Resilience in the Face of Adversity

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In Parshat Vayera Avraham was essentially pushed to throw Yishmael out of the house, a decision which gave him much anguish. In the following chapter, his beloved God effectively told him he had to kill his son – and even though at the moment of moments this decision was reversed and Yitzchak was spared – one can only imagine this emotional roller coaster. This Shabbos we read, in the opening of chaper 23, of the death of Avraham’s wife Sarah – and we know that he lived another 38 years without her. 

While Avraham's relationship with God is enviable, some aspects of his human experience are far less enviable. Forced to banish one son, almost loses another at his own hand, and then his wife predeceases him by 38 years. Even his finances are unclear to us – there are certainly times when he is wealthy (after leaving Egypt, in Gerar), but there is no indication that that was always the case, such as at the beginning of Lekh Lekha and when he sends Eliezer to find the wife for Yitzchak (the verse says Eliezer went with ALL of Avraham’s good belongings – considering that he went with only ten camels, it could very well be that Avraham had taken a financial turn for the worse – see Kli Yakar). Who knows? It could be that the purchase of Mearat Hamachpela wiped him out financially! 

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik spoke about Holocaust survivors he had met. "Some lost everything – their faith in God, their faith in themselves, their sense of dignity. For some, suffering was a crucible in which they attained great heights, and for some suffering was degrading and spiritually annihilating. They could no longer believe ‘I am Hashem who took you out of Ur Chasdim,’ and if you lose God in times of trouble, even in times of individual trouble, you lose yourself as well. That is why God told Avraham, I want you to remember during the long night of dread, during the long night of human wretchedness and failure, that ‘I am Hashem who took you out of Ur Chasdim.’ There were better times before, and finally the day will arrive when better times will return." 

There's no questioning the fact that life brings its ups and downs. And when we're really down we sometimes forget to focus on the ups. I once heard a rabbi telling of a time he visited someone – a well-to-do individual who was sick in the hospital – and the man essentially asked, "Why me?" The rabbi told him, "There is so much good in your life. Did you ever stop to say 'Why me? Why am I so lucky?'" His message was simply this: Before we complain, we need to recognize the good that we have. 

In the book "Abraham's Journey" – written posthumously by Rabbi Soloveitchik – the author writes as if God speaking to Avraham, "Abraham. You know very well that I have assigned you not just material objectives and goals. You will have to realize a great spiritual destiny. And the realization of your spiritual destiny will not be as easy as that of your material destiny. It is a long history of suffering and subjugation. Now you are a victor, but not always will your children be victors. What the future holds for your children is not a series of successes; it is a sequence of suffering and sacrificing…"

Rabbi Soloveitchik speaks of the central experience of Avraham's life being galut – homelessness, wandering without knowing the destination, sleeping on the ground on freezing cold nights, being lost along the byways of a strange land. This experience taught Avraham and his descendants the art of involvement, of sharing in distress, of feeling for the stranger, of having compassion for the other. It trained Avraham to react quickly to suffering, to try to lighten the other's burden as much as possible. No matter who the stranger was, what he stood for – the stranger had suffered and suffering purges a person and redeems him. 

Asking why our nation was born in the desert, Rabbi Soloveitchik explained that if our morality had to be one of kindness and Chesed, it could not have been formulated by people who knew not what suffering is. Only people in exile could appreciate a morality of kindness. 

Rabbi Soloveitchik continues, explaining that the supremacy of the norm of hospitality rejects the notion of "my home is my castle." Such a notion conveys two wrong ideas: a. that the home gives us protection and shields us in a time of crisis, and b. that it is our property and no one else can claim a share in it. Both are false: One is never fully protected – man is exposed to evil and disaster, and no human is the lord of the house, he is merely a tenant as the Torah says in Vayikra 25:23: וְהָאָרֶץ לֹא תִמָּכֵר לִצְמִתֻת כִּי לִי הָאָרֶץ כִּי גֵרִים וְתוֹשָׁבִים אַתֶּם עִמָּדִי: (“Since the land is Mine, no land shall be sold permanently. You are foreigners and resident aliens as far as I am concerned…”) 

Challenges we face in life are tests – tests of resilience, of how we will emerge from the trials, of how humans will rise to the occasion. Just looking back on events of this weekend over the last decade we saw a number of awful events that tested our people and some specific communities. Almost a decade ago was Hurricane Sandy when many people lost everything, and people not defined by anything other than ‘being humans sharing in a very challenging situation’ cared for one another, looked out for the elderly and needy, set up methods of feeding, clothing and housing those who had been hit hardest. 

