Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Devarim 5770

שבת טעם החיים דברים תש"ע
Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Devarim 5770

Eicha: a Time to Give, not to receive

Introduction
איכה אשא לבדי טרחכם ומשאכם וריבכם, how can I alone carry your contentiousness, your burdens, and your quarrels? (Devarim 1:12)
In this week’s parasha it is said (Devarim 1:12) eicha esa livadi tarchachem umasachem virivchem, how can I alone carry your contentiousness, your burdens, and your quarrels? The Medrash (Eicha Rabbah 1:1) notes that there are three instances in Scripture where the word eicha appears. One instance is here in Devarim. The second instance is when Yeshaya (1:21) declares eicha haysah lizonah kiryah nemanah, how the faithful city has become a harlot! The third instance is in the beginning of the Book of Eicha (1:1) which we read on Tisha BaAv, where the prophet Yirmiah laments eicha yashvah vadad, alas – she sits in solitude! The Medrash draws a distinction between these three instances of eicha. Moshe witnessed the Jewish People in their glory. Yeshaya knew the Jewish People when they were in a state of rebellion, and Yirmiah observed the people when they were in a state of degradation. This Medrash poses a number of difficulties. First, if Moshe saw the Jewish People in their glory, why did he bemoan the fact that they were contentious and quarrelsome? Second, what is the significance of the word eicha that warrants the Medrash to highlight these three time periods in Jewish history?

The difference between eich and eicha
In order to understand the significance of the word eicha, it is worthwhile to examine the meaning of the word itself. The word eicha is similar to the word eich, with one notable difference. The word eich is in the masculine form, whereas the word eicha appears in the feminine form. The reasons for this difference is beyond the scope of this essay. Nonetheless, the fact that one is in the masculine form and the other is in the feminine form is reflective of a profound insight into the conduct of the Jewish People. When Moshe wondered how he could bear the burden of the Jewish People alone, he was expressing his disappointment in the people’s inability to rise above the pettiness and struggles of one who is always needy. Thus, Moshe was bemoaning the fact that the Jewish People had everything delivered to them on a silver platter, but they could not resist quarrelling with each other and provoking HaShem to anger. Yeshaya, however, saw the Jewish People in a state of rebellion, where they had already fallen from their glory and were wallowing in the gutter. Yirmiah witnessed the Jewish People in their state of degradation, when there was apparently no more hope. Thus, while all three leaders saw the Jewish People in different states of existence, they essentially observed the people when they were on the receiving end and not on the giving end.

Being satisfied with what we have will help us avoid baseless hatred
What message is the Medrash conveying to us? Do we not know that the Jewish People sinned and this brought about the destruction of the Bais HaMikdash and the Land? The answer to this question is that we are being taught a powerful lesson in human nature. When HaShem bestows us with wealth and comforts, it behooves us to appreciate what we have and to be satisfied with our lot. While we always look to HaShem as the Source of all blessings, we cannot become weakened like one who is in constant need of fame and riches. Desiring more than what we have only leads to contentiousness and quarrels with one another. The Gemara (Yoma 9b) states explicitly that the second Bais HaMikdash was destroyed because of baseless hatred, and one of the catalysts for this hatred is desiring more than what we have.
The Shabbos connection
This Shabbos is referred to as Shabbos Chazon, the Shabbos of vision. We are required to gaze inwards and contemplate the luxuries that HaShem has provided us with and to appreciate those comforts. We can then use our possessions to help others in need, thus fulfilling the verse that states (Yeshaya 1:27) Tziyon bimishpat tipadeh vishaveha bitzedakah, Zion will be redeemed through justice, and those who return to her through righteousness. When we realize that we have everything that we need in the physical realm, we will begin to crave higher levels of spirituality. HaShem will then hear our pleas to restore the glory of Yerushalayim to the days of old, with the arrival of Moshiach Tzidkeinu and the rebuilding of the Third Bais HaMikdash, speedily, in our days.
Shabbos Stories
The Talmud records that the Jewish people went into exile 2,000 years ago because they lacked love one for another. The road of return, therefore, is paved with gentle caring and compassion for each other.
I know that it is Tisha BaAv today and I am eating anyway
One of the outstanding mitzvos is “Love of others,” love for another person. The Baal Shem Tov said that inasmuch as God is abstract and in tangible, it may be difficult to develop love for Him. The royal road love to God, said the Baal Shem Tov, is Love of others. Many righteous people excelled in love of others. Perhaps most prominent in Chassidic folklore is Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, who was constantly interceding with God on behalf of His people.
For example, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak once encountered a man who was eating on Tisha B’Av. “My child,” he said, “you must have forgotten that day is Tisha B’Av.”
“No, I know it is Tisha B’Av,” the man replied.
“Ah, then you have been instructed by your doctor that you may not fast because of poor health.”
“I am perfectly healthy,” the man said.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak raised his eyes toward heaven. “Master of the universe,” he said. “I have given this man two opportunities to exonerate himself for eating on Tisha B’Av, but he is so dedicated to truth that he rejected my offer, even at the risk of incriminating himself…”
Better to be bitten by insects now
The "Tzaddik of Stitchin" would welcome wayfarers into his home and provide them with a place to sleep, even if they were dressed in tattered clothes and covered with the dust of the road. When it was pointed out to him that they might be carrying insects that would infest his bedclothes, the tzaddik said, "The Talmud states that the dead body actually feels the pain of being worm eaten. At that time I will not be able to do anything to the insects that will be irritating me. Is it not better that I take the risk of being bitten by insects in this world, where I can at least brush the insects away, and hope that by merit of the mitzvah of hosting guests, I will be spared the misery after death?"

