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Cortesy of Partners-in-Torah The Sidrah details the laws of "Bikurim," first
fruits, symbolizing the need to recognize that the best of all our energies must
be dedicated to G-d. For the second time (according to the Rambam, referring to
the destruction of the Second Temple) the Torah warns and details the
consequences of not following the Divine laws. Yet, conversely, the Torah paints
a luminous picture of the multiple rewards of the Torah life. "Then you shall call out and say before Hashem your G-d". (26:5) A farmer is required to bring to the Temple
the first ripened fruits of the seven species for which the land of Israel is
praised. There, he presents them to the Kohen as a sign of appreciation to
Hashem for giving him a successful harvest. He must also recite a declaration of
gratitude for Hashem's role in the miraculous course of our national history.
Rashi writes that this proclamation must be made in a raised voice. Why does the
Torah require the farmer to make this statement in a loud voice? The following story may help us appreciate
the answer to this question. Amuka, located in the north of Israel, is the
burial place of the Talmudic sage Rabbi Yonason ben Uziel. Amuka is famous for
its mystical ability to help those who are longing to get married to find their
matches. People travel there from around the world to pray for a mate. As it is common to observe people praying
in Amuka with intensity that appears to emanate from personal pain, somebody was
once surprised to see a married woman praying there with great joy. In
responding to the onlooker's curiosity about this, she imparted an inspiring
message. "I had a very difficult time with dating.
Somebody finally suggested that I travel to Amuka, where I poured my heart out
in prayer. Shortly thereafter, I was introduced to the man who is now my
husband. I felt that if I came here to cry out from pain, it was only
appropriate to return here to joyfully express my gratitude." Rabbi Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter, better known
as the S'fas Emes (1847-1905), explains that while every person's livelihood is
dependent upon Hashem's decree, this correlation is often masked by natural
events, making it appear that the person earned his income through his own
creativity and hard work. A farmer, on the other hand, has no
difficulty recognizing that his financial situation precariously rests in the
Hands of Heaven. As diligently as he works his land, he realizes that the
success of each year's crop depends upon the rains, which are beyond his
control. After putting in his best physical efforts, he then pursues spiritual
avenues, praying daily with great intensity for Hashem to bring the rains in the
proper amounts and at the proper times. When his petitions are answered and he is
able to see the first "fruits" of his labors, it would be very easy for him to
take credit for the successful harvest. The Torah requires him to bring the
fruits to the Temple to remind him that his success is ultimately dependent on
Hashem, and he must express the appropriate gratitude for Hashem's kindness. One
might assume, however, that it suffices to mutter a quick "thank you" under his
breath to fulfill this obligation and to quickly return home. The Torah therefore teaches that in
expressing appreciation, it is insufficient to merely pay lip service. The
feelings of gratitude must be conveyed with the identical fervor with which one
initially prayed. Just as the farmer screamed out with his entire heart
beseeching Hashem to bless him with a bountiful harvest, so too must he express
his thanks with the identical raised voice. We often cry out to Hashem from the depths
of our hearts for a miraculous salvation which we need so desperately. When our
prayers are answered, we must remember the lesson of the first-fruits and loudly
call out our thanks with the same intensity with which we prayed in our time of
need. "You shall come before the kohein who will
serve during those days and you will say to him, "I declare today to Hashem,
your G-d, that I have come to the land that Hashem swore to our forefathers to
give us." 26:3 Rashi points out that we may not
refuse to perform this mitzvah due to our disappointment in the spiritual level
of the Kohen Gadol, even if that disappointment is well founded. Each generation
merits leaders specific to the challenges of that generation, and not
necessarily would an earlier and more scholarly leader, have been as effective
as the current leader. Another important idea can be gleaned from this, as well.
Regardless of how saintly our leaders may, or may not be; that is never an
excuse to cease practicing Mitzvos. Our obligation to serve Hashem transcends
the personal morals of our spiritual leaders. "This very day, Hashem, your G-d, commands
you to perform these statutes and the laws; and you shall observe and perform
them wholeheartedly and with all your being." 26:16 These words were spoken forty years
after the Jews stood at the foot of Mt. Sinai, received the Torah, and spent the
next forty years studying them. How could Moshe suggest that the people view
them as something novel? Moshe's point was not merely to suggest that we pretend
that we've never heard these words before, but rather, to emphasize the
timelessness of the words of Torah. The people were about to leave the desert
and enter Eretz Yisroel where conditions would be altogether different. Yet, the
words and ideas of the Torah were equally relevant in the Land of Israel, as
they were in the desert. The same is true for each new land, culture, and time
period in which we find ourselves. The words of Torah transcend time and
location. "'Accursed is whoever will not uphold the
words of this Torah to perform them;' and the entire people shall say, Amen.'"
