Parshat Chukat
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When one reads through Bamidbar chapter 20, it is easy to notice that the chapter is divided into 4 sections.
The first, verses 1-6, describe the death of Miriam and the complaint of lack of water which comes in the wake of the great loss. The second, verses 7-13, is the passage of Mei Merivah (the waters of strife) in which Moshe famously hits the rock. The third is verses 14-21, which presents the request of Edom to allow the Israelites to pass peacefully through their land to be ready to enter the Promised Land. The final section, verses 22-29, contains the death of Aharon, his being replaced by his son Elazar, and the mourning of the people over the loss of this great leader.
As it turns out, aside from the ups and downs of the narrative, this is a great chapter to learn in the macro sense, as the four sections contain in them many textual parallels indicating a cross-section of themes, as well as very clear lessons learned through the errors made by the players involved.
As we examine a few of them, we’ll note how the later narrative seems to be a correction.
Miriam dies – not only does no one mourn, but they don’t even seem to give Moshe and Aharon, her brothers, a chance to mourn before running to complain about the lack of water. We know how that story ends – disastrously – and the correction seems to come in mourning for Aharon for 30 days after his death.
The people gather against Moshe and Aharon right after Miriam’s death (20:2). In response, Moshe and Aharon gather the people (20:10) to rebuke them for their misplaced priorities.
After complaining in 20:3-5 that they should never have left Egypt, and that they recall the wonderful food they ate in Egypt, when the time comes to ask Edom to let them pass through their land, the Israelites are all of a sudden using Egypt to their benefit. “The Egyptians mistreated both our fathers and us. When we cried out to God, He heard our voice and sent a representative to take us out of Egypt. We are now in Kadesh, a city at the edge of your territories. Please let us pass through your land. We will not go through any fields or vineyards, and we will not drink any water from your wells.” (20:15-17)
Note how they are grateful for having been taken out of Egypt, and they don’t want the foods of the land, nor the water of the land, even as earlier in the chapter food and water and leaving Egypt were their complaints.
Even their ignoring Miriam could have been hinted to through Moshe calling them “Rebels” (20:10), as the word for rebels in Moshe’s language is “Morim” (מרים) – spelled exactly the same way as Miriam (מרים), though with different vowels.
There is no question that mistakes are made in the first half of the chapter. Miriam’s death is ignored, Moshe and Aharon’s mourning is passed over, the people are disrespectful, and Moshe (and Aharon?) lose patience and miss out on a grand opportunity.
And look how the aftermath of these tales seems to present a complete turnaround. A nation that is not whining, but is submissive and respectful, a leadership who is respected and honored in life, and properly mourned for in death.
It is these kinds of turnarounds that we always say we strive for. Unfortunately it usually takes a tragedy to help the switch take place.
May we merit to undergo the proper changes and behavior modifications necessary, before a tragic event forces us to realize where we have focused our very misplaced priorities.
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Monday, June 19, 2017
The Arrogance of Korach - Seeking Humility in Our "Holy" Encounters
Parshat Korach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In his challenge against the role Aharon plays as High Priest, one of the more seemingly altruistic arguments that Korach makes is “All of the nation is holy!” (16:3) Therefore, anyone should be able to serve as the High Priest.
Despite R’ Yosef B’chor Shor’s assertion that Korach challenged the Kehunah (priesthood)(see 16:10) in order to rally the people, who would surely claim “he is not seeking this for himself,” I am confident that most readers need not take too much of a leap to understand that what Korach is really saying is “I am holy. And I should be the High Priest.”
It takes a special type to ignore one’s own seeming humble argument to lay claim to a prize role that has typically shown to be coveted by few.
We learned two weeks ago that Moshe was the humblest person. (12:3) His humility was demonstrated time and again because he never made a big deal about himself, and sacrificed himself over and over for the sake of the Israelite nation. When God told Moshe, “I will destroy them and make a new nation from you,” (Shmot 32:10) Moshe’s response was essentially, “Over my dead body.”
