giving it back to its Master through our rest on the Sabbath. This is significant at the end of the passage describing returning lost items.
Of course the idea to end any conversation or speech on a positive note is one we ought to embrace. Some conversations are hard, difficult in fact. And they might leave someone with a sour feeling unless a positive note is spun into the message. And the sour note could easily be a turnoff. So we have to be positive whenever we can.
The second lesson is a dual message of honesty and Sabbath observance. I have heard it noted in anger that people who are not observant of the Sabbath are not fit to serve as witnesses on religious documents.
Anger is certainly one response. But a different response, of understanding, might be helpful. No one questions the honesty, or the capabilities of witnessing of a person who is not Sabbath-observant.
But the perspective that ought to be considered is this. There is an inherent contradiction in attesting to a document that only has value because of the religion, while living a life that, in a sense, takes away from the God who rested on the seventh day and made it holy, thereby creating the most fundamental tenet of said religion (which is mentioned over 15 times in the Torah).
Do these Jews deny God? Do they not believe in Him? I think on the contrary - they believe in God and honor Him in the manner they can. And I hope they're always hoping and striving to rise and always aim to get closer to Him.
Until that time, however, halakha does not allow that person to serve as a witness for religious events, such as for a wedding or the signing of the ketubah.
What's the positive spin? Non-Sabbath-observant Jews can pray, lead davening, say Kaddish, recite blessings, and we all respond. Non-observant Jews count for a minyan.
We must love all our fellow Jews even as we hope and encourage them (and all of us) to grow in our Jewish connections and religious responsibilities.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
Men and Women - Equal In the Need to Serve God...
... and otherwise DIFFERENT, but it shouldn't be a competition!!
Parshat Vayakhel-Fekudei
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When the donations were finally brought to the Tabernacle, the Torah describes how the men and women came. But the phraseology utilized (beginning of 35:22) is questionable. A literal translation would be “and the men came on/above/in addition to the women,” which leaves us wondering what happened, and what was the motivation. Some possibilities from notable English translations: They came – both men and women (Hertz); The men came with the women (Artscroll); The men accompanied the women (Kaplan).
These translations are split between indicating that the men and women came with equal devotion, and the possibility of reading that the men took charge and they brought the women along, or that the women took charge and they brought the men along.
Which is correct? We’ll never know.
Some are of the view that just as the women specifically were unwilling to give of their earrings for the Golden Calf, they were first to show that THIS is how you donate your jewelry. (Ramban and Ibn Ezra HaKatzar, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch) Others posit that the men rushed to make amends for the golden calf, so they were, in fact, front and center donating. (Medrash Aggadah) Rashi and Ibn Ezra say that the key word (“al”) actually means “with” here – the men and women came together in a joint effort. The Baal HaTurim supports this noting an equivalence in numerical values (gematria) of the first eight-word-phrase of 35:22 and “Az Ish v’Ishto ba’im Yachad.” (the man and his wife came together).
Advocating a more nuanced approach, the Daat Zekenim and the Rosh suggest the men came along to “plunder” the women’s jewelry – this time for the service of God. And despite how it seems, the women were happy to be giving. Their joy in donating their precious jewelry is what caused women to be given the special monthly holiday of Rosh Chodesh.
A number of commentaries introduce a halakhic analysis of what women are permitted to give away, as discussed in the Talmud Bava Kama 118b. Are they allowed to donate jewelry given to them by their husbands? The Talmud assumes that women are so naturally giving, they would give everything away if they had the opportunity. So the more practically minded man, who is more in tune to finances, needs to have a more significant say (this might not reflect the reality of contemporary home-financing). This would lead, according to Seforno, Toldos Yitzchak, Haksav V’Hakabbalah, etc to a conversation, which brought husband and wife to the same conclusion. “I will give my jewelry to the Mishkan.” “And I support your doing that.”
One interpretation raised by Or HaChaim is to read the word not as “and the [men] came on/with the women” (ויבאו) but as “and the men brought what was on the women” (ויביאו) (in Hebrew a modification of one vowel allows for this).
