Yerushalayim in/out times for Shabbat PARSHAT Bechukotai Candles 6:57PM • Earliest 6:05PM • Havdala 8:14PM • Rabbeinu Tam 8:50PM Rabbi Berman There is always something tragic when we find ourselves appreciating the beauty of a person only after their passing. As Am Yisrael living in Eretz Yisrael we are constantly surrounded by our fellow Jew, each of whom holds a hidden beauty. If we aren’t careful, we may miss a critical opportunity to show them the love, understanding and respect they deserve. Over the last five weeks of the Omer we have kept Minhagei Aveilut as many refrain from buying new clothing, getting haircuts, listening to music or getting married. In doing so, we tap into the loss of Rabbi Akiva’s 24,000 students who died because, “SHELO NAHAGU KAVOD ZEH BAZEH,” they did not treat one another with respect. But after Lag B’Omer, will we return to the same people we were before the Omer began? After the devastating events that took place in Meron last year, Lag B’Omer will never feel the same. In a stunning turn of events, instead of ending Lag B’Omer on a festive high as we celebrated the hidden treasures of Torah, we spent those hours fulfilling the Mitzvot of Levayat HaMeit and Nichum Aveilim for 45 holy souls that were tragically taken from us. In the hours after we lit the fires of Meron, families, Yeshivot and communities from overseas and within Israel desperately tried to locate their loved ones. Too many found themselves en route to bury those they held so dear. On a day that has been designated for joyful celebration of the deeper, hidden beauty within Torah, it seems as if HaKadosh Baruch Hu chose to bring home the sweetest of the sweet; each Neshama containing a hidden beauty that we could only fully appreciate after their passing. This past Friday we were notified of yet another tragic loss, with the death of Sgt.-Maj. Noam Raz, a 47-year old father of six from Kida. Noam enlisted in the IDF in 1999 and served as a fighter, paramedic and sniper in the YAMAM counterterrorism unit for 23 years. During his service Noam participated in hundreds of counterterrorism operations, putting his own life at risk to save others. Upon hearing the news of his passing I quickly called Oren Asulin, the Director of Programming at The Zula, who lives in Kida and was a neighbor and close friend of Noam. The pain in Oren’s voice conveyed just how deeply the loss of Noam was felt. He described Noam as a quiet and powerful person with an inner peace. Noam was someone who was always ready and willing to help another person in need, without seeking recognition for his efforts. In fact, Oren and his family were one of many whom Noam directly impacted. A few years ago, Oren’s one-and-a-half year old daughter was caught under a car that reversed backward without seeing her. Noam was nearby and jumped into action. And while the chances were slim, Noam was able to stabilize Oren’s daughter until she was able to be transferred to the nearest hospital in a more stable condition. Baruch HaShem, Oren’s daughter defied the odds and survived. Since then, Noam continued to resist recognition and praise whenever Oren, his family or community members sought to show their appreciation. For Noam Raz, saving Jews is how he chose to live his life each and every day. And he did so selflessly and quietly. I imagine that as time goes on, others will come forward and share stories of Noam’s heroic and selfless efforts, helping us appreciate his deeper, hidden beauty that even his loved ones might not have known. While we can never truly know the depths of a person’s Neshama, in a country filled with HaShem’s children, we must commit ourselves to treating each and every person with love, dignity and respect. My plea to HaKadosh Baruch Hu is that we learn to appreciate our holy brethren in their lifetime, and should not have to lose any more members of Am Yisrael in order to see how incredible they are. I ask HaShem for the continued Nechama of the 45 families who are grieving the loss of their loved ones on the first Yahrzeit of their passing, the friends and family of Noam Raz, and all those who have given their lives to defend the Jewish people. Together we can create a world of mutual appreciation and respect, bringing the end of Galut speedily in our days. I pray for the days when we can dance and rejoice in the Beit HaMikdash together, knowing that we made this world a better place. Wishing you all an uplifting and inspiring Shabbat, Rabbi Avi Berman Executive Director, OU Israel aberman@ouisrael.org Aliya By Aliya Sedra Summary Parshat Bechukotai is the last in the book of Vayikra. The first half of the Parsha is the glorious, though very brief description of the blessings that will result from keeping the mitzvot. But then the Torah turns to the chilling description of exile, desolation, and suffering that will result from lack of loyalty to the Mitzvot. The blessings: 10 verses. The curses: 32 verses. This parsha is always read before Shavuot. But not the Shabbat before Shavuot. 2 Shabbatot before (this year in Israel we will have 2 parshiot following Bechukotai until Shavuot). While the sobering nature of the curses can motivate us in accepting the Torah anew, it is a harsh parsha. We would be motivated by fear. Do we want to enter Yom Tov with dread? I don’t think so. So, a week with a more benign parsha intervenes between the harshness of Bechukotai and the sweetness of the Yom Tov of Shavuot. 