More than anything, however, is that when he was approached, by God, to be the leader, he did everything in his power to run away from the position, to avoid the limelight, to not stand in a space to which he always felt he was inadequate to fill. Even though he was likely the best person for the job. [In the United States, there has only been one unanimously elected president – the only one in history who did not want the job, who also, when given the opportunity to become dictator, decided to go home to live out his life in quiet retirement.]
There is, of course, a major difference to be made between someone who seeks out a position of employment versus someone who is a volunteer. Neither gives any allowance for arrogance, but the idea that someone will seek higher employment for the benefit of self and family is nothing to frown upon. While in one’s job one should aim for success, and perhaps even wealth and position, nevertheless humility should dictate that the power never gets to one’s head.
When it comes to being a volunteer, even moreso, humility should be the rule of the day. In the many shuls I’ve davened in and visited, I’ve seen both types of volunteers. The ones who humbly go about their business – the gabbai who quietly gets the job done, the person who is available to lead the davening or to read the Torah when asked, the individual who fills in for the rabbi between Mincha/Maariv, teaching a brief matter in Jewish law.
And I’ve seen the other type. The gabbai who walks around like he owns the place; the gabbai who doesn’t delegate, or even ask if anyone can lead the davening or read the Torah and simply does it himself; the shul-member who runs to read the Torah without being asked, or who snarkily criticizes the imperfect-reading of another; the one who wants to lead the davening so everyone can hear his beautiful voice (this does not include a hired cantor, whose job it is to demonstrate his skills, while still being humble about his abilities). More of these criteria are spelled out in Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chaim 53:4,5,11.
So how do we know who is arrogant? Is there a general principle or definition we can follow as a guide to see who humbly represents the congregation and who does not? The answer is yes. And the challenge is discernment.
Firstly, the person’s attitude must be, “I’m available if you need me. I am happy not to do it.” Wanting to perform an honor, doubling down on one’s prowess, expertise and ability, is simply a sign of Korach. Sure, everyone is holy. But I am more worthy, therefore more holy, and therefore I should be the representative. This latter example is the kind of “humility” that Rabbi Elimelech of Lishensk warned against (Noam Elimelech, Parshat Bo), when he wrote, “There is a kind of humility that is actually supreme arrogance. This is the person who shows himself off to be humble, but he gets a tremendous thrill out of being able to tell people how humble he is.”
More positively thinking, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rimanov explained (as recorded in the Siftei Tzadikkim on next week’s parsha), that the Torah hints to us how to conduct ourselves through the purification process of the Red Heifer.
The taking of the cedar wood, hyssop branch, and crimson wool and throwing them into the burning cow (19:6) is a metaphor for elevating laws through holy thoughts and proper intentions. Utilizing an analysis too long for this space, he notes how the hyssop and wool represent a meekness and humility that is demonstrated most clearly in the Mishnah Avot 4:4, which says, “Be very very humble of spirit.” As Rabbi Ovadiah Bartenura explained, being humble is sometimes extremely challenging! So a person must take extra steps to not only be humble, but to distance oneself from arrogance. This is why it says “very very” – one must tread exceedingly carefully in order not to fall.
Korach missed this very simply rule. He could have said, “Aharon – you’re doing a great job. I’m a Levite, I’m available when you need me. I understand God appointed you.” Instead he had the insatiable desire to be the person in the spotlight, even as he touted how holy “the entire congregation is.”
Humility isn’t lip-service. It’s a way of being. It’s about respecting others, and giving others a chance to shine, particularly in the volunteer world of the synagogue. Roles should always be rotated. No one – other than a paid employee (rabbi, cantor, etc.) – should own any job or role. (If the paid employee doesn’t perform properly, employment termination is, for better or worse, always on the table.)
To put it another way, as a friend of mine likes to put it, “You never want to be the person who everyone else is waiting for you to die in order that someone else could have that kibbud.”
Korach learned that the hard way as nature’s supernatural course removed him from the equation.
If we are blessed to practice and live with humility, we should be blessed to find inner peace, and the opportunity to appreciate every honor we are given (and even moreso those given to others!) as we embrace our participation in synagogue life with the identifying trait of Moses – being the humblest of people.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In his challenge against the role Aharon plays as High Priest, one of the more seemingly altruistic arguments that Korach makes is “All of the nation is holy!” (16:3) Therefore, anyone should be able to serve as the High Priest.
