Conflicting Ideas Need a Resolution – Achieved Through Study!

Parshat Tzav

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In two of his comments on the Parsha that are quite close to each other, the Torah Temimah records a passage that he finds hard to contemplate, and concludes in both cases that there must have been a scribal error when the text was transcribed by hand in the days of yore. 

 The first is on Chapter 6, verse 21, when the Torah gives us a brief introduction to the laws of Kashering, telling us that clay/earthenware can’t be koshered after having been used for a different purpose, while something that is metal can be koshered.

In his footnote on the related passage from Zevahim 95b, Torah Temimah recounts how the rules of Kashering are based on the principle of “absorbed flavor” which cannot be purged from a earthenware vessel but can be purged from a metal one. Then he quotes the Sha”kh on YD 68:33 who quotes Rabbenu Yerucham that “if a piece of meat ends up in a dairy copper pot , one does not have to do hagalah (the process of boiling water in order to Kasher), because copper pots do not absorb flavor unless it is over a fire. But I didn’t explore this completely, though elsewhere it is recorded clearly that a copper pot absorbs flavor through Irui (the pouring of boiling water)…” Noting that this implies that Irui causes absorption on the same level as cooking, and the fact that the Torah makes clear the status of copper used for cooking, Torah Temimah comes to the conclusion that there must be a scribal error. Instead of reading the phrase of Rabbenu Yerucham דאם עירה יורה בשר לתוך כלי נחושת של חלב א"צ הגעלה, דכלי נחושת אינו בולע אא"כ האור מהלך תחתיו, the phrase must have originally said: ובמקום לתוך כלי נחושת צ"ל לתוך כלי שני של חלב א"צ הגעלה, that if the meat falls into a Dairy Kli sheni (a pot or dish which was filled from an item over the fire, but which itself was never on the fire), there is no necessity to do Hagalah. This, of course, is exactly the halakha. 

Se’or and Honey – Not fit for a Korban

Parshat Vayikra

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Se’or is typically translated as “sourdough” and refers to a starter used in baking, a fermented piece of dough that functions in a similar way to yeast in that it causes a new dough being created to rise. 

The Torah is not required to give reasons for its laws, but ever since Maimonides (if not before), there has been much interest in “knowing the reasons” for why we do things or why we have certain practices. In general this is a more fun exercise when it comes to understanding “Minhag-development” than Mitzvah-development, because Mitzvos come from God (we don’t need a reason) while customs are typically man-made and came about for a reason or for several reasons related to location, society, and culture. 

 The prohibition against mixing sourdough and honey in a Korban (Vayikra 2:11) seems strange – why should it matter? – prompting Maimonides to suggest that it was a common practice of idolaters, and therefore we don’t do it. 

The Aron, the Torah, and Us

Parshat Vayakhel-Fekudei 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In one of Rabbi Norman Lamm’s sermons, he shared a question posed by Radba”z (Rabbi David ben Zimra) regarding the Ark in our synagogue. Towards the end of the book of Shemos (40:20) we are told that Moshe took the Luchos (tablets) and placed them inside the Aron (Ark). Maimonides codifies that we are to make a special place for the Torah, and just as the original Aron held the Luchos, our Aron holds our Torah. 

The question then becomes rather simple. If we are mimicking the Aron in the way we keep our Torah, then we should imitate it in every way possible! The Aron was laid on the floor. It was a box with a cover. The Luchos were laid flat within it (this placement gets into a larger question of what was the actual shape of the Luchos – were they tablets as we imagine or were they cubic squares?) 

And so the question: Why is our Aron more of a closet, with doors, and the Torah placed in a standing, upright position? 

Parshat Parah - Weeding Out Distractions and Just Serving God

Parah, Shmini, Ki Sisa 

We learned of the instructions for the Mishkan in Terumah and Tetzaveh, with a slight spillover into Ki Sisa. We are told in Ki Sisa of the appointment of Betzalel and Oholiav. And with the interlude of the Golden Calf, we will see the people actually donating and the building the various parts of the Mishkan in next week’s double parsha Vayakhel-Fekudei. 

 The dedication of the Mishkan was meant to be an incredible moment in time. The people were meant to have that connection that we see at the end of the regular haftorah of Ki Sisa (which we are not reading this year due to Parshas Parah), when fire comes down from the heavens, Eliyahu HaNavi triumphs over the Prophets of Baal, and the people declare the phrase which inspires the end of Yom Kippur for us – Hashem Hu Ha’Elokim! 

At the time of the dedication of the Mishkan in Vayikra chapter 9, fire similarly comes down and consumes that which is on the Mizbeach. And the only thing we don’t see is that incredible declaration. 

