Parshat Behar
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In its description of the Jubilee year, the Torah tell us in 25:9 that the shofar is to be sounded throughout the land on Yom Kippur of Yovel.
Noting how we don’t blow Shofar when Shabbos falls on Rosh Hashana because of carrying concerns, Netziv asks how can we blow the Shofar on Yom Kippur, which is Shabbos-squared?
Quoting the Talmud (Rosh Hashana 30a), Netziv says that the Torah injunction obligates every single individual to blow the shofar. This is how it is sounded throughout the land – as presumably, if everyone is blowing, no one needs to leave a house in order to do so.
What a profound thought: every person takes a direct grasp of his or her Jewish responsibility, and the fulfillment of the task at hand as a personal mission.
This incredible event, when the collective Am Yisrael unites to create not just a moment together, but an experience to which each person contributes, is meant to last in their hearts and minds for fifty years. Until the young people are old and the people born over the next fifty years can take charge of the Yovel Shofar sounding when it comes around again. For themselves and for their community.
The theme of every person taking charge of personal responsibilities repeats itself in the works of some of the classic commentaries on the Torah.
When the Torah is first given, and the Aseret Hadibrot are declared, the section begins with a reminder to the community – “Atem r’item” – “You [all] saw what God did to the Egyptians….” And yet, as we’ll read on Shavuos, the Ten Commandments are all written in the singular, what you the individual should or should not do.
Ramban notes that this is a reminder to individuals that every person bears a personal responsibility for one’s deeds. No one should feel that he or she will fall into the destiny of the masses, and just as the community will share in a destiny, the individual can roll with the masses and neglect personal obligations. Each person bears a personal, and in turn, a communal responsibility!
Every person is faced with a choice. I can do my mitzvah because I am personally commanded. Or I can do it as a member of a community.
A community should always strive to be greater than the sum of its parts.
In the Jewish communities Orthodox Jews have created, we are blessed and cursed. Cursed that we make it our responsibility to live within walking distance to a shul – so we can’t always live wherever we want. But we are blessed to create a community because of it. We all live near each other, in very relative proximity. And so we step it up for our friends and neighbors, in good times and especially in bad times.
A minyan is made up individuals, but together that makes a powerhouse for prayer – Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik spoke and wrote about how much he cherished davening in a minyan, because of the magic and majesty that comes from praying together. He may have been able to concentrate better when praying alone, but there is no comparison to the electricity felt when praying with a congregation.
The Rambam writes about the shofar on Rosh Hashana that it was meant to be a wake up call. A wake up call to the slumberers to reexamine deeds to remember your Creator.
Those who rest on the laurels of a community and never roll up their own sleeves to help out or contribute money, time, energy are missing the boat. It’s not exactly the same thing, because there’s no mitzvah to make or participate in a kiddush, but I know a man who decided close to 30 years ago that he would never eat at a Kiddush because he realized he never wants to sponsor a Kiddush. That is certainly one way to be consistent, but it also one way to pull away from the community.
Most people might only hear or participate in the Yovel Shofar blowing once in their lifetimes – if lucky, maybe twice. And maybe the collective Shofar blowing, with every Jew participating, was meant to serve as a wakeup call that you only have one life to live. So take your individuality, take your personal mitzvah, take your individual responsibility, and turn it into the most amazing contribution to your community, and to all of Bnei Yisrael.
Yovel may only come around once every fifty years, but we can learn about it and derive inspiration from it at all times.
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Motzi Ra or Motzi Tov - Bringing Out the Best in Others
Parshat Metzora
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we encounter the parshas of Tazria and Metzora, our thoughts typically run to Lashon Hara (speech that brings people down), which is argued by the Talmud (Arakhin 15-16) to be the main impetus for the Biblical punishment of “tzara’at” afflicting a person back in the day (tzara’at’s seven causes will be discussed below).
The word “Metzora,” which describes the person carrying the disease of tzara’at is noted by the midrash and many commentaries as being a condensed form of the words “motzi ra” – to bring out evil. Some say the person became a metzora because of being "motzi ra" - bringing evil out of one's lips. Most will say that the idea of being “motzi ra” is meant to be the result of having tzara’at, that the person with the ailment gets the message as delivered through this God-sent spiritual disease, and makes a conscious decision to remove the evil-from-within which caused the individual to sin.