7 years ago – this Sunday (10/31 – 25 Cheshvan) is the yartzeit of the Har Nof Massacre. How many remember the devastation and the despair we felt over Jews being murdered in their tallis and tefillin while davening to Hashem? How do we move on from there? 

A community went to make a shiva visit to the Druze policeman who gave his life trying to stop the attack. Books were written about those murdered including “LIVING ON: Messages, Memories and Miracles from the Har Nof Massacre” to inspire others to live lives emulating the middos of the men murdered that day, as well as a 5th victim who died a year later from his wounds. 

Just three years ago (October 27/ 18 Cheshvan – Parshat Vayera), the Tree of Life Shooting/Massacre, in which 15 Jews were murdered for being Jews who showed up to a synagogue on a Shabbos morning. That day changed a certain way of thinking – if it could happen there, it could happen anywhere. We must mourn for the dead. And we must be prepared for the future. 

How can we have optimism when things look bleak? 

Avraham had a choice – he could have holed himself up in his tent and died after his wife's death. He could have gotten mad at his God. 

But he didn't. He saw he had a job that needed to be done, and he put whatever strength he had into seeing that it get done. More important than his troubles, it seems, was his future. And his future was Yitzchak, the nation he was promised by God, and the dedication to that God that was necessary for his future nation to survive. Some of that dedication to God was certainly emphasized through Avraham’s prayer experience. And that message carried over through Yitzchak who, according to our tradition, taught us about the Mincha prayer in his ventures into the field towards the end of Chapter 24 in our parsha. 

Rabbi Soloveitchik taught about the power of tefillah, as well as a form of its comparison to Torah Study (Talmud Torah) 

“Prayer is an art, not just a mechanical performance. It is an attitude, a state of mind, a mood. It is a great and exciting experience, an adventure. But when we find ourselves holding the prayerbook, when we are about to recite our prayers and pour out our hearts before God, the scene changes completely. The adult, the proud mind, the independent thinker, the genius – none of them are admitted to the Heikhal Hatefillot, the palace of prayer. They cannot know the art of prayer. 

"Talmud Torah requires self affirmation and self appreciation, confidence in one's ability to understand and judge, to discriminate and equate. Tefillah demands self negation, just the opposite approach [to how one engages in Torah study]. The mood that generates a desire for prayer is one of hopelessness and bankruptcy. To pray means to surrender one's pride and self-confidence, to put aside any awareness of greatness, freedom, and independence. Prayer is for those who are simple, who are capable of complete surrender and of complete trust in the Holy one, ‘whose heart is not naughty… Whose soul is like that of a weaned child’ (Psalms 131:1-2 – one of the shortest chapters of Tehillim – worth the read! - AB). Incidentally, the child feels that he is in the embrace of someone who loves him very much, who will protect him and do anything to make his life happy and better. That feeling is the very root of prayer." 

While the anniversary isn’t now because this happened a few months ago, consider the devastation that followed the building collapse in Surfside. A community stepped up to help one and all, because the human experience, and the strength of human connections, is where we share a common bond. Tragedies are what they are – they can’t be walked back. But humans can rise to the occasion, and hopefully through helping one another we can see past differences and realize there is much more that unites than divides us. 

With whatever downs people may be experiencing at any given time, fulfillment in life comes from seeing the positive, finding the silver lining, experiencing the ray of sunshine, judging people favorably, and perhaps most importantly in seeing other people as people towards whom we may one day be faced with the opportunity to do Chesed. 

A friend who was going through a rough spell once told me “People often look for excuses not to go to a simcha, as if it's a burden. And thank God, we have so many simchas, it might be viewed as a burden. But somehow, when it's a tragedy, everybody drops everything and they are there, offering to help, etc. If we'd only have such an attitude when it comes to a simcha, how much more positive and optimistic we'd be." This is certainly a perspective worthy of consideration. 