 The fact that Shlishi (of Shmini) begins AFTER the following verse gets in our way of following the flow of the narrative. כג) וַיָּבֹ֨א מֹשֶׁ֤ה וְאַהֲרֹן֙ אֶל־אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֔ד וַיֵּ֣צְא֔וּ וַֽיְבָרֲכ֖וּ אֶת־הָעָ֑ם וַיֵּרָ֥א כְבוֹד־יְקֹוָ֖ק אֶל־כָּל־ הָעָֽם: (Moshe and Aharon came to the tent of meeting, and they exited and blessed the people. The glory of God appeared to the people). There the second Aliyah ends, and the third Aliyah begins in the following way.

 (כד) וַתֵּ֤צֵא אֵשׁ֙ מִלִּפְנֵ֣י יְקֹוָ֔ק וַתֹּ֙אכַל֙ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֔חַ אֶת־הָעֹלָ֖ה וְאֶת־הַחֲלָבִ֑ים וַיַּ֤רְא כָּל־הָעָם֙ וַיָּרֹ֔נּוּ וַֽיִּפְּל֖וּ עַל־פְּנֵיהֶֽם: (A fire came down from before the Lord and consumed [what was] on the Mizbeach, the burnt offering and the fats, and the people saw it and sang and fell on their faces.)   

If SHENI had ended at this point, we’d conclude the Mishkan dedication with this indelible image. SO inspiring! 

But because Shlishi begins where it does, and immediately transitions to the Nadav and Avihu story, the fire which comes out in the last verse of chapter 9 is easily overlooked in deference to the story of Nadav and Avihu that has its own fire, and is thereby lost to the tragedy of the loss of 2 of 5 kohanim, 40% of the Kohen population. 

 We basically miss it. We miss the song, the praise of the Almighty, the inspiration, all on account of a distraction - a terrible, devastating distraction, which is so difficult to comprehend. 

 In Shmini the people sing, וַיַּ֤רְא כָּל־הָעָם֙ וַיָּרֹ֔נּוּ וַֽיִּפְּל֖וּ עַל־פְּנֵיהֶֽם, they fall to the ground… and with Eliyahu, the verse tells usוַיַּרְא֙ כָּל־הָעָ֔ם וַֽיִּפְּל֖וּ עַל־פְּנֵיהֶ֑ם וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ יְקֹוָק֙ ה֣וּא הָאֱלֹהִ֔ים יְקֹוָ֖ק ה֥וּא הָאֱלֹהִֽים, the people see, they fall, but do they sing? Do they feel connected to God? 

Netziv argues that they sang over the past. And they fell on their faces concerning the future, that God’s presence should be among them... Bowing = Tefillah (prayer) In other words, what took place in both tales with the falling on the face was Prayer! 

How could we gloss over it, run right through it, to get to the story of Nadav and Avihu’s demise? Moshe’s response to that death, that God had indicated בקרובי אקדש, that He would be sanctified – which is based on something we read last week in Tetzaveh – may have been said to try to placate his distraught brother. But all of that is troubling. We can’t give explanations for why people die! 

But perhaps we can ask what was God trying to prove here? 

 If God, for example, wanted Nadav and Avihu to die, He could have had that happen in any number of ways. Nadav and Avihu could have died at night, in their sleep, and while tragic, it wouldn’t have happened in the middle of everything. The dedication would have still been special, but we wouldn’t have been distracted by the tragedy in the middle of everything. And we would have only gained from our reading of the dedication narratives, and the commitment of the people. 

 Before connecting this tale to the Parah Adumah, we can take a brief detour to see the context of how the Parah is introduced to us. Chapter 16 is the Korach story, which includes a challenge Moshe issues to some Korach’s supporters, to offer Ketores (sound familiar?). 250 accept the challenge, a fire comes from heaven and consumes them.

In Chapter 17, Elazar Hakohen is instructed to take the pans and turn them into a cover for the Mizbeach, as a remembrance and reminder to people that God is in charge. The people then complain – even after being reminded that Ketores is only for Kohanim to bring (this despite the fact that Nadav and Avihu similarly died while bringing ketores) – and a plague is brought upon the people, from which 14,700 people die until Aharon heroically enters with a pan and stops the plague. 

 Then chapter 18 begins with these verses: 18:1 - God said to Aaron: You, along with your sons and your paternal tribe shall expiate any sin associated with the Sanctuary. You and your descendants will [also] expiate any sin associated with your priesthood…. 18:6 - I have thus taken your brethren the Levites from among the [other] Israelites as a gift to you. They are given over to God to perform the Communion Tent service. 18:7 - You and your sons shall be entrusted with your priesthood, so that your service shall include everything that pertains to the altar and to anything inside the cloth partition. This is the gift of service that I have given you as your priesthood. Any unauthorized person who participates shall die. 