The Ten Thousand Fund

It started one afternoon when the Rottenbaum family sat down to lunch and they heard a tremendous crash of something heavy falling. They ran to the window, looked out onto the garden below them, and heard a rough voice call from above: "Don't stick your heads out the window or you'll be sorry!"
They closed the window and in front of their very noses saw a metal trellis fall heavily to the ground. They recognized it as one of the porch trellises of the Gutman family who lived on the floor above them. Eli Rottenbaum explained excitedly, "Srulie Gutman told me at school that his family are starting to enlarge their apartment. Today the workers came, and from now on they're sleeping in another apartment." True, the Gutmans were seen leaving with their suitcases, but they did not say to where or for how long.
Another trellis fell heavily to the ground, on the beautiful garden the Rottenbaums had so lovingly cultivated. Then the thud of heavy equipment shook the entire building, and ear-splitting drilling made everyone cover their ears. The roof shook, and the acrid smell of dust soon filled the air. The apartment building contained only a few families, and the neighbors had always gotten along well. But Mrs. Rottenbaum felt that some part of her neighborly feeling was being torn to bits, together with the clotheslines that were lying on the ground under the weight of the trellises.
"They're building, they're building!" exulted the children. But the parents furrowed their brows. The Gutmans had nine children and lived in cramped quarters; it was wonderful that they were finally enlarging their narrow living space. Everyone knew that both Mr. and Mrs. Gutman worked long hours and that making a livelihood was not easy for them. But still, couldn't they have given advance warning to their neighbors? "If we had known, we could have asked them to tell the workers to take the trellises down safely and put them near the garbage bins... we could have come to an agreement about a break in the work during afternoon rest hours...
The Rottenbaums had no midday rest, neither that day nor the next. Mr. Binyamin Rottenbaum, a teacher, really needed his afternoon rest, as his teaching hours continued late into the evening. He went upstairs and tried to talk to the workmen, but encountered total obduracy on their part... Two more days passed, two very difficult days: construction work lasted from 11 A.M. until 6 P.M., and already their decorative living-room window had cracked deeply and shattered. "Who knows how much the Gutman construction is going to cost us!" someone muttered.
That night, Binyamin Rottenbaum ran into Yankele Gutman. Yankele poured out his heart: he had made the decision to start construction at the last minute because he'd found a contractor who gave him a really good price, but the catch was that they'd have to begin immediately or the price would go up. That's why they'd left in such a rush and didn't have the chance to talk to their neighbors. He'd signed a contract with a shrewd contractor who promised to complete the work as soon as possible, maximum three months.
"Friends told me," said Yankele, "that the contractor is liable to take advantage of the fact that I don't have certification and all the proper papers yet, by taking on inexperienced workers, since I won't be able to lodge a complaint against him. But so far, everything seems to be going smoothly."
Going smoothly! Maybe for the Gutmans, but certainly not for the Rottenbaums. Binyamin bit his lip, but Yankele continued with his list of woes, mainly money problems. He looked terribly haggard and troubled, and Binyamin felt sorry for him. A few days later when the two ran into each other, Binyamin did try to talk to his neighbor and explain how the unbearable noise and dirt were affecting the other tenants. He even told him that the work was slovenly, negligent and careless ― in short, much worse than the norm. But Yankele's eyes were darting from side to side; it was clear that the man was distracted and in over his head. He told Binyamin he'd see what he could do.
This same scenario repeated itself a few more times, and Binyamin became resigned to the fact that Yankele did not seem able to deal with the situation. "That's the way it is," Binyamin understood. "Yankele is wrapped up in his own troubles and money issues with his contractor, and just can't seem to deal with this."
One evening, Binyamin was called to the neighbor who lived upstairs... "We have to roll up our sleeves and get to work," said the upstairs neighbor grimly. "We have to declare war against the chutzpah going on under our very noses. Yes, I gave Gutman the go-ahead to build, but not like this! I saw your shattered window, and I've also had some breakage. We have to file a lawsuit before this gets even more out of hand."
This tone did not suit Binyamin at all, and he cut the conversation short. Later that night, he opted to walk home from his nephew's wedding instead of taking the bus so that he could think. War? Confrontation? What kinds of words were those? He, Binyamin Rottenbaum the teacher, was he going to get involved in such shady business? All his life he had avoided gossip and slander, conflict and strife. Among his wide circle of friends and acquaintances, there was not even one that he "didn't talk to." When one of his children came home with a story of anyone being criticized for doing such-and-such, he would firmly cut off the discussion by saying, "We don't discuss such things in the Rottenbaum household..."
But, still: the racket every day, the shattered window, rest hours, drilling, rudeness. Wasn't there a limit?
But how could he continue to tell his children, "We don't discuss such things in the Rottenbaum household," if the Rottenbaum household was full of resentment and anger? Furthermore, what kind of relationship would they have with the neighbors once construction was finished and the Gutmans returned? Binyamin was not naive. He knew full well what transpired in many apartment buildings after someone started renovating and there were problems ― grievances before rabbinical courts, evacuation orders, neighbors who did not speak to one another. Even if the work continued for months, Binyamin reasoned, with the drilling and dust and whatnot, there would be many more years afterward when they would need to live in peace and harmony with the neighbors. Was it worth spoiling all that?
After all the years of working on their character traits, now they were being put to the test. It's no problem getting along with others when things are pleasant. It's only under difficult circumstances that we are really tested, and this is precisely when we must restrain ourselves, understand the other person's actions, and maintain our inner balance. As Binyamin neared home and the end of his walk, he arrived at his decision.
Later, Binyamin sat down with his wife and discussed everything with her. "But what about the monetary damage? Only ten days have gone by, and look how much this has already cost us," she said.
Binyamin had already anticipated his wife's question, and had prepared an answer. "We will take it out of the 'ten thousand'," he said.
After Binyamin's father passed away, they had received an inheritance of ten thousand dollars. Binyamin decided immediately to put the money away; they would need it in a few years for the bar mitzvah of their twin boys, and then for their daughter's wedding. His monthly salary was not enough for serious savings, and the inheritance would provide the seed money...
As time went on, the Rottenbaums were able to add several thousand dollars more to their savings, but it always retained its original code name: the "ten thousand." This was a subconscious source of peace of mind, as whenever the Rottenbaums talked about future expenses, they knew that the "ten thousand" would help them out...
And so the Rottenbaum parents talked to their older children and explained their course of action: to maintain their silence, keep the peace, and never let the Gutmans know how much they suffered. They would cover all the damage with their savings, and that was that. Binyamin took out a plastic bag with some earplugs. "These are available any time you need some peace and quiet; or if you really need to, you can go to Grandma's house to do your home work. And the garden? When this is over, we'll take from the "ten thousand" to buy new flowers."
And so it was. Binyamin made it clear to his upstairs neighbor that he would not take part in any actions against the Gutmans, and explained his rationale. Time passed. The Rottenbaum's solar water heater was ruined by the construction work and needed to be replaced; a careless worker bashed in their front door with his machinery and that too needed to be replaced. There were some very difficult moments, such as the "spritz" episode. One Friday, the workers sprayed the outside of the building with white "spritz" ― spackle material ― right through the Rottenbaums' open window! It took the entire family hours of work on Shabbat eve to scrub the stuff off the furniture. "If worst comes to worst," Binyamin reassured his wife, "we'll pay someone to remove it professionally. After all, we have the means to cover the expense."
Four thousand dollars. Yes, four thousand dollars of the money that had been set aside for bar mitzvahs and weddings was spent to cover the damages caused to the Rottenbaum family by Gutman's construction work.
And they never let on to the Gutmans. "Of course, Mrs. Gutman, it was no problem at all with the construction work. We look forward to your return as our dear neighbors when it's all over. And after it was all over ― thank God! ― the Rottenbaums organized a welcome-home celebration for the Gutmans, with cakes, signs, hugs and kisses.
After the construction was completed, the four thousand dollars that Mr. Rottenbaum had spent was returned to him in amazing ways so that, in effect, he never "lost" that money. That, too, is a wonderful story, but it is really "beside the point." (www.innernet.org)

Once In a Yovel
A wealthy wood merchant once came to Rav Chaim of Volozhin for advice, explaining that all his wealth was in danger of being lost. He had sent a huge ship laden with wood to a foreign country, but the authorities were not allowing the wood to enter the country. In fact, they were threatening to sink the ship if it didn’t leave the border of the country.

Rav Chaim reassured the man, “Don’t worry, you’ll see. The salvation of Hashem is like the blink of an eye!”

On that day, the price of wood rose dramatically, and later that day, the authorities finally allowed the merchant’s ship to enter the country.

The wealthy man returned to Rav Chaim, beaming with happiness. He said, “Rebbi, today I experienced hashgachas pratis! If the authorities hadn’t delayed me, I would have received the original price for the wood. The delay actually turned out to be beneficial; I ended up earning significantly more money because of it.”

Rav Chaim sighed, “This is the difference between a rich man and a poor man. The poor man sees the hashgachas pratis of HaKadosh Boruch Hu every day. The rich man sees hashgacha only once every few years.” (Ukarasa LaShabbos Oneg)

Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer's Sad Goodbye
R' Shneur Kotler, the Rosh Yeshiva of Lakewood, escaped Europe and managed to survived the Holocaust after experiencing great miracles. Eventually, he arrived in Eretz Yisrael, joining his grandfather R' Isser Zalman Meltzer with whom he shared a very close relationship. Once he was in Eretz Yisrael, news reached him that his kallah who he was engaged to before the war was still alive. However, she was unable to join him in Eretz Yisrael so R' Shneur made plans to travel to her to finally get married.
On the day of his departure R' Shneur went to his grandfather's house to part from him. R' Isser Zalman expressed his great joy on his grandson's upcoming marriage and began accompanying him down the stairs. Surprisingly, after descending only two steps from his second floor apartment he turned around and went home. Everybody present was shocked and puzzled by his behavior. Was this a fitting way for R' Isser Zalman to part from his dear grandson who he would probably never see again?
One of his students dared to ask him why he had not accompanied his grandson all the way down the stairs. R' Isser Zalman said, "As I was walking down the steps, I saw a vision of the thousands of Yidden who did not merit living long enough to marry. I returned home to join in their pain." (Source: Stories My Grandfather Told Me) (www.Revach.net)


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

שבת טעם החיים בראשית תש"ע
Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Bereishis 5770

It must have been something
Introduction
This week’s parsha discusses the creation of the world, and most important, the creation of man. The Torah describes the birth of Adam and Chava’s two sons, Kayin and Hevel, and the ensuing battle between them. Their struggle still reverberates amongst their descendants today. People are forever staking out their territory and determining their dominance over their fellow man.
The rejection of Kayin’s sacrifice
The incident began rather innocuously, when Kayin offered a sacrifice to HaShem, albeit an inferior offering, from the flax that he had cultivated. Hevel, however, offered a choice sacrifice, from the first born and the choicest of his sheep. HaShem rejected Kayin’s sacrifice but accepted Hevel’s offering. Kayin was angry that HaShem found favor in Hevel’s offering, and remained angry despite HaShem’s explanation. The narrative abruptly turns to a scene which takes place in the field where Kayin rises and kills Hevel. What happened between the time that the two brothers brought their sacrifices and the ensuing murder?
Various opinions for why Kayin killed Hevel
The Midrash offers numerous points of view as to what occurred between Kayin and Hevel. One opinion offered by the Midrash is that Kayin and Hevel struggled over land ownership. A second opinion maintains that the two brothers were quarreling over who would have the Bais HaMikdash, the Holy Temple, built in their territory. A third opinion posits that Kayin and Hevel disputed the right to marry Chava, Adam’s first wife. This presupposes that Adam had subsequently married a second woman named Chava. The fourth and final opinion cited in the Midrash is that the first Chava had already died and Kayin and Hevel were arguing over who would marry the extra sister that was born to Hevel. What is troubling about the Midrash, however, is that all the opinions appear to ignore the original cause for contention. Kayin was upset because HaShem had rejected his offering and preferred his younger brother’s offering over his. Would this not have been sufficient reason for Kayin to kill Hevel?
Our dispute must certainly be valid
A rabbi once related that when he was first hired by a synagogue, he ambitiously took on the issue that seemed to be the most troubling issue in the community at the time. For many years, two of the wealthiest members of the community were not speaking with one another. Unexpectedly, the rabbi summoned the two adversaries to his office with the intent of getting to the root of their dissention. The rabbi questioned each of them as to what they thought the catalyst had been that led to the long-standing feud. To the rabbi’s surprise, neither man was able to recall the exact point in time when the feud began. However, they both insisted that “such a fight only could have occurred if there had been good reason for it.”
Sadly, people often have fallouts in their relationships because of “something that happened long ago,” but have a hard time explaining why it had such terrible repercussions. While the Torah omitted the actual dispute that occurred between Kayin and Hevel, the rabbis in the Midrash debated the nature of the quarrelling brothers’ discussion. It would seem that the Biblical omission and the sage’s elaboration demonstrate the idea that one can easily become embroiled in a dispute over trivialities. Clearly, something occurred between the brothers that instigated the tension. Nonetheless, they allowed the dispute to escalate to the point where the origin of the debate was irrelevant..
This incident is a lesson in how to maintain harmonious relationships with friends and relatives. While differences and disputes are sometimes inevitable, it is essential to recognize that what unites us is more important than what divides us.
The Shabbos connection
Throughout the week we are engaged in competitive and aggressive pursuits that at times can lead us to harbor feelings of animosity and ill-will towards others. Although we constantly seek peace and tranquility, it is only through the light of Shabbos that we can truly experience the serenity that we are seeking. Through the ideal peace that is reflected in the Holy Shabbos, HaShem should allow us to merit finding favor in His eyes and in the eyes of all of mankind.