There is no place for any argument or discussion of who is better or stronger, or who has a more complete relationship with the Almighty. We all have our roles, we all have our responsibilities. Men and women certainly have different emotional makeup, and we all come at our obligations from a combination of our upbringing, our training, our feelings, what we’ve learned, and however we define what it means to love God with our hearts, souls and might. We all have strengths and weaknesses, which make us imperfect, and hopefully we find balance in our lives - either by ourselves, or with the help of family members or professional-counselors.
These sources give credit, in different ways, to the two sexes, for having the awareness to try to be good people, or to atone for mistakes, or demonstrate their dedication to halakha, and their desire to do everything they could for the Mishkan.
Too much time is wasted talking about men and women. Should the speaker be a woman or a man? Should the voice heard in a panel be a man or a woman? Which is the stronger sex? Who is the bigger scholar? There isn’t enough diversity of presenters. What gives a man a right to speak about a subject relating to women? What gives a woman a right to opine about how a man should behave?
Truth is truth, and should come from whoever speaks it. The speaker is either talented, scholarly, and motivational, or the speaker is something else. Truth isn’t defined by the genitalia a person possesses.
I think that, in general, our differences in obligation and responsibility are clear. And yes, there are differences. But the Mishkan dedication was meant to demonstrate that there is a time to stop talking about men and women and just serve God. One woman I know has told me on a number of occasions, “When are we going to stop these ‘Women in the Bible’ classes and just focus on Torah?” Her point is stop trying to reaffirm relevance by harping on gender! Teach Torah!
I recently heard Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter tell a tale of how one of his prize female Talmud students gave a class to semicha students at Yeshiva University just to show them that any generalization of capability in Talmud study they may have is ill-founded. Men and women can be (assuming similar amounts of time studied) equally impressive in learning and teaching.
Instead of talking about how wonderful we all are, it is time to learn from those who dedicated to the Mishkan. Just as the women at that time didn’t get caught up in the Golden Calf and were front and center in donating to the Mishkan, women today ought to focus on their strengths in dedication to God. And those with men in their lives ought to be proud of and encourage their participation per their roles, especially wives for their husbands.
Just as the men at that time understood what guilt is and jumped on the opportunity to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf through doubling down on serving God, similar feelings should be extant today. Men should not only embrace their own roles with love, but ought to glow with pride over the commitment to God of the women in their lives, especially husbands for their wives.
Parshat Vayakhel-Fekudei
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When the donations were finally brought to the Tabernacle, the Torah describes how the men and women came. But the phraseology utilized (beginning of 35:22) is questionable. A literal translation would be “and the men came on/above/in addition to the women,” which leaves us wondering what happened, and what was the motivation. Some possibilities from notable English translations: They came – both men and women (Hertz); The men came with the women (Artscroll); The men accompanied the women (Kaplan).
These translations are split between indicating that the men and women came with equal devotion, and the possibility of reading that the men took charge and they brought the women along, or that the women took charge and they brought the men along.
Which is correct? We’ll never know.
Some are of the view that just as the women specifically were unwilling to give of their earrings for the Golden Calf, they were first to show that THIS is how you donate your jewelry. (Ramban and Ibn Ezra HaKatzar, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch) Others posit that the men rushed to make amends for the golden calf, so they were, in fact, front and center donating. (Medrash Aggadah) Rashi and Ibn Ezra say that the key word (“al”) actually means “with” here – the men and women came together in a joint effort. The Baal HaTurim supports this noting an equivalence in numerical values (gematria) of the first eight-word-phrase of 35:22 and “Az Ish v’Ishto ba’im Yachad.” (the man and his wife came together).
Advocating a more nuanced approach, the Daat Zekenim and the Rosh suggest the men came along to “plunder” the women’s jewelry – this time for the service of God. And despite how it seems, the women were happy to be giving. Their joy in donating their precious jewelry is what caused women to be given the special monthly holiday of Rosh Chodesh.