Despite R’ Yosef B’chor Shor’s assertion that Korach challenged the Kehunah (priesthood)(see 16:10) in order to rally the people, who would surely claim “he is not seeking this for himself,” I am confident that most readers need not take too much of a leap to understand that what Korach is really saying is “I am holy. And I should be the High Priest.”
It takes a special type to ignore one’s own seeming humble argument to lay claim to a prize role that has typically shown to be coveted by few.
We learned two weeks ago that Moshe was the humblest person. (12:3) His humility was demonstrated time and again because he never made a big deal about himself, and sacrificed himself over and over for the sake of the Israelite nation. When God told Moshe, “I will destroy them and make a new nation from you,” (Shmot 32:10) Moshe’s response was essentially, “Over my dead body.”
More than anything, however, is that when he was approached, by God, to be the leader, he did everything in his power to run away from the position, to avoid the limelight, to not stand in a space to which he always felt he was inadequate to fill. Even though he was likely the best person for the job. [In the United States, there has only been one unanimously elected president – the only one in history who did not want the job, who also, when given the opportunity to become dictator, decided to go home to live out his life in quiet retirement.]
There is, of course, a major difference to be made between someone who seeks out a position of employment versus someone who is a volunteer. Neither gives any allowance for arrogance, but the idea that someone will seek higher employment for the benefit of self and family is nothing to frown upon. While in one’s job one should aim for success, and perhaps even wealth and position, nevertheless humility should dictate that the power never gets to one’s head.
When it comes to being a volunteer, even moreso, humility should be the rule of the day. In the many shuls I’ve davened in and visited, I’ve seen both types of volunteers. The ones who humbly go about their business – the gabbai who quietly gets the job done, the person who is available to lead the davening or to read the Torah when asked, the individual who fills in for the rabbi between Mincha/Maariv, teaching a brief matter in Jewish law.
And I’ve seen the other type. The gabbai who walks around like he owns the place; the gabbai who doesn’t delegate, or even ask if anyone can lead the davening or read the Torah and simply does it himself; the shul-member who runs to read the Torah without being asked, or who snarkily criticizes the imperfect-reading of another; the one who wants to lead the davening so everyone can hear his beautiful voice (this does not include a hired cantor, whose job it is to demonstrate his skills, while still being humble about his abilities). More of these criteria are spelled out in Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chaim 53:4,5,11.
So how do we know who is arrogant? Is there a general principle or definition we can follow as a guide to see who humbly represents the congregation and who does not? The answer is yes. And the challenge is discernment.
Firstly, the person’s attitude must be, “I’m available if you need me. I am happy not to do it.” Wanting to perform an honor, doubling down on one’s prowess, expertise and ability, is simply a sign of Korach. Sure, everyone is holy. But I am more worthy, therefore more holy, and therefore I should be the representative. This latter example is the kind of “humility” that Rabbi Elimelech of Lishensk warned against (Noam Elimelech, Parshat Bo), when he wrote, “There is a kind of humility that is actually supreme arrogance. This is the person who shows himself off to be humble, but he gets a tremendous thrill out of being able to tell people how humble he is.”
More positively thinking, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rimanov explained (as recorded in the Siftei Tzadikkim on next week’s parsha), that the Torah hints to us how to conduct ourselves through the purification process of the Red Heifer.
The taking of the cedar wood, hyssop branch, and crimson wool and throwing them into the burning cow (19:6) is a metaphor for elevating laws through holy thoughts and proper intentions. Utilizing an analysis too long for this space, he notes how the hyssop and wool represent a meekness and humility that is demonstrated most clearly in the Mishnah Avot 4:4, which says, “Be very very humble of spirit.” As Rabbi Ovadiah Bartenura explained, being humble is sometimes extremely challenging! So a person must take extra steps to not only be humble, but to distance oneself from arrogance. This is why it says “very very” – one must tread exceedingly carefully in order not to fall.
Korach missed this very simply rule. He could have said, “Aharon – you’re doing a great job. I’m a Levite, I’m available when you need me. I understand God appointed you.” Instead he had the insatiable desire to be the person in the spotlight, even as he touted how holy “the entire congregation is.”
