Yerushalayim in/out times for Shabbat parshat chukat Candles 7:12PM • Earliest 6:18PM • Havdala 8:30PM • Rabbeinu Tam 9:05PM Torah Tidbits has been a part of my life since I was 17 years old. I remember when the first editions were distributed and the ads for NESTO, Torah-thons, Shiurim, and Tiyulim taking place at the OU Israel Center. My parents used to advertise their business in Torah Tidbits. Like so many of you, I have seen Torah Tidbits evolve from a one page Parsha sheet created by OU Israel Educational Director and my dear friend Phil Chernofsky into what it is today. I’ll never forget the 100th edition which happened to coincide with my 18th birthday. My parents placed a happy birthday message for me in it. Back then, Torah Tidbits was only 8 pages. It is so incredible to see how this wonderful creation went from a 1 color sheet with limited Torah to a 64 (and even 120 special edition) page publication with a large array of Torah articles. 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We put a lot of thought into this and spoke to many educators, and on behalf of the entire Torah Tidbits team, I am extremely proud and excited to share a new feature starting this week in Torah Tidbits - a weekly comic strip with Jewish values created exclusively for Torah Tidbits. This comic is a long time in the making. It took us longer than anticipated to find the right person to undertake this initiative, and we are thrilled to welcome comic creator Netanel Epstein to the team. While we hope that this comic strip engages a younger demographic of children and teens to our Torah Tidbits readership - it’s ok if you want to peek at it as well. Like my friend Uri Orbach z”l said, I am also hoping that it encourages many of our children to read and strengthen their English on a weekly basis. The column aims to connect readers to Eretz Yisrael, Yerushalayim, and Tanach by exploring (at least initially) the weekly Haftorah. Our children learn Parshat HaShavua in school, but often the Haftorah is not discussed on a regular basis. This week’s strip sets the stage for the concept of the comic strip. Stay tuned as we delve further into the plot in the upcoming weeks. As always, I’d love to hear your feedback. Avi, Executive Director, OU Israel aberman@ouisrael.org Rabbi Reuven Tradburks Director of RCA Israel Region 1st aliya (Bamidbar 19:1-17) Para Aduma: This is the Torah law. Elazar the Kohen shall remove from the camp an unblemished red heifer that has never worked. It is burnt. Cedar, hyssop and red thread shall be burnt with it. The Kohanim involved in the process are Tamei until evening. The ashes are used to purify those Tamei from contact with the dead. On the 3rd and 7th day a mix of these ashes and water are sprinkled on the Tamei person. Absent this process, one who has come in contact with the dead cannot become Tahor. Death defiles; even though there is a mitzvah to bury the dead. The tuma of contact with the dead prevents one from entering the Mishkan, the holy area. A theory of tuma opines that entry to the holy places demands a lofty feeling of our majesty. G-d is Majestic; we, majestic. Death demoralizes. We feel: What’s the use, we all end up in the same place. It bruises the sense of our majesty. A detailed look at the symbolism of the purification rituals is beyond this brief outline; but can be looked at as a replenishment of our majesty. The anomaly of the laws of the Para Aduma is: the Kohen who helps to purify others, himself becomes tamei for the day. The Lubavitcher Rebbe saw in this a rich image: our fellow Jews can become purer, though we have to be willing to self-sacrifice, just like the Kohen did. 2nd aliya (19:18-20:6) Hyssop is dipped in the purifying waters and sprinkled on the person or vessels requiring this purification. A tahor person sprinkles on the tamei person on the 3rd and 7th day; this tahor person then becomes tamei for the day. One who is tamei through contact with the dead and does not do this purification and then subsequently enters the Mishkan has committed a most grave sin. Miriam dies after the camp travels to Midbar Zin in the first month. The people complain: oh that we had died like the others(over these 40 years). Why did you bring us from Egypt to die in this nasty place? Moshe and Aharon went to the Mishkan; G-d’s glory appeared to them. After concluding the laws of purification for those in contact with the dead, Miriam dies. With little fanfare, 39 years have passed. Take 2 on the march to the land begins. The complaint of the people here is a twist on the past. Way back, 39 years ago they complained: why did you take us out of Egypt to die in the desert. Now they complain: oh that we would die in the desert. But more importantly, Miriam’s death demoralizes the people. The Midrash maintains that water flowed for the people in Miriam’s merit. It stopped with her death. But the simple flow of the story is that the death of leaders is demoralizing. It leaves a void. The people have a daunting task ahead, of entering and conquering the land. The loss of Miriam demoralizes. 3rd aliya (20:7-13) G-d said to Moshe: gather the people to the rock. Speak to the rock. Water sufficient for them and their flock will be produced. Moshe said: Listen oh rebellious ones. Will water emerge from a rock? Moshe hit the rock. Water emerged, enough for the flocks. G-d said to Moshe and Aharon: since you did not believe me, you will not enter the land. If the loss of Miriam is demoralizing, the impending loss of Aharon and Moshe compounds that. But conversely, it is a powerful statement of the greatness, the capability, the trust of G-d in His people. The Jewish people are greater than any leader or other; even Moshe, Aharon and Miriam. You can take the land; with or without them. The Jewish people will always have great people; but the Jewish people is a great people. The Torah will end with the greatest leaders falling short of realizing the dream of entering the land. But far from being a dystopia, and while not being a utopia, it is an affirmation that the Jewish people as a people rise above the presence or absence of individual leaders. The death of Miriam, then Aharon and finally Moshe affirm the greatness of the people of Israel. 4th aliya (20:14-21) Moshe sends messengers to the King of Edom. You are aware of your brother Israel’s history: we left Egypt with G-d’s help. We need to cross your land, at no cost to you, to enter our land. The King said no. The people answered: we will stay on the road and pay for water. Edom said no and came with a large contingent. The Jewish people circled back. Even though Moshe just received the word he will not enter the land, you would never know it from his behavior. There is nary a hint of hesitation in leading the people to the land. Leadership is public service. Moshe is a lame duck leader; he is not going to benefit from leading the people. He is not going to see the land. But he is not in it for himself. His service is for the people. They will enter the land. And so lead them he must. 5th aliya (20:22-21:9) At Har Hor Aharon is told he will die. Up the mountain, Moshe clothes Elazar in the garments of Aharon. Aharon dies. The entire people mourn for 30 days. The King of Arad in the Negev hears and does battle with the people. The people prevail. The people travel to circumvent Edom. The long journey aggravates the people. They complain. Snakes attack. The people regret their sins. G-d tells Moshe to make a copper snake. When the people gaze on it, they recover. The theme of punishment is a repeating theme in Bamidbar. And while we need to note that our failings are met with punishment, equally as important is the variety of manners of relief from the punishment. Here, gaze on the copper snake and you will recover. This is another example of what is the dominant theme of the entire Torah: G-d’s love for man and for the Jewish people. Mankind is never completely destroyed. Nor the Jewish people. Sure, there is punishment. But, well, we err quite a bit. We can’t ignore Divine justice. But we also can’t ignore the unequivocal loyalty of G-d to His people. The punishments are all episodes of encouragement; because the end. He, yet again, is loyal to us. 6th aliya (21:10-20) The travel takes the people to the east of Moav. They travel north to the area of the Emori. The travels are recorded in the books of wars, traveling on to the well. They sang of their fortune and their travels. The circuitous route of the march is perplexing. From the Sinai desert to Israel is, well, yashar, yashar. Straight up north. Enter Israel from the Negev. Travel north to Chevron. Then keep going. Straight. Yet, they travel east to the nations on the east bank of the Jordan. Edom refuses passage. So they travel south to Eilat, cross over farther east, traveling up through the heart of present day Jordan. Kind of the way to go to Petra. They end up opposite Jericho. And from there, once they enter the land, they will go to Shechem. Why this wide, wide swing to the east, up north through Jordan? Why not enter from the Negev straight north? The Torah does not tell us. But, we can speculate. At this point in Jewish history, the Jewish people have entered the land 3 times: Avraham. Yaakov when he returned from Lavan. And the spies. And now. Whose footsteps would you like to follow? Avraham and Yaakov both entered from the north and went immediately to Shechem. The spies came up from the south to Hevron. The Jewish people are following in the footsteps of Avraham. Deliberately avoiding the much simpler and direct route, the yashar, yashar route of the spies. Whose footsteps do we follow? 