A number of commentaries introduce a halakhic analysis of what women are permitted to give away, as discussed in the Talmud Bava Kama 118b. Are they allowed to donate jewelry given to them by their husbands? The Talmud assumes that women are so naturally giving, they would give everything away if they had the opportunity. So the more practically minded man, who is more in tune to finances, needs to have a more significant say (this might not reflect the reality of contemporary home-financing). This would lead, according to Seforno, Toldos Yitzchak, Haksav V’Hakabbalah, etc to a conversation, which brought husband and wife to the same conclusion. “I will give my jewelry to the Mishkan.” “And I support your doing that.”
One interpretation raised by Or HaChaim is to read the word not as “and the [men] came on/with the women” (ויבאו) but as “and the men brought what was on the women” (ויביאו) (in Hebrew a modification of one vowel allows for this).
There is no place for any argument or discussion of who is better or stronger, or who has a more complete relationship with the Almighty. We all have our roles, we all have our responsibilities. Men and women certainly have different emotional makeup, and we all come at our obligations from a combination of our upbringing, our training, our feelings, what we’ve learned, and however we define what it means to love God with our hearts, souls and might. We all have strengths and weaknesses, which make us imperfect, and hopefully we find balance in our lives - either by ourselves, or with the help of family members or professional-counselors.
These sources give credit, in different ways, to the two sexes, for having the awareness to try to be good people, or to atone for mistakes, or demonstrate their dedication to halakha, and their desire to do everything they could for the Mishkan.
Too much time is wasted talking about men and women. Should the speaker be a woman or a man? Should the voice heard in a panel be a man or a woman? Which is the stronger sex? Who is the bigger scholar? There isn’t enough diversity of presenters. What gives a man a right to speak about a subject relating to women? What gives a woman a right to opine about how a man should behave?
Truth is truth, and should come from whoever speaks it. The speaker is either talented, scholarly, and motivational, or the speaker is something else. Truth isn’t defined by the genitalia a person possesses.
I think that, in general, our differences in obligation and responsibility are clear. And yes, there are differences. But the Mishkan dedication was meant to demonstrate that there is a time to stop talking about men and women and just serve God. One woman I know has told me on a number of occasions, “When are we going to stop these ‘Women in the Bible’ classes and just focus on Torah?” Her point is stop trying to reaffirm relevance by harping on gender! Teach Torah!
I recently heard Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter tell a tale of how one of his prize female Talmud students gave a class to semicha students at Yeshiva University just to show them that any generalization of capability in Talmud study they may have is ill-founded. Men and women can be (assuming similar amounts of time studied) equally impressive in learning and teaching.
Instead of talking about how wonderful we all are, it is time to learn from those who dedicated to the Mishkan. Just as the women at that time didn’t get caught up in the Golden Calf and were front and center in donating to the Mishkan, women today ought to focus on their strengths in dedication to God. And those with men in their lives ought to be proud of and encourage their participation per their roles, especially wives for their husbands.
Just as the men at that time understood what guilt is and jumped on the opportunity to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf through doubling down on serving God, similar feelings should be extant today. Men should not only embrace their own roles with love, but ought to glow with pride over the commitment to God of the women in their lives, especially husbands for their wives.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Celling Your Soul
Parshat Ki Tisa
by Rabbi Avi Billet
A friend of mine recently observed on Facebook, “I actually watched someone type an email on his phone this morning.....WHILE SAYING KADDISH IN SHUL!! I think we have a problem.”
Even more disconcerting than the subject of his concern were the sarcastic comments which followed, which indicated that some people felt this was not such a big deal. I suppose this perspective is warranted because, after all, the person on his phone while saying kaddish didn’t kill anyone. He didn’t steal from anyone. I mean, he only disrespected his deceased parent and God and the people he was praying with. No damage that can’t be undone, right?
Wrong.
I was at a bris in a certain Manhattan synagogue recently, and while shuttling between the baby and the bris room I noted three men in the entrance way to the main sanctuary, all wearing tallis and tefillin, talking very animatedly… on their phones! I guess all present should have been grateful that they had the sense to take the phone conversation outside of the sanctuary.