Certainly Nadav and Avihu are missed in this narrative, and perhaps they’re even referenced in a way which might be insensitive. This passage is followed with more rules about Kohanim and Leviim to round out Parshas Korach. Then we get to Chapter 19, Parshas Chukas, and the rules of the Parah. 

Just take a careful reading of the opening verses of Chapter 19, and we see how Elazar had a role of taking the slaughtered cow’s blood for sprinkling. The cow would then be burned. The Kohen would throw some ingredients into the cow, which would also be burned. It seems Elazar became Tameh from this process. The Kohen who burned the cow became Tameh. And the person who gathered the ashes became tameh. They’d all have to immerse in a mikveh and not be available for service until evening. 

I’m already counting 3 people. How many kohanim were there at this point? 3. Aharon. Elazar. Itamar. Is there a clearer passage in which Nadav and Avihu’s absence is more felt? 

We read this parsha today because it is a reminder that people need to get ready for the coming holiday of Pesach, and need to be sure they could eat the Korban Pesach b’taharah. 

 We have this whole story because of the Pesach Sheni episode in the Torah, in which people who were tameh could not participate in the Korban Pesach at the right time. Why were they Tameh? Some argue they were the people who handled Nadav and Avihu. 

Nadav and Avihu’s death is a tragedy of tragedies. But trying to figure out why they sinned or what the Sanctification of God are distractions from the greater story. Yes, there is tragedy. But there is also an awareness of how critical every Kohen is, and perhaps by extension how critical is every member of klal Yisrael! The Mishkan needs to function. Aharon and Elazar and Itamar need to pick up their broken pieces and work on helping the people serve God. 

We don’t understand the chok that has cow ashes purifying people. But in a Mishkan/Mikdash time, if I want to serve God through the bringing of offerings, I need to do what I am instructed to do to be able to get there. 

Nadav and Avihu’s deaths are a distraction from the Mishkan. At the same time as we can’t ignore the tragedy we have to embrace that we have a job to do. Similarly, the distraction of the halakhot of the Parah prevent us from feeling the loss of Nadav and Avihu even further.

And why? Because I still can’t understand Moshe’s answer to Aharon that Nadav and Avihu’s death was a sanctification that God had ordained as something He needed to happen at that time. Which just shows I can admit that I don’t understand how the Master of the World operates. Which is OK. Rav Aharon Lichtenstein used to say that as well. It is OK to live with questions. Even with questions, and maybe even despite my questions, I still must choose to do God’s will. 

That’s a choice many of us make every day. 

 Our challenge is to balance God’s will, our human empathy, weeding out distractions, to find meaning in life, even and especially when we don’t understand.

Parshat Zachor sermon from 2022

Sermon Delivered Parshat Zachor 5782 

(very lightly modified)

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

“The best advice you’ve ever received,” an article by David Pogue, started as a query on Twitter when he asked (in a different context) “What’s your greatest regret?” And @susanchamplin replied that regret was her only regret. The response to it was “Wise advice: You made the best decision you could with the information you had at the time.”

He went on to ask what is the best advice you’ve received, which garnered a number of responses, one of which was “Don’t pickle things.” That line, brought to you by reader Sam Singer’s mother, means: If you have something special, use it now. “Serve daily meals on your good china. Wash your hands with the luxurious soap you received as a housewarming gift. Drink that bottle of amazing wine right away. Don’t save things for future use — because who knows what the future looks like?” 

It dawned on me as we were to be reading Parshat Zachor this week, that the concept of not pickling is one that is appropo to this Shabbos. I remember as a child, whenever we went sneakers shopping, I was almost never allowed to wear them out of the store. They had to go back in the box, and I’d bring them home and wear them when I was allowed to. I still do this now! I have to remind myself that when it’s time to get new it’s because the old is done and I am allowed – I have to give myself permission – to throw out the old ones and wear the new ones. 

 Sometimes we live too much in the past, and we forget that there is a whole future ahead of us. Isn’t that what Zachor is all about? We have to remember the past. That’s Zachor. But the last words of the section are לא תשכח. You’ve remembered – you’ve done your Zachor. Move onward, with that memory in the rear view mirror. Don’t forget. But also don’t let that memory hold you back from moving on. 

 Viktor Frankl wrote in “Man’s Search for Meaning” of a survey conducted of both the patients and nurses in a hospital in Vienna in which it was discovered that over 55% of the respondents showed a more marked degree of existential vacuum, meaning they had lost the feeling that life is meaningful. 

