Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Eikev 5770

שבת טעם החיים עקב תש"ע
Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Eikev 5770

Returning to Egypt can also be viewed as returning to a high level of spirituality

Introduction
ובני ישראל נסעו מבארות בני יעקן מוסרה שם מת אהרן ויקבר שם ויכהן אלעזר בנו תחתיו, the Children of Israel journeyed from Bieiros-binei-yaakan to Moserah; there Aharon died and he was buried there, and Elazar his son ministered in his place. (Devarim 10:6)
In this week’s parasha it is said (Devarim 10:6) uvinei Yisroel nasu miBeiros binei yaakan Moserah sham meis Aharon vayikavier sham vayichahein Elazar bino tachtav, the Children of Israel journeyed from Bieiros-binei-yaakan to Moserah; there Aharon died and he was buried there, and Elazar his son ministered in his place. Rashi here is troubled by a number of issues. First, what is the connection of this verse to the preceding verses that discuss the giving of the second Luchos? Second, Rashi wonders, why the Torah here states that the Jewish People traveled from Binei Yaakan to Moserah when elsewhere (Bamidbar 33:31) the Torah states the opposite, that they traveled from Moseira to Binei Yaakan? Last, why does the Torah here state that Aharon died at Moserah, when elsewhere (Ibid verse 38) the Torah states that he died at Hor hahar? To answer these questions Rashi cites the Yerushalmi that states that subsequent to Aharon’s death, the clouds of Glory departed and the Jewish People became exposed to the gentiles. The king of Arad battled them and many Jews fled with the intention of returning to Egypt. The tribe of Levi chased after the other Jews a journey of eight camps until they arrived at Binei Yaakan and Moseira and there the Leviim killed some Jews and some Leviim also fell in battle. It was in Moseira that the Jewish people mourned Aharon’s death as it was his death that ultimately led to this massacre and it was as if he had died in Moseira. Moshe juxtaposed this incident to the incident of his breaking the Luchos to teach us that Hashem deems the death of the righteous to be akin to the breaking of the Luchos. The Furthermore, we learn from here that Moshe was as troubled by the Jewish People’s declaration to return to Egypt in the same vein as when they had worshipped the Golden Calf.
How could the tribe of Levi kill their own brethren?
One must wonder regarding the justification of the tribe of Levi to chase after the Jewish people and to cause death to other Jews and to their own tribes. After all, the Jews were scared after losing their protection, so they sought to return to Egypt. Why was this action considered so grievous as to warrant being massacred by their own brethren?
Understanding the sin of the Golden Calf
Rashi writes that Moshe was troubled by the Jews’ desire to return to Egypt in the same manner as when they had worshipped the Golden Calf. We cannot assume that the analogy to worshipping the Golden Calf is merely a cliché. Rather, we must understand what transpired when the Jewish People worshipped the Golden Calf and then we can gain a better insight as to why upon Aharon’s death they sought to return to Egypt.
The Jewish People worshipped the Golden Calf to demonstrate the power of repentance to future generations
The act of worshipping the Golden Calf appears to have been a spontaneous reaction from the Jewish People. Yet, the Gemara (Avodah Zara 4b) states that the Jewish People worshipped the Golden Calf to demonstrate to future generations the power of repentance. How are we to understand this enigmatic statement? Is it possible for an entire nation to sin so future generations can appreciate the power of repentance?
Initial enthusiasm sustains a person even in the down times
The Sfas Emes (Ki Sisa 5639) writes that the first Luchos were given with much fanfare, whereas regarding the second Luchos HaShem told Moshe that it is better to be discreet. The Sfas Emes writes that although the Jewish People were prepared to publicize HaShem’s existence throughout the world, the evil Amalek came and prevented the nations from receiving this benefit. This act of Amalek ultimately caused the Jewish People to fall from their lofty spiritual level and this was the catalyst for the worshipping of the Golden Calf. It was for this reason that HaShem determined that the second Luchos have to be given discreetly. Nonetheless, the initial publicity and enthusiasm that the Jewish People displayed was a necessary component for the second Luchos to be given discreetly. This, writes the Sfas Emes, is a lesson for future generations. One’s initial entry into spiritual matters must be with fiery enthusiasm, and even if one cannot sustain this enthusiasm, the initial enthusiasm will help in the time so concealment. Based on the words of the Sfas Emes, we can suggest that the Jewish People worshipped the Golden Calf so that future generations would understand that while one may fall from his previous spiritual level, there is always hope for return. This return is actually facilitated by one’s initial enthusiasm in his spiritual ascent.
All beginnings are a source of strength
With this premise in mind, we can better understand why the Jewish People panicked when Aharon died and the Clouds of Glory disappeared. The Jewish People were once gain exposed to the cunning and diabolical plans of Amalek. Indeed, the Medrash states that the Canaanites who attacked the Jewish People at this time were really Amalekites who disguised their speech and clothing to deceive the Jewish People. The Jewish People reacted by wishing to return to Egypt. In the simple sense this means that they wished to return to the comforts of living in Egypt. We can, however, interpret this statement allegorically to mean that they wished to return to the state of spiritual existence that they had experienced prior to fashioning the Golden Calf. While their rationale had merit, in the physical world they had to be punished just like when they worshipped the Golden Calf. This is the meaning of the statement that Moshe was troubled by their desire to return to Egypt like when they had worshipped the Golden Calf. The Medrash states that kol haschalos kashos, all beginnings are difficult. The Kotzker Rebbe interpreted the word kashos homiletically to mean strong, i.e. all beginnings are commenced with strength. Similarly, we can suggest that the Yerushalmi that states that the death of the righteous is difficult like the breaking of the Luchos means that the death of the righteous is a source of strength of the Jewish People. The death of the righteous is akin to the breaking of the Luchos, which facilitated the atonement for the Jewish People. Similarly, the wording huksha lo, that Moshe found the return of the Jews to Egypt difficult, can be interpreted as their strength, i.e. they sought to return to their original strength of spirituality.
The Shabbos connection
Throughout the week we are influenced by society around us, and we may feel that we have fallen from our spiritual plateau. We should bear in mind that our original enthusiasm and fervor in serving HaShem will keep us strong during the times of difficulty. The Gemara states that all opinions agree that the Torah was given on Shabbos, and the Chidushei HaRim writes that the letters from the commandments to observe the Shabbos never left the Luchos. These statements demonstrate that at the giving of the Torah and even after the sin of the Golden Calf, we can capitalize on the holiness of Shabbos to give us strength and encouragement in our continuous service of HaShem.
Shabbos Stories
Silent revolution