Rabbi Soloveitchik taught us about Avraham’s troubles in life, but also about his prayers, his strength, and his resilience to adversity, as well as his never-ending special relationship with God. 

With God's help, may our tefillah be uplifted, may we be blessed with strength and the years to continue to do Chesed and may we be blessed, along with all of עם ישראל, to be optimistic of the bright future that lies ahead.

Age of Yitzchak at the Akedah

Parshat Vayera 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The Torah does not tell us how old Avraham and Yitzchak were at the time of Akedat Yitzchak (the binding of Isaac). Seder Olam says “Avraham was 100 years old when Yitzchak was born. Yitzchak was 37 when he was bound on the altar.” Rashi quotes this, and almost everyone accepts this position without question. 

Ibn Ezra is a notable exception in his commentary on 22:5. “…The rabbis taught that Yitzchak was 37 at this time. And if that is the truth, we’ll accept it. But logic dictates otherwise. If [he were that old] Yitzchak’s righteousness should be more noted, and his reward manifold over that of his father, because he willingly gave himself up to be slaughtered. Yet there was no mention. Others suggest he was 5, but this is difficult due to his carrying the wood. But the most sensible answer is that he was 13. His father convinced him and tied him against his will – the proof is that his father hid the secret from him, saying God will show them the sheep. Had Avraham said, 'You are the offering,' presumably he’d have run away.” 

As Yalkut Shimoni paints the story, something does seem a little odd. “Avraham got up early, and took Yishmael, Eliezer, and Yitzchak with him… Yitzchak was 37, and Yishmael was 50 (sic). Yishmael and Eliezer got into an argument. Yishmael said, ‘Since Avraham is going to bring Yitzchak as an offering, I am the first born who will inherit Avraham.’ Eliezer responded, ‘You were already rejected and thrown out of the house! I am the loyal servant, at his side day and night. I will inherit!’ A holy spirit responded, ‘Neither you or you will be inheriting.’” 

If Yishmael is FIFTY at this time, we can only imagine how old Eliezer is. The fact that the Torah calls them both “N’arim” (young men) would seem odd. 

In all fairness, Yitzchak is also called a Na’ar (no matter his age) and Rabbenu Bachaye addresses this issue noting that Yehoshua, at the age of 56 (Shmos 33:11) is also called a Naar. (Yehoshua was 46 at the time, so that might be a typo in Rabbenu Bachaye - AB). 

This explanation might work for Yitzchak and Yishmael being depicted as "n'arim." But in the very next parsha, the man we identify as Eliezer is called זקן ביתו – the “Elder” of Avraham’s household - when Avraham recruits him to find a wife for Yitzchak. It is hard to argue that he can be both a Na’ar, and then a Z’kan, within a very short timeframe of 3 years, if Yitzchak is indeed 37 at the Akedah, and 40 when Eliezer goes to find Rivkah. 

Rashi notes (22:19) that Avraham lived in Hevron 12 years before the binding of Yitzchak, and went from the binding to Beer Sheva where he then lived for 26 years. Rashi references his comment on 21:34 where he quotes Seder Olam and describes Avraham as having lived in Hevron for 25 years from his arrival in Canaan. [The math is a little off because Rashi indicates that he was no longer there at the time of his bris (age 99 – 24 years since his arrival in the land) when he was living in Elonei Mamre.] Avraham is assumed to then live in Philistia for 26 years (math is now realigned) bringing Avraham at age 125 to return to Hevron for 12 years. And from Hevron he was called to the Akedah, according to Rashi's view.  

Does the Akedah actually take place at that time? Certainly the Torah isn’t clear – but where is Avraham when he is instructed to go to the Akedah? Wasn’t he in Beer Shava, per the end of Chapter 21? Or was he in Philistia? Where does the passage of 12 years appear in the text between the end of Chapter 21 and the beginning of Chapter 22? 