In these Torah portions we read about the sanctity of the Mishkan and Mikdash. Needless to say, there should always be a certain reverence for the place we designate for prayer, which should automatically create a safe-space for prayer, one in which those who take their davening seriously all the time should be able to maximize their experience without distraction. Talking should not be taking place (if you need a personal distraction, bring a book), and communication with others should be kept to a minimal (such as a gabbai giving instructions).
“But if I’m texting or sending an email, it shouldn’t bother you!” Maybe. Except that you’re snickering, and your phone is dinging, binging, ringing and pinging, and that’s a distraction to everyone around you.
This week we read of the Golden Calf. Let us leave aside for a moment whether it was actually idolatry or not. Most Jews I know, flaws and all (self included) are not interested in idolatry. But the Hebrew phrase for the prohibition is actually “Avodah Zara” – meaning a strange or foreign form of worship. Could there be anything more strange or foreign than communicating with someone else, other than God, during the prayers – whether that person is sitting next to you, or is on the other side of a phone conversation, whether talk or text?
But a minute ago you said “Bring a book!” True. It is not ideal. But at least you know what you’re getting into. And if it is a “sefer” (book of Jewish ideas), you’re way ahead of the game. But once you start clicking on things, whether in email, or a link, or start searching for things, you don’t know what’s going to come into your phone. Is it that important that it can’t wait?
This past summer I read a blog of a young father who had just succumbed to cancer. His name was Daniel Lansky, and his blog is “everytreeisheard.wordpress.com.” In one of his posts, describing his medical ordeal, he wrote this:
Not sharing any novel ideas this week. Nothing new. I think there are exceptions to his idea that nothing can’t wait – an any-minute expectant father, a hatzalah worker, a doctor on call. But not the business call, or the conversation that “needs to be had while I’m in shul.”
Ever since reading his blog, I’ve been announcing in shul that phones should be turned off, silenced, or (my personal practice) put in airplane mode. Some people don’t listen. Most do.
I believe with complete faith that those who find flaw in anything written here have a lot of thinking to do as to what the shul experience is supposed to be. And, as my friend put it, you might be “part of the problem.” Let’s take Daniel Lansky A”H’s advice to heart, and turn off the phone. Maybe we can recapture what davening should be all about.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
A friend of mine recently observed on Facebook, “I actually watched someone type an email on his phone this morning.....WHILE SAYING KADDISH IN SHUL!! I think we have a problem.”
Even more disconcerting than the subject of his concern were the sarcastic comments which followed, which indicated that some people felt this was not such a big deal. I suppose this perspective is warranted because, after all, the person on his phone while saying kaddish didn’t kill anyone. He didn’t steal from anyone. I mean, he only disrespected his deceased parent and God and the people he was praying with. No damage that can’t be undone, right?
Wrong.
I was at a bris in a certain Manhattan synagogue recently, and while shuttling between the baby and the bris room I noted three men in the entrance way to the main sanctuary, all wearing tallis and tefillin, talking very animatedly… on their phones! I guess all present should have been grateful that they had the sense to take the phone conversation outside of the sanctuary.
In these Torah portions we read about the sanctity of the Mishkan and Mikdash. Needless to say, there should always be a certain reverence for the place we designate for prayer, which should automatically create a safe-space for prayer, one in which those who take their davening seriously all the time should be able to maximize their experience without distraction. Talking should not be taking place (if you need a personal distraction, bring a book), and communication with others should be kept to a minimal (such as a gabbai giving instructions).
“But if I’m texting or sending an email, it shouldn’t bother you!” Maybe. Except that you’re snickering, and your phone is dinging, binging, ringing and pinging, and that’s a distraction to everyone around you.
This week we read of the Golden Calf. Let us leave aside for a moment whether it was actually idolatry or not. Most Jews I know, flaws and all (self included) are not interested in idolatry. But the Hebrew phrase for the prohibition is actually “Avodah Zara” – meaning a strange or foreign form of worship. Could there be anything more strange or foreign than communicating with someone else, other than God, during the prayers – whether that person is sitting next to you, or is on the other side of a phone conversation, whether talk or text?