7th aliya (21:21-22:1) Messengers are sent to Sichon for permission to cross his land. Sichon confronts them for war. Sichon is roundly defeated. The people settle in the land of the Emori. They travel to the land of Og, the king of the Bashan. G-d tells them they will succeed against Og, as they did with Sichon. They defeat Og, arriving at the plains of Moav, opposite Jericho. In this march up the east side of the Jordan, the Divine has been conspicuously absent. Israel sent messengers to Sichon. No Divine command. Moshe staked out the cities along the route into the land. The march into the land has begun. And while the march of the people until this time has been with the Mishkan in their midst, the manna falling from heaven, slowly the transfer of leadership into the hands of man is occurring. The Jewish people dance with G-d; at times He leads. At times, we. In this dance, the Divine allows the Jewish people to lead. He lurks, ever present. But man is leading this march. Haftorah Chukat Judges 11:1-33 The haftorah opens with an attack on the Israelites from the people of Ammon. The Israelites call upon Yiftach to lead them into battle. He sends a message to Ammon which includes a reference to the conquest of the lands of Sichon and Og, which apparently is the tie in with our Torah reading. Yiftach made a condition with the Jewish people regarding his willingness to take on this role as commander: “If you bring me back to fight with the children of Ammon, and God delivers them before me, I will become your head.” The Jewish people accepted his terms. Yiftach, after trying to make peace with Ammon, has no choice but to go to war. He successfully leads his people in battle and they eliminate the Ammonite threat. Stats and Mitzvot 39th of 54 sedras; 6th of 10 in Bamidbar Written on 159.2 lines; rank: 39 10 Parshiyot; 6 open, 4 closed 87 p'sukim; rank: 43 1245 words; rank: 40 4670 letters; rank 41 Smallest sedra in Bamidbar in lines, p'sukim, words, letters Fewer p'sukim than Sh'mini, more words, same number of letters. Chukat is a bit longer. 3 mitzvot of 613; all positive A Short Vort Rabbi Chanoch Yeres “Vataamat Miriam Sham” “And Miriam died there”. (Chapter 20: Pasuk 1) The commentary Rashi gives us insight into the worthy personality that Miriam possessed. He reveals to us that a spring of water followed the Israelites throughout their desert journeys, due to the great merit of Miriam. This provided them with ample drinking water. We are witness to the consequences of Miriam’s death in the next pasuk “And there was no water for the congregation.” The Siftei Chachamim asks a simple yet important question. Why was there not a spring of water in the merits of Aaron and Moshe, to continue to follow the Israelites in the desert? Rav Eliezer Weiss suggested an answer that has a tremendous impact for generations to come. The Torah is compared to Flowing Water. Traditionally a father is very involved in the Torah education of his children. However, finding the time to do so is very challenging. The responsibility usually revolves around the mother to instill the spiritual ideas and beliefs in the family and household routines. Proverbs (1:8) “Do not forsake your mother’s teaching”. All the time that Miriam was alive, the spring continued to flow. The water, symbolizing the water of Torah, the education of our children, is dependent on the dedication and loyalty of the mother figure, the ‘Miriam’ in every family. Once she passed away, the water no longer springs forth. Shabbat Shalom Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks Ztl Miriam, Moses’ Friend It is one of the great mysteries of the Torah. Arriving at Kadesh the people find themselves without water. They complain to Moses and Aaron. The two leaders go to the Tent of Meeting and there they are told by God to take the staff and speak to the rock, and water will emerge. Moses’ subsequent behaviour is extraordinary. He takes the staff. He and Aaron gather the people. Then Moses says: “Listen now you rebels, shall we bring you water out of this rock?” Then “Moses raised his arm and struck the rock twice with his staff” (Num. 20:10-11). This was the behaviour that cost Moses and Aaron their chance of leading the people across the Jordan into the Promised Land. “Because you did not have enough faith in Me to sanctify Me in the sight of the Israelites, you will not bring this community into the land I have given them” (Num. 20:12) The commentators disagree as to which aspect of Moses’ behaviour was wrong: His anger? His act of striking the rock instead of speaking to it? The implication that it was he and Aaron, not God, who were bringing water from the rock? I proposed in an earlier Covenant & Conversation that Moses neither sinned nor was punished. He merely acted as he had done almost forty years earlier when God told him to hit the rock (Ex. 17:6), and thereby showed that though he was the right leader for the people who had been slaves in Egypt, he was not the leader for their children who were born in freedom and would conquer the land. This time, though, I want to pose a different question. Why then? Why did Moses fail this particular test? After all, he had been in a similar situation twice before. After emerging from the Red Sea the people had travelled for three days without finding water. Then they found some, but it tasted bitter and they complained. God showed Moses how to make the water sweet. (Ex. 15:22-26) Arriving at Rephidim, again they found no water and complained. Despairing, Moses said to God, “What am I to do with these people? They are almost ready to stone me.” God patiently instructs Moses as to what he should do, and water flows from the rock. (Ex. 17:1-7). So Moses had successfully overcome two similar challenges in the past. Why now on this third occasion did he lose emotional control? What was different? The answer is stated explicitly in the text, but in so understated a way that we may fail to grasp its significance. Here it is: In the first month the whole Israelite community arrived at the Desert of Zin, and they stayed at Kadesh. There Miriam died and was buried. (Num. 20:1) Immediately after this we read: “Now there was no water for the community, and the people gathered in opposition to Moses and Aaron.” A famous Talmudic passage explains that it was in Miriam’s merit that the Israelites had a well of water that miraculously accompanied them through their desert journeys. When Miriam died, the water ceased. This interpretation reads the sequence of events simply and supernaturally. Miriam died. Then there was no water. From this, you can infer that until then there was water because Miriam was alive. It was a miracle in her merit. However there is another way of reading the passage, naturally and psychologically. The connection between Miriam’s death and the events that followed had less to do with a miraculous well and more to do with Moses’ response to the complaints of the Israelites. This was the first trial he had to face as leader of the people without the presence of his sister. Let us recall who Miriam was, for Moses. She was his elder sister, his oldest sibling. She had watched over his fate as he floated down the Nile in a pitched basket. She had the presence of mind, and the audacity, to speak to Pharaoh’s daughter and arrange for the child to be nursed by an Israelite woman, that is, by Moses’ own mother Yocheved. Without Miriam, Moses would have grown up not knowing who he was and to which people he belonged. Miriam is a background presence throughout much of the narrative. We see her leading the women in song at the Red Sea, so it is clear that she, like Aaron, had a leadership role. We gain a sense of how much she meant to Moses when, in an obscure passage, she and Aaron “began to talk against Moses because of his Cushite wife, for he had married a Cushite” (Num. 12:1). We do not know exactly what the issue was, but we do know that Miriam was smitten with leprosy. Aaron turns helplessly to Moses and asks him to intervene on her behalf, which he does with simple eloquence in the shortest prayer on record – five Hebrew words – “Please, God, heal her now.” Moses still cares deeply for her, despite her negative talk. It is only in this week’s parsha that we begin to get a full sense of her influence, and this only by implication. For the first time Moses faces a challenge without her, and for the first time Moses loses emotional control in the presence of the people. This is one of the effects of bereavement, and those who have suffered it often say that the loss of a sibling is harder to bear than the loss of a parent. The loss of a parent is part of the natural order of life. The loss of a sibling can be less expected and more profoundly disorienting. And Miriam was no ordinary sibling. Moses owed her his entire relationship with his natural family, as well as his identity as one of the children of Israel. It is a clich? to say that leadership is a lonely undertaking. But at the same time no leader can truly survive on their own. Yitro told Moses this many years earlier. Seeing him leading the people alone he said, “You and these people who come to you will only