There is a Midrashic sentiment quoted by Alshikh and others (eg Chizkuni) that as he was walking to the Akedah, Avraham regretted not finding a wife for Yitzchak - after all, now that Yitzchak is going to die, there is no grandson (Yitzchak's child) to live on carrying Yitzchak’s legacy. Is it possible that Avraham never looked for a wife for Yitzchak because Yitzchak wasn’t old enough? Meaning, perhaps Yitzchak is closer to the age mentioned by Ibn Ezra (13) and that's why Avraham never even made an effort. And if Yitzchak is 37 at the Akedah, why would Avraham wait another 3 years before looking for a wife for Yitzchak if he has this regret of Yitzchak not having a child? 

(Though interestingly, how old was Yishmael when he was kicked out of the house and his mother found him a wife (21:21)? We typically assume Yitzchak was 2 or 3 when Hagar and Yishmael were sent away, making Yishmael 16 or 17. If he could marry at that age, then a 13 year old Yitzchak is still a little young, which could be more of a lament on Avraham's part than a regret if he anticipates Yitzchak's death in advance of the Akedah.) 

Alshikh includes an argument that Avraham was told the time was not ready for Yitzchak to wed anyway because his intended (Rivkah) had not yet been born. In general, the reasoning given for Yitzchak being 37 at the Akedah (and Rivkah being 3 at their marriage) is through a reading that says the Akedah, the birth of Rivkah and the death of Sarah all took place at the same time. Interestingly, the Talmud (Yevamot 61b) mentions Rivkah’s marriageable status, and Tosafot quote a Sifrei (Devarim 397:7) that indicates Rivkah was 14 at the time of her marriage. The Midrash puts Rivkah in the category of pairs of people that lived to the same age, and she is partnered with Kehat, who lived to be 133. Working backwards, the conclusion is that Rivkah was 14 on her wedding day and 34 when she gave birth to her twin sons. 

With that perspective, Avraham finding out about the birth of Rivkah, information which comes to him – in the Torah’s presentation – right after the Akedah, could come as early as Yitzchak being 26! And therefore is not at the same time as the death of Sarah, because years can pass between the end of chapter 22 and the beginning of chapter 23!  Now we can consider 26 as being the age at which Yitzchak was brought to the Akedah.  

A question not adequately addressed anywhere is how much time passes between God telling Avraham כי ביצחק יקרא לך זרע ("through Yitzchak will your children be known" 21:12 – presumably when Yitzchak is 2-3) and the instruction for the Akedah. It is noted that there is a contradiction between what God tells Avraham of Yitzchak continuing Avraham’s family and his being brought as an offering. But how many years apart were those two directives? The contradiction would seem to be far more striking if the time distance between the two directives were closer to 10 years than closer to 35 years.

Riva (Rabbi Yehuda ben Eliezer) rejects a notion he quotes in the name of Chizkuni, for example, that that promise regarding Yitzchak (through him your children will be known) was made when Yitzchak was 37, and therefore very shortly before Yitzchak was taken to the Akedah in Rashi's view. The assumption (and therefore reason for rejecting that suggestion) is clearly that Avraham was told about Yitzchak's legacy to comfort him around the time of Yishmael's being rejected and ejected from the household, when Yitzchak was therefore much younger. 

Another significant and related question, also never adequately addressed, is the Ibn Ezra's insightful query as to why the Akedah is viewed more as a test for Avraham than for Yitzchak. Presumably it would be much more to Yitzchak's credit to be a willing participant as an adult than as a relatively young child still enamored by his father and still not as able to overpower his father.

Rabbi David Zvi Hoffman suggests there is a significant passage of time between the treaty with Avimelekh (which seems to take place when Yitzchak is still a small child - end of chapter 21). Based on a different analysis of his suggesting Rivkah is closer to 20 at her nuptials, Rabbi Hoffman assumes that Yitzchak is around 20 at the time of the Akedah - הרי היה יצחק בשעת העקידה כבר בן עשרים.

One other Midrashic point raised by Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetzky (and many others – see Targum Yonatan) is an argument that took place between Yishmael and Yitzchak. Yishmael was claiming he was greater than Yitzchak because when he was 13, and God instructed circumcision, he submitted himself to the ritual without complaining. “You, Yitzchak, had it done when you were 8 days old. I’m much more impressive.” Yitzchak’s response is “If God would instruct me to kill myself for Him, I’d readily agree!” 