Shabbos Stories
You should live long
The Torah Temima, zt”l, told the story of a certain elderly man named Reb Binyomin whom he had once met as a child. This Reb Binyomin was of exceedingly old age, and it was well known that he was not particularly cautious about getting chilled or overheated. In other words, he didn’t take the normal precautions that even younger people do to safeguard their health, much less the great care that is normally taken by the elderly. His acquaintances once tried to encourage him to take better care of himself, but to no avail.

Reb Binyomin responded, “Unlike other people, I am not concerned about such matters. People, for good reason, worry that they might get overheated or catch cold and die, but I am confident that the blessing that I was fortunate enough to receive from the Vilna Gaon, zt”l, will ensure me of a very, very long life.

“I was a little boy when the Gaon was still alive, and I used to go to pray in his Beis Medrash. One time, after the prayers, the Gaon paced the floor of the Beis Medrash sunk deeply in his thoughts. On that day, I too was pacing the floor deeply immersed in reciting Tehillim, and without realizing it, the Gaon and I ran right into one another. “I was completely dumbfounded that I had knocked into the holy Gaon, and stood there paralyzed in shock. Little did I realize that the Gaon could not move away from me either - because I was standing on his tzitzis! Eventually, the Gaon saw how confused and terrified I was and he had pity on me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and said lovingly, ‘You should live long, my son, but please…let my tzitzis go.’

“When the matter became known in the Beis Medrash and later in the city, people looked at me as if I was a rare find—a child that had been graced by the attentions and the blessing of the great tzaddik. My parents even made a great celebration that day and distributed charity to the poor!”

Not now and not in the future

While he was the head of the Bais din in Dreznitz (1794-1799), the Chasam Sofer was once passing through Pressburg on his way to Mattersdorf. He stopped in Pressburg to visit with Rabbi Meshulam Igra Tismenitz, who was the chief rabbi in Pressburg. As he approached the city, the Chasam Sofer was in doubt whether he should pronounce the bracha of shechalak michachmaso liyiraiav, blessed is the One Who bestowed from His wisdom on those who fear Him, upon seeing the venerable sage, who was undoubtedly one of the leading Torah luminaries of the generation. The nature of the doubt was that this Halacha of pronouncing this bracha is not cited by Rambam in his Yad Hachazaka. Some claim that the reason for this omission is that we no longer find men of the stature to which the Gemara refers to. On the other hand, the great Rabbi Meshulam Igra was an outstanding Torah sage, and perhaps the bracha was appropriate. As he approached the home of R’ Meshulam, Chasam Sofer decided that he would recite the passage of the Gemara verbatim. “Upon seeing a great sage in Israel, one should say, ‘Blessed are You, HaShem…’,” using HaShem’s name, and as he opened the door he finished off the
blessing, “ ‘Who has conferred His knowledge upon them’ .” Then, to settle the
mind of R’ Meshulam, who most certainly
would be wondering about this pronouncement, Chasam Sofer immediately
asked him why Rambam does not rule according to this Gemara. R’ Meshulam explained that Rambam includes in his Yad Hachazaka not only halachos that are practical in our days, but he even brings laws which will once again be practical when Moshiach arrives. This is why Rambam includes laws of Korbanos, etc. However, laws that do not apply now, and will not apply when Moshiach arrives are not included. When Moshiach arrives, we will merit techias hameisim, the resurrection of the dead, when our patriarchs will be with us, together with Moshe and Aharon. The Tannaim and Amoraim, who codified and edited the Mishnah and Gemara, will live in our communities. Rambam omits the bracha said upon seeing a great sage because in our days, we have no men of this stature, and in the days to come there will be so many of them, it will not be practical to say the blessing every day. Therefore, the halacha does not apply now, and it will not apply later, either. This is why this halacha, while it is correct, no longer has any application. [Reprinted with permission from www.DafDigest.org]

No falsehood here
Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was known for his love and good will toward his fellow Jews always trying to assess the good in people rather than expose the bad.
Once on the Fast of Tisha BaAv he saw a Jew eating in a non-kosher restaurant. He tapped lightly on the window of the establishment and summoned the man outside.
“Perhaps you forgot that today is a fast day?” Rav Levi Yitzchak queried.
“No, Rebbe,” the man replied.
“Then perhaps you did not realize that this restaurant in not kosher.”
“No, Rebbe, I know it is a treife (non-kosher) eatery.”
Rav Levi Yitzchak softly placed his hands on the man’s shoulders and looked heavenward. “Ribbono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe,” he exclaimed. “Look at how wonderful your children are. They may be eating on a fast day. In a non-kosher restaurant to boot. Yet they refuse to emit a falsehood from their lips!” [Reprinted with permission from www.Torah.org]
In the merit of Tzedakah
This story of how Rav Yosef Sharshover zt”l, a son of Rav Chaim of Volozhin, was spared from murder at the hands of a band of thieves, was related by one of the talmidim of the Volozhin yeshiva:
“While I was in the Volozhin yeshiva, I heard a story from the godol hador, which took place in the year following the death of the great gaon Rav Chaim zt”l, of Volozhin. Besides his son the gaon Rav Yitzchak zt”l, Rav Chaim had a son named Rav Yosef, who lived in the town of Sharshov, in the Horodno province. (See the introduction to Nefesh HaChaim, where Rav Itzele quotes a chiddush in his brother’s name.)
“When the gaon Rav Chaim died, his son Rav Yosef came to divide his possessions, from which he received one thousand silver rubles and some seforim and other items. When he had to return home, he hired a wagon driver from Volozhin to take him. While they were travelling, the driver lost his way and they were soon wandering away from the main route.
“Friday afternoon arrived and the two travelers wondered where they might spend the approaching Shabbos. They saw a man coming towards them and asked him if he knew where there might be a Jew living in the vicinity, with whom they could stay. The man replied, “I will go and show you where a Jew lives.” Off the three of them went, until they arrived at a Jewish home. Rav Yosef asked the Jew whether he and the wagon driver could stay there over Shabbos, to which the householder responded, ‘Why not?! Aren’t we all Jews?’ So they stayed.
“The following afternoon, Rav Yosef prayed minchah, ate the third meal and lay down on his bed to rest, for it was the summer. His father Rav Chaim came to him in a dream and told him, ‘My dear son, you are in great danger, for there are people who want to kill you and take your money. If you can run away, do so.’ When Rav Yosef saw his father in the dream, he awoke and arose from the bed. He waited a little, until it was almost nightfall and he told the driver, ‘Go quickly and harness the wagon and we’ll leave this place because it’s dangerous. There are murderers here who intend to kill us.'”
“When the driver went to harness the wagon, an armed thief came over to him and told him, ‘Come with me to the room, because you’re not going anywhere. You will die here,’ and he closed the wagon driver inside with him. Rav Yosef was sitting in his room and he saw that three armed men had come in. He realized what was happening - they had come to kill him.
He went to stand in the corner of the room and started to say vidui. As he prayed he said, ‘My father, my father, Rav Chaim zt”l, I ask you, may your merit and the merit of the Torah protect me, for I have fallen into the hands of murderers who want to kill me.' So he called, bitterly and broken-heartedly, and he wept profusely.
“When the house owner approached the room and heard him calling, ‘My father, Rav Chaim!!’ he said to him, ‘Whose son are you? Tell me!’
“He replied, ‘I am the son of the gaon Rav Chaim zt”l, from Yeshivas Volozhin!’
The murderer said, ‘Who says you are telling the truth. Maybe you’re lying?’
“Rav Yosef replied, ‘Come over here and I’ll show you proof aplenty, for it’s been four weeks since my father zt”l, died.’ The man came inside and Rav Yosef showed him his father’s manuscripts, seforim and other objects, until he saw that he was telling the truth and that he really was Rav Chaim’s son.
“Then the murderer began calling everyone and he told them, ‘Sit around the table for a trial. We’ll judge whether we can kill him or not.’ They did as they were told and sat down straight away and he told them the story of what had happened to him.
“ ‘When I killed an entire family, nine people in all, in the Minsk region, I was imprisoned in Minsk. When I was being taken to Vilna to be interrogated by the investigator, I happened to be in the Volozhin jail on erev Pesach. When Rav Chaim zt”l, heard that a Jew was in the prison he went to the governor and asked that the imprisoned Jew be permitted to come to him for the two sedorim.
“ ‘The superintendent suddenly came to me and said, “Get up, with the chain” - that was attached to my feet and hands – “for the local rabbi wants you to be with him for two nights.”
“ ‘When I came to his house, he had the appearance of a heavenly angel and the members of the yeshiva were sitting around the table for the seder which was laid out, while I was tied with iron chains like a thief. The gaon said to me, “Sit down for the seder,” and I sat down in mortal fear. This actually happened to me!
“ ‘Can we, my sons and brothers, a man like this, who was not ashamed to sit at the same table with me, can we kill his son? Where is our fairness? Where is our justice? I put this to you, and you give a fair verdict!’
“Their chief spoke out and said, ‘According to our laws and our own sense of fair play, we cannot do anything!’
“When they heard this verdict from their leader -- that he would not be sentenced to death -- the man took Rav Yosef, with his money and the wagon driver and blindfolded them so that they shouldn’t see which way the road was and he put them onto the main route. This is what I heard.”






Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Bereishis 5770
I will be giving a class in Navi on Shabbos afternoon at Beis Haknesses HaGra 14561 Lincoln in Oak Park, an hour before Mincha.
Have a wonderful and delightful Shabbos
Prepared by Rabbi Binyomin Adler.
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Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Haazinu-Shuva-Yom Kippur 5770

שבת טעם החיים האזינו- תשובה-יום כיפור תש"ע
Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Haazinu-Shuva-Yom Kippur 5770

Repentance is a state of joy
Introduction
This week is referred to as Shabbos Shuva, Shabbos of Repentance. What is the association between Shabbos and repentance? It is said that the word Shabbos is derived from the word shav, return. Thus, on Shabbos, everything returns to its source. Yet, one must wonder, how this idea is connected to repentance?
Prohibition of reciting Avinu Malkeinu on Shabbos
The halacha is that we do not recite the prayer of Avinu Malkeinu on Shabbos. The Pinei Menachem cites one reason for this prohibition is that on Shabbos we do not supplicate HaShem for mundane matters such as sustenance. The difficulty with this interpretation is that on Shabbos we recite the supplication of bisefer chaim, where we request from HaShem to be inscribed in the Book of Repentance. For this reason the Levush writes that the text of Avinu Malkeinu is based on the middle blessings of Shemone Esrei which are related to mundane matters. Thus, when one of the Ten Days of Repentance occurs on Shabbos and we only recite seven blessings, we do not recite Avinu Malkeinu. The Pinei Menachem finds a difficulty with this interpretation as the halacha is that we do not recite Avinu Malkeinu in the Friday Mincha Shemone Esrei, and in that Shemone Esrei we recite even the blessings that pertain to mundane matters. The Pinei Menachem suggests an esoteric answer which is beyond the scope of this essay.
Crying on Shabbos for the purpose of Teshuva
Perhaps we can suggest an answer to this question based on an incident regarding the Chiddushei HaRim. A person was once crying on Shabbos and the Chiddushei HaRrim remarked that it is permitted for one to cry on Shabbos for the purpose of repentance. The Chiddushei HaRim cited as proof to this halacha that we find that removing the covering of the heart is referred to as milah, circumcision, and the mitzvah of milah, circumcising a male child on the eighth day overrides the prohibitions of Shabbos. Thus, removing the covering of the heart, i.e. repentance, is also permitted on Shabbos.
The distinction between crying and reciting Avinu Malkeinu on Shabbos
The permit to cry on Shabbos would seem to be in direct contradiction to the Halacha that we do not recite Avinu Malkeinu on Shabbos. Yet, upon further examination, we can see a distinction between the two halachos. One is normally forbidden to cry on Shabbos because this makes a person despondent, and on Shabbos one is required to be joyous. Thus, when the crying is for the purpose of repentance, it is understood that it is permitted because one who repents from his sins feels elated. The requests of Avinu Malkeinu, however, contain a sense of despondence. Examples of this are the requests to remember those who were martyred for the Name of HaShem and the request that HaShem favor us as we are lacking merits. The Halacha mandates that one should not feel despondent on Shabbos, and for that reason one is prohibited to recite Avinu Malkeinu on Shabbos.
The Shabbos connection
Bases on this distinction between the permit to cry on Shabbos for the purpose of Teshuva and the prohibition to recite Avinu Malkeinu, we can better understand why this Shabbos is referred to as Shabbos Shuva. On Shabbos one should be joyful when he is cognizant of HaShem’s Kingship. One who cries and is inspired to Teshuva will feel the requisite joy. Shabbos Shuva is essentially synonymous with Shabbos Simcha, a Shabbos of joy. Hashem should allow us to be inspired to true repentance and we, together with the entire Jewish People, should merit a Gmar Chasima Tova, to be sealed in HaShem’s Book of Life.
Shabbos Stories
There’s more to Yom Kippur than earning a livelihood
Rabbi Yissachar Frand writes: The Shemen HaTov tells of the following incident, which involved the grandfather of the present Belzer Rebbe. It was Yom Kippur in Belz. They had finished the Mincha prayer early, and the Chassidim went to take a rest or a walk before they began the Neilah prayer, the final prayer of Yom Kippur. Everyone left the Beis HaMedrash [Study Hall]. Like many others, one of the honorable and wealthy Chassidim left his Shtreimel [fur hat worn by Chassidim] at his seat. When he returned before Neilah, the Shtreimel was missing. Someone stole a Shtreimel from the Beis HaMedrash in Belz on Yom Kippur!
There was a great commotion. Who could do such a thing?! The Rebbe (unaware of what had happened) went to begin Neilah as scheduled. After Yom Kippur the Rebbe called over the Chassidim and asked them, “What was the big commotion before Neilah?” They told him, “Someone stole a Shtreimel.” The Rebbe told them to all to go and break their fast. Later, the Rebbe asked to see a certain chassid.
The chassid came to the Rebbe and the Rebbe told him, “You stole the Shtreimel.” The fellow denied it. The Rebbe persisted in the charge until finally the chassid broke down and confessed.
The next day in Belz, “For the Jews there was Light” [Esther 8:16]. Everyone proclaimed a miracle: “the Rebbe has Ruach HaKodesh [Divine Spirit].” However, the Rebbe explained that “It was not Ruach HaKodesh. The way that I knew who stole the Shtreimel was as follows. Before Yom Kippur, all of my Chassidim gave me a kvittel (a small written note with their prayer requests). Everyone had needs. This one asked to see nachas from his children, this one asked to marry off a daughter, all sorts of requests. One Chassid, however, asked only for Parnassah (livelihood). A Jew who can only think of Parnassah before Yom Kippur is the type of person who would steal a Shtreimel on Yom Kippur.” That is how the Rebbe knew.
If this is what Judaism is all about, I wish to be a part of it
Rabbi Frand tells a story that he heard from a Rabbi in Dallas, Texas.
One day a man walked into the office of his orthodox shul in Dallas. The man was obviously not an observant Jew. In fact, the Rabbi never saw him in the synagogue before.
“Rabbi,” he said, “I’d like to make a contribution.” . He proceeded to hand over a check for ten thousand dollars.
The rabbi was flabbergasted. He did not know this man, nor had the man ever seen the Rabbi. Yet, he just handed over a tremendous gift to the synagogue. “Please,” said the rabbi. “There must be a reason. After all, you are giving this donation to a rabbi whom you do not know and to a shul in which you do not participate. Please tell me the reason.”
The man answered very simply. “Not long ago I was in Israel. I went to the Wall. There I saw a man. He was obviously a very observant Jew. He was praying with such fervor, with unparalleled enthusiasm and feeling. I just stood there and listened. I heard his pleas and supplications, I saw him sway with all his might, I saw his outpouring of faith, love, and devotion all harmoniously blending as an offering to G-d. From the day I saw that man pray, I could not get him out of my mind. If this is Judaism, I want to be part of it. I want to help perpetuate it.” [Reprinted with permission from www.Torah.org ]
These are G-d’s children, let them rejoice
A story is told about Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. It was Kol Nidrei night and the people of Berditchev had gathered together to daven. Behind them was a year of hunger, privation, and torture. The Maggid of the city was invited to preach. This Maggid, as was the custom in those days, lashed out at the congregants, yelling at them for their sins and telling them the terrible punishments that they were going to be given.