Humility isn’t lip-service. It’s a way of being. It’s about respecting others, and giving others a chance to shine, particularly in the volunteer world of the synagogue. Roles should always be rotated. No one – other than a paid employee (rabbi, cantor, etc.) – should own any job or role. (If the paid employee doesn’t perform properly, employment termination is, for better or worse, always on the table.)
To put it another way, as a friend of mine likes to put it, “You never want to be the person who everyone else is waiting for you to die in order that someone else could have that kibbud.”
Korach learned that the hard way as nature’s supernatural course removed him from the equation.
If we are blessed to practice and live with humility, we should be blessed to find inner peace, and the opportunity to appreciate every honor we are given (and even moreso those given to others!) as we embrace our participation in synagogue life with the identifying trait of Moses – being the humblest of people.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Being Anshei Middos - People of Stellar Character
Parshat Shlach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are many synagogues whose names begin with the word Anshei. Anshei Emes, Anshei Shalom, Anshei Chesed, Anshei Emunah. There are also Anshei synagogues named for individuals, families, or sources of origin (Anshei Lubavitch, Anshei Minsk, Anshei Sefard, Anshei Israel). The Men of the Great Assembly were the Anshei Knesset Hagdolah.
For fun I did a Google search and found the Facebook page of “Camp Minkatch” who had a night activity several years ago in which they named their bunks – some were repeats of the names listed above, but they also had Anshei Ruach, Anshei Middos, Anshei Avoda, Anshei Torah, Anshei Zrizos, Anshei Chayil, Anshei Simcha.
What’s striking to me is the difference between the kinds of Anshei the camp utilized rather than the names used by synagogues. To demonstrate, let’s translate the non-proper-names words. For the synagogues we have Anshei (“People of”) Truth, Peace, Kindness, Faith. And while the camp also had kindness and truth, the names listed in the previous paragraph mean People of… spirit, character, service (of God), Torah, alacrity, valor, happiness.
It is silly to argue which of these depictions is better. But in the camp list I find more of a focus on what we call “Middos” – ethical character improvement. One of the names was even Anshei Middos! Which makes sense, of course, because a camp is dedicated to “Chinukh” (Jewish education), and one of the key components of Jewish education should be on improving Middos.
Ironically enough, the phrase “Anshei Middos” appears in our Torah portion in the context of the report of the spies, when they were describing they people they had seen in the land. Verse 13:32 says “They began to speak badly (tell lies) about the land that they had explored. They told the Israelites, 'The land that we crossed to explore is a land that consumes its inhabitants. All the men we saw there were Anshei Middos'”
Commentaries debate what Anshei Middos means. The literal translation means “People of measure,” and in the context of their statement it seems they perceived these people as being very tall. However, the idea that the land’s inhabitants “are huge” is being shared to us in the same verse as when all their words are being described as lies. Were the land’s inhabitants enormous or not? What does Anshei Middos really mean?
The commentaries vary.
Some focus on their size (Midrash Aggadah) and the need to take account of them (Rashi). Ibn Ezra seems to describe them as men of distinction. Related, some (Ramban, Or HaChaim, Malbim, Netziv, HaKtav V’Hakabbalah) focus on their qualities with respect to the land - when the land is good, people can grow in size. The only people who can survive in this land are those who can benefit from the enormous fruit. (This implies that we who are average size can’t survive in the land).
Another group say Anshei Middos is a professional quality. They measure things! (R Chaim Paltiel) Daat Zekenim suggest they are people who measure their food and drink (presumably before eating, though perhaps before buying/selling?)
Targum Yonatan and Toldot Yitzchak focus on their Middos in the way we usually utilize the word today, referring to character traits. Ironically, they interpret it in opposite ways. Targum Yonatan says they were people who had terrible Middos (character), while Toldot Yitzchak says (in his first interpretation) they have Good middos.
Owing to the description of their being Anshei Middos coming in the verse that the Torah describes as being “Dibbat Ha’aretz” I like to think that even the depiction of their being Anshei Middos is a tainted statement.