But there is also the possibility that the problem facing the Metzora, and one of the reasons why the disease comes is because the sin also brings out the bad in others. How does a victim of Lashon hora (slander and gossip) respond to people talking about him? Murder sometimes causes others to murder in vengeance. Swearing in vain promotes a culture in which people are not careful about their speech. For sins of immorality – if it only took one to tango, perhaps it wouldn’t bring out the evil in others. But it takes two to tango. Haughtiness or stinginess of the sinner causes others to feel belittled, to get angry, or to experience jealousy. Thievery may cause vigilantism, with people taking the law into their own hands.
And so, perhaps, we can all benefit from asking ourselves if we are doing our part to bring the best out of people, or are we, heaven forfend, bringing out the worst in others? All questions presented are being asked in no particular order. And yes, I’m talking to myself.
Parents: Do we encourage our children to make good decisions? Do we allow them to make bad decisions, so they can learn from their mistakes? Do we compliment them when they do well, so they don’t only hear criticism from us? Do we put them up much much more than we put them down? Do we make reasonable demands – religiously, academically, in the pursuit of hobbies? Do we express our disappointment with love and care, while explaining why sometimes bad choices, or irresponsibility may have fair and reasonable consequences? Are we overly-sarcastic (when it’s not a symptom of a sense-of-humor we share with our children)? Do we do our part to improve our own parenting skills – such as developing more patience, controlling our anger, learning the art of communication, and realizing that we teach more by example than anything else?
Teachers and educators: All the parenting questions. Plus. (Parents – we can all read these too!) Do we have patience for kids who learn differently, and at different paces? Do we recognize the differences that make each child unique? Do we know how recognize the beauty in each child? Do we know how to tap into a child’s strengths? Are we able to encourage creativity, and not stifle it?
Rabbis: Do we encourage positive speech and respectful dialogue in our shuls? Do we respect the fact that our members may have different political views, religious backgrounds, spiritual expectations and needs? Do we remember to be cautious of the rules of lashon hora when dealing with different personalities and the ways in which they sometimes conflict in shul-operations? Do we challenge those who don't normally serve as bal-tefillah or read the Torah to take a time-slot and take the lead of the davening? Do we encourage others to give a dvar torah in settings in which that would be acceptable (it doesn't always have to be the rabbi!) - such as at a shalom zachar, a seudah shlishit, Shavuos night?
Everyone not in these kinds of leadership roles: Are we good friends? Do we encourage good behaviors? Do we know when to set limits – to pull back and say, this conversation is not for me, these activities are not for me, I don’t agree with these decisions? Do we know when to say Yes and when to say No? Are we supportive when we need to be? For those with really close relationships – are we able express to our friends when we feel they’re doing things that are harmful to themselves or their children? Are we willing to listen (even if we disagree) when a friend raises points the friend is concerned about?
For all: Are we there for each other in the labyrinth of life?
May we all be blessed to be a Motzi Tov (one who brings out the good) in ourselves and in others, especially in those we love and care about the most
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we encounter the parshas of Tazria and Metzora, our thoughts typically run to Lashon Hara (speech that brings people down), which is argued by the Talmud (Arakhin 15-16) to be the main impetus for the Biblical punishment of “tzara’at” afflicting a person back in the day (tzara’at’s seven causes will be discussed below).
The word “Metzora,” which describes the person carrying the disease of tzara’at is noted by the midrash and many commentaries as being a condensed form of the words “motzi ra” – to bring out evil. Some say the person became a metzora because of being "motzi ra" - bringing evil out of one's lips. Most will say that the idea of being “motzi ra” is meant to be the result of having tzara’at, that the person with the ailment gets the message as delivered through this God-sent spiritual disease, and makes a conscious decision to remove the evil-from-within which caused the individual to sin.
But there is also the possibility that the problem facing the Metzora, and one of the reasons why the disease comes is because the sin also brings out the bad in others. How does a victim of Lashon hora (slander and gossip) respond to people talking about him? Murder sometimes causes others to murder in vengeance. Swearing in vain promotes a culture in which people are not careful about their speech. For sins of immorality – if it only took one to tango, perhaps it wouldn’t bring out the evil in others. But it takes two to tango. Haughtiness or stinginess of the sinner causes others to feel belittled, to get angry, or to experience jealousy. Thievery may cause vigilantism, with people taking the law into their own hands.