1st Aliya (Vayikra 26:3-5) If you are loyal to mitzvot, I will give you such abundant produce that the harvest will stretch into the planting season. You will be satisfied and secure in your Land. Parshat Bechukotai is the conclusion of the book of Kedusha, Vayikra. We moderns are in particular need of this parsha. We have been blessed with an explosion of information. And this information can quickly lead to a mechanistic view of life; that everything is cause and effect. Work hard and you will succeed. Study hard and you will achieve. Eat and exercise, you will live long. This parsha introduces one of the core Jewish beliefs; and somewhat of a radical one at that. Crops will grow well when you observe the mitzvot. We do not live in 2 worlds: the physical and the spiritual. We live in one world: the world of interwoven physical and spiritual. Our physical success in the Land of Israel is bound up inextricably with our spiritual fealty to the mitzvot. This theme will dominate the rest of the Torah. For with the conclusion of the book of Vayikra, we pivot now to the march toward the Land of Israel. The rest of the Torah will describe that march and the mitzvot relevant to building the Jewish society in the Land of Israel. But hovering over it all is this unity theme: that the fate of the entire enterprise in the Land of Israel is bound up in your mitzvah observance. 2nd Aliya (26:6-9) I will give you peace and you will be without fear. 5 of you will pursue 100; 100 will pursue 10,000. I will make you fruitful, make you multiply and keep my covenant with you. You will be blessed with shocking military power - a small number chasing 20 or 100 times their number. And then in an echo of creation, a promise that you will be fruitful and multiply. In Creation G-d commanded man to be fruitful and multiply. And here He is promising us that we will be fruitful and multiply. As if to say: loyalty to the mitzvot will bring a world just the way it is supposed to be. 3rd Aliya (26:10-46) And I will be in your midst; I, your G-d, You, my people. I will remove the yokes from you and you will walk proudly. But if you do not do My mitzvot, I too will not pay attention to you. You will be subjected to illness, to enemies, to drought. If you persist in ignoring Me, I will persist in ignoring you, leaving you vulnerable to war, pestilence, famine. Your holy places will be vanquished, your cities destroyed; you will be scattered around the world. Then the Land will have the rest of its Shmita. You will be panicked in your exile, afraid of a driven leaf. You will admit your failings; I will remember my promises to you. Even in your dispersion, I will not allow you to be destroyed. The brevity of this outline requires us to leave out much of the chilling predictions of calamity. To focus on just one aspect: failure to live up to the demands of this holy place brings desolation and exile. The Land and its cities will be desolate and deserted. The desolation of the Land of Israel without the Jewish people is legendary. The Land flowing with milk and honey was barren and dusty for 2,000 years. Chilling. In addition, the Jewish diaspora, the exile of the Jews from the Land, in essence, Jewish history is predicted here. The Torah predicts the suffering of the Jewish people through exile and persecution. Jewish suffering in exile was taken by other religions to be a sign of the rejection of the Jew. The return to the Land of Israel in our time, so unexpected, so unprecedented, and so dynamic is a powerful refutation of that. If the exile was Divine displeasure with our dismissive attitude to Him, the return to the Land can only be Divine pleasure in bringing us close. And a charge to us who are part of this return; to never be dismissive of Him, but to engage, to search, to reach. Our success in the Land depends on it. What privileged times we, the undeserving, are fortunate to be a part of. And how vigilant we need be to not again be dismissive of Him in His Land. 4th aliya (27:1-15) When you make a vow of your value to G-d, there are set values for different ages and stations. This value is given to the Mikdash. If you pledge an animal, it is given and should not be switched. A pledge of a home may be given or redeemed. Following the chilling section of the curses, the book of Vayikra ends with a full chapter of laws of vows. Generosity inspires contributions to the Mikdash. That’s a good thing. The religious center of the Jewish people needs contributions. But why does this section follow the blessings and curses? I would think that the blessings and curses are the best way to end the book of Kedusha. Not the rather mundane rules of Temple contributions. The entire book of Vayikra has focused on Kedusha; that our lives are to be uplifted, sanctified, rarified. You might think that this elevated part of our lives, the part of our lives in which we strive to approach the Divine, you might think it is good, desirable, wonderful - but extra. If I live my life not hurting others, not violating the mitzvot, then I have lived a good life. So the Torah introduces us to the blessings and curses. No, no. Holiness is not dessert. It isn’t extra. It is the essence of the life of a Jew. We must live sanctified lives. And our success in the Land depends on it. Lack of allegiance to mitzvot will bring terrible consequences, including exile and destruction. But so as not to end this book on a harsh note, we end, not with curses, but with generosity. 