27:26 Studying and observing Torah is a vital aspect of
Judaism, but monumental as those accomplishments may be, it doesn't end there.
Everyone is obligated to do all in their power to "uphold" the words of Torah so
that others can learn from them as well. This includes offering financial
support to Torah institutions, volunteering of ones time to study with others,
and behaving in a manner that reflects positively on those who study Torah.
Failure to live up to ones' potential in any of these areas, is tantamount to
failing to uphold the words of Torah. Dear Rabbi, Morry, I can't speak for all the temples and
synagogues, but the ones I'm affiliated with are non-profit in the truest sense
of the word. All of the membership dues are used to offset operational costs and
usually the last one to collect a paycheck is the rabbi. The officers of the
synagogue receive little or no compensation for their heroic efforts on behalf
of the synagogue. The membership fees are probably lower than they ought to be,
and oftentimes, wealthy individuals are called upon to make up the difference. I
have no problem whatsoever with paying my yearly dues because the synagogue
provides an important service that I use thrice daily. If we failed to pay our
dues, I cannot fathom how the synagogue could continue to exist. Paying
synagogue dues is in my mind no less obvious a need than paying property taxes
to ensure that the municipality provides vital services such as garbage removal,
public safety, and road maintenance. Where I believe this issue turns
contentious is over the fact that many people who aren't regular synagogue
attendees but are very interested in attending the High Holiday Services, are
charged yearly membership. They reason that since they have no intention of
attending regularly, there's no reason they should be charged more than a
minimal fee that covers the services that they intend to partake of. The
synagogues will counter that they couldn't stay open if all they charged was
enough to cover the expenses of running the High Holiday services and therefore
they must charge for a yearly membership. Obviously, the best thing would be for
people to commit to attending synagogue on a consistent basis and then they'd
agree that this is a vital service worth paying for. Morry, I assume that you've already
thought of these arguments before, but I presented them for the benefit of our
readers who may not have thought the issue through completely. Now let me share
with you what can be done about this problem. A number of years ago, a group of
concerned activists brainstormed over how to deal with this vexing problem and
hit upon a fabulous solution. They compiled a list of all the synagogues around
the country that offer High Holiday services at no charge and created an
easy-to-navigate website that contains all the information needed to make
reservations at the synagogue of choice. Many of these services are specifically
geared to beginners who lack familiarity with the liturgy, and some even offer
babysitting services to allow both parents to partake of the services. Some
feature special classes and breakout sessions for those whose limited attention
spans demand alternatives to sustained praying. I encourage you to spread the
word of this wonderful website
www.nomembershiprequired.com to all your friends and acquaintances who will
surely appreciate the opportunity to save their hard-earned money while enjoying
an inspirational High Holiday service. Wishing you an enriching New Year!
The well known book titled Mesillas
Yesharim (The Path of the Just) by Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (Ch. 24) tells us
that a person may be driven by two types of "fears" to better serve Hashem:
yiras ha'onesh, fear of the repercussion of sin, and yiras ha'romemus,
awe of Hashem's greatness. Although both these fears share the same Hebrew word
yirah they are, in fact, quite different; a person driven by yiras
ha'onesh will refrain from sin because he does not wish to be punished,
while someone who is inspired by yiras ha'romemus will not sin because he
is overwhelmed by Hashem's greatness. Comparing these different ways of relating
to the service of Hashem, Mesillas Yesharim comments that since yiras
ha'onesh is based on the natural inherent human fear of punishment a
person will not do something, like touch a hot stove, which he realizes will
harm him it is really not so difficult for a person to reach a basic level of
yiras ha'onesh. As soon as he realizes that he will be punished for
whatever shortcomings he has in his avodas Hashem, this natural fear of
pain will not allow him to continue to act this way. R' Moshe Tukechinski, the
late mashgiach of the Slabodka Yeshivah of Bnei Brak, commented that even in our
generation, where we are very far removed from tangibly feeling the reality of
Hashem's exacting reward and punishment that will occur in The World to Come,
there is still a way to use the feeling of yiras ha'onesh to better serve Hashem.
