The Sin of Doing One Mitzvah

Parshat VAYIKRa

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There’s a strange phrase that repeats itself several times in the parsha. “If a person sins… and does one of the commandments of God that one is [instructed] not to do” then a consequence follows. The consequence might be elaborated upon over several verses, or, as in the case, of 4:27, the consequence is preceded by the word, “v’ashem,” which means “and he is guilty.”

 Wouldn’t the verse make more sense if it said “If a person sins and violates a commandment…” or just leave it at “If a person sins…” and then list the consequence? It almost sounds like the Torah is saying that if a person sins through doing a mitzvah, then there is a consequence! How could a person sin through doing a mitzvah?!

 Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was known to look at the good of every Jew. One tale finds Reb Levi Yitzchak encountering a Jew who was smoking on Shabbos. The sinner refuted each benefit the rabbi ascribed to him. “You probably didn’t know it was Shabbos.” The man knew. “You probably didn’t know smoking is prohibited on Shabbos.” The man knew. “You must be smoking for health reasons.” No – that’s not the case.

 Reb Levi Yitzchak turned heavenward and said, “Even when your children commit sins, they tell the truth!”

 And yet, Reb Levi Yitzchak did not hold back in criticizing the Jew who is satisfied with a minimal connection with God. In his Kedushas Levi, Reb Levi Yitzchak looked at our verse in question and creatively explained the way the Torah depicts the sin of the individual. The more a person sincerely serves God, the more the person appreciates the tremendous disparity that exists between the great and Almighty God and the tiny human being.

 But, as in our verse, when a person does one mitzvah and thinks this is an adequate form of serving God, even the one mitzvah is inconsequential. To put it more succinctly – there are mitzvot which people categorize as mitzvot “that I don’t do.” I have the mitzvot that I do, the ones I am comfortable with, the ones that work for me. But there are mitzvot that fall out of my comfort zone, so I never do them. Or, perhaps, I may do it once in a while.

 Reb Levi Yitzchak said that the sin is not the doing of the mitzvah – though he questions whether the occasional trek into mitzvah-doing is worth anything, as opposed to a total commitment to mitzvoth. The sin is in having the attitude that “I have mitzvot that I don’t do” while still feeling that this incompleteness is a proper form of serving God.

 Reb Levi Yitzchak lived in a different time. And while I don’t think his entire message is apropos today – it is certainly not applicable to Jews who know very little about Judaism – there is much introspection demanded of Jews who do know better, who claim to believe in God and who live observant lifestyles, but who opt out of certain mitzvot because “I don’t do those” or who focus on one mitzvah that does work (while ignoring many others) who still think, “I am serving God properly as a Jew.”

 We live in a cynical society where the loudest people are anti-religion. Ironically, the religious population of the United States of America is one of the highest percentages in the world. For people who identify as religious Jews, it behooves us to never be satisfied with our personal status quo, and to continue to challenge ourselves to take more obligations upon ourselves, and to humbly add to our service of God, as we become increasingly aware of that disparity between ourselves and our Creator.
The sin Reb Levi Yitzchak reads into this verse is a sin of arrogance, a sin of minimal obligation and responsibility, and a sin of checking out of mitzvot based on external criteria.

 Let us embrace our responsibilities and obligations, let us be humble, and let us increasingly get closer to God so that the verses in question need not apply to our own Jewish experiences.

VAYIKRa - The Beginning of Learning

Parshat Vayikra

by Rabbi Avi Billet

A number of Midrashim pose the question (ascribed either to Rabbi Yoseh, Yosi, or Dosa), "Why do children begin learning the [Chumash] from the section about korbanot [offerings]?" And the answer is, "Because just as the korbanot are pure, so are the children pure."

            

In recording the question at the beginning of Vayikra, Kli Yakar quotes the Yalkut Shimoni (Pinchas 786), who uses a play on words to demonstrate that one year old "k'vasim" (sheep) are used as korbanot, because they are "m'khabsim" (they launder or wash away) the sins of a person, making the person as clean (or pure) as a one-year old.

            

While there are many suggestions as to why the alef in "VAYIKRa" is small (Kli Yakar begins his commentary on the parsha with his own interpretation), the call to attention brought on by the alef in this first word of the book is a reminder that this is where children, who are small and who begin their learning with alef, should begin their Chumash studies.

            

Kli Yakar quotes another opinion, that the word "Alef" comes from a root which means to study, as in the verse in Iyov (33:33), when his friend Elihu tells him, "Va'Alefkha Hokhma," – If you have words, answer me… but if you don't, then listen to me; be silent as I will teach you wisdom." The point taken from there is that learning is only fulfilling when a person lowers himself, and accepts the role of student, like a child learning in a classroom.

            

Moshe indeed merited to be called in this manner – Vayikra El Moshe – because he had done this when God first called upon him. He belittled himself saying, "I am not a man of words" (Shmot 4:10), and he merited to become the epitome of being a man of words, the quintessential teacher of Torah.