wear yourselves out. The work is too heavy for you; you cannot handle it alone” (Ex. 18:18). A leader needs three kinds of support: (1) allies who will fight alongside him; (2) troops or a team to whom he can delegate; and (3) a soulmate or soulmates to whom he can confide his doubts and fears, who will listen without an agenda other than being a supportive presence, and who will give him the courage, confidence and sheer resilience to carry on. Having known through personal friendship many leaders in many fields, I can say with certainty that it is false to suppose that people in positions of high leadership have thick skins. Most of those I have known have not. They are often intensely vulnerable. They can suffer deeply from doubt and uncertainty. They know that a leader must often make a choice between two evils, and you never know in advance how a decision will work out. Leaders can be hurt by criticism and the betrayal of people they once considered friends. Because they are leaders, they rarely show any signs of vulnerability in public. They have to project a certainty and confidence they do not feel. But Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky, the Harvard leadership experts, are right to say, “The hard truth is that it is not possible to experience the rewards and joy of leadership without experiencing the pain as well.” Leaders need confidants, people who “will tell you what you do not want to hear and cannot hear from anyone else, people in whom you can confide without having your revelations spill back into the work arena.” A confidant cares about you more than about the issues. They lift you when you are low, and gently brings you back to reality when you are in danger of self-congratulation or complacency. Heifetz and Linsky write, “Almost every person we know with difficult experiences of leadership has relied on a confidant to help them get through.” Maimonides in his Commentary to the Mishnah counts this as one of the four kinds of friendship. He calls it the “friendship of trust” [chaver habitachon] and describes it as having someone in whom “you have absolute trust and with whom you are completely open and unguarded,” hiding neither the good news nor the bad, knowing that the other person will neither take advantage of the confidences shared, nor share them with others. A careful reading of this famous episode in the context of Moses’ early life suggests that Miriam was Moses’ “trusted friend,” his confidante, the source of his emotional stability, and that when she was no longer there, he could no longer cope with crisis as he had done until then. Those who are a source of strength to others need their own source of strength. The Torah is explicit in telling us how often for Moses that source of strength was God Himself. But even Moses needed a human friend, and it seems, by implication, that this was Miriam. A leader in her own right, she was also one of her brother’s sources of strength. Even the greatest cannot lead alone. Probing the prophets Rabbi Nachman Neil Winkler Today’s parasha opens with the oft-discussed law of the Parah Adumah. Due to our familiarity with this portion we may tend to connect the entire Parashat Chukat to this one subject. Our rabbinic authorities, however, do not. Tellingly, the haftarah selection today is taken from Sefer Shoftim and connects to the main focus of the Torah reading, those events that took place during the fortieth year in the desert, specifically, the wars against the Emorite kings, Sichon and Og. This reading tells the story of Yiftach, one of the later shoftim (judges, or better, leaders), who, although initially rejected by his family and community, is approached by the elders who entreat him (and his “rag-tag” army) to confront the threat of Ammon, their neighbor to the east. The enemy king had gathered his army and began open battles with the residents of Gil’ad, claiming that Israel had “stolen” their land from them when the Israelites had left Egypt years before. Yiftach attempts to negotiate with Ammon arguing that Israel had never warred with them (as we read in Sefer D’varim) nor taken any part of their land. Retelling the episode we read in today’s parasha, he explains that it was the Emorite kings who defeated Ammon and took their land and Israel who, subsequently, defeated Sichon and Og. Arguing that even the former kings of Ammon had accepted Israel’s ownership of these lands for over three hundred years, Yiftach condemns the king for his unprovoked attacks against Israel. His claims, however, fail to move the enemy and, with Hashem’s help, Yiftach subdues Ammon in battle and removes the enemy’s threat from Israel. Interestingly, both in the parasha and the haftarah, Israel attempts to avoid war by attempting to negotiate with, what turns out to be, intractable enemies. Likewise, in both places we read of how the Israelite leadership reviews their past history before the enemy: Yiftach to Ammon and Moshe to Edom. It is also interesting to note that, despite Yiftach’s reluctance to fight and his desire for peace, he refuses to consider the enemy’s proposal of peace in exchange for Israel’s surrender of her land. As Yiftach explains to the king: “Certainly, whatever your god K’mosh has you conquer-you will possess, and whatever nation Hashem drives out for us, we shall possess!” The puzzling choice of Yiftach to lead Israel is discussed by scholars throughout the centuries but what remained clear to chazal is that, regardless of ancestry or accomplishment, any leader who was chosen by G-d to lead Israel demands respect and allegiance. “Yiftach B’Doro K’Shmuel B’Doro,” Yiftach in his generation is (to be regarded) as Shmuel in his generation, remains a binding imperative for us in all generations. Rabbi Shalom Rosner Moshe’s Meritorious Motivation at Mei Meriva There are many explanations offered both by our classical as well as modern commentaries that seek to resolve what “sin” Moshe committed at Mei Meriva (see Shalom Rav, Insights on the Parasha Vol 2, page 258). There are two questions however, that may be raised regarding this episode. First, the Mishna in Avos (5:18) states: One who causes the community to be meritorious, no sin will come by his hand). In fact, the Mishna specifically states that Moshe exemplifies this characteristic. If so, then how could Moshe have sinned in connection with the very people upon whom he bestowed such value? In addition, during the recitation of tefillas geshem, we ask that it rain in the merit of our forefathers. Not only is Moshe counted among those righteous individuals, but we specifically reference Moshe’s act of hitting the rock, as depicted in our parsha: “For the sake the faithful one [Moshe], water was provided to the nation, he hit the rock and water flowed and we were saved by the mighty God).” If Moshe indeed transgressed by hitting the rock, why then is this cited in tefillas geshem when seek God’s sympathy to award us with rain. It would seem that this event is portrayed a positive act, otherwise it would not be inserted in tefillas geshem. Rav Schwab, in Maayan Beis Hashoeva offers an interesting perspective on this incident at Mei Meriva. Looking closely at the text, one recognizes that Hashem requested the following of Moshe and Aharon: Bamidbar 20:8). Speak to the rock… give the people to drink. The imperative was for Moshe to personally provide water to the people VEHASHKETA- rather than allowing them to obtain water and drink for themselves. Perhaps this parallels what is required of a Sotah (a women who is suspected of infidelity). This is how Moshe acted after chet ha’egel. . “Then he took the calf they had made, burned it in fire, ground it to fine powder, scattered [it] upon the surface of the water, and gave [it to] Bnei Yisrael to drink.” (Shemos 32:20). It is interesting to note that Hashem asked to provide water to the people and their cattle – but there is a distinction between the two. It states:– provide drink to the people and to the cattle. The word et ‘to” seems superfluous when appearing prior to the word be’iram (cattle). This may be to underscore that God desired to distinguish between the drinking of the people, which was to determine who is guilty and who is righteous, whereas the purpose of providing water to the animals is merely to quench their thirst. In the end, Moshe hits the rock and the people and the animals each drink by themselves, without Moshe personally providing them with the water to drink. As is stated:– the people and animals drank. (20:11). There is no distinction between the people and the animals. The drinking was for the sole purpose of quenching thirst and not to serve as the mayim hameoririm, like the Sotah water to distinguish between the righteous and transgressors. Moshe determines that, at this juncture, in the 38th year in the desert, all that were decreed to die have already perished. He did not want to again commit an act that was to distinguish between the people as to who was to live and who was to die. He was willing to put his life on the line and “take one for the team”, in order to enable all the remaining people to enter Eretz Yisrael. That is why when Moshe critiques the nation in Devarim (1:37), he states:– God was angry at me because of you. Moshe defended the people so they would be able to enter Eretz Yisrael, and in return, he was denied the right of entry. Rav Schwab skillfully explains