Does that conversation seem more likely between a 50 year old and a 36 year old, or between a 27 year old and a 13 year old – with Yishmael perhaps suggesting, “When I was your age, guess what I did for God…” 

Rabbi Kamenetzky quotes the Rashbam who suggests the treaty with Avimelekh (end of chapter 21) was shortly before the Akedah (Chapter 22). This contradicts a notion noted above that Avimelekh came shortly after Yishmael and Hagar were sent out of the house. So, again, when exactly did the treaty take place? 

The story of the Akedah requires its own analysis for many reasons. But the age factor of the participants also changes how we perceive the narrative and the lessons derived from it. 

May we always continue to probe further and learn more deeply as we struggle with this most difficult of Torah tales in our history and legacy.

Avraham and Prayer

Parshat Lekh Lekha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There is a series of books that have been published in recent years by the Mesorat HaRav Foundation – thematic volumes of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s thoughts and teachings. One of the books is called “Abraham’s Journey” in which Rabbi Soloveitchik outlines many thoughts about Avraham’s experiential journey, mostly in creating and fashioning the concept of what Rabbi Soloveitchik often refers to as the Covenental Community. 

The concept of the Covenant is presented twice in our parsha, both in the Bris Bein HaBsarim and the Bris Milah. Covenants drive our connection to God and how the Covenental Community communicates with God. 

Avraham in a sense becomes a model of prayer when he initiates the “calling out in God’s name” in Chapter 12. We have to imagine that when he built his altars (מזבחs) to God, that his prayer at these places was sincere, devout and uninterrupted.

Rashi notes, for example, that both in Shechem and Ai Avraham prayed for his descendants who would have difficult encounters there. We know what Yaakov and family experienced in Shechem, and what Yehoshua and the people faced at the failed first battle of Ai, shortly after their success in the battle of Yericho. 

So Avraham took his tefillah moments seriously. He surely had proper kavvanah, because he knew what he was thinking about. He was probably also praying that he should have a child, a theme that appears over and over in the parsha as well. 

We can likely assume that he let his wife and nephew know, as well as whichever people were in his life, this is uninterruptible time. I am communicating with God. I will allow and tolerate ZERO distractions. 

With this in mind, perhaps it is worth taking the time to review a few important halakhic and common sense notes regarding tefillah. 

In general, those in tune to what tefillah is know very well that davening – especially the personal and more private components of davening – should take more time to say, not less time. Sometimes this is actually easier to achieve when praying alone (though it’s certainly not always the case), but this is not to say that a shul can’t also aim to take more time than less time for davening. 

There are halachos about whether it is appropriate to learn Torah during the lulls in davening. Whether it is right or wrong, perhaps to fill the time, one might consider reading the English translation or commentary in the Siddur so one is involved in Tefillah even when not focused directly on one’s personal prayers in the moment. 

Chazaras Hashatz is a time to follow along and to pay attention to the words we might not have understood when we said them in Hebrew. Follow in English. Pay better attention to what is being said. Catch up on what was missed which includes both portions we may have skipped, but also portions we said but did not understand. Perhaps we neglected to think about how the portions of tefillah can be meaningful to ME in what is going on in my life TODAY. 

The main goal of coming to shul, and certainly of engaging in Tefillah is to communicate with the Almighty. In the Lonely Man of Faith, Rabbi Soloveitchik wrote, “Prayer is basically an awareness of man finding himself in the presence of and addressing himself to his Maker, and to pray has one connotation only: to stand before God.” 

“The very essence of prayer is the covenantal experience of being together with and talking to God, and that the concrete performance such as the recitation of texts represents the technique of implementation of prayer, and not prayer itself.” 

Translation – the siddur is a tool to help us get to tefillah, and to help us get to that feeling of being עומד לפני המלך (standing before the King). But let us not think that simply “saying the words” and “finishing a paragraph” or a particular “tefillah” means I have prayed. What was that experience like? How was I moved? 

 Conversations of any kind are distracting to those who are still engaged in the physical act of praying and communicating with the Divine. Whether the one still praying is focused on simply saying the words, or more deeply, on understanding the words, anyone near that person should be cognizant of that person’s need to be able to concentrate and should make every effort to not present a distraction 

 Always remember the poster some shuls have אם באת לביה"כ לדבר לאן תלך כשתצטרך להתפלל? (If you came to shul to talk, where will you go when you need to daven?) A polite way to let someone else aware of their disturbance is to gently tell them “I come to shul to daven in a quiet space. Thank you for helping maintain that.” 