            

Not only was he the greatest teacher, but he rose above everyone else of his time. Certainly God spoke to Adam, Noach, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. But there was no one else in their time worthy of being any kind of competition. But in Moshe's day, there were 70 elders, Bezalel, Aharon and his sons, the princes, etc. and only Moshe merited to have the relationship with God he enjoyed.

            

And so the lesson is twofold: We learn from Moshe that one who never thinks "I have arrived" and who always thinks, "I have so much more to learn" is a person who will have much more success in learning.

            

Having played the role of instructor for advanced teacher education and training, I have found the most productive classes were those in which the teachers in the room played the role of students. Those who feel the need to reverse the roles in that context end up learning nothing themselves and ruin the class for everyone else.

            

On the other hand, playing the role of student is something I cherish as well. It is a blessing to hear new ideas, see new things, be presented with different perspectives on things I don't know well or even know very well. And the reminder of how much there is still to learn is ever humbling.

            

This leaves us with the second lesson: regarding children, of what and how they learn. We are living in a time when information is out there, available and so easily accessible. What is not out there, and what needs to be taught, learned and made available to children, is the ability to think. The answer to "what's the answer?" is "I don't know. Figure it out." Or, "Perhaps if you use this rule or this information that you have, you may be able to come up with the answer." "I am here to help, but not to show you or tell you."

            

Of course there are things we must "tell" children. How to read, translation of words, and even some basic skills all come from a frontal sharing of "information you need to know." But the book of Vayikra is a great place to start learning because the same words and shorashim (root words) appear over and over in the first seven chapters, creating a built in review of language, syntax, vocabulary, and structure.

            

And even the message shared by Rabbi Yoseh, Yosi or Dosa is equally important to bear in mind. There is a purity that beginning learners have, a curiosity, along with a desire to learn and to please others.

            

Our challenge is to teach things correctly, to make good choices, and to give learners information, skills, and the wings to think for themselves.

            

Instead of creating "Yes"-men-and-women and people who are afraid to get wrong answers, we must tap into the purity of Vayikra, combine it with the purity of the children, and promote an active kind of learning in which mistakes are encouraged, because we catch them on our own, learn from them, and grow from them. We create an environment in which those who have the drive, who have a similarly talented peer group (as did Moshe), are able to rise above because they raise themselves above through their commitment and dedication to learning and growing.

Hanokh L'naar al pi darko – Teach the child according to how the child learns, so that even when he grows old, he will not turn away from what he has been taught. (Proverbs 22:6)

A Name Reflects Character

Parshat Vayikra

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The third book of the Torah begins with Moshe being called by God from the Ohel Moed (Tent of Meeting, a.k.a the Mishkan/Tabernacle). While for us readers it is not unique for Moshe to be called, there is something strikingly odd about Moshe being the only one who is called.

Were there no other prophets? Were there no other people worthy of being present in the Ohel Moed? Why is Moshe alone the one who is called?

The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 1:1,3) seeks to create an image for us of who this man Moshe is and why his unique experience is different from everyone else.

In the Torah and in the Exodus narrative, there are a number of times when Moshe is compared to an angel. When God referred to the angel who took the Jews out of Egypt in Bamidbar 20, for example, the reference is obviously to Moshe.

Rabbi Tanchum is quoted in the Midrash as saying "It is the way of the world that a burden which is difficult for one person to carry can be more easily carried by two; one which is difficult for two people will be much easier for four people, and so on. Or perhaps, a burden that is difficult for 600,000 adult males would be very easy for one. This is indeed the case because the people said in Devarim 5:22 that "should we continue to hear His voice, we will die." Whereas Moshe had no such problem.

Who is this man Moshe? What about him, aside from his appointment as leader, makes us understand him to be a naturally special person?

In this time of year, pre Pesach, there is a lot of talk and focus on the beginning of the story of the exodus – particularly from the birth of the baby we call Moshe. But the funny thing is, he was never "baby Moshe!" The name "Moshe" was given to him only upon his return to Pharaoh's daughter, who had found him and spared his life when she found the basket he occupied, after having spent his "nursing years" with his real mother.

So what was his name until he became known as Moshe? The Midrash on our parsha continues its narrative listing all of Moshe's names, and the qualities each name either exhibited or represented in the personality of the person who became the model leader of Israel of all time.

He had ten names: Yered, Chever, Yekutiel, Avigdor, Avi Socho,  Avi Zanoach, Toviah, Shmaya ben Netanel, Hasofer, Halevi. Each name is derived from a different verse in the Bible or just a summary of his experience (see the midrash).

"Yered"  (Divrei Hayamim I 4:18) comes from the word to bring down, and it was either his name because he brought the Torah down from Sinai, or because he brought the divine presence down, to rest amongst the people. Rabbi Simone says the word "Yered" refers to the act of ruling (based on Kings I:4). It also comes from the word meaning to "rebel." His adopted mother allowed him to survive because she rebelled against her father's wishes.