that Moshe’s act was not a personal transgression, but an act on behalf of Am Yisrael. That is why it does not conflict with the statement in Pirke Avos. The sin was not on his account .In addition, in tefillas geshem we recall Mei Meriva to Moshe’s merit for acting on behalf of Bnei Yisrael, to enable all to enter Israel, without having to drink water that would distinguish whether one merited entering the land of Israel or not. This highlights Moshe’s sacrifice on behalf of the nation. May we learn from Moshe’s courage, care and concern for all members of Klal Yisrael. Rebbetzin Shira Smiles Song of Strength Although it is only four pesukim (Bamidbar 21;17-20), Shirat Habe’er holds tremendous lessons and powerful symbolism. What inspired this song? What miracle transpired and how is it relevant to us? An earlier passuk shares with us a clue, “A gift of the sea of reeds and the rivers of Arnon.” (Bamidbar 21;14). Ramban explains that the cities mentioned in this section were all Moavi cities conquered by Sichon king of Emori. Am Yisrael was forbidden to fight Moav directly, but since these cities no longer belonged to Moav the Jews were able to capture them from Sichon and incorporate them into their territory. Am Yisrael is thanking Hashem for gifting them with these lands by enabling Sichon to defeat Moav. Thus, the song expresses appreciation that Hashem orchestrates world events for the benefit of the Jews. Although we may not always see the greater picture, Hashem is the all-powerful political coordinator and manager. Being constantly aware of this reality as global affairs shift and swirl through nations and powers gives us not only serenity but joy in knowing that Hashem is always invested in our welfare and best interests. Rashi cites the midrash that describes an astounding miracle that occurred at this juncture. The Emori nation hid in caves above a narrow pass that Bnei Yisrael traversed near the border of Moav. Their intention was to push huge boulders on the Jews to crush them as they passed. Instead, Hashem performed a miracle; the boulders that formed the gorge in which they were hiding came together crushing the Emori people. The Jews only became aware of this miracle when they saw bones and blood flowing down the gorge. Am Yisrael was then motivated to sing a song of praise to Hashem for their incredible salvation. Rav Gamliel Rabinowitz learns two fundamental ideas from this episode. Firstly, just as one must teach his children about the miracle at Kriat Yam Suf, so one must teach his children this miraculous story. This must be part of our tradition; to tell of Hashem’s kindnesses and miracles that He has done for our people at the beginning of our nationhood. The second lesson is the importance of singing praises to Hashem when one experiences a miracle. This expression of thanks should be in a public forum so others can be inspired as well by Hashem’s overflowing chesed. Rav Soloveitchik in Kol Dodi Dofek emphasizes the moral responsibility one has to respond to the beneficence bestowed upon him in the form of concrete deeds. Even more so, this obligation rests on one who receives kindness from Hashem in a supernatural fashion. Rav Pinchas Friedman in Shvilei Pinchas sees these events as symbolic of what will transpire in the future before Mashiach comes. The Jewish people will have travelled through the ‘midbar ha’amim’ to come back to Eretz Yisrael. Once they return, the kedushah of Eretz Yisrael will expand outwards and pulverize all negative influences in the world. The crushed mountains are a ‘poel dimyoni’, a physical demonstration of that which will ensue in the future. Hence, ‘az yashir’ is not just about Am Yisrael singing at that point in time, but a foreshadowing of the song we will soon sing when, be’ezrat HaShem we return to our land and all evil is vanquished from the world. Rabbi Judah Mischel Paradoxical Sacrifices When the beloved tzadik and Rav of Ramat haSharon, Rav Yaakov Edelstein, zt’l, was a talmid at Yeshivas Ponovezh, a group of students who did not have a strong background in Torah learning joined the yeshivah in the fledgling city of Bnei Brak. The Chazon Ish was aware of the happenings at the yeshivah and asked Rav Yaakov to prevail upon some of the other senior talmidim to dedicate time to learn with and strengthen the weaker, less experienced bachurim. Rav Yaakov who was welcoming and generous with the new talmidim expressed his concerns to the Chazon Ish, and doubted that the most serious yeshivah students, those who were deeply engrossed in their learning, would be willing to sacrifice their time. The Chazon Ish answered sternly: “If any talmid resists giving of their time to strengthen a fellow student, ask them if they had put on tefillin that day, and if so, why do they not feel that putting on tefillin is a waste of time. After all, they could have been reviewing their Gemara learning then, as well.” Rav Edelstein remarked, “The Chazon Ish equated laying tefillin, a mitzvah d’Oraysa, a Biblical commandment, with sacrificing some of one’s own learning time in order to strengthen a weaker student.” In the mid-Thirteenth Century, one of the many expressions of European Christian antisemitism was the “Trial of the Talmud”, accusing it of ‘heretical’ statements and ‘blasphemous’ passages. In 1242, following this ‘trial’, also called the Disputation of Paris, King Louis the Ninth decreed that all copies of the Talmud must be burned. On Erev Shabbos, Parshas Chukas, twenty four wagonloads with an estimated 10,000 volumes of irreplaceable handwritten Torah manuscripts, including Gemara and Rishonim, were publicly set ablaze. It was a staggering tragedy, especially considering that the printing press did not yet exist. Maharam of Rotenburg, zt’l, witnessed and described this horrific scene, which is detailed in the moving elegy of Sha’ali Serufa baAish, and incorporated into our Kinos recited on Tisha B’Av. Gedolei Yisrael of the era searched for meaning and a message in that communal trauma. Many understood the experience in the context of that week’s sedra — Parshas Chukas — correlating the burning of the Talmud to the verses of the Parah Adumah: “This is the statute of the Torah which God commanded, saying, ‘Speak to the Children of Israel and have them take for you a perfect red heifer…’” (Bamidbar, 19:2) Rashi explains that because Am Yisrael might doubt the purpose of the Parah Adumah, the Torah uses the term, “statute”, a decree: È, “You have no right to question it.” The ashes of the Parah Adumah were to be sprinkled by the Kohein upon one who had become tameh l’nefesh, ritually impure, to remove that form of impurity. And yet, in the process, the Kohein would himself become ritually impure. This paradox makes the Parah Adumah the quintessential — chok, decree or mitzvah whose understanding is beyond all intellectual grasp and questioning., “This is a decree of the Torah,” is translated by Targum Onkelus as, it is a gezeira Oraisa, “a Biblical decree”. Some interpreted the Targum’s translation as reference to the tragedy of the burning of the Talmud, as the phrase gezeiras Oraysa can also mean ‘a decree against the Torah’. Beyond deriving a message from the wording of the Targum, however, we should consider the connection between the Parah Adumah and the burning of the Talmud and commentaries: Rashi frames the Parah Adumah atonement for the cheit of the Egel haZahav, the Golden Calf. He does this by way of a mashal, a parable: the child of a servant soils the king’s palace. They say to the servant, ‘Let his mother come and clean up the mess!’ Similarly, let the Heifer, the mother, come and atone for the sin of the Calf.” At the Cheit haEgel, by forming an idol in the image of a calf, Klal Yisrael so-to-speak ‘replaced’ Hashem, the Cause and Source of all life. Yet, the tikun for this great averah is not accomplished through addressing the ‘calf’ directly, rather through addressing its source, its mother, the Parah. The Parah Adumah thus cleans up the childish mess of the Egel and reestablishes Hashem as the Source. Perhaps the tikun for the trial and burning of the Talmud is not accomplished directly, through its study alone. Am Yisrael has never lacked serious students, engrossed in their studies. Perhaps the ‘source’ of the gezeirah is addressed when we consider the spiritual needs of others and strengthen them — even when it means sacrificing our own Torah study. In fact, the sacrifice of Torah study can paradoxically become its fulfilment:, “For the nullification of Torah is its establishment.” (Menachos, 99b) Ramchal adds that the sacrifice and burning of the Parah Adumah achieved taharah, purity, atonement and a process of restoration. Throughout our exile, since the destruction of the Beis haMikdash and with it the offering of the Parah Adumah, the Torah allows itself to be ‘burnt’, in a sense, for the sake of Klal Yisrael. The ‘sacrifice’ of Torah is now our kapparah, atonement, in place of the red heifer. This is the suprarational aspect of Torah: it is the decree against the Torah The Shibolei haLeket, Rav Tzidkiyahu ben Avraham Anav, zt’l, cites a custom of fasting on Erev Shabbos of Parshas Chukas to stimulate atonement (this is also codified by the Magen Avraham commentary on Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim). While we may not be among those who have adopted this noble custom, we are called upon to reflect on