Regardless, I wonder how much we emphasize being Anshei Middos. I’ve never heard of a synagogue with such a name. We talk about truth and kindness and peace. Maybe because it’s more of a way we like to think we are, or a goal to strive to, even as some of these such-named-synagogues may have their own internal politics and in-fighting.
So why not Anshei Middos? Why is a focus on Middos something we limit to the lip-service of Chinukh and children?
And more pointedly, why is it that even with said lip-service, there is an overall failure in the Middos department? Avot 6:5-6 tells us the 48 ways (Middos) through which a person can acquire Torah*. It’s an important list. And while there might be some overlap, here is a contemporary list to consider undertaking for ourselves and to teach to our children.
Humility – Do I look to put other people up? Do I remember that it’s never about me, myself, I and my ego (which should be put in check in most circumstances)?
Awareness of surrounding – am I hurting someone else? Can I be helpful? Is there a mess that no one is cleaning which I can take care of? If someone is making an effort to clean, am I pitching in? Am I dropping my own garbage on the floor or leaving it on a table for someone else to deal with? Can I take out the garbage?
Kindness – Do I care for the person who seems lonely? Do I see the child who is ignored? Do I protect the awkward person from abuse and unfair treatment? Do I know how to talk to the ill, the depressed, the mourner? Can I bring a smile to someone who really needs a little cheer? Can I be the helping hand, the welcome shoulder, the person who gives the needed hug?
I spent a Shabbos with a number of unsupervised children at a bar mitzvah recently. Some of them were lovely, respectful, clearly raised with an awareness of how they are to behave, and how they ought to impress.
And then there was a larger population of those who were largely unimpressive. Obnoxious, inconsiderate, making messes and not cleaning up, destroying property, completely unaware of how poorly they represent themselves.
The Jewish people must be defined as Anshei Middos – Anshei GOOD Middos. Many of us are good about this. Many of us need work. Many of our children need much work.
Let us aim to impress, through humility and awareness. Amen.
***********************************************************
The Torah is acquired with 48 qualities: study, listening, verbalizing, comprehension of the heart, awe, fear, humility, joy, purity, serving the sages, companionship with one's contemporaries, debating with one's students, tranquility, study of the scriptures, study of the Mishnah, minimizing engagement in business, minimizing socialization, minimizing pleasure, minimizing sleep, minimizing talk, minimizing gaiety, slowness to anger, good heartedness, faith in the sages, acceptance of suffering, knowing one's place, satisfaction with one's lot, qualifying one's words, not taking credit for oneself, likableness, love of G-d, love of humanity, love of charity, love of justice, love of rebuke, fleeing from honor, lack of arrogance in learning, reluctance to hand down rulings, participating in the burden of one's fellow, judging him to the side of merit, correcting him, bringing him to a peaceful resolution [of his disputes], deliberation in study, asking and answering, listening and illuminating, learning in order to teach, learning in order to fulfill, wising one's teacher, exactness in conveying a teaching, and saying something in the name of its speaker.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are many synagogues whose names begin with the word Anshei. Anshei Emes, Anshei Shalom, Anshei Chesed, Anshei Emunah. There are also Anshei synagogues named for individuals, families, or sources of origin (Anshei Lubavitch, Anshei Minsk, Anshei Sefard, Anshei Israel). The Men of the Great Assembly were the Anshei Knesset Hagdolah.
For fun I did a Google search and found the Facebook page of “Camp Minkatch” who had a night activity several years ago in which they named their bunks – some were repeats of the names listed above, but they also had Anshei Ruach, Anshei Middos, Anshei Avoda, Anshei Torah, Anshei Zrizos, Anshei Chayil, Anshei Simcha.
What’s striking to me is the difference between the kinds of Anshei the camp utilized rather than the names used by synagogues. To demonstrate, let’s translate the non-proper-names words. For the synagogues we have Anshei (“People of”) Truth, Peace, Kindness, Faith. And while the camp also had kindness and truth, the names listed in the previous paragraph mean People of… spirit, character, service (of God), Torah, alacrity, valor, happiness.