As you can imagine, the people started crying and wailing. At that moment, R. Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev ascended the pulpit in anger, pushed aside the Maggid, called for silence, and shouted: “Stop your scolding. These are God’s holy children. This is a time for rejoicing.” He then ordered the Torahs to be taken from the Ark and he and his Hasidim danced with joy.
Shabbos and Yom Kippur even more so
Rebbe Shalom of Belz used to say the following on the eve of Yom Kippur: The Talmud says, (Shabbos 34a) “Three things a person must ask in his house the eve before Shabbos as it begins to get dark. 1. Asartem, did you take tithes? 2. Aravtem, did you make an Eruv? 3. hidlaktem as haNeros, did you light the Shabbos lights? If it is true that we should do this on the eve of Shabbos, than even more so on the eve of the Shabbos of Shabbasos [a reference to Yom Kippur] that we should say these three things.

Therefore, continued the Belzer Rebbe, ‘asartem?’ in a short amount of time the 10, eser, days of repentance will have passed. Aravtem? also the eve, erev, of Yom Kippur is ending. Hidlaktem, did you light the Shabbos lights? The lights of Yom Kippur are already lit, and still we have not returned, done teshuvah before HaShem.

The Rebbe used to add before Kol Nidrei in the big shul in Belz in a loud voice. ‘Oy, we have erred, we have wronged, and we have sinned.’ When the people heard this, they were all struck with fear and they started to become inspired to teshuvah. (Sefer Yerach HaAysanim, teachings of the Rebbes of Belz page 61)

Mother and Child
One Yom Kippur eve, when Chassidic master Rabbi Yaakov Yisroel of Kriminitz was granting the traditional blessing to his children, he noticed that one of his daughters, overcome by the emotion of the moment, was weeping softly. The young child in her arms was also crying.
“Why are you crying, my child,” asked the Rebbe of the tot.
“My mother is crying,” answered the child, “so I am also crying.”
In the synagogue that evening, the Rebbe ascended the podium and related what his young grandchild had said to him. Bursting into tears, he then said:
“A child who sees his mother weeping, weeps as well, even if he cannot comprehend the reason for her tears. Our mother, too, is weeping. Our sages tell us that the Shechinah ‘keens like a dove and cries: “Woe is to My children, that because of their sins I have destroyed My home, set fire to My sanctuary, and have exiled them among the nations.”’ “So even if we ourselves have become inured to the pain of the exile,” wept Rabbi Yaakov Yisroel, “at least we should cry because our mother is crying.”
Prayer By Example
In a small village in the backwoods of Eastern Europe, many hours’ journey from the nearest Jewish community, lived a Jewish family. Once a year, for the holy day of Yom Kippur, they would make the long trip to town in order to pray together with their fellow Jews.
One year, the villager woke bright and early on the day before Yom Kippur and readied himself for the journey. His sons, however, not quite as industrious as he, had slept in. Impatient to get on his way, he said to his family: “Listen, I’m going to set out on foot while you get yourselves together. I'll wait for you at the large oak at the crossroads."
Walking swiftly, the villager soon reached the tree and lay down in its shade to wait for the family wagon. Exhausted from several days of backbreaking labor, he fell asleep. Meanwhile, his family loaded up the wagon and set out. But in the excitement of the journey, they forgot all about their old father and drove right by the sleeping figure at the crossroads.
When the villager woke, evening had already fallen. Many miles away, the Kol Nidrei prayers were getting underway in the town's synagogue. Lifting his eyes to the heavens, the old man cried:
“Master of the Universe! My children have forgotten me. But they are my children, so I forgive them. You, too, should do the same for those of Your children who have abandoned You....”
“He’s Already There”
Those who arrived early at the village synagogue on Yom Kippur eve could not but notice the man sleeping in a corner. His soiled clothes, and the strong scent of alcohol that hovered about him, attested to the cause of his slumber at this early hour. A Jew drunk on the eve of the Holy Day? Several of the congregants even suggested that the man be expelled from the synagogue.
Soon the room filled to overflowing, mercifully concealing the sleeping drunk from all but those who stood in his immediate vicinity. As the sun made to dip below the horizon, a hush descended upon the crowd: the Rebbe entered the room and made his way to his place at the eastern wall. At a signal from the Rebbe, the ark was opened, and the gabbai began taking out the Torah scrolls in preparation for the Kol Nidrei service.
This was the moment that the drunk chose to rise from his slumber, climb the steps to the raised reading platform in the center of the room, pound on the reading table, and announce: “Ne’um attah horeissa!” The scene—the crowded room, Torah scrolls being carried out of the open ark—seen through a drunken haze, appeared to the man as the beginning of hakkafos on Simchas Torah! The drunk was confusing the most solemn and awesome moment of the year with its most joyous and high-spirited occasion.
The scandalized crowd was about to eject the man from the room when the Rebbe turned from the wall and said: “Let him be. For him, it’s already time for hakkafot. He’s there already.”
********************************
On the following evening, as the Rebbe sat with his chassidim at the festive meal that follows the fast, he related to them the story of Reb Shmuel, the Kol Nidrei drunk.
On the morning of the eve of the Holy Day, Reb Shmuel had heard of a Jew who, together with his wife and six small children, had been imprisoned for failing to pay the rent on the establishment he held on lease from the local nobleman. Reb Shmuel went to the nobleman to plead for their release, but the nobleman was adamant in his refusal. “Until I see every penny that is owed to me,” he swore, “the Jew and his family stay where they are. Now get out of here before I unleash my dogs on you.”
“I cannot allow a Jewish family to languish in a dungeon on Yom Kippur,” resolved Reb Shmuel and set out to raise the required sum, determined to achieve their release before sunset.
All day, he went from door to door. People gave generously to a fellow Jew in need, but by late afternoon Reb Shmuel was still 300 rubles short of the required sum. Where would he find such a large sum of money at this late hour? Then he passed a tavern and saw a group of well-dressed young men sitting and drinking. A card-game was underway, and a sizable pile of banknotes and gold and silver coins had already accumulated on the table.
At first he hesitated to approach them at all: what could one expect from Jews who spend the eve of the Holy Day drinking and gambling in a tavern? But realizing that they were his only hope, he approached their table and told them of the plight of the imprisoned family.
They were about to send him off empty-handed, when one of them had a jolly idea: wouldn’t it be great fun to get a pious Jew drunk on Yom Kippur? Signaling to a waiter, the man ordered a large glass of vodka. “Drink this down in one gulp,” he said to the Reb Shmuel, “and I’ll give you 100 rubles.”
Reb Shmuel looked from the glass that had been set before him to the sheaf of banknotes that the man held under his nose. Other than a sip of l’chayim on Shabbos and at weddings, Reb Shmuel drank only twice a year—on Purim and Simchas Torah, when every chassid fuels the holy joy of these days with generous helpings of inebriating drink so that the body should rejoice along with the soul. And the amount of vodka in this glass—actually, it more resembled a pitcher than a glass—was more than he would consume on both those occasions combined. Reb Shmuel lifted the glass and drank down its contents.
“Bravo!” cried the man, and handed him the 100 rubles. “But this is not enough,” said Reb Shmuel, his head already reeling from the strong drink. “I need another 200 rubles to get the poor family out of prison!”
“A deal’s a deal!” cried the merrymakers. “One hundred rubles per glass! Waiter! Please refill this glass for our drinking buddy!”
Two liters and two hundred rubles later, Reb Shmuel staggered out of the tavern. His alcohol-fogged mind was oblivious to all—the stares of his fellow villagers rushing about in their final preparations for the Holy Day, the ferocious barking of the nobleman’s dogs, the joyous tears and profusions of gratitude of the ransomed family—except to the task of handing over the money to the nobleman and finding his way to the synagogue. For he knew that if he first went home for something to eat before the fast, he would never make it to shul for Kol Nidrei.
“On Rosh HaShanah,” the Rebbe concluded his story, “we submitted to the sovereignty of Heaven and proclaimed G-d king of the universe. Today, we fasted, prayed and repented, laboring to translate our commitment to G-d into a refined past and an improved future. Now we are heading towards Sukkos, in which we actualize and rejoice over the attainments of the ‘Days of Awe’ through the special mitzvos of the festival—a joy that reaches its climax in the hakkafos of Simchas Torah. But Reb Shmuel is already there. When he announced the beginning of hakkafos at Kol Nidrei last night, this was no ‘mistake.’ For us, Yom Kippur was just beginning; for him, it was already Simchas Torah....”


Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Haazinu-Shuva-Yom Kippur 5770
Is sponsored by Tzvi and Chana Sherizen
in honor of the Bar Mitzvah
of their dear son, Benyamin Gedalya.
May they have much nachas from Benyamin Gedalya and from all their children and grandchildren.
I will be giving a class in Navi on Shabbos afternoon at Beis Haknesses HaGra 14561 Lincoln in Oak Park, an hour before Mincha
Have a wonderful and delightful Shabbos and a Kesiva Vachasima Tova
Prepared by Rabbi Binyomin Adler.
For sponsorships please call
248-506-0363.
To subscribe weekly by email
Please send email to ShabbosTaamHachaim@gmail.com
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Visit www.torasi.blogspot.com for insights on the parashah and other subjects. Visit www.tehilasi.blogspot.com for commentary on Sefer Tehillim. Tweet with us at http://twitter.com/shabbostaam

Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Parashas Chukas-Balak 5769

שבת טעם החיים פרשת חקת-בלק תשס"ט
Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim Parashas Chukas-Balak 5769

Water and atonement
Introduction
In this week’s parashah, Chukas, the Torah instructs us regarding the laws of the Parah Adumah, the Red Heifer, that is used to purify those who have contracted tumas meis, corpse, impurity. The Torah refers to the purification waters as mei niddah, water of sprinkling. It is noteworthy that although the Torah also uses the expression of eifer parah, the ash of the cow, when describing the actual purification process, the Torah uses the expression mei niddah. One would think that the essence of the purification was through the ashes of the parah. Yet the Torah apparently stresses the idea that it is the water that purifies the person from corpse tumah. Indeed, it is said regarding the future (Yechezkel 36:25) vizarakti aleichem mayim tehorim utihartem mikol tumoseichem umikol giluleichem ataheir eschem, then I will sprinkle pure water upon you, that you may be come cleansed; I will cleanse you from all your contamination and from all your idols. Why does Scripture place such an emphasis on the purification waters?

Water symbolizes humility

The answer to this question is that the Pinei Menachem cites the Chiddushei HaRim who said that that the reason that corpse tumah is the most stringent from all the impurities is because one who has defiled himself to a corpse is detached from the Source of all of life, and his rectification is brought about through the cedar wood and hyssop, which reflects on the extremes of arrogance and humility. The Sfas Emes writes often regarding the idea of all sins having their source in arrogance, as it is unfathomable that one could rebel against the Master of the entire world. The only way that one could sin is because he deems himself to be of value, and this is what leads a person to disobey HaShem’s will. Perhaps based on this premise we can understand why the Torah refers to the purification process as the water of sprinkling. The Gemara (Taanis 7a) states that Torah is likened to water, and just like water leaves a high place and descends to a low area, so too Torah can only be sustained by one who is humble in spirit. In a similar vein, one who is undergoing a purification process from the sin of arrogance has water sprinkled upon him, to demonstrate that his contamination is rooted in arrogance, and he requires water, which reflects humility, as part of his purification.

Parah Adumah served as an atonement

We can now better understand why the Torah juxtaposes the death of Miriam to the laws of Parah Adumah. The Gemara (Moed Katan 28a) states that the reason for this juxtaposition is to teach us that just like the Parah Adumah serves as an atonement, so too the death of the righteous serves as an atonement. This statement, however, is difficult to understand, as according to the simple reading of the Torah, the Parah Adumah did not serve as an atonement. Rather, the ashes of the Parah Adumah functioned as a purifier of one who contracted corpse tumah. How, then, does the Gemara states that the Parah Adumah served as an atonement? Based on what we mentioned above, we can understand the aspect of atonement that is contained in the purification process of the Parah Adumah. The water reflects an atonement for the arrogance that the contaminated person displayed, and now he receives atonement for this flawed character trait. Thus, he is not merely being purified by the water of sprinkling. Rather, he is now allowed to gain an understanding for the cause of his sins.

Rebels should become humble

This insight allows us to understand why the Torah then records the incident regarding the Jewish People begging Moshe for water and HaShem instructing Moshe to speak to the rock to draw forth water. Moshe, however, strikes the rock and HaShem punishes Moshe and Aharon by not allowing them to enter into Eretz Yisroel. The commentators write at length to attempt to explain Moshe’s mistake. Perhaps we can suggest that HaShem used the vehicle of water to demonstrate to the Jewish People that if they were truly humble, they would realize that they are not deserving of anything, and all that they receive is from the Goodness of HaShem. Perhaps this is even alluded to in the rebuke that Moshe dispenses to the Jewish People, when he proclaimed the words (Bamidbar 20:10) shimu na hamorim, “listen now, O rebels.” The word hamorim, rebels, contains the words har, mountain, and mayim, water. This alludes to the idea that one who deems himself to be like a mountain, i.e. he has displayed a touch of arrogance, should lower himself like water.

Avraham’s humility is a merit for his descendants

This week we also read Parashas Balak. The Mishna (Avos 5:19) succinctly describe the contrast between the students sof Avraham and the students of Balaam. The Mishna states that the students of Balaam are arrogant whereas the students of Avraham are humble in spirit. Thus, the Gemara (Sota 17a) states that because Avraham declared (Bereishis 18:27) vianochi afar vaeifer, I am but dust and ash, his descendants merited the mitzvos of eifer parah, the ashes of the Parah Adumah, and afar Sota, the dust of the Sota. The commentators wonder why it is deemed to be a merit that the Jewish People received the mitzvah of Sota, which is when a woman is accused by her husband of being unfaithful. She then has to undergo a humiliating process that could end in her death. Why is this considered to be meritorious? One must wonder further why the mitzvah of Parah Adumah is considered meritorious, as the mitzvah is accomplished only when one contacts corpse tumah, which is not usually regarded as a sign of piety. Perhaps, however, the Gemara is teaching us that when one is prepared to cast aside his pride and is even willing, like Avraham, to pray for the wicked people of Sodom, he demonstrates that his sole concern in this world is the honor of HaShem. Similarly, when ones wife displays a lack of faithfulness, one must not overlook her faults for the sake of shalom bayis, domestic harmony. Rather, one must seek HaShem’s honor, even of it means that his wife will die as a result. Similarly, one who contracts corpse tumah should be cognizant of the fact that every person will one day die, and this thought will lead him to true humility. The idea of displaying some sense of humility was not existent in the mindset of Balaam, and he was subsequently humiliated by his own donkey and was ultimately killed by the sword of the ever people, that thought to curse.
The Shabbos connection
Shabbos is a time when everything in the world returns to its source. With the onset of Shabbos, one should repent from his sins and demonstrate to HaShem that despite the arrogant posture he may have maintained during the week, he is now prepared to perform only HaShem’s will. In the merit of our recognizing that we are here to stand up for HaShem’s honor, we should merit the Final Redemption, with the arrival of Moshiach Tzidkienu, speedily, in our days.
Shabbos Stories
Mr. Butcher
Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky writes: A pious and very talented Jewish scholar was placed on trial in a small Polish town outside of Lvov. The charges, brought by a local miscreant, were based on some trumped-up complaint. The young scholar was beloved to his townsfolk as he served in the capacity of the town's shochet (ritual slaughterer), chazzan (cantor), and cheder rebbe. Thus, many people in town were worried as he appeared before a notoriously anti-Semitic judge.
As he presented the charges, the judge mockingly referred to him as Mr. Butcher. In fact all through the preliminary portion of the kangaroo court, the judge kept referring to the beloved teacher and cantor as a butcher, meat vendor or slaughterer. Finally, the young scholar asked permission to speak. “Your honor,” he began, “before I begin my defense, I’d like to clarify one point. I serve in many capacities in this shtetl. The people at the synagogue know me as the cantor. The children at the school and all of their parents know me as the teacher. It is only the animals that know me as the butcher!” (reprinted with permission from www.Torah.org)
The cantor who lost his voice
The cantor of Berditchev had taken to brooding about his position.
In almost any other house of prayer - the distressed cantor thought - he would have understood his role during services. The beauty of his voice would inspire the whole congregation to lift their voices and hearts to God. The fervor of his singing would be the perfect complement to an ordinary rabbi's more subdued prayers.
But Rabbi Levi Yitzchak was no ordinary rabbi. He shouted, he cried, he sang out his heart's pleas to God. One moment, he would waive his hands madly. The next, he would sink quietly into himself - only to burst out again into a sing-song story. Then he would suddenly stride back and forth on the bimah, leaving no safe place for the cantor to even stand.
What could a cantor do? Sing quietly and steadily, in hopes of providing some contrast to Rabbi Levi Yitzchak's drama? Or sing ever more loudly and heart-renderingly, hoping not to be over-shadowed?
One day, just before services, the cantor of Berditchev approached Rabbi Levi Yitzchak. “Rabbi, I cannot sing today. My voice is hoarse from last week.”
“Hoarse?” Rabbi Levi Yitzchak looked closely at the man. “What have you been doing, to become hoarse?”
The cantor lowered his eyes piously. “I have been singing before the Ark. The Ark that holds the holy Torah!”
“I understand,” said Rabbi Levi Yitzchak.
“Thank you, Rabbi,” said the cantor. “I knew you would understand.”
“What I understand,” said Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, “is that singing before the Ark could make you hoarse. But singing before the living G-d - that could never make you hoarse!”
Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim
Parashas Chukas-Balak 5769
I will not be giving a class in Navi on Shabbos afternoon until after Tisha Baav.
Have a wonderful and delightful Shabbos Prepared by Rabbi Binyomin Adler.
For sponsorships please call
248-506-0363.
To subscribe weekly by email
Please send email to ShabbosTaamHachaim@gmail.com
View Shabbos: Ta’am HaChaim
and other Divrei Torah on www.doreishtov.blogspot.com

Pesach 5769

Hagadah Shel Pesach 5769

Kadesh

The word kadesh, which literally means recite Kiddush, can be read as kuf, 100, dash, trample. This alludes to the idea that we are obligated to praise HaShem with 100 blessings daily, and by doing so we will not trample upon the mitzvos that at times become habitual

Urchatz

The word urchatz is literally translated to mean ‘and wash.’ It is noteworthy that the word urchatz in at bash (where the letter aleph is taf, bais is shin etc.) spells the letters pay, gimmel, samach, and hey, which equal in gematria the word Pesach.