Every weekday parishioner needs to remember that phones are a distraction. Even if the ringer is off, the phone should really not be accessed at all during davening. A person absorbed in a phone is not “present” and misses just about every aspect of davening going on around the individual and – especially if during Shacharis – is disrespecting the Tefillin, which are considered very holy objects. 

 Let us learn from Avraham Avinu. He was in tune to why he was praying, what he needed to say, and to Whom he was praying. 

 Our goal in life is supposed to be to always be GROWING in our relationship with the Almighty. This is what it means to be a part of the Covenantal Community. 

May we be blessed to fill our place in the covenantal community and create, maintain, or even improve upon our inspiring makom tefillah.

Noach Contemplates the New World Before Him

Parshat Noach 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A parsha joke for this week: when Noach opened the door to the Ark, all the animals started to sing “Aitz Chaim Heeeee.” 

While certainly chuckle worthy, the truth is that this time of year is a good time to consider what the opening of the Ark means to us. In the last few weeks, between the High Holidays, Zom Gedalia, Sukkos, Shmini Atzeres, and Simchas Torah, we have read portions of the Torah from each of the books of the Torah. On Rosh Hashana we read from Bereishis, on Zom Gedaliah we read from Shemos, on Yom Kippur we read from Vayikra, on all the holidays we read Maftirs from Bamidbar, and on different holidays we might be reading from Devarim or Vayikra. Of course, Simchas Torah concludes the book of Devarim and begins the book of Bereishis. 

In a small window of less than a month we get a round-the-world taste of Torah, even as we formally complete the yearly cycle of weekly-readings and begin a new cycle once again. 

This challenge of rebooting is exactly what Noach experienced after a full solar year on the Ark, 365 days. When he got off the Ark, what was he thinking? We don’t know, but certainly each of us could come up with a few possibilities. 

"Thank God we survived. We have a real task ahead of ourselves. This is a big world that needs people to fill it. This is a big world that needs animals to fill it. We must set ourselves up for success. We must put all stops in place so we don’t fall to the depravity that caused us to have to get onto the boat in the first place. Even if God promises never to send a flood to destroy the whole world again, that may be legal jargon. He can still send floods and other means of destruction. He can still destroy the whole world again. It just won’t happen with that specific combination..."

Of course, humans are a curious bunch. Some humans crave grandeur and power. Some humans will readily oppress others if they become aggrandized as a result – this is the story of human history. Even in a democratic republic, there are some people who stay in positions of power (which they explain as “a life in public service”) because they enjoy the power that comes with the position. Even if someone else could do a better job, or even if they have worn out their forty plus years in office, stepping off into the sunset doesn’t appeal to them. 

Other humans are happy to never get involved in that kind of work, simply enjoying life as it comes. 

For us, the challenge Noach was surely faced with is very similar to the challenges we face yearly at this time of year, and often enough throughout our lives. 

At this time of year, we can ask ourselves how will we reembrace the Torah? How will we study it anew? How will we make our re-viewing of the Torah into a fresh viewing of the Torah? What new questions and insights will we come up with? Which commentaries will we discover whose approaches to understanding the Torah come from vantage points we never considered?

With this new cycle, in my weekly parsha class we are studying the commentary of Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno (Italy 15th-16th century). This week he introduced us to Berossus the Chaldean, an early Babylonian historian from the 3rd century who wrote works similar in scope to those of Josephus. Berossus analyzes the early travels and settlings of mankind post the Flood, tapping into what is clearly human nature – conquer, own, rule (and oppress in order to hold onto power?). Most of his writings are lost, but live on in the quotations of those who cite him. Finding some of the citations of his writings surrounding the post Flood era has been an exercise in the fascinating, at the very least.  

I received an email this week from a friend with a list of questions, one of which was “If you were to meet Rashi, what would you ask?” 

A decent enough question, perhaps everyone might have a different response. I would most likely ask, “What do you think of the almost deification of your commentary by some people – do you believe what you wrote is the end-all, an unquestionable conglomerate of the only way to understand the Torah?” 