But a minute ago you said “Bring a book!” True. It is not ideal. But at least you know what you’re getting into. And if it is a “sefer” (book of Jewish ideas), you’re way ahead of the game. But once you start clicking on things, whether in email, or a link, or start searching for things, you don’t know what’s going to come into your phone. Is it that important that it can’t wait?
This past summer I read a blog of a young father who had just succumbed to cancer. His name was Daniel Lansky, and his blog is “everytreeisheard.wordpress.com.” In one of his posts, describing his medical ordeal, he wrote this:
“Am I scared? I am petrified. I hate asking for favors. HATE IT. It is so torturous being in a position where I need something from someone. There are so very many emotions and personal characteristics of mine that make me cringe and run from the idea of asking another to do something for me – but now is not the time for me to think of me. I have a wife, I have three little kids and I have cancer. I need your tefilos.
“In a few days I will be having my first scans since I started treatment. Those scans will show what Hashem wants to be seen. No more – no less. So here I go – I am going to ask you for what I need from you.
“SHUT YOUR PHONE OFF BEFORE ENTERING SHUL. PLEASE.
“There is nothing – nothing – that can’t wait. Respect the Makom tefillah. Don’t put it on vibrate – don’t silence the ringer – simply turn it off. Please. I wish that this could be a rule in every shul – before entering make sure your phone is off.”
Not sharing any novel ideas this week. Nothing new. I think there are exceptions to his idea that nothing can’t wait – an any-minute expectant father, a hatzalah worker, a doctor on call. But not the business call, or the conversation that “needs to be had while I’m in shul.”
Ever since reading his blog, I’ve been announcing in shul that phones should be turned off, silenced, or (my personal practice) put in airplane mode. Some people don’t listen. Most do.
I believe with complete faith that those who find flaw in anything written here have a lot of thinking to do as to what the shul experience is supposed to be. And, as my friend put it, you might be “part of the problem.” Let’s take Daniel Lansky A”H’s advice to heart, and turn off the phone. Maybe we can recapture what davening should be all about.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Step, Ramps, and Modesty In Behavior
Parshat Tetzaveh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) noted that the pants of the priest were the lowest level garment. Unlike every other vestment which was actually placed on each Kohen by Moshe, each Kohen put his own pants on privately. For obvious reasons.
Owing to the information we have from Shmot 20:23, one can ask a simple question. There the Torah tells us that a mizbeach (altar) may not have steps leading up to it, lest the kohen’s nakedness be revealed when ascending. The Pesikta and Mechilta there both ask the question, in light of the depiction of the pants here, as to the necessity of the ramp (over steps) when clearly the Kohen’s pants were meant to cover for any concerns.
The Pesikta offers a unique interpretation, suggesting that the word for steps (ma’alot - מעלות) can be reread to mean temple misuse/transgression (m’ilot - מעילות). Of course, in this light the Midrash mention Yoav and Uziahu, two individuals who misused the mizbeach, trying to make it align for their benefit in a context that was inappropriate. In other words, the “steps” that are not permitted in Shmot 20 really refer to misuse of the mizbeach, and the nakedness that is not to be revealed is the guilt of sin that comes from trying to cover things up that ought not to be covered. Covering for the guilt of sin through fastidiousness in religion is quite revealing indeed.
Any student of Rashi will say, “Thank you. We know this already! Rashi says that the reference to steps indicates a form of walking that is a little more brazen than necessary.” No one is really concerned that the actual nakedness of these Kohanim will be seen – they will be wearing pants! – but there is a public perception built into the minds of those who see the kohanim walk in a manner that seems less than calculated, less than modest, that their nakedness is somehow being revealed.
Rabbi Yosef B’khor Shor takes the instruction not to walk up to the Mizbeach with steps to be a very simple reminder to the Kohanim: Be modest with your God, do not be brazen or have hubris, and avoid violating rules of revealing nakedness.
The pants certainly count as one of the garments of being a Kohen, but we also must understand their particular purpose and function, and not jump to conclusions as to what their role is.