And so, perhaps, we can all benefit from asking ourselves if we are doing our part to bring the best out of people, or are we, heaven forfend, bringing out the worst in others? All questions presented are being asked in no particular order. And yes, I’m talking to myself.
Parents: Do we encourage our children to make good decisions? Do we allow them to make bad decisions, so they can learn from their mistakes? Do we compliment them when they do well, so they don’t only hear criticism from us? Do we put them up much much more than we put them down? Do we make reasonable demands – religiously, academically, in the pursuit of hobbies? Do we express our disappointment with love and care, while explaining why sometimes bad choices, or irresponsibility may have fair and reasonable consequences? Are we overly-sarcastic (when it’s not a symptom of a sense-of-humor we share with our children)? Do we do our part to improve our own parenting skills – such as developing more patience, controlling our anger, learning the art of communication, and realizing that we teach more by example than anything else?
Teachers and educators: All the parenting questions. Plus. (Parents – we can all read these too!) Do we have patience for kids who learn differently, and at different paces? Do we recognize the differences that make each child unique? Do we know how recognize the beauty in each child? Do we know how to tap into a child’s strengths? Are we able to encourage creativity, and not stifle it?
Rabbis: Do we encourage positive speech and respectful dialogue in our shuls? Do we respect the fact that our members may have different political views, religious backgrounds, spiritual expectations and needs? Do we remember to be cautious of the rules of lashon hora when dealing with different personalities and the ways in which they sometimes conflict in shul-operations? Do we challenge those who don't normally serve as bal-tefillah or read the Torah to take a time-slot and take the lead of the davening? Do we encourage others to give a dvar torah in settings in which that would be acceptable (it doesn't always have to be the rabbi!) - such as at a shalom zachar, a seudah shlishit, Shavuos night?
Everyone not in these kinds of leadership roles: Are we good friends? Do we encourage good behaviors? Do we know when to set limits – to pull back and say, this conversation is not for me, these activities are not for me, I don’t agree with these decisions? Do we know when to say Yes and when to say No? Are we supportive when we need to be? For those with really close relationships – are we able express to our friends when we feel they’re doing things that are harmful to themselves or their children? Are we willing to listen (even if we disagree) when a friend raises points the friend is concerned about?
For all: Are we there for each other in the labyrinth of life?
May we all be blessed to be a Motzi Tov (one who brings out the good) in ourselves and in others, especially in those we love and care about the most
Friday, February 20, 2015
Strength of Clasps - Even When They Are Hardly Seen
Parshat Terumah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
We typically imagine that the “Mishkan” is defined by the beams that stood together to become its walls. After all, without walls, there is no building.
While a simple view of the Torah’s depiction of the Mishkan certainly refers to the overall structure – walls, contents, etc – as “The Mishkan” many times, there are times when the Mishkan itself is specifically described as being either the tapestries that covered the building or the result of the linking of the blue loops and the golden clasps. In 26:1 “make the Mishkan out of ten tapestries.” Several verses later - “And you’ll make fifty golden clasps, and you will combine the tapestries – one side to the other, at the clasps, and then the Mishkan will be one.” (26:6)
A building has walls and partitions and rooms, without which calls its value into question. But does the roof really hold so much sway that it can be “the” definition of the Mishkan – especially in a wilderness which is protected from the elements by the Pillars of Cloud and Fire?
These instructions are incredible because they essentially tell us that it is not walls which make a building, but tapestries which unite a Mishkan. For the Mishkan to be considered complete, 50 barely visible clasps need to hold together two large pieces of cloth. Why could they not just sew everything together – after all, each tapestry was made of five pieces that were sewn together?
Perhaps the clasps are very symbolic. It can’t just be invisible thread which unites the two sides of the Mishkan. There needs to be something of value – even if it is small and hardly visible – which unites the two sides, creating a whole.
If we think about it, it is amazing what the unity of fifty clasps can accomplish. Their union defines a structure that is so much bigger than the sum of its parts.
Which leads us to wonder, as we read this highly symbolic parsha, what elements of our lives share this quality.
For some people it is a profound respect they have for one another, as learning partners, as business partners, as teammates.