Karpas Yachatz

The word karpas refers to the vegetable that is dipped in salt water. It is noteworthy that when rearranging the letters in the word karpas, it forms the words raf and kes. The word raf means weaken and the word kes means chair. The word yachatz means to divide. This alludes to the idea that the Medrash (Tana Divei Eliyahu §23) states that when the Jewish People became weak in Torah, they were attacked by Amalek. The Medrash (Tanchumah end of Ki Seitzei) states that until Amalek is annihilated, the Name of HaShem and His throne are divided, so instead of the word kisei, the word is kes. The word yachatz alludes to this idea that the Name and Throne of HaShem are divided until Amalek will be annihilated.



Maggid

The word maggid means to relate. What is the reason we use this word for the most important component of the Seder night? Perhaps the explanation for this is that the word maggid contains the word gad, which means fortune (See Rashi Bereishis 30:11). The Gemara (Shabbos 156a) states that ain mazal liYisroel, the Jewish People are not subject to luck or fortune. One could claim that the entire miracle of the Exodus from Egypt was orchestrated by the stars, as Pharaoh himself told Moshe (Shemos 10:10) reu ki raah neged pineichem, “look – the evil intent is opposite your faces.” The Medrash (Yalkut Shimoni Ki Sisa §392) states that Pharaoh was forewarning Moshe that he saw blood in the Wilderness, and his prediction was correct, as HaShem sought to annihilate the Jewish People after they worshipped the Golden Calf. Nonetheless, this blood was transformed into the blood of circumcision. When we relate the miracles of the Exodus, we are demonstrating that we can extricate ourselves from our mazal, our fortune, and we are under the umbrella of Divine Providence. The commentators write that the word mazal, fortune, is derived from the word nozeil, which means to flow. It is noteworthy that the word maggid is associated with the word Agadah which also means to flow. Thus, we recite maggid, and this reflects the idea that we are leaving the realm of fortune and luck and entering into the arena of Divine Providence.


Rachtzah

The word rachtzah means washing. One must wonder, though, why at the Seder we refer to washing with the words urchatz and rachtzah, when normally we refer to washing our hands as netillah. Perhaps the answer to this question is that it is said (Shemos 2:5) vatered bas Pharaoh lirchotz al hayeor, Pharaoh’s daughter went down to bathe by the River. The Gemara (Sota 12b) interprets this to mean that the daughter of Pharaoh went down to the river to wash herself clean from the idols of her father’s house. Similarly, by the Seder we are declaring that we are washing ourselves clean of our prior impurities.

Motzi matzah

The words motzi matzah literally mean “recite hamotzi on the matzah.” Perhaps there is an allusion here to the idea that one must avoid strife. The word matzah also means strife, as it is said (Mishlei 13:10) rak bizadon yitein matzah vies noatzim chochmah, only by willfulness is strife fomented; but wisdom is with those who take counsel. Thus, at the Seder we are declaring that we seek to be motzi, take away, matzah, strife.

Maror Korech

The word maror literally means bitter. Yet, we know that everything HaShem does is ultimately for the good. How is this evidenced in maror? Perhaps the answer to this question is that the word mor, meaning bitter, and the word korech, which means bundle together, both equal the same gematria (246). Thus, we are demonstrating that by eating the matzah and maror together, we are finding the good in the bitter situation.

Shulchan Orech Tzafun

The words Shulchan Orech are translated literally to mean a set table and tzafun means hidden. Perhaps these words allude to the idea of the manna in the Wilderness, as it is said (Tehillim 78:19) vayidabru beilokim amru hayuchal Keil laaroch shulchan bamidbar, and they spoke against G-d. They said, “Can G-d prepare a table in the wilderness?” The word tzafun alludes to the idea that the manna descended from heaven and was concealed in two coverings.

Barech Hallel Nirtzah

Barech refers to the recital of Bircas HaMazon, Grace after the meal. Hallel refers to the praises we offer to HaShem, and Nirtzah refers to the songs we sing at the end of the Seder, signifying that HaShem favors us. It is noteworthy that the first letters of these three words spell out the word habein, the son, alluding to the idea that at the Seder we are like HaShem’s children.

Ha lachma Anya
This is the poor man’s bread. The Gemara (Pesachim 115b) states that the word oni, literally translated as poor, can mean responding, as we respond or raise our voice over the matzah. This description of the matzah is difficult to understand. Why do we associate the matzah with our responses? In the simple sense, the Gemara means that the matzah is the vehicle with which we ask questions regarding the Exodus and provide ourselves and our children with answers to these questions. Perhaps, however, there is a deeper message contained in this statement of the Gemara. We find that when Yosef revealed himself to his brothers after not seeing them for twenty-two years, it is said (Bereishis 45:3) vayomer Yosef el echav ani Yosef haod avi chai vilo yachlu echav laanos oso ki nivhalu mipanav, and Yosef said to his brothers, “I am Yosef. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him because they were left disconcerted before him. The Medrash (Bereishis Rabbah 93:10) states that Yosef was the youngest of the Shevatim and the brothers could not withstand his rebuke, so certainly when HaShem will bring a person to justice at the end of days, he will not be able to withstand His rebuke. Thus, we see that a response symbolizes that one is not afraid to answer ones questions and rebukes. Similarly, by the Pesach Seder we are confounded by the fact that the Jewish People in Egypt descended to the depths of impurity. As a sign that we are prepared to overcome our initial depravity, we eat the matzah which is a symbol of freedom and this is our response to our early history. The matzah is the vehicle with which we ascend from the lowest level of impurity and reach the heights of purity and freedom.

Di achalu avahasana biara diMitzrayim

That our forefathers ate in the Land of Egypt. What is the significance of stating that our forefathers ate this bread in the land of Egypt? Some of the commentators (Abarbanel) interpret this to mean that the Egyptians fed the Jewish People matzah, as matzah takes a long time to digest. This explanation, however, is difficult to understand, as this does not appear to be a disgrace or a praise of the Jewish People. Rather, this was the reality. What lesson do we learn from this statement? Perhaps the answer to this question is that the word ani, which literally means poor, also means humble, as it is said (Shemos 10:3) ad masai meanta leianos mipanai, until when will you refuse to be humbled before Me? Thus, we are declaring that although we were enslaved to Pharaoh and the Egyptians, we, unlike Pharaoh, were able to humble ourselves before Hashem and this is what allowed us to be redeemed from slavery. It is noteworthy that when Hashem appeared to Moshe for the first time at the burning bush, it is said (Shemos 3:7) vayomer HaShem raoh raisi es ani ami asher biMitzrayim vies tzakasam shamati mipnei nogsav ki yadati es machovav, HaShem said, “I have indeed seen the affliction of My People that in Egypt and I have heard its outcry because of its taskmasters, for I have known its sufferings.” We see that that the first words HaShem used to describe the plight of the Jewish People was that He saw their oni, their affliction, which can also be interpreted to mean their humility. Thus, it was the humility and submissiveness of the Jewish People which were the catalysts for their being redeemed from Egypt.