 In his view this existential vacuum manifests itself mainly in a state of boredom.

He gives as an example “Sunday neurosis,” that kind of depression which afflicts people who become aware of the lack of content in their lives when the rush of the busy week is over and the void within themselves becomes manifest. 

 He writes, “Not a few cases of suicide can be traced back to this existential vacuum. Such widespread phenomena as alcoholism and juvenile delinquency are not understandable unless we recognize the existential vacuum underlying them. This is also the true crises of pensioners and aging people.” 

So Frankl goes on to challenge each person to find meaning in one’s own life – a purpose for living and a reason to get up every morning. What gives each person the will to live, in essence, a meaningful life? 

Every person can easily look back at a time in life when there was something about the life being lived that is so nostalgic, if we had the chance to go back to that time and place, we’d go in a heartbeat. Not only that, we might even experience it differently, appreciating it on a level we didn’t appreciate then. Maybe we’d appreciate the opportunity to simply revisit because it was so fleeting, as moments often are. 

 Would we have regrets? We’re not allowed to have regrets – we were supposed to have done the best we could with the information we had at the time. 

 That’s what Zachor means – remember what happened. It was a moment in time. Or perhaps a window in time. 

But the real lesson is לא תשכח. What did you learn from that which you remember? 

 [A brief reference was made to the fact that Parshat Zachor was the last normal Shabbos before lockdowns in 2020.] 

As Parshas Zachor has a unique quality of bringing people out to shul, all I want to do is bring to mind that we have all been through a lot in the last two years, and we have each hopefully reevaluated what is most important and meaningful to us in life. 

 When I aim to Zachor what things were like beforehand, I remember a kehillah that was so special, so engaged, so blessedly overwhelmed by the events, classes and programs that were going on in our building almost every day.

ZACHOR. If we imagine those times, and if we see that we can make an effort to be here today, then we can also לא תשכח. Don’t forget what it could be again. Baruch Hashem our minyanim are well attended, some lectures get nice attendance. 

But I can tell you there are a lot of new members who are having a harder time meeting people than in previous times because it’s still not the same. Some of our longer time members come to shul and feel they don’t know anyone anymore. 

I don’t have a specific solution for how that changes, but one easy way is, when you see someone whose name you don’t know, say “Hi. My name is ______. I don’t believe I know your name.” Then repeat the person’s name 3 or 4 times. I think most of us can take it from there. 

 But more than that, I think we can take a double lesson from President Kennedy in answering Viktor Frankl’s question. 

 Every one of us came to this neighborhood for our own reasons. Some stories may share similarities, but in the end, each is unique. Each journey is part of a different life with different stops along the road. 

 And while I think it’s great to ask what you can do for your shul, I won’t suggest that we “ask not what your shul can do for you.” Because the fact that each of us is here on this day shows that shul has a value to us in our religious lives, and I like to think it can have a tremendous value in our social lives as well, if we don’t forget – לא תשכח – what it means to have a community and to be part of one. 

One of the reasons we remember Amalek at this time is to remind us, on the Shabbos before the actualization of wiping out Amalek in Haman’s plan, that we have a mitzvah to do so. 

 Which boils down to a simple formula. We have a mitzvah, a commandment, a responsibility, and so we make a plan, and then we carry it to fruition. 

Much of the last two years got in the way, in many of our minds, of living life to the max, and having as Viktor Frankl put it, the most meaningful life we could be living. 

To use the advice of Sam Singer’s mother, let us not pickle ourselves. We aren’t meant to be stagnant, waiting for the special moment when we will once again reach our potential. And like Susan Champlin put it, we should hope to minimize our regrets.

Zachor – remember what our focus was. לא תשכח – don’t forget what our goals could be moving forward. Just as this mindset brought about a salvation in the time of Purim, this mindset can bring us a salvation from living a life without the kind of focus it could have.

 • For those for whom it could include more friends, let it be so.

 • For those for whom it could mean more volunteering, let it be so.

 • For those for whom it could mean a more meaningful Tefillah experience, let it be so.

 • For those for whom it could mean more Torah study, and more seeking opportunities to grow in learning, let it be so.

 • For those for whom it is getting over the final hump that allows us to enjoy life again in the same manner we did pre Pandemic, let it be so. 

 Remember, we have one life to live. Don’t forget that we are a product of ALL of our experiences. Where we go from the last two years is up to us. 

 We should be blessed to take the steps we need to take to enhance the meaning we aim to find out of life, based in the efforts we put into finding that meaning.