5th Aliya (27:16-21) If a field is pledged, it’s worth until Yovel is calculated. That value is given to the Mikdash to redeem the field. If it is not redeemed, it remains with the Mikdash even after Yovel. Property which becomes owned by the Mikdash may not be redeemed. 6th Aliya (27:22-28) A field that is not your inheritance in the Land may be dedicated to the Mikdash; its value is given. A first born animal is already holy, hence do not pledge it to the Mikdash. 7th Aliya (27:29-34) Maaser of property is holy; it may be redeemed and a fifth added to its value. Maaser of animals is holy; it may not be redeemed. The book of Vayikra, the book of man’s approach to G-d, ends with a sober balance. While we approach G-d, dedicate our lives to Him, reach for Him, and He for us, the Torah protects us from going too far, from divesting of our assets, ridding ourselves of our homes and becoming a Temple slave, giving our all to the Mikdash. Our challenge is to be holy in our homes and our fields while reaching for the Divine. This final section of vows is also part of the pivot toward the book of Bamidbar. We are marching to the Land. The section of vows is an intro to that. We are no longer focused on holiness, but on nation building. The communal life we will enjoy in the Land of Israel will be built on generosity. The sense that I am not just for me; but that I am a part of the Jewish people. Their needs are mine. Contributions to the Mikdash are an expression of my part in our nation building. And that nation building will be the preoccupation of the rest of the Torah. Haftorah Bechukotai Yirmiyahu 16:19-17:14 The theme found in the Torah reading of blessings and curses is echoed in the haftorah which discusses the punishment to those who disregard God’s will and the reward to those who follow His will. The courageous prophet Yirmiyahu scolds the people and warns them of the disaster if they maintain their idolatrous practices. Nothing less than exile from the Holy Land will come as the result of not having faith in God and commitment to the mitzvot. Moreover, there is the positive outgrowth of obedience and loyalty to the Torah: “Blessed is the man who trusts in God; to whom God will be his trust. For he shall be like a tree planted by the water, and which spreads its roots out into a stream, so it will not be affected when heat comes, and its leaves shall be green, and in the year of drought will not be anxious, neither shall it cease from bearing fruit.” The haftorah concludes with a declaration of hope and salvation: “Heal me, O God, then shall I be healed; help me, then I shall be helped, for You are my praise!” A Short Vort Rabbi Chanoch Yeres "And dwell in safety in your Land….And I will give you peace in the Land" (26:5-6) How can the pasuk, in which the Divine promises that they will live safely in the Land, need the next pasuk to add that He will provide peace in the Land? Isn't this a repetition? The Rabbis answer that the promise of "I will give you peace in the Land" is not referring to peace from our external enemies. Rather, it refers to achieving internal peace amongst ourselves as a nation. (Jerusalem Talmud, Peah 1) The generation of King Saul were great Torah scholars, yet his army was constantly being defeated by the enemy, due to the constant brotherly strife that existed within the Jewish people, at that time. However, the generation of Achav were all idolators, yet always victorious in battle because of the internal peace that remained amongst our nation. In our Parsha G-d promises the people that He will ensure peaceful co-existence and harmony within the Jewish nation. That in itself will provide the umbrella against attacks from foreign enemies, "And the sword shall not go through your Land". Shabbat Shalom Rabbi Weinreb The Walking Tour I am the type of person who has always believed that the only way to learn about something important is to buy a book about it. For example, it has been my good fortune to have traveled widely in my life and to have visited many interesting cities. Invariably, I bought guidebooks before each such visit, with detailed itineraries describing the “not to be missed” sites in those cities. Eventually, I learned that there is a much better way to come to know a new city than to read a book about it. It is more interesting, more entertaining, and more inspiring to simply walk around the city aimlessly. I have even stopped buying those books which provide maps of walking tours around the city. Instead I just wander, and have never been disappointed in the process. The list of cities which I have aimlessly explored has grown quite long over the years. It includes my own native New York, the holy city of Jerusalem, numerous cities in the United States, and several in Europe such as London, Rome and Prague. Despite the diversity of these cities, I inevitably end up in one of two destinations: either a used bookstore, or a small park, usually one in which children are playing. The last time I had this experience, I was quite taken aback and muttered to myself, “I guess my feet take me where my heart wants me to go.” As soon as those words occurred to me, I realized that they were not my own words at all. Rather, I was preceded in that reaction by two very glorious figures in Jewish history: the great sage Hillel, and no one less than King David. That brings us to this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Bechukotai (Leviticus 26:3-27:34). The parsha begins: “If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season...” That is the standard