Rav Eizel Charif - How Far Do Your Hands Reach?
Rav Eizel Charif, the sharp witted Rov of Slonim in the 1800s, once saw a wealthy but stingy man of his city emptying his pockets of Chametz before Pesach. “Why are you doing this,” he asked the gentlemen? The man told him that he needed to get all the chametz out of his pockets and make sure it was clean for Pesach.“Surely you forget the Halacha that says that when doing a bedika you are only obligated to search ‘Ad SheYado Magaas,’ until where your hand can reach. For years I have witnessed your behavior when it comes to giving tzedakah and it appears to me that your hand does not reach all the way to your pocket. Do not bother; you have no obligation to check them!” [Reprinted with permission from www.Revach.net]

R' Yaakov Levitt zt”l (Bialystok) illustrated with a parable the difference between the right way to tell the story of the Exodus and the wrong way:
A villager once took seriously ill. The doctor was called, and the doctor recognized that the villager’s illness was fully curable if treated properly. He wrote out a prescription and he told the villager's wife, “Give your husband this prescription with water three times a day until it is finished, and he will be cured.”
The family did as it was told. Every day, the simple village wife tore a small piece off the prescription, dissolved it in water and gave it to her husband to drink. Needless to say, his condition did not improve.
The doctor was called, but he was very perplexed. “I know that this prescription works,” he said. “I have prescribed it for this illness before.”
“Let me see the prescription,” he requested finally. “Perhaps I made a mistake.” The villager’s wife explained, however, that she could not show him the prescription because she had given it to her husband as instructed.
“Fools,” he shouted. “Can a piece of paper cure your husband’s illness? It’s not the paper that makes the difference, but what’s written on the paper that would have cured him.”
So it is with the Hagadah. It is not the book of the Hagadah or simply reading the Hagadah which illuminates one's soul. Rather, one must absorb the contents of the story. (Hagadah Shel Pesach Shaarei Armon p. 150)
Survival
With Passover come and gone, thoughts of liberation and Jewish survival linger in the hearts and minds of many. Linked inextricably with these thoughts is the image of the Jewish woman, who has always been an agent of continuity and vision for her people. From the enslavement in Egypt through life in the desert and beyond, a beam of feminine light pierces the darkest moments in Jewish history, pointing towards a better future.
This week, Women in Judaism shares the story of one Jewish woman who refuses to give in to what another might consider impending doom. Lady Amelie Jacobovits is the widow of the late Rav Lord Immanuel Jacobovits, Chief Rabbi Emeritus of the British Commonwealth. Her Passover story of Holocaust survival demonstrates how the powerful life force of a Jewish woman connects our past, present and future.
_________________________________
PESACH 1941
By Lady Amelie Jacobovits (Adapted from the Jewish Women’s Journal, summer 1993)
“Occasionally, one memory escapes from the vault that holds the terror of those years. One Passover, my three-year old grandchild looked up at me from his chair at the Seder table. I don't even know what he said, because the rush of Passover 1941 blocked everything else. I was a young girl hidden in a dark cellar in central France. I was without other family - alone with four other children, all of us strangers.
Today and in recent years, as I celebrate Passover surrounded by the comforts and luxury of our London flat and the security of more than a dozen relatives and friends, I realize that for all of their splendor, these holidays cannot compare in my heart to that unique event 62 years ago. 1941 was the most extraordinary Passover of my life. But before I describe it, let me explain how I got to that cellar.
I was born in the years preceding World War II and lived content and well loved by my family in Nurnberg. By 1933, however, my world was getting darker till, one day, Nazi storm troopers marched into Nurnberg ordering that all major buildings must fly the swastika flag by evening. In 1936, my parents took us to Paris, as my father had been appointed rabbi of the prominent Rue Cadet synagogue. Within a few years, as the political situation deteriorated, my father was conscripted into the army and had to leave us. In 1940, when the Nazis began bombing Paris, my mother fled with us - her four children - on the last train before the main onslaught. It was the eve of the Jewish holiday of Shavuot.
The mass of people on that train - a tornado of humanity - repeatedly wrenched us from one another. Months later, on another leg of our desperate journey I lost track of my family altogether and began to wander from village to village. Lone children all over were doing the same.
One night just before dawn I could go no further. I knocked on the farmhouse door of what turned out to be a kind, courageous gentile farmer. He took me to his cellar where I found another little girl. Eventually two boys and another girl joined us. None of us admitted we were Jewish for several days.
It was a dire winter. Each morning, a few rays of light would poke their way into the cellar through two windows high on the wall - our only eyes to the world outside. The farmer had lowered us into the cellar through those windows and every day through one of them he lowered a net with five morsels of food and a bucket for our natural needs. Strange as it sounds, we were very lucky. In that difficult winter, five homeless children developed values so different from those today - as well as a bond of lifelong friendship.
One day, peering from the cellar up through the windows one of us noticed a streak of sunlight in blue sky. A few days later, another saw blades of grass penetrating the frozen terrain. We had no calendar or sense of time, but we concluded that, if the weather was indeed changing with spring on its way, maybe we were nearing Passover. Each of us children came from a different range of Jewish commitment, yet we shared a strong desire to do something to celebrate what we sensed was the upcoming Passover holiday.
When the farmer appeared with our food the next morning, we asked if he would lower in tomorrow's basket a small amount of flour, a bottle of water, a newspaper and a match. Two days later we received a small bottle of water, but we had to wait several days for the flour. The entire region was drained of provisions, with everything being transported north to Germany. Our host the farmer had himself barely anything to eat.
A day later, a newspaper came through - and then a match. We waited a few more days. We saw a full day of sunshine and blue skies, and we decided that, in order to cultivate a festive spirit, we would switch clothing with one another and wear them as if new. So we changed clothes; the two boys trading and the girls exchanging dresses. Before evening we baked our matzah, though we hadn't a clue how to do so. We poured water into the flour and held the dough in our bare hands over the burning newspaper on the floor. We produced something which resembled matzah and, whatever it was provided enough for the five of us.
That night we celebrated Passover. One of us recalled by heart the Kiddush - the blessing that sanctifies the Passover night. Another remembered the Four Questions - the part of the Seder the young children recite. We told a few stories of the Exodus that we remembered having heard from our parents. Finally, we managed to reconstruct “One Kid, Which my Father Bought for Two Zuzim,” the song which typically ends the evening.
We had a Passover to remember. With no festive food, no silver candlesticks and no wine - with only our simple desire to connect with G-d - we had a holiday more profound than any we have known since. I thank God for allowing me to live to be able to tell my children and grandchildren about it. Even more, I feel obligated to the younger generations of my family, who never experienced what I did, to pass on the clarity it gave me - the vivid appreciation of G-d’s presence in my life, of His constant blessings, wonders and teachings…and of His commitment to the survival of the Jewish people. [Reprinted with permission from www.Torah.org]
The new Rabbi
When the Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev became the Rav of Berditchev he was approached by Chaim and Baruch for a Din Torah. Baruch claims that Chaim owes him a thousand coins and Chaim denies the loan. The Rav heard both sides of the argument and ruled that Chaim must in fact pay Baruch, which he promptly did and the litigants left.
The next day Chaim approached the Rav Levi Yitzchak with a question. “Rebbe, I accept your judgment and your decision. However, although I understand that the judgment is based on the Torah, how could a true judgment based on Torah be untrue, because Rebbe, I know that I truly am innocent! I do not owe Baruch any money at all!” “That is a good question answered Rav Levi Yitzchak give me please three days to give you an answer.”
The Holy Berditchever fasted and prayed that they should answer him from heaven. Whereupon it was then revealed to him that in fact Chaim grandfather had once borrowed the exact sum from Baruch’s grandfather and failed to pay back the loan!
When three days had passed and Chaim re-entered the Rebbe’s study, the Berditchever explained to him how the debt had occurred. “In the heavenly court it was ruled that you must pay off your grandfather’s debt and return the money owed to the grandson of your grandfather’s lender. The sign that what I am telling you is in fact true is that if you go home and look at your volume of Shulchan Aruch which you inherited from your grandfather, in such and such a place you will find the missing note that proves the loan.” Chaim went home, opened the Shulchan Aruch and as the Rebbe predicted there was the document.
Afterwards the Rebbe called in the leaders of the community and announced to them that he wished to relinquish his newly acquired post as Rabbi of Berditchev. The Rebbe explained that a town in which the cases brought before him, required him to fast for three days in order to get heavenly aid in order to decide matters of law was too much for him to handle. The leaders of Berditchev answered that while they understood, it was unfair to leave them just like that on the spot without a replacement. Perhaps the Rav would kindly wait until they found a suitable replacement? The rebbe agreed.
Meanwhile Pesach came, and the custom was that after the prayers in shul the poor guests who had lodgings or meals were divided up among the men of means in the community. One such householder who had a guest assigned to him, hurried home and forget about his guest. When he arrived, his wife began to ask him where their guest for the Seder was. The householder quickly realized his mistake and hurried back only to find the shul cold, dark and empty. Upset but without any other choice he returned home and explained to his sad wife that they were to conduct the Seder that year without any guests.
The next morning after services he spotted his would be guest and the householder approached the poor man. “Where were you last night, I came to the shul looking for you?” he asked. “Why, when I saw myself alone and without knowing anyone I didn’t know what to do.” “So why didn’t you stay?” the householder asked. “Well,” continued the poor man, “as I said, I didn’t know anyone but its Pesach and I needed a place to stay and eat. I didn’t want to stay here by myself in shul so I left and found a place with another householder,” he answered, pointing to a different person.
The first householder approached his fellow and began berating him for stealing his Pesach Seder guest. “You left him and didn’t take him, so I took him fair and square,” was the second man’s retort. Soon their discussion had blown into a full-fledged argument. After Yom Tov they took their argument to the Rav. The Berditchever heard both sides and ruled that the “thief” who stole the guest from his fellow householder had to repay him a sum of money for his loss.
Afterwards the Rebbe called in the leaders of the community and announced to them that he wished to stay on as the Rav of the community. “Any community whose householder fight like that over the precious mitzvah of Hachnasas Orchim and guests is a place where I wish to serve as the Rabbi.”
























Hagadah
Shel Pesach 5769
Prepared by
Rabbi Binyomin Adler

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