Thursday evening in the Moscow apartment of Lova Aivazov. The year was 1980. Forty-five young people had just ended a class in the weekly Torah portion. Still to come, after a short break, would be a lesson in Psalms.
Nine p.m. The cookies and samovar had just been produced when there was a knock on the door. A latecomer no doubt, come to enjoy the second half of the class.
The door opened. There was no latecomer there, grinning shyly. There was only the KGB.
About 16 people entered the small apartment: five uniformed policemen, ten plainclothes KGB officers, and one woman from the Moscow District Council.
The woman pounced delightedly upon the books piled neatly on the dining room table. "Illegal activities," she shrieked, grabbing the books and scooping them into the capacious handbag she had brought just for the purpose. Through the haze of the first shock, Rabbi Eliyahu Essas could not help but compare her to a hungry Moscow shopper who'd found a rare hoard of chickens in a store.
But his irreverent thoughts quickly flew back to the situation at hand. The KGB men, clearly in charge of the situation, had begun checking the internal passports of each of the participants, carefully noting down their names, addresses, and places of employment. The first to be arrested would be anyone who lived outside Moscow who had not obtained the proper permit to be in the capital overnight. Rabbi Essas' eyes swept over the group ― thank God, tonight there were only Muscovites in attendance.
But as he gazed at his students, he saw increasing signs of fear and some panic. Rabbi Essas, too, felt afraid ― but only of one thing: Perhaps this was the end of the Torah network he'd created in the heart of the Soviet Empire. Later, other fears arose, but at this moment he could think of nothing else.
His first task was to calm his students. But it was forbidden to talk to each other until the end of the KGB "Operation." Rabbi Essas had a message to give his students. But how could he talk to them of faith in God, here, under the eyes of the KGB?
He took a deep breath and approached the KGB agent who was clearly in charge of the operation. "You must do your job here, and I cannot change your mind," he said to him in a voice loud enough to be heard all throughout the apartment. "But remember, first of all ― our people existed for 3,000 years before you ― and we will live long after yours have ceased to exist. Second, such names as Yagoda, Ezhov, Beria (all of them were heads of the KGB) and all of them, today, are gone, killed one by one by their successors. Do what you have to do ― but do not be arrogant before us."
The KGB agent's face was a mask of granite. But Essas hadn't really sought to elicit a reaction. He had wanted to send a message to his students, encouraging them to continue to be strong ― no matter what.
The message got through. Faces lightened, hope replaced fear. And after the scare was over, after the interrogations that took place within the next two weeks, 43 out of the 45 people who'd been in attendance continued to come to classes and study Torah, though in a reorganized format ― in smaller groups, reshuffled each week to another place.
Other than that one raid, and one other that followed it almost immediately, the Torah network that was growing in Moscow found itself strangely untouched by the foul KGB hands. Individuals did get their share of interrogations, scares, midnight visits, and refused visas, but as a group they seemed to have been left quite alone.
Years later, a former member of the Moscow Synagogue helped explain the special protection they had, [in the following story:]
A FEW MADMEN
A KGB agent in Moscow had just received disquieting news. A refusenik, already known to their office for his emigration activities, had begun a class in, of all things, the Jewish Bible and Jewish laws. It was a small class, obviously, but did it pose a threat to the Soviet State? That was his job to decide.
The thing seemed outlandish, a holdover from a past so remote that it hardly seemed worth bothering about. Still, it had to be looked into. The agent searched for a pen, and began to write.
Not long afterwards, the president of the Moscow Synagogue received a letter. It was ostensibly from the State Committee on Religious Affairs; the president knew better than that. The KGB was making inquiries.
"We have been informed that a group of young people are coming together to study Jewish law. What is the synagogue's evaluation of the future of such an endeavor?" it read.