the destruction of our Temple and the generations of suffering and negative decrees rooted in sinas chinam. We are called upon to create a tikun through ahavas chinam and increasing our dedication to others. On this week of Parshas Chukas may we consider: if the Torah itself is ‘willing’ to sacrifice itself for the sake of the Jewish People, what we are willing to sacrifice for Torah? What are Rabbi Moshe Taragin Chukat: The “Cost” of Life in Israel Never a man bestrode our planet of the caliber of Moshe Rabeinu- our greatest leader. This man, born of flesh and raised by an Egyptian mother, ultimately scaled the heavens and split the sea. He snatched the word of G-d from its celestial vault and gifted it to the chosen people. He fearlessly defied the greatest tyrant and brought an oppressive empire to its knees. He began his life as a foreign “ish Mitzri” but concluded it as an “ish Elokim”. Yet, for all his accomplishments and spiritual feats, he was denied entry into the land of his dreams. He wistfully gazed upon its hills and valleys from a remote mountain perch. His feet would never tread upon the pathways of this land and his hands would never caress its stones. In one of the saddest tragedies of the Torah he passes before arriving at the land of milk and honey. All because of the showdown at the rock. What was so criminal about his behavior to warrant such a severe and tragic sentence? The midrash points to the harsh language Moshe addresses the people with. Moshe had hoped that a new generation, edified by a forty-year journey in the desert, would show more compliance and less complaining. You can imagine his frustration when the whining and protesting once again begins. He barks at them by dubbing them as “morim”. This label has multiple meanings-none of them complimentary. This term either refers to rebels, incorrigible people, or complainers. Either way, Moshe’s terminology is insulting to this new generation. By utilizing this language, he can no longer be their leader. Moshe’s entire career had been staked upon selfless commitment to the Jewish people. From the day he left the comfort of his Egyptian palace and witnessed a defenseless Jew suffering at the end of an Egyptian whip, Moshe was relentless in his dedication to his people. After the egel debacle Hashem made him an “offer you can’t refuse”; the current nation would be dismissed and a new one would be chosen with Moshe as its founder. Unwilling to sacrifice his people, Moshe issues what amounts to an ultimatum: either forgive the Jews or Moshe, himself, would voluntarily recuse himself from the Torah and from history. This snapshot typifies forty years of selfless leadership. Currently a new and younger generation arose, one that he hadn’t shared the formative experiences of Mitzrayim and Har Sinai with, and one that he momentarily chided with an offending term. One “word” is all it took to sink his lifelong dream. Such is the heavy price of a righteous life. The greater the spiritual level the more delicate; righteous lifestyles leave little margin for error. Dedication to your people comes at a cost. One of my Rabeim – Harav Binyamin Tabory z”l- noted that the parah adumah mystery contains a coded message about dedication to the Jewish people. One of the enigmatic aspects of this ceremony is that the official who performs the ritual- which removes tumah impurity from the ‘subject’- himself becomes ritually impure and barred from the Mikdash. Basically, for one Jew to be ritually rejuvenated, a second Jew becomes ritually invalidated. It takes selflessness to overcome the impurity of death. Dedication to Jews comes at a cost. For one Jew to enter another must voluntarily absorb a religious “cost”. Dedication to Jews certainly comes at a cost in the modern State of Israel. Life outside of the land of Israel exile doesn’t always come at a “cost” to personal religious standards. Of course, every Jew is responsible for every other Jew regardless of geography, but life in exile more easily allows for personal “ivory towers of piety”. Dedication to other Jews is often expressed at communal levels. Within a community of similarly religious people, the cost of “interaction” and engagement is often minimal. Life in Israel is very different. Aiming to breath religious spirit into our country, we frequently pay a heavy “price” regarding our own religious standards. If we want to live alongside Jews of different religious “stripes” we may be endangering our own religious standards. For example, extending kashrut food nationwide may dilute kashrut standards. Likewise creating a “shemittah umbrella” to enable basic shemittah observance may entail adopting fragile halachik leniencies. Living in Israeli society at large among the less-religious may challenge our own values and lifestyles. It is ironic – and to some confusing- that life in the holy land should potentially come at a cost to religious standards. Dedication to the Jewish people doesn’t always come free of charge. Are we selfless enough to pay that price? Rabbi Sam Shor In our sedra this week, Parshat Chukat, the Torah recalls the song of thanks that the Jewish People sang in appreciation for the well which appeared in the dessert which supplied them with ample water to drink. Then Yisrael sang this song- To the well, we called out! Well that the princes dug,that the noble ones excavated, carved out with their staffs, a gift from the wilderness... Rashi, explains our verse-B’eer Chafaruha Sarim-Well that the princes dug- to mean-this is the well that Moshe and Ahron dug. The Arizal suggested that the first letters of the first few words of our verse-B’eer Chafaruha Sarim, Karuha -spell out an acronym comprising the word B’Choshech-In darkness. The Yesod HaAvodah, the first Slonimer Rebbe z’ya, explains the words of the Arizal as teaching us a very important, and eternally relevant message. When a Jew experiences times of darkness, when we might be struggling to find joy or fulfillment in our Avodat Hashem, then we should emulate Moshe and Ahron and “dig wells.” In times of despair or in times when we feel disconnected or uninspired, we should dig deep and delve into and immerse ourselves in limud torah, until we find and experience once again the life-giving water that is the Torah HaKedosha. May each of us be blessed with the strength and fortitude to “dig wells,” to find the spiritual sustenance we need through the proverbial waters of life inherent within the Torah HaKedosha. OU Kashrut Page Rabbi Ezra Friedman Fruit and Issur Sefichin There is a strict prohibition to consume any produce that was planted or cultivated during the shemita year. Our Sages added an additional decree that any produce that grew on its own during shemita is also prohibited, since people might cheat by planting, and then claim that these plants grew on their own. This decree is called issur sefichin, and applies to vegetables, grains, legumes and herbs. Sefichin that were either planted or grew on their own must be uprooted. Fruit trees and bananas Fruit trees are not included in issur sefichin. Not only may fruit grown on trees during the shemita year be eaten, but according to many authorities (Ramban Shichachat Asin 3), the consumption of such fruit is actually a positive mitzvah: eating produce that has the holiness of the shemita year (kedushat shevi’it). The reasoning for not including fruit trees in the issur sefichin is based on the logic of the decree. Our Sages were concerned with “cheaters” who would plant, harvest and consume crops during the shemita year. They would falsely claim that these plants were self-seeded, which according to Biblical law is permitted. Fruits generally do not have the same concern, as trees take a long time to grow until they produce fruit. As such, planting a tree during shemita would not have any short- term benefit, since the fruit would not be ready until after shemita has passed (see Minchat Shlomo Shevi’it p.104). Later authorities discuss the status of bananas and certain other fruits regarding issur sefichin. The consensus amongst poskim is that bananas are not included in the decree of sefichin. Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank (Kerem Tzion 11:1) writes that only plants that are replanted every year have the status of sefichin. Banana trees, however, remain in the ground for a number of years, and new branches sprout during the new season. Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (Minchat Shlomo Tanina p.430) also concludes that bananas are not included in sefichin. Rav Auerbach adds that since bananas don’t give fruit during the first year of growth, but only in the second or third year, there is less concern of people planting during the shemita year. The same rule applies to papayas, pineapples and raspberries. Passion fruit Passion fruit (passiflora) is included in the decree of sefichin. Passion fruit differs from bananas as the bush often gives fruit during the first year, which would raise the concern that one might plant and harvest during the shemita year (see Yechavei Daat 4:52). Other poskim add that since there is no way to differentiate between a new passion fruit bush and a two or three-year-old bush, they are included in issur sefichin (Yalkut Yosef Shevi’it p.499). Poskim mention others types of plants that are similar in their development to passion fruit, such as strawberries, eggplant, and artichokes. All of which are considered sefichin (Kedushat Ha’aretz 26:12). Defining which plants fall under the decree of sefichin is important not only when purchasing produce at the supermarket, but also for residential agriculture. As issur sefichin applies equally to private gardens, one should be well versed in these halachot to understand what produce may be consumed during shemita. In summary Grains, legumes, and vegetables are included in issur sefichin and may not be consumed if they grew during shemita. Passion fruit, eggplant, artichoke, and strawberries are also included in issur sefichin as they produce fruit within a shorter time span after planting unlike other fruit trees. Therefore, they may not be consumed if they grew or sprouted on their own during shemita. Bananas, papayas and pineapple are not considered sefichin as they take much longer to produce fruit after planting. Therefore, it would be impossible for these fruit to have been planted during the shemita year as they are already yielding fruit. As such, they are permissible for consumption during shemita. Rabbi Aaron Goldscheider Heaven’s Hester Panim The mitzvah of Parah Adumah is widely acknowledged as the most mystifying mitzvah of the Torah. The Midrash goes so far as to say that the wisest of all men, King Solomon, was able to penetrate the meaning of every Torah command - “but the explanation of the Parah Adumah has escaped my intensive investigation” (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:3). Apparently, the enigma Parah Adumah relates specifically to its puzzling ritual. Moreover, the strange mingling of ashes and water, its bewildering effectiveness in removing ritual uncleanness, the contradictory effect of simultaneously cleansing the defiled even as it contaminates those who are handling the watery ashes - makes this ritual supremely irrational. In exquisite fashion, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt”l suggested a different viewpoint in explaining the mystifying character of this mitzvah. He posited that Parah Adumah’s perplexity is not found in its ritual per se but rather in the domain it represents. When is the ritual of the Parah Adumah employed? Only when one has come in contact with a corpse - when one confronts death. The real chok, or mystifying decree, is the issue of death itself. The reality of death is “an absurdity which undoes all of man’s rational planning, his dreams and his hopes. We wonder, why should the foremost of God’s creations have an awareness of his mortality and, therefore, live in constant dread and distress in face of its inevitability?” (‘Man of Faith in the Modern World’, Besdin, p. 102). This idea is hinted to in the Torah itself: The chapter which introduces the Parah Adumah opens with the word Zot chukat haTorah, “this is the statute of the law.” What is this chukah? In verse 14, it is identified as zot hatorah, adam ki yamut, “this is the law, if a man dies.” The chok previously indicated is death itself, which is the ultimate mystery of human existence. In order to tease out the true meaning of Parah Adumah, the Rav raised a basic question regarding it's location in this section of the Torah. It appears here sorely out of place. All other tumot (laws related to ritual defilements) are grouped together in Vayikra. Furthermore, the law of Parah Adumah could have been placed in any of the parshiot dealing with the Mishkan in Shemot or Vayikra since the ritual laws were revealed to Moshe on the day that the Mishkan was erected (Talmud Gittin 60a; Rashi, Vayikra 8:34). Why then is Parah Adumah in the parsha of Chukat positioned amongst unrelated subject matters? The Rav suggested that thematically Parah Adumah is positioned exceptionally well in this very spot. It is here that the mystery of death is the central theme. In a most memorable verse in the parsha we come upon an event that transpired in the fortieth year, after those who had experienced the Exodus died in the wilderness: “Then came the children of Israel, the whole congregation, into the desert of Zin, in the first month; and the people abode in Kadesh, and Miriam died there,and was buried (Bamidbar 20:1).” Let us take careful note of what transpired in this verse. When, chronologically speaking, did the debacle of Korach described in last week’s parsha take place? It was in the second year since leaving Egypt. And when did the death of Miriam - the topic that appears immediately following Parah Adumah in this week’s parsha - take place? In the 40th year. That means that from parshat Korach to parshat Chukat there is a gap of 38 years! What happened during those 38 years? The nation died. Around 50,000 people every year. The Parah Adumah bridges this 38 year gap. This long period of time, says the Rav, “was a dark and dreary night of loneliness when even Moshe lost contact with the Almighty. It was a silent, bleak period. The Midrash tells us that ‘Every Tish’ah be-Av they used to dig graves and spend the night there. On the morrow a voice announced, “Living separate themselves from the dead” (Eicha Rabbah, Petichta 33). Every Tish’ah be-Av many were ready to die in their graves. Life was not different from death.” (Vision and Leadership p. 209). The ‘dark and dreary night’ that the Rav speaks of also relates to the tragic fact that the people did not understand God’s ways. They were perplexed and frightened. Their lives had become irrational and meaningless. The generation of the desert must have surely asked the painful question: “How was it that the people miraculously redeemed from Egypt were now digging their own graves and laying in a ditch waiting for the end?” “This is one of the most enigmatic, paradoxical eras in history, a period dedicated to death and annihilation. It was a mute time. Man was completely separated from God. Not even the greatest of all men could communicate with Him. The whole community waited for the Almighty’s intervention and His redeeming grace…” (‘Vision and Leadership’ p. 210). The Parah Adumah’s mystifying rituals symbolically personify man feeling bewildered and confused. The mystery of the Parah Adumah epitomizes the incompressibility of death and Heaven’s hester panim. “Death is a traumatic, defiling, and denigrating experience for all. ‘This is the Torah: when a man dies in a tent” is the proper motto for the untold story of the thirty-eight year sojourn.’” (Ibid. p 211). Chukat: The Parsha of Death and A Deathly Decree Parshat Chukat not only abounds in death, with the demise of Miriam and Aharon, but it records the enigmatic decree that Moshe Rabbeinu would not lead the Jewish people into the land. This, too, is an incomprehensible chok. It is unintelligible why Moshe Rabbeinu, the dedicated leader, the constant defender of the Jewish people, is denied the fruits of his labor. And what about Aharon and Miriam? Why were they destined to spend forty years in the desert, only to be denied entry into Israel? Zot chukat haTorah, this is the enigmatic law of the Torah! A Hidden Light in the Bewildering Ritual While we can never fully comprehend the meaning of the parah adumah, the chok of death itself, the Torah, through this law, is expressing an incisive teaching in regard to how one copes when facing the crushing blows of death and any trauma for that matter. The Rav directs our attention to a unique feature employed in the actual ritual. During the Parah Adumah ritual the person being treated for impurity is sprinkled by the kohen with the heifer’s ashes. This is out of the ordinary. Generally, impure people immerse themselves in a mikvah (tevilah) and this is sufficient in bringing about taharah (purity). However, when purifying from death the treatment comes from outside oneself. (Ha’zaah, sprinkling must be done by another individual to effecture purification). We can’t cope with death on our own. God assists us in dealing with our brokenness and pain. God assures us that the soul will survive the demise of its physical form. We will live to see the death of death. Only God can comfort the mourner. Menachem Persoff In the Aftermath, Are We Totally Cleansed? So, we are impure – and the Parah Adumah (the Red Heifer) cleanses us. The cow’s blood was sprinkled towards the Ohel Mo’ed, and the heifer burned to ashes. Add cedarwood, hyssop, and crimson thread into the burning fire; sprinkle again with pure spring water, and it is all over. Thus, perhaps, with sacrifices: We err, and (possibly with remorse) bring a burnt offering or a sin offering – and then it is done! We are free of our iniquity, and life goes on. Perchance we mean to mend our ways and undertake, henceforth, only to do good in the service of Hashem. In truth, it is not so simple. The Parah Adumah was to cleanse an individual tainted by a corpse representing everything anathema to the Torah’s teachings – for “You shall choose life!” That is why the narrative proclaims, “This is the decree of the Torah” and not the decree concerning the Red Heifer. The absence of purity, and the abandonment of the holy to the mundane, oppose the essential intent of the Torah. Impurity (Tuma’ah) blocks the path to perfection and cleavage to Hakadosh Baruch Hu (Netivot Shalom). So, we thought it was over! But no! Judging from Aharon’s experience of the Parah Adumah ceremony, we infer that he is still tainted by his pivotal part in the Sin of the Golden Calf. Indeed, the purification ceremony was to atone for that very