translation of this opening verse. But a more literal translation would begin not, “If you follow My laws,” but rather, “If you walk in My laws.” Most translators understandably choose the word “follow” over the literal “walk” in this context. But the Midrash takes a different approach. It retains the literal “walk,” and links it to the phrase in Psalms 119:59 which reads, “I have considered my ways, and have turned my steps to Your decrees”. After linking the verse in our Torah portion with this verse from Psalms, the Midrash continues, putting these words into the mouth of King David: “Master of the universe, each and every day I would decide to go to such and such a place, or to such and such a dwelling, but my feet would bring me to synagogues and study halls, as it is written: ‘I have turned my steps to Your decrees.’” Long before this Midrash was composed, but long after the life of King David, the rabbinic sage Hillel is recorded by the Talmud to have said, “To the place which I love, that is where my feet guide me.” (Sukkah 53a) The lesson is clear. Our unconscious knows our authentic inner preferences very well. So much so that no matter what our conscious plans are, our feet take us to where we really want to be. To take myself as an example, I may have told myself when I visited some new city that I wanted to see its ancient ruins, its museums, its palaces and Houses of Parliament. But my inner self knew better and instructed my feet to direct me to the musty old bookstores where I could browse to my heart’s content. Or to off-the-beaten-path, leafy parks where I could observe children at play. This Midrash understands the opening phrase of our parsha, “If you walk in my laws,” as indicating the Torah’s desire that we internalize God’s laws thoroughly so that they become our major purpose in life. Even if we initially define our life’s journey in terms of very different goals, God’s laws will hopefully become our ultimate destination. There are numerous other ways suggested by commentaries throughout the ages to understand the literal phrase, “If you walk in my ways.” Indeed, Rabbi Chaim ibn Atar, the great 18th century author of Ohr HaChaim, enumerates no less than 42 explanations of the phrase. Several of his explanations, while not identical to that of our Midrash, are consistent with it and help us understand it more deeply. For example, he suggests that by using the verb “walk,” the Torah is suggesting to us that it is sometimes important in religious life to leave one’s familiar environment. One must “walk,” embark on a journey to some distant place, in order to fully realize his or her religious mission. It is hard to be innovative, it is hard to change, in the presence of people who have known us all of our lives. Ohr HaChaim also leaves us with the following profound insight, which the author bases upon a passage in the sourcebook of the Kabbalah, the Zohar: “Animals do not change their nature. They are not ‘walkers.’ But humans are ‘walkers.’ We are always changing our habits, ‘walking away’ from base conduct to noble conduct, and from lower levels of behavior to higher ones. ‘Walking,’ progressing, is our very essence. ‘Walking’ distinguishes us from the rest of God’s creatures.” The phrase “to walk” is thus a powerful metaphor for who we are. No wonder, then, that this final portion of the Book of Leviticus begins with such a choice of words. All of life is a journey, and despite our intentions, we somehow arrive at Bechukotai, “My laws,” so that we end our journey through this third book of the Bible with these words: “These are the commandments that the Lord gave Moses for the people of Israel on Mount Sinai.” Rabbi Sacks The Politics of Responsibility The twenty-sixth chapter of the book of Vayikra sets out, with stunning clarity, the terms of Jewish life under the covenant. On the one hand, there is an idyllic picture of the blessing of Divine favour: If Israel follows God’s decrees and keeps His commands, there will be rain, the earth will yield its fruit, there will be peace, the people will flourish, they will have children, and the Divine presence will be in their midst. God will make them free. “I broke the bars of your yoke and enabled you to walk with heads held high.” (Lev. 26:13) The other side of the equation, though, is terrifying: the curses that will befall the nation should the Israelites fail to honour their mission as a holy nation: “But if you will not listen to Me and carry out all these commands… I will bring upon you sudden terror, wasting diseases and fever that will destroy your sight and drain away your life. You will plant seed in vain, because your enemies will eat it… If after all this you will not listen to Me, I will punish you for your sins seven times over. I will break down your stubborn pride and make the sky above you like iron and the ground beneath you like bronze… I will turn your cities into ruins and lay waste your sanctuaries, and I will take no delight in the pleasing aroma of your offerings. I will lay waste the land… As for those of you who are left, I will make their hearts so fearful in the lands of their enemies that the sound of a windblown leaf will put them to flight. They will run as though fleeing from the sword, and they will fall, even though no one is pursuing them. (Lev. 26:14-36) Read in its entirety, this passage is more like Holocaust literature than anything else. The repeated phrases – “If after all this. . . If despite this. . . If despite