Since we know that Hashem's principle of middah keneged middah (measure
for measure) also determines much of a person's life and experiences in this
world (see Mesillas Yesharim Ch. 4), a person wishing to reinforce the feelings
of yiras ha'onesh within himself need only take notice of what happens to
him over an extended period of time, and compare these results to the weaknesses
in his service of Hashem. Once he realizes what is causing many of his problems,
the natural human tendency for comfort will provide a strong impetus to inspire
change. Achieving a measure of yiras ha'romemus,
continues the Mesillas Yesharim, is immeasurably more difficult. Since a person
has no natural physical way to grasp Hashem's greatness since He cannot be
seen nor otherwise tangibly appreciated this feeling does not come as easily
as yiras ha'onesh. However, a way in which a person with great
concentration may realize a measure of this awe is by spending time
contemplating the vast difference between Hashem's over arching greatness (which
may be gained from thinking about how Hashem effortlessly manages every single
part of the entire world during every second of the day) and inherent human
frailty. This way, he will begin to realize a tiny part of Hashem's
indescribable greatness. The need to tangibly recognize Hashem's
greatness is the reason behind several of the mitzvos of the Torah, as well as a
well-known practice instituted by Our Sages. The Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim 3:52)
tells us that the need to always fear the honored and awesome Name of Hashem is
the reason why we wear a yarmulke; this head-covering is to remind us that there
is Someone above. Also, the Talmud (Temurah 3b-4a) tells us that the need to
maintain awe of Hashem or to fear the honored and awesome Name is the reason
behind the prohibitions against destroying, or frivolously or needlessly
mentioning, Hashem's Name. The Name of Hashem by which He has chosen to refer
to Himself to humanity must be uttered only in a manner that affords Him
honor. Q: Moses blessed the
Jewish people that if they act properly and fulfill the commandments, all of the
nations of the earth will see that the name of Hashem is called upon us and they
will fear and revere us (28:10). The Talmud (Megillah 16b) understands the
reference to the name of Hashem being called upon us as referring to tefillin,
which contain an allusion to one of Hashem's Divine names, which are worn in our
heads. Why does the Talmud refer to tefillin as being "in our heads" instead of
the seemingly more accurate description of it being on our heads? A: The Vilna Gaon was
once lodging at an inn when he heard loud cries and screams for help coming from
the innkeeper's room. Although the Gaon was in the middle of the morning
prayers, he quickly ran to the aid of a fellow Jew. He threw open the
innkeeper's door and discovered a non-Jew mercilessly beating him. The attacker
looked up at the door, and upon seeing the Vilna Gaon wearing his tallis and
tefillin, was overcome with terror and promptly fainted. After pulling himself together and
recovering from the shock of the incident, the innkeeper expressed his
tremendous gratitude to the Vilna Gaon for coming to his rescue. He added that
while he was certainly appreciative, he was also curious as to the Gaon's "magic
weapon" which had inspired such fear in the heart of his attacker. He replied by
citing the aforementioned Talmudic passage and explained that the sight of him
adorned in his tefillin had caused the non-Jew to faint. The innkeeper
respectfully asked for clarification, as he himself had been wearing his tallis
and tefillin prior to the attack, but they had clearly proven ineffective. The Vilna Gaon pointed out that the Talmud
uses a peculiar expression. It doesn't interpret the verse as referring to the
tefillin which are on one's head but rather to the tefillin which are
in one's head. He explained that merely placing the tefillin on one's body
is insufficient. Rather, one must contemplate the message of the portions
contained therein until they are internalized. While the innkeeper had not yet
done so, the Vilna Gaon was clearly on such a level, and when the non-Jew
perceived his spiritual loftiness, he was overcome with dread to the point of
fainting exactly as promised by the Talmud! Q: In mentioning that the shoes of the Jewish people
miraculously didn't wear out during their sojourn in the wilderness (29:4), the
Torah states explicitly that the Jews wore shoes during their travels through
the desert. How can this be resolved with Rashi's earlier comment (8:4), in
which he writes that the feet of the Jews miraculously didn't swell during their
travels in the desert as is customary for those who walk barefoot? A: Rabbi Yosef Rosen,
more well-known as the Rogatchover Gaon, resolves the apparent contradiction by
suggesting that when the Jewish people exited Egypt and entered the wilderness,
they were indeed wearing shoes. However, after the sins of the golden calf and
the spies, they were legally considered in niduy excommunicated until the
end of their 40-year sojourn in the desert. Somebody who has been excommunicated
must observe certain signs of mourning, including the removal of his shoes. The
earlier verse is addressed to the Jewish people, who were forced to wander
without shoes for this period, and emphasizes the miracle that their bare feet
didn't swell during this time. The latter verse is addressed to the Levites, who
remained righteous and didn't take part in these sins, and weren't punished with
excommunication. They were allowed to wear their shoes during their sojourn in
the wilderness, and this verse refers to the miracle that their shoes didn't
wear out while wandering through the hot desert for so many years. Table Talk: For discussion around the
Shabbos Table
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