It is silly to argue which of these depictions is better. But in the camp list I find more of a focus on what we call “Middos” – ethical character improvement. One of the names was even Anshei Middos! Which makes sense, of course, because a camp is dedicated to “Chinukh” (Jewish education), and one of the key components of Jewish education should be on improving Middos.
Ironically enough, the phrase “Anshei Middos” appears in our Torah portion in the context of the report of the spies, when they were describing they people they had seen in the land. Verse 13:32 says “They began to speak badly (tell lies) about the land that they had explored. They told the Israelites, 'The land that we crossed to explore is a land that consumes its inhabitants. All the men we saw there were Anshei Middos'”
Commentaries debate what Anshei Middos means. The literal translation means “People of measure,” and in the context of their statement it seems they perceived these people as being very tall. However, the idea that the land’s inhabitants “are huge” is being shared to us in the same verse as when all their words are being described as lies. Were the land’s inhabitants enormous or not? What does Anshei Middos really mean?
The commentaries vary.
Some focus on their size (Midrash Aggadah) and the need to take account of them (Rashi). Ibn Ezra seems to describe them as men of distinction. Related, some (Ramban, Or HaChaim, Malbim, Netziv, HaKtav V’Hakabbalah) focus on their qualities with respect to the land - when the land is good, people can grow in size. The only people who can survive in this land are those who can benefit from the enormous fruit. (This implies that we who are average size can’t survive in the land).
Another group say Anshei Middos is a professional quality. They measure things! (R Chaim Paltiel) Daat Zekenim suggest they are people who measure their food and drink (presumably before eating, though perhaps before buying/selling?)
Targum Yonatan and Toldot Yitzchak focus on their Middos in the way we usually utilize the word today, referring to character traits. Ironically, they interpret it in opposite ways. Targum Yonatan says they were people who had terrible Middos (character), while Toldot Yitzchak says (in his first interpretation) they have Good middos.
Owing to the description of their being Anshei Middos coming in the verse that the Torah describes as being “Dibbat Ha’aretz” I like to think that even the depiction of their being Anshei Middos is a tainted statement.
Regardless, I wonder how much we emphasize being Anshei Middos. I’ve never heard of a synagogue with such a name. We talk about truth and kindness and peace. Maybe because it’s more of a way we like to think we are, or a goal to strive to, even as some of these such-named-synagogues may have their own internal politics and in-fighting.
So why not Anshei Middos? Why is a focus on Middos something we limit to the lip-service of Chinukh and children?
And more pointedly, why is it that even with said lip-service, there is an overall failure in the Middos department? Avot 6:5-6 tells us the 48 ways (Middos) through which a person can acquire Torah*. It’s an important list. And while there might be some overlap, here is a contemporary list to consider undertaking for ourselves and to teach to our children.
Humility – Do I look to put other people up? Do I remember that it’s never about me, myself, I and my ego (which should be put in check in most circumstances)?
Awareness of surrounding – am I hurting someone else? Can I be helpful? Is there a mess that no one is cleaning which I can take care of? If someone is making an effort to clean, am I pitching in? Am I dropping my own garbage on the floor or leaving it on a table for someone else to deal with? Can I take out the garbage?
Kindness – Do I care for the person who seems lonely? Do I see the child who is ignored? Do I protect the awkward person from abuse and unfair treatment? Do I know how to talk to the ill, the depressed, the mourner? Can I bring a smile to someone who really needs a little cheer? Can I be the helping hand, the welcome shoulder, the person who gives the needed hug?
I spent a Shabbos with a number of unsupervised children at a bar mitzvah recently. Some of them were lovely, respectful, clearly raised with an awareness of how they are to behave, and how they ought to impress.
And then there was a larger population of those who were largely unimpressive. Obnoxious, inconsiderate, making messes and not cleaning up, destroying property, completely unaware of how poorly they represent themselves.
The Jewish people must be defined as Anshei Middos – Anshei GOOD Middos. Many of us are good about this. Many of us need work. Many of our children need much work.
Let us aim to impress, through humility and awareness. Amen.