For others it might be their marriage commitment, or their dedication to family members even through all kinds of adversity.
While the people are represented by the tapestries, what parallels the clasps, and what parallels the oneness? The clasps are valuable because they are made of gold, but once the Mishkan is put together, due to the height of the walls of the Mishkan structure, the clasps are not very noticeable. They are also not meant to fall apart unless they are actively taken apart by human hands.
This becomes the challenge we all face in using the Mishkan as a model for us. The relationships we build and aim to maintain in our lives are precious. What unites us with others is far more precious than anything money can buy. Trust, honesty, love, family, commitment, belief in an idea… these are things we cannot assign value to, nor can we always see them. But we know they are there. And we know that while they sometimes seem so easily put together, human hands can just as easily pull them apart.
If we are to create oneness and unity with our loved ones and cherished friends, we must always bear in mind how priceless these relationships are. Some people are blessed that a clasp can hold them together through thick and thin, because the clasp doesn’t let go. Others need to always make sure that the clasp is still there keeping everything together. And the double check might come with a need to remeasure, readjust, retighten, to make sure all is in order. More maintenance may be required at constant intervals.
But hopefully the goal of the Mishkan can be our goal as well: that the combination of the tapestries through the unifying force of the clasps can create an entity that defines itself as a united whole forever. Amen.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
We typically imagine that the “Mishkan” is defined by the beams that stood together to become its walls. After all, without walls, there is no building.
While a simple view of the Torah’s depiction of the Mishkan certainly refers to the overall structure – walls, contents, etc – as “The Mishkan” many times, there are times when the Mishkan itself is specifically described as being either the tapestries that covered the building or the result of the linking of the blue loops and the golden clasps. In 26:1 “make the Mishkan out of ten tapestries.” Several verses later - “And you’ll make fifty golden clasps, and you will combine the tapestries – one side to the other, at the clasps, and then the Mishkan will be one.” (26:6)
A building has walls and partitions and rooms, without which calls its value into question. But does the roof really hold so much sway that it can be “the” definition of the Mishkan – especially in a wilderness which is protected from the elements by the Pillars of Cloud and Fire?
These instructions are incredible because they essentially tell us that it is not walls which make a building, but tapestries which unite a Mishkan. For the Mishkan to be considered complete, 50 barely visible clasps need to hold together two large pieces of cloth. Why could they not just sew everything together – after all, each tapestry was made of five pieces that were sewn together?
Perhaps the clasps are very symbolic. It can’t just be invisible thread which unites the two sides of the Mishkan. There needs to be something of value – even if it is small and hardly visible – which unites the two sides, creating a whole.
If we think about it, it is amazing what the unity of fifty clasps can accomplish. Their union defines a structure that is so much bigger than the sum of its parts.
Which leads us to wonder, as we read this highly symbolic parsha, what elements of our lives share this quality.
For some people it is a profound respect they have for one another, as learning partners, as business partners, as teammates.
For others it might be their marriage commitment, or their dedication to family members even through all kinds of adversity.
While the people are represented by the tapestries, what parallels the clasps, and what parallels the oneness? The clasps are valuable because they are made of gold, but once the Mishkan is put together, due to the height of the walls of the Mishkan structure, the clasps are not very noticeable. They are also not meant to fall apart unless they are actively taken apart by human hands.
This becomes the challenge we all face in using the Mishkan as a model for us. The relationships we build and aim to maintain in our lives are precious. What unites us with others is far more precious than anything money can buy. Trust, honesty, love, family, commitment, belief in an idea… these are things we cannot assign value to, nor can we always see them. But we know they are there. And we know that while they sometimes seem so easily put together, human hands can just as easily pull them apart.
If we are to create oneness and unity with our loved ones and cherished friends, we must always bear in mind how priceless these relationships are. Some people are blessed that a clasp can hold them together through thick and thin, because the clasp doesn’t let go. Others need to always make sure that the clasp is still there keeping everything together. And the double check might come with a need to remeasure, readjust, retighten, to make sure all is in order. More maintenance may be required at constant intervals.
But hopefully the goal of the Mishkan can be our goal as well: that the combination of the tapestries through the unifying force of the clasps can create an entity that defines itself as a united whole forever. Amen.
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