This is what I would ask, even though I am pretty confident that I know the answer. Rashbam, Rashi’s grandson, writes in his commentary to Parshas Vayeshev, וגם רבנו שלמה אבי אמי מאיר עיני גולה שפירש תורה נביאים וכתובים נתן לב לפרש פשוטו של מקרא, ואף אני שמואל ב"ר מאיר חתנו זצ"ל נתווכחתי עמו ולפניו והודה לי שאילו היה לו פנאי היה צריך לעשות פרושים אחרים לפי הפשטות המתחדשים בכל יום 

“And Rabbenu Shlomo, my mother’s father, the illuminator of the Disapora, who explained the Torah, Prophets and Writing, put his heart to explaining the simple understanding of the text. And even I, Shmuel son of R Meir (his son-in-law) argued with him and before him. And he (Rashi) admitted to me that had he only had the time he would have to come up with new explanations because of the new understandings that come up every day.” 

According to his grandson, who questioned his commentary and spoke with him about it, Rashi would have rewritten his commentary on the Bible. Which means, A. Rashi was constantly learning new ideas, B. He was clearly open to the reality that nothing need be set in stone forever. People evolve, ideas evolve, and nothing in the realm of Torah study should remain static and not subject to further scrutiny or analysis. 

Just as Noach contemplated what to do with the new world and opportunities opened to him for the remainder of the life he was prepared to face, we too should challenge ourselves, especially as we begin this new cycle of the Torah, to contemplate how we can make our commitments to God and Torah, mitzvos and observance-of-them into something much more than static and routine, as we consider how to make the most of the new world presented to us every year post Simchas Torah. 

“Noach opened the Ark and the animals sang Aitz Chaim Heeeeeee.” It’s a joke, of course. But the idea that we open the Ark and sing without extracting the most we can out the Torah contained in the Ark is no joke. 

That is, after all, our task in this life of being a Jew – to grow in our Torah knowledge and commitment to God – more and more each day.

Chanokh, Who Made the Most of His Years

Parshat Bereshit 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Some people are blessed in life to find and fulfill a unique purpose. According to Rabbi Yitzchak Arama (and many others), Chanoch (great grandfather of Noach) was a unique individual whose life was cut short (relatively speaking) either because he was going to go in a bad direction, so God “took him” while he was still “good,” or because he was so exceptional, so aligned with every special component of the world that God put in order, God wanted him at the point when he had reached the zenith of his existence.

Unlike almost everyone else from Adam through Noach who lives into his 900s (Mehalalel lives to 895 and Lemech lives to 777), Chanokh’s life ends at the age of 365 – though his death is not mentioned. “He was gone for God had taken him.” (5:24)

Just a few snippets from some of the commentaries: 

 Targum Yonatan: He served God with truth for 300 years, after the birth of Metushelach. 

Ibn Ezra notes that the phrase ויתהלך חנוך את הא-לקים (Chanokh walked with God) appears twice in his snapshot in the Torah, which follows the instruction from Devarim 13:5 to “walk in God’s ways.” Noting that the only other people described in this way are Noach (את הא-לקים התהלך נח) and Avraham who is instructed התהלך לפני, Ibn Ezra describes Chanokh as training himself to be extremely familiar with God, one who became a צדיק גמור (completely righteous individual) who was comfortable in the presence of angels. 

 Netziv describes Chanokh’s walking with God as a lifelong enhancement of his אהבת ה' (love of God), and that unlike Ben Azai (see Yevamot 63b) who dedicated his life to God and the Torah but neglected to have children, Chanokh not only fathered the righteous Metushelach, but ויולד בנים ובנות – he engaged in the commandment of procreation, having sons and daughters like everyone else. 

Malbim takes this idea a step further pointing out Chanokh’s earlier pursuits of truth and goals of fulfilling God’s will, but after he reached the age of 365, which is equivalent to the number of days in a solar year “he walked with God alone” and separated himself from this world. 

 Rabbenu Bachaye notes (in his “כד הקמח”) that Chanokh is categorized with Eliyahu as 1 of 2 people who never sinned and lived forever, to be distinguished from the 4 people who are credited as never having sinned, and yet died (Binyamin, Amram, Yishai, Kilav). (Shabbos 55b, Baba Basra 17a). 