***********************************************************
The Torah is acquired with 48 qualities: study, listening, verbalizing, comprehension of the heart, awe, fear, humility, joy, purity, serving the sages, companionship with one's contemporaries, debating with one's students, tranquility, study of the scriptures, study of the Mishnah, minimizing engagement in business, minimizing socialization, minimizing pleasure, minimizing sleep, minimizing talk, minimizing gaiety, slowness to anger, good heartedness, faith in the sages, acceptance of suffering, knowing one's place, satisfaction with one's lot, qualifying one's words, not taking credit for oneself, likableness, love of G-d, love of humanity, love of charity, love of justice, love of rebuke, fleeing from honor, lack of arrogance in learning, reluctance to hand down rulings, participating in the burden of one's fellow, judging him to the side of merit, correcting him, bringing him to a peaceful resolution [of his disputes], deliberation in study, asking and answering, listening and illuminating, learning in order to teach, learning in order to fulfill, wising one's teacher, exactness in conveying a teaching, and saying something in the name of its speaker.
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
Days of Rejoicing - Finding Happiness in Every Day Living
Parshat B'ha'alotcha
by Rabbi Avi Billet
From the other side, we have some Midrash statements, and commentary demonstrating that the “days of your rejoicing” refer to the Sabbath (2nd view recorded by Ibn Ezra, Baal Haturim).
Ibn Ezra’s first view is that the “days of your rejoicing” refers to when you returned from the land of your enemies, or you defeated your enemy and established a day of joy, such as Purim, or Chanukah.
If I could be so bold, I would suggest that “the days of your rejoicing” need a new definition today. Because while there are certainly people who experience joy a lot – I see this most of all with people who are grandparents, delighting in their grandchildren and in their children’s success – for many people, day to day life doesn’t always bring a requisite amount of joy.
And, insofar as great battles go, beyond Yom Yerushalayim, I think we would all prefer there to be no battles, than some great victory. Do we really need or want some impending doom to face us, only for us to experience a great salvation at the last moment?
I was talking to someone this weekend who told me, “I make a nice living. But after living expenses and tuition bills, I have nothing left.” Can’t buy his wife a present, can’t afford a simple vacation. Doesn’t want to go anywhere if it’s going to cost money. Can’t put anything away for retirement or a rainy day. Of course he wouldn’t trade this life for any more dire kind of life, and he wasn’t complaining (he actually lives his life with a very positive attitude!).
I know a lot of people in similar boats. Normal life expenses are much higher than they were a generation ago, and while some people seem to manage, for some it’s an endless battle of “how can I get more clients?” and “how can I get more work?” and “how can I charge more?” as well as the moral battle of “is it ok to charge for something they don’t need (an extra x-ray, an extra test, replacing a finely-operating part, putting in a wall when a patch would have been sufficient), because they’ll pay anyway, and why should I care?”
And as I tragically learned once again this week, sometimes people bury their pain inside, without seeking help, allowing drugs or untreated depression to take them to the depths of where there is no return.
While it would seem bizarre to sound a trumpet every time we had a joyous occasion or moment, maybe we can at least find a way to get excited about our triumphs of joy. Because beyond obligatory simchas – which usually accompany lifecycle events and graduations – we probably have much more to be joyous over, were we to only take notice.
I heard a story about Rabbi Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg, who grew up a Yankee fan in the Babe Ruth days, who once made a Kiddush after the Yankees won the World Series. Someone asked him why, and he said, “For the first time in my life,” after over 70 years of getting at least a minimal thrill when he’d hear about a win, “I don’t care about it at all.” That’s a simcha!
For a kid in school who always gets grades in the 70s, getting an 80 is a simcha!
When a child who has few to no friends is noticed by someone who is socially fine, and invited to hangout, or for Shabbos, that’s a simcha!
When the credit card bill can be paid in full, that’s a simcha!
When the tuition assistance committee can be discreet and helpful without dragging the applicant through the muck and scrutiny of “why did you buy this?” – that’s a simcha!
When people who disagree with one another politically can see that there’s more to life than arguing and getting angry about politics – that’s a simcha!
When people who are unused to giving in a little take on a dose of real humility (without telling everyone how humble they are) – that’s a simcha!
When people are loved for who they are, and not judged for who they are – that’s a simcha.