sin, the cow’s red color denoting transgression. Aharon was not to participate in the ritual; it would be unfitting. The yoke-free Red Heifer symbolized the “yoke of loyalty’ to Hashem, discarded in that tragic episode. Additionally, just as the Golden Calf was burned totally, so was the heifer burned completely. The cedarwood, indicating haughtiness, contrasted with the lowly hyssop, was mixed with a thread dyed with worm’s blood, connoting sin and repentance (Rashi on Bemidbar 20: 2- 6). If those symbols were to shake up Aharon after he was yet forgiven for his errant behavior, how much more so should we reflect on our past misdemeanors. We might then ask ourselves, in the aftermath of our “atonement” and “cleansing,” if we are ready to recognize the “reverberating wake-up calls” when they occur during our endless quest for purity and perfection. Rabbi Daniel Mann The Logic Behind Marit Ayin Question: I don’t see consistency in how marit ayin is applied. There are cases that are forbidden where the likelihood of mistake seems remote, while cases I view as more problematic are permitted. Can you explain why that is? Answer: We will attempt a partial overview of the concept marit ayin, focusing on elements that help understand the phenomenon that troubles you. The laws of marit [ha]ayin forbid “Reuven” from doing otherwise permitted action A when people may think he did the similar B, when B is forbidden. Marit ayin is based on two concerns: 1. People who know B is forbidden may suspect that Reuven sinned. One must avoid chashad (people believing he sinned), as the Torah says: “You shall be “clean” [in the eyes] of Hashem and Israel” (Bamidbar 32:22, as understood by mishna, Shekalim 3:2). 2. People will think that if Reuven did B, it must be permitted. Rashi in some places (including Keritut 21b) cites #1 as the reason and in others (including Avoda Zara 12a) cites #2. Rashi’s dichotomy is among the indications that the two reasons complement each other. In some cases, Chazal may have felt that one of the reasons did not apply but the other did. For example, people do not often suspect a large group of people of openly sinning (see Rosh Hashanah 24b). Regarding a marit ayin prohibition on something that looks like bowing down to an idol (Avoda Zara 12a), it is unlikely someone would think it is permitted to do so. So when should we say marit ayin? If one thinks it is very likely his actions will be misunderstood, creating violations or chashad, he should refrain from the action. However, what if there is only a modest chance? For such cases, we look to Chazal and poskim for guidance. Chazal forbade a few dozen cases due to marit ayin. Subsequently, it remains forbidden even when in a particular case the chance of mistake and/or chashad is small (e.g., one lives in a very religious, knowledgeable, and trusting community). If the whole basis for the prohibition disappears, we generally suspend the prohibition. For example, the gemara (Avoda Zara 20b) says that one must not rent out his bathhouse to a non-Jew to operate on Shabbat because usually a bathhouse’s workers were wage-earning employees (forbidden on Shabbat). However, in a society in which they are commonly profit-sharers, it is permitted (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 243:2). A minority of poskim equate marit ayin more closely to other Rabbinic prohibitions in regard to the prohibition continuing after the reason no longer applies (Pleiti 12:2). There is a fundamental machloket, crucial to your question, as to whether post-Talmudic poskim can create a marit ayin prohibition in the type of case in which Chazal likely would have. The Knesset Hagedola forbids using matza meal to coat food because it looks like it is made with flour (he knew of a case of incorrect “copying”). The Pri Chadash (OC 461:2) argues that we cannot make our own Rabbinical prohibitions (and that isolated mistakes cannot be avoided). We do find some post-Talmudic marit ayin prohibitions, but many of them follow a common construct. The gemara (Kritut 21b) forbids eating collected fish “blood” because it resembles forbidden (animal) blood. The Rashba (III:257) extends this concept (as opposed to creating a new marit ayin prohibition) to not combining mother’s milk with meat. Poskim extend the idea of confusing types of food to not putting “almond milk” into meat (see Rama YD 87:3 and Shach ad loc. 6 about whether it applies to poultry, which is only “Rabbinic meat”). Regarding these extensions of a Talmudic marit ayin prohibition, we care about what is and is not confusing in our times/places. Therefore, Rav Ovadia Yosef (Yabia Omer VI, YD 8) says that synthetic milk is common enough for it not to be suspicious to serve it with coffee after a meat meal; we do the same with pareve ice cream. In summary, the main reason marit ayin is not always applied according to our logic is because we usually do so by comparison to Talmudic precedents and not just contemporary society. Rabbi Moshe Bloom Fertilization and Shemitah The Mishnah (Shevi’it 2:2) states that it is permissible to fertilize until Rosh Hashanah, implying that it is forbidden to do so during shemitah. Most home gardens are not treated with manure as fertilizer during non-shemitah years. In such gardens, manure should certainly not be used during shemitah. In gardens where manure is generally used: manure is traditionally applied by spreading it over the soil, tilling it into the soil, or as a liquid applied through the irrigation system. Manure irrigation is also prohibited during shemitah (in most cases), even if the manure is introduced into the system before shemitah and irrigation is performed by a computer. In most cases, regular and appropriate fertilization before the shemitah year is sufficient, and obviates the need for further fertilization during shemitah itself. This is especially true for slow-release fertilizers (SRF), controlled-release fertilizers (CRF), and other organic fertilizers that decompose slowly and provide plants with all of their nourishment needs for the entire year. Note that most fertilizers on the market release nutrients over six months, but there are some that release over twelve months. While most deciduous trees are fertilized again in spring, if no additional fertilizer is applied in most areas in Israel, it will not damage the trees. Trees (especially deciduous) growing in light and sandy soils, and young trees in general, can be damaged considerably if they do not receive additional fertilizer. In special cases, when additional fertilizer is needed, one may fertilize only when the garden’s appearance would otherwise be significantly compromised. For such cases, we recommend consulting one of our agronomists prior to the shemitah year for guidelines on optimal fertilization methods, available on our website: https://en.toraland.org.il/beit-midrash/qa/ask-the-rabbi/; or call our hotline: 08-684-7325. Rabbi Gideon Weitzman In Case of Doubt Last time we saw that there are various halachic opinions as to who is considered the mother in the case of an egg donation. We concluded with the opinion of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach that there is no convincing source in the rabbinic literature to make this decision. Therefore, he was of the opinion that we need to be strict in both directions. For example, if the donor of the egg, the genetic mother, is not Jewish the child would need to be converted to Judaism due to our safek, our doubt, as to whether he is Jewish or not. On the other hand, if the birth mother is not Jewish the child would need to be converted due to the same doubt. I know of a case in a large Beit Din that in the morning a woman came with a child born from a non-Jewish egg donor and the Beit Din converted the child. In the afternoon, another woman came with a child born from her eggs but using a non-Jewish gestational carrier. Again, the Beit Din converted the child. Logically one of these children did not need to be converted, but the Beit Din saw no contradiction between their actions in the morning and those in the same afternoon. The conversion of the child solves the question of whether or not they are Jewish. Since we cannot make a clear decision regarding the existing doubt the conversion due to safek is the best alternative. Many poskim today follow this directive, and will convert such a child in order to overcome the uncertainty regarding their halachic status. But not everything can be solved by being strict in all cases. This relates to the question that we posed a few weeks ago - the case of the fertilized egg. A couple have excess fertilized eggs left over from their own fertility treatment. They would like to sell them or donate them to another couple. The problem in this case is that the genetic mother is married. This cannot be solved by a simple halachic solution. Such a case is much more complicated and the existing halachic debate regarding motherhood becomes more intricate due to the lack of an apparent solution. One possible solution is to follow the poskim who were adamant that the birth mother is the mother. When the couple adopted the fertilized egg and it was placed inside the wife, she becomes the mother and the source of that egg is irrelevant to the halachic discussion. But not everyone follows this opinion. More on this next week. Rakel Berenbaum The Red Cow And Chukim The portion begins with