"Avigdor" – because the Israelite nation had many shepherds, and he was the 'father' of them all.

"Chever" – because he linked ('chiber') the children to their father in heaven.

"Avi Socho" – because he was the father of the prophets ('soch' means to delve in prophesy).

"Yekutiel" – he made the sons yearn for their father in heaven (kaveh)

"Avi Zanoach" – he was the father of those who discouraged everyone to pursue idolatry.

"Toviah" – because when he was born, they saw he was good (Tov).

"Shmaya" - because God heard his prayers.

"Ben Netanel" – he was the son who received the Torah from God, from hand to hand.

"Hasofer" – because he was the scribe (or "counter") of Israel..

"Halevi" – because he was a Levite

Our parsha begins with God "Calling Moshe" because God said, "Of all your names, I will call you by the name the daughter of Pharaoh gave you." In a fitting tribute, the midrash says, God told Pharaoh's daughter, "Moshe was not your son, and yet you considered him your son. So too, you are not My daughter, and yet you are called Batya – My daughter [lit. "daughter of God"]."

Every person carries different names, nicknames, roles, and titles in our lifetimes. Son, Father, Grandfather, Daughter, Mother, Grandmother, Brother, Sister, Employee, Boss, Neighbor, Friend

May we all find the name that fits us best, that reflects most accurately and fully who we are. And even if that name comes upon us from the most remote individual or experience, may it serve to indicate to all who encounter us what the essence of our soul really is.

Looking to Find Real Happiness

Parshat Vayikra

 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 

To state the obvious, we don't bring korbanot (sacrificial offerings) without a Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Maybe, in a media driven society, this is a good thing.

 

But the Torah views the bringing of korbanot as an important ingredient in one's lifelong goal of getting close to God.

 

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains (Vayikra 1:2) that the word "Korban" comes from the word "Karev," which literally means to draw closer. The purpose of korbanot is therefore a positive attainment, a realization of a more noble existence, and should not be viewed as animal rights people might view it – as destruction, annihilation or loss.

 

More importantly, the Korban was meant to serve the needs of the one bringing it, as opposed to the One receiving it.

 

The verse in Tehillim 73:28 says "For me, God's nearness is good for me; I have placed my refuge in the Lord God." Other elements of this chapter serve to indicate what a person is like if he does not seek out God or attempt to have a closer relationship with Him. Hirsch write, "In God's sanctuary a man will understand that closeness to God is the sole criterion for shaping his outlook on life and for evaluating true happiness, as it says (Tehillim 73:17), 'Until I came to the sanctuaries of God, and I understood their end.'"

 

What does it take to get close to God? According to Hirsch, one might consider the following bullet points as to what one might realize through being present in the courtyard of the temple:

• God nearness is achieved through total dedication to the illuminating, purifying, life-giving fire of the Torah.
• The measure of one's happiness is determined by the measure of one's closeness to God and the rule of His law.
• Body and spirit yearn for the living God and learn to know Him (73:26).
• Distancing from God brings ruin (73:27).

"Happiness" loses its appeal if found far from God, while in God's nearness suffering is sweetened and transformed into good. As 73:1 begins the chapter, "Truly God is good to Israel, to the pure of heart."

 

This past weekend, Catherine Rampell published an article in the New York Times entitled, "Discovered: The Happiest Man in America."

 

She describes the summary reached by a Gallup poll as to what are the most common criteria of people who claim to be most happy. Turns out, the happiest person is a man.

 

To quote Rampell, "Gallup’s answer: he’s a tall, Asian-American, observant Jew who is at least 65 and married, has children, lives in Hawaii, runs his own business and has a household income of more than $120,000 a year. A few phone calls later and ..."

 

You guessed it. There is a man living in Honolulu who apparently fits this description (who has apparently been getting much media attention). God bless those tall, Asian-American, observant Jews.

 

I would venture a bet that most of those reading this do not exactly fit this description. And yet, is it not compelling that in a country filled predominantly with Christians, and on the other hand, at least the way the media tilts things, non-observing secular individuals, that the happiest person's religious conviction, out of over a million surveyed (one thousand people a day for three years), is an "observant Jew?"

 

Even without bringing korbanot!

 

Truth be told, we sacrifice a lot for our faith, for our dedication, for the sake of our children. We do it on account of our dedication to God, and our eternal effort to get close to Him.

 

So we can't eat in every restaurant, and our tuition rates are higher (maybe the over 65 year-old is happier because he is finished paying tuition!), and people look at us funny when we leave work early on Friday or take off random days in September for a non-ending string of holidays, and schools are petitioned to accommodate the schedules of observant Jews who can't take exams on Saturday or some holiday that falls out in April or May. And we can all go on and on

 

This is our life. We embrace it, we love it, we seek that relationship with God. With God's help we'll use the elements of Gallup's poll that we already have to achieve true happiness. And, maybe one day, we'll at least visit Honolulu.