So, let us find reasons to rejoice. Let us find the little victories life sends our way. And let us herald the greatness in wherever we can find it.
Life is full of downers. Maybe with a change of perspective, we can sound the proverbial trumpet when goodness passes our way.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
“On your days of rejoicing, on your festivals, and on your new-moon celebrations, you shall sound a note with the trumpets for your burnt offerings and your peace offerings. This shall be a remembrance before your God. I am God your Lord.” Bamidbar 10:10When we think about the sounding of the trumpets in the Temple, and its cousin, the sounding of the shofar, our minds jump to the only religious rite of horn sounding we have today, the shofar blasts of Rosh Hashana. However, the interpretation that this depiction refers to Rosh Hashana is not a common one, advanced by Kli Yakar, but not by many others.
From the other side, we have some Midrash statements, and commentary demonstrating that the “days of your rejoicing” refer to the Sabbath (2nd view recorded by Ibn Ezra, Baal Haturim).
Ibn Ezra’s first view is that the “days of your rejoicing” refers to when you returned from the land of your enemies, or you defeated your enemy and established a day of joy, such as Purim, or Chanukah.
If I could be so bold, I would suggest that “the days of your rejoicing” need a new definition today. Because while there are certainly people who experience joy a lot – I see this most of all with people who are grandparents, delighting in their grandchildren and in their children’s success – for many people, day to day life doesn’t always bring a requisite amount of joy.
And, insofar as great battles go, beyond Yom Yerushalayim, I think we would all prefer there to be no battles, than some great victory. Do we really need or want some impending doom to face us, only for us to experience a great salvation at the last moment?
I was talking to someone this weekend who told me, “I make a nice living. But after living expenses and tuition bills, I have nothing left.” Can’t buy his wife a present, can’t afford a simple vacation. Doesn’t want to go anywhere if it’s going to cost money. Can’t put anything away for retirement or a rainy day. Of course he wouldn’t trade this life for any more dire kind of life, and he wasn’t complaining (he actually lives his life with a very positive attitude!).
I know a lot of people in similar boats. Normal life expenses are much higher than they were a generation ago, and while some people seem to manage, for some it’s an endless battle of “how can I get more clients?” and “how can I get more work?” and “how can I charge more?” as well as the moral battle of “is it ok to charge for something they don’t need (an extra x-ray, an extra test, replacing a finely-operating part, putting in a wall when a patch would have been sufficient), because they’ll pay anyway, and why should I care?”
And as I tragically learned once again this week, sometimes people bury their pain inside, without seeking help, allowing drugs or untreated depression to take them to the depths of where there is no return.
While it would seem bizarre to sound a trumpet every time we had a joyous occasion or moment, maybe we can at least find a way to get excited about our triumphs of joy. Because beyond obligatory simchas – which usually accompany lifecycle events and graduations – we probably have much more to be joyous over, were we to only take notice.
I heard a story about Rabbi Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg, who grew up a Yankee fan in the Babe Ruth days, who once made a Kiddush after the Yankees won the World Series. Someone asked him why, and he said, “For the first time in my life,” after over 70 years of getting at least a minimal thrill when he’d hear about a win, “I don’t care about it at all.” That’s a simcha!
For a kid in school who always gets grades in the 70s, getting an 80 is a simcha!
When a child who has few to no friends is noticed by someone who is socially fine, and invited to hangout, or for Shabbos, that’s a simcha!
When the credit card bill can be paid in full, that’s a simcha!
When the tuition assistance committee can be discreet and helpful without dragging the applicant through the muck and scrutiny of “why did you buy this?” – that’s a simcha!
When people who disagree with one another politically can see that there’s more to life than arguing and getting angry about politics – that’s a simcha!
When people who are unused to giving in a little take on a dose of real humility (without telling everyone how humble they are) – that’s a simcha!
When people are loved for who they are, and not judged for who they are – that’s a simcha.
So, let us find reasons to rejoice. Let us find the little victories life sends our way. And let us herald the greatness in wherever we can find it.
Life is full of downers. Maybe with a change of perspective, we can sound the proverbial trumpet when goodness passes our way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)