a detailed description of the laws of the red cow whose ashes are used to purify anyone who became ritually unclean from contact with a dead human body (Bamidbar 19:1-19). It says “Zot Chukat HaTorah..the following is declared to be the Torah’s decree”. The whole portion gets its name from the second word in this verse –Chukat –decree. Rashi comments on these words saying – “Because Satan and the nations of the world taunt Israel, saying, “ What is this commandment, and what purpose does it have?” Therefore, the Torah uses the term “statute.” I have decreed it; You have no right to challenge it. — [Yoma 67b]. What exactly is Rashi teaching us? What does it mean that this commandment is a decree? Does it mean that the laws that God gave us are random without any specific reason behind them? Our sages discuss this issue of taamei hamitzvot – reasons for mitzvoth. The Torah differentiates between laws that are chukim -decrees and those that are mishpatim-laws (Vayikra 18:4). We are taught that chukim are Torah laws that the reason is hidden from us– the red cow being such an example, while mishpatim are those where the reason is obvious like laws against stealing or murder. Thinking that we know the reason behind why God commanded a specific mitzvah with all its details can be dangerous. King Solomon thought he knew the reason for the mitzvah for kings not to have many wives. The verse says “He must not have many wives, so that they not make his heart go astray” ( Dvarim 17:17). He decided that the “reason” didn’t apply to him. He said having many wives wouldn’t make him stray, and he disregarded the command, he married many wives who actually did lead him to stray. So it is dangerous to think that we know the reasons behind God’s commandments. We must be very careful and keep in our mind that the reasons are really beyond our grasp, and what we find as reasons may just be our own hypothesis as to what God’s real reason is. We must always remember that the found reason isn’t the basis for keeping the mitzvah. If we are able to keep this in mind, searching for the reasons behind mitzvoth could increase our motivation and excitement for keeping each mitzvah. We find this attitude in the Sefer Hachinuch, a book that goes through the whole Torah and lists the mitzvoth from each portion. For each mitzvah he includes a section called “misharshe hamitzvah-from the roots” which delves into the reasons behind the mitzvah. He is careful to label this section Msharshe hmitzvah – with the added letter mem pointing out that the list he brings for reasons for the mitzvah is just a partial list, meaning not necessarily the reason to keep the mitzvah. The fact that there are chukim – mitzvoth that we know that we don’t know or understand the reason for them, such as Para Aduma, the red cow, actually may help us to keep all mitzvoth. It will humble us to realize that we can’t understand everything, God is in charge and knows best, and even when a mitzvah that is not a chok is hard to understand we must keep them since God commanded them. And you shall keep [them] and do [them], for that is your wisdom and your understanding in the eyes of the peoples, who will hear all these statutes and say, “Only this great nation is a wise and understanding people. ” Since this week’s portion begins with the laws of the red cow, it is fitting that this week’s recipe would include a piece of cow, and something red so here’s a beef and tomato, red cooking recipe. RED COW – BEEF AND TOMATO STIR-FRY Marinade & sauce: 450 g red meat ( Chuck roast-Tzlaot or plate –boneless asado, sliced into small cubes) 1tablespoon cornstarch 11/2 teaspoon oil ¼ teaspoon salt 2 tbsps. Ketchup 2 tablespoon soy sauce 1½ teaspoons sugar (or to taste) pepper (to taste) For the rest of the dish: 2 tablespoons oil 2 slices ginger 1 clove garlic (finely minced) ¼ cup shallot (sliced) 1 scallion (cut into 2-inch pieces at an angle) 4 to 5 large tomatoes (cut into wedges) 1 tablespoon dry white wine 1/2 tablespoon cornstarch (mixed with 1 tablespoon water) Marinate the meat with the cornstarch, 1 teaspoon oil, and salt. Set aside for at least an hour. Combine the remaining sauce ingredients in a separate bowl. Set aside. Coat wok with a bit of oil and heat until just smoking. Add beef and sear for 1 minute until 80% cooked. Remove from the wok with juices. Set aside. Heat another tablespoon of oil in the wok. Add the ginger slices, and caramelize for 10 seconds. Turn the heat up to high, and add the minced garlic, shallot, and the white portions of the scallion. Toss for 10 seconds. Add the tomato wedges around the wok and sear for 15 seconds. Add the wine, and stir-fry the mixture for another 10 seconds. Push everything to one side of the wok. Add the sauce base to the empty side of the wok. Stir until bubbling. Add the beef with juices. Stir fry on high till mixed well and sizzling (about 20 seconds). Try not to overcook the tomatoes. Toss in the remainder of the scallions and add the cornstarch slurry a bit at a time to obtain the sauce thickness that you like. Serve with rice. Torah 4 Teens By Teens Rabbi Michael Kahn Co-Regional Director, NCSY Israel Speaking To A Rock We are taught in Parshat Chukat that Moshe Rabbeinu wasn’t allowed to enter Eretz Yisrael because he incorrectly hit a rock in which he was supposed to speak to in order to draw out water. Wait, because Moshe hit a rock, he could not enter Eretz Yisrael?! Was it really that big of a deal? At the end of the day did he not release the water that was supposed to come out of the rock? He found another way to accomplish the result, why such a harsh punishment? Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) answers that hitting and speaking to the rock represents two different methods of relating to God. The method of hitting a rock is a very public and open miracle and disrupts the laws of nature, while speaking to the rock is very gentle and relaxed. The speaking to the rock represents the personal and intimate form of connection to God as expressed through Teffilah. Hashem was asking Moshe to prepare Am Yisrael for a new form of life as they transition into Eretz Yisrael. The open miracles of the desert such as the maan and the cloud of glory were no longer going to be present, life was going to take on a natural form and would require real effort to build up the land themselves and fight to conquer the land. The ways of the past were no longer applicable, and Moshe’s method of transmission needed to be handed off now to lead the nation in their new state. They would not have a direct line of nevuah with God as they did in the midbar. God would now be found behind the scenes, and we would need to reveal Him through our day-to-day efforts. As Am Yisrael now transitions to fulfill its purpose it must learn to stand on its own with a continuous conversation with God leading us. On July 21-22, NCSY Israel is embarking to raise $60,000 as part of the annual NCSY “Giving Day” campaign. Like Am Yisrael entering in Eretz Yisrael we too have needed to realize that it is within our power, and it is ultimately our responsibility to create the spiritual reality necessary to grow. We invite you to join us and be part of our irreplaceable work as we continue to move to new heights. Eliel Johnson 12th Grade, Itamar The Discovery of Soap The Parsha of Chukat is concerned with (among other things) spiritual contamination and purification, which it addresses with its description of the Parah Adumah, the making and proper use of its ashes, and the sociological ramifications of improper implementation of purification procedures. (Namely, expulsion). As such, it raises many interesting philosophical questions, and potentialities for correlations between metaphysical and physical definitions of purity, and serves as an example of the instances where the Torah clearly denotes Halachot that can be understood literally and implemented forthwith without the Meforshim’s otherwise necessary annotative extrapolation. One interesting question that arises in my mind is how literal is the contamination? We certainly maintain many countermeasures for physical contamination (such as catering guidelines to maintain the viability of food on Shabbatonim, thus avoiding bacteria), and it seems unlikely to be a coincidence that ash was traditionally used, and in some places still is, as a physical cleansing substance. Another interesting point is that anyone who comes into contact with the ash - including those who made it - are rendered impure by it. The ash used for cleansing impurity. According to the Rambam, the ashes are a “primary source of impurity,” and yet when applied with water and hyssop to the impure, they purify. That’s a very enthralling idea. It’s almost as though it works like a double negative rather than a source of light to expel darkness, which is in fact, exactly how physical cleansers such as soap operate. Soap forms a chemical bridge and acts as mediator between the substances you wish to remove (oils and fats), and the water you wish to do it with, and all three are washed away. The truth is no one knows why the ashes work the way they do. It is said that King Solomon, the wisest of all men, understood the Torah in its entirety, except for the ashes of Parah Adumah. “May the sayings of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable before You, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.”