I think it is safe to say that the precaution of the pants covers for any concerns we may have of Temple visitors seeing underneath any of the priestly vestments.
So if it is not a big deal, why make it a big deal with reference to the steps leading up to the mizbeach?
Sometimes the Torah uses a method of dropping subtle hints to people, hoping that the greater message will supersede the need to spell things out specifically.
There may be other reasons why a mizbeach needs a ramp (it’s much easier to pull a heavy animal up a ramp than up steps, for example), but there are also deeper messages that apply to those who study these texts, even in a time when the mizbeach is absent from your day-to-day practice.
In our case, it’s a lesson of modesty in walk, modesty in behavior, and perhaps most importantly, modesty in not pinning bad behavior on religion.
Those who would excuse their bad behavior in society on their need to get closer to God do not understand why doing that just makes the beauty of religion tainted for others – for those who are part of said religion, and even more so for those out of the religion.
We carry a banner with pride. We dare not stain it with brazenness.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
“Place these [vestments] on Aaron and his sons. Then anoint them, and install them, sanctifying them to be priests to Me. Also make linen pants to cover their nakedness, reaching from their waists to their thighs.” (28:41-42)
The Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) noted that the pants of the priest were the lowest level garment. Unlike every other vestment which was actually placed on each Kohen by Moshe, each Kohen put his own pants on privately. For obvious reasons.
Owing to the information we have from Shmot 20:23, one can ask a simple question. There the Torah tells us that a mizbeach (altar) may not have steps leading up to it, lest the kohen’s nakedness be revealed when ascending. The Pesikta and Mechilta there both ask the question, in light of the depiction of the pants here, as to the necessity of the ramp (over steps) when clearly the Kohen’s pants were meant to cover for any concerns.
The Pesikta offers a unique interpretation, suggesting that the word for steps (ma’alot - מעלות) can be reread to mean temple misuse/transgression (m’ilot - מעילות). Of course, in this light the Midrash mention Yoav and Uziahu, two individuals who misused the mizbeach, trying to make it align for their benefit in a context that was inappropriate. In other words, the “steps” that are not permitted in Shmot 20 really refer to misuse of the mizbeach, and the nakedness that is not to be revealed is the guilt of sin that comes from trying to cover things up that ought not to be covered. Covering for the guilt of sin through fastidiousness in religion is quite revealing indeed.
Any student of Rashi will say, “Thank you. We know this already! Rashi says that the reference to steps indicates a form of walking that is a little more brazen than necessary.” No one is really concerned that the actual nakedness of these Kohanim will be seen – they will be wearing pants! – but there is a public perception built into the minds of those who see the kohanim walk in a manner that seems less than calculated, less than modest, that their nakedness is somehow being revealed.
Rabbi Yosef B’khor Shor takes the instruction not to walk up to the Mizbeach with steps to be a very simple reminder to the Kohanim: Be modest with your God, do not be brazen or have hubris, and avoid violating rules of revealing nakedness.
The pants certainly count as one of the garments of being a Kohen, but we also must understand their particular purpose and function, and not jump to conclusions as to what their role is.
I think it is safe to say that the precaution of the pants covers for any concerns we may have of Temple visitors seeing underneath any of the priestly vestments.
So if it is not a big deal, why make it a big deal with reference to the steps leading up to the mizbeach?
Sometimes the Torah uses a method of dropping subtle hints to people, hoping that the greater message will supersede the need to spell things out specifically.
There may be other reasons why a mizbeach needs a ramp (it’s much easier to pull a heavy animal up a ramp than up steps, for example), but there are also deeper messages that apply to those who study these texts, even in a time when the mizbeach is absent from your day-to-day practice.
In our case, it’s a lesson of modesty in walk, modesty in behavior, and perhaps most importantly, modesty in not pinning bad behavior on religion.
Those who would excuse their bad behavior in society on their need to get closer to God do not understand why doing that just makes the beauty of religion tainted for others – for those who are part of said religion, and even more so for those out of the religion.
We carry a banner with pride. We dare not stain it with brazenness.
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