The answer was simple, and quickly penned. There is no danger in these activities, the president assured the "State Committee." Judaism is a religion of strict observance, and the laws are almost impossible to keep for young people in the Soviet Union. Students, for instance, must attend university on the Jewish Sabbath. The Soviet diet, too, is already quite restricted, and no one would voluntarily restrict it further by keeping the laws of kashrus.
"This will end with three or four madmen who can't do any harm to our state," the president assured the Committee.
As a result of the letter, the KGB let the classes continue, unharmed. And by the time they realized that "three or four madmen" can turn into hundreds of observant Jews, the network had turned into a movement, had gained momentum, and had become so well known that it could no longer be destroyed.
THE SPY
Things looked grim for Valentin. A student in Moscow University, he'd been caught attending classes in Judaism. Now he was in trouble. Big trouble. Retribution was swift, and soon Valentin found himself expelled from the university's hallowed halls. He was now an able-bodied man without a university exemption, and there was only one place for him ― the army.
Within weeks, Valentin had been drafted and shipped out to a small Siberian town, far, far away from the Talmud classes, kosher food, and fellow Jews. All the mitzvahs that he'd so recently taken on had become impossible to observe. Valentin determined to hold on to one thing, at the very least. Every morning, he told himself grimly, he would put on his Tefillin. No matter what.
It wasn't easy to drag himself out of his bed on the frigid Siberian mornings. And yet Valentin managed to be up half an hour before reveille, don his Tefillin, and pray to his Creator.
One day, one of his fellow soldiers who had happened to waken early was astonished to see Valentin standing quietly in a corner, carefully winding straps around his arm, carefully placing a box upon his forehead. The next morning the soldier, his suspicions awakened, again awoke early, and again witnessed this mad ― or possibly traitorous ― behavior.
By the third day, the soldier had done his patriotic duty, and when Valentin roused himself from his all-too-short night's sleep, there were two officers on hand to witness these strange goings-on. The officers, both embittered remnants from Stalinist times, were not impressed with Valentin's protestations that the Tefillin were religious objects. Prayer they could understand, although they didn't like it; but these straps? Clearly, Valentin was a spy, and the straps and box some sort of transmitting device.
Their first step was to confiscate the dangerous transmitter. Valentin, still protesting, insisted upon accompanying the Tefillin to the lab where they would be examined. Curiously enough, the officers agreed, though insisting that a military guard escort him.
In the lab in a small Siberian town, the technicians had never seen such a device. The boxes, they surmised, served as transmitters, while the straps were antennas. As Valentin watched, horrified, they actually opened up the Tefillin boxes. Gleefully, they pulled out the writing. A secret code! It is Hebrew, he protested. A language that has been dead for 2,000 years, they answered. A perfect code!
Getting more and more angry, and not a little scared, Valentin urged his captors to contact the small local Jewish community in the city of Novosibirsk to verify his words. The next day, the investigators duly visited the synagogue. They returned, unimpressed: No one had been wearing the straps and boxes. It was... Saturday.
Eventually the president of the synagogue heard about the hapless Jewish soldier and came forward to verify his story and explain that no Jew put on his straps on their Sabbath. The officers, not particularly eager to press charges of espionage, partly because it would look bad on their unit's records, and partly because they simply didn't want the trouble, were prepared to drop the charges. Instead, they told Valentin, he would be discharged on psychiatric grounds. "Because, if you're not a spy, you certainly must be crazy."
Instead of two years, Valentin finished his army service in two months, and soon was ready to rejoin his family and friends ― Jewish friends ― back in Moscow. Later, because he hadn't spent much time in the army, he was allowed to leave Russia and emigrate to Israel, without having to undergo the ordeal of being a refusenik. Valentin, now living in the Negev, knows where his "good luck" came from: his devotion to the mitzvah of Tefillin. (www.innernet.org)



Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Eikev 5770
Have a wonderful and delightful Shabbos
Prepared by Rabbi Binyomin Adler
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