In his commentary on the Torah, however, Rabbenu Bachaye circles back to the significance of the number 365 explaining that “This righteous man knew and understood the ‘journey’ of the sun (aka the solar year) and the great strength of the sun. He understood, in his own wisdom, that there is a Divine reasons for everything, and he clung to it. He knew there are heavenly luminaries (i.e. the sun, moon, and stara) and that their light is drawn from the Divine light – with which this righteous man (Chanokh) merited to connect. The word ויהי (5:23) is used to summarize his number of years, which is different than the word ויהיו used for just about everyone else (5:4,8,11,14,17,20,27) [Lemech has ויהי in 5:31, and he also has shorter years than everyone else, as well as interesting connections to Chanokh which are beyond this discussion about Chanokh - AB] The usage of ויהי is indicative of his tapping into this Divine Light which is also described using the word יהי אור ויהי אור. Moshe Rabbenu had a similar merit as the verse describes him on top of the mountain for 40 days "ויהי משה בהר" (Shmot 24:18). 

There may have been people who looked at Chanokh’s limited years (comparatively) and felt, “O Nebich, he died at such a young age.” Leaving aside that he did not die, these explanations indicate that Chanokh actually made the most of his days living every day to the max, never looking back at any day as a waste of a day, or of decisions as mistakes.

He knew what his goal in life was, and he made every effort to achieve exactly that, until the point that God said “There’s no place for him on this earth anymore, he needs to be with Me.” 

How many of us can live up to anything like that? 

Over Yom Tov, many thousands of people around the world suffered a great loss with the passing of Rabbi Moshe Dovid Tendler, Z”L. I spent a few years in his shiur, and dutifully called him my Rebbe, though surely not as close as others were. One of my friends, Rabbi Shimshon Nadel, who was very close with our Rebbe, wrote the following immediately after his passing. While still living in New York I had these experiences as well. I share Rabbi Nadel’s words because I am still processing my own – Rebbe always took my phone calls or called me back, always asked about “the Rabbanus” and about Milah (by being a Mohel), took a personal interest in the wellbeing of my family, and of course dealt with any and every question I had with patience, sensitivity and clarity. Reading what Rabbi Nadel (and many other Talmidim) have written, we see that like Chanokh, Rav Tendler made the most of his time in this world. Y’hi Zichro Baruch. 

 I hope to share some thoughts, reflections, stories, divrei Torah, and lessons I gleaned from this Gadol B'Yisrael. A true Torah giant. A towering intellectual. And a loving Rebbe. 

 As a preeminent posek, Rav Tendler zt"l ruled on the most difficult and delicate areas of Halacha. Questions of Pikuach Nefesh, end-of-life issues, organ donation, Agunot, family purity. No question was off limits or out of bounds. He answered them all with a surgical precision, a great finesse, and with a great sense of responsibility. 

 It was not uncommon for me to be sitting with him in his office at Yeshiva University, or at his home in Monsey, NY, and he would receive a phone call - usually from across the great expanses of the globe - on some serious matter. And it was also not uncommon for him to quickly gesture to me to listen in on the conversation, so I could hear how he navigated the delicate question. 

 He wanted his talmidim to be competent and confident in answering a shayla. 

He defined 'Torah L'shmah' - the study of Torah for it's own sake - as 'L'shem Hora'ah,' for the sake of being able to rule; to render p'sak halacha. He would invoke Kiddushin 30a: "The words of Torah should be sharp in your mouth, so should someone ask you a question you will not stammer - instead - answer him immediately." And was critical of those who study in Kollel for many years, but when asked how to make a cup of tea on Shabbos, 'don't want to pasken.' 

He was also the address when the answer was unclear, or the question too great for a newly minted rabbi. We knew we could turn to him and he would guide us. One of the Poskei Ha-Dor was just a phone call away, always magnanimous, always generous with his time. 

 It's no surprise he was generous with his talmidim, he loved us. Chazal compare the talmid-rebbe relationship to the parent-child relationship (Sifrei, Va'etchanan). This was tangible to anyone who merited to be a talmid of Rav Tendler.