everything” – come like hammer-blows of fate. It is a passage shattering in its impact, all the more so since so much of it came true at various times in Jewish history. Yet the curses end with the most profound promise of ultimate consolation. Despite everything God will not break His covenant with the Jewish people. Collectively they will be eternal. They may suffer, but they will never be destroyed. They will undergo exile but eventually they will return. Stated with the utmost drama, this is the logic of covenant. Unlike other conceptions of history or politics, covenant sees nothing inevitable or even natural about the fate of a people. Israel will not follow the usual laws of the rise and fall of civilisations. The Jewish people were not to see their national existence in terms of cosmology, written into the structure of the universe, immutable and fixed for all time, as did the ancient Mesopotamians and Egyptians. Nor were they to see their history as cyclical, a matter of growth and decline. Instead, it would be utterly dependent on moral considerations. If Israel stayed true to its mission, it would flourish. If it drifted from its vocation, it would suffer defeat after defeat. Only one other nation in history has consistently seen its fate in similar terms, namely the United States. The influence of the Hebrew Bible on American history – carried by the Pilgrim Fathers and reiterated in presidential rhetoric ever since – was decisive. Here is how one writer described the faith of Abraham Lincoln: We are a nation formed by a covenant, by dedication to a set of principles and by an exchange of promises to uphold and advance certain commitments among ourselves and throughout the world. Those principles and commitments are the core of American identity, the soul of the body politic. They make the American nation unique, and uniquely valuable, among and to the other nations. But the other side of the conception contains a warning very like the warnings spoken by the prophets to Israel: if we fail in our promises to each other, and lose the principles of the covenant, then we lose everything, for they are we. Covenantal politics is moral politics, driving an elemental connection between the fate of a nation and its vocation. This is statehood as a matter not of power but of ethical responsibility. One might have thought that this kind of politics robbed a nation of its freedom. Spinoza argued just this. “This, then, was the object of the ceremonial law,” he wrote, “that men should do nothing of their own free will, but should always act under external authority, and should continually confess by their actions and thoughts that they were not their own masters.” However, in this respect, Spinoza was wrong. Covenant theology is emphatically a politics of liberty. What is happening in Vayikra 26 is an application to a nation as a whole of the proposition God spelled out to individuals at the beginning of human history: Then the Lord said to Cain, “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.” (Gen. 4:6-7) The choice – God is saying – is in your hands. You are free to do what you choose. But actions have consequences. You cannot overeat and take no exercise, and at the same time stay healthy. You cannot act selfishly and win the respect of other people. You cannot allow injustices to prevail and sustain a cohesive society. You cannot let rulers use power for their own ends without destroying the basis of a free and gracious social order. There is nothing mystical about these ideas. They are eminently intelligible. But they are also, and inescapably, moral. I brought you from slavery to freedom – says God – and I empower you to be free. But I cannot and will not abandon you. I will not intervene in your choices, but I will instruct you on what choices you ought to make. I will teach you the constitution of liberty. The first and most important principle is this: A nation cannot worship itself and survive. Sooner or later, power will corrupt those who wield it. If fortune favours it and it grows rich, it will become self-indulgent and eventually decadent. Its citizens will no longer have the courage to fight for their liberty, and it will fall to another, more Spartan power. If there are gross inequalities, the people will lack a sense of the common good. If government is high-handed and non-accountable, it will fail to command the loyalty of the people. None of this takes away your freedom. It is simply the landscape within which freedom is to be exercised. You may choose this way or that, but not all paths lead to the same destination. To stay free, a nation must worship something greater than itself, nothing less than God, together with the belief that all human beings are created in His image. Self-worship on a national scale leads to totalitarianism and the extinction of liberty. It took the loss of more than 100 million lives in the twentieth century to remind us of this truth. In the face of suffering and loss, there are two fundamentally different questions an individual or nation can ask, and they lead to quite different outcomes. The first is, “What did I, or we, do wrong?” The second is, “Who did this to us?” It is not an exaggeration to say that this is the fundamental choice governing the destinies of people. The latter leads inescapably to what is today known as the victim culture. It locates the source of evil outside oneself. Someone else is to blame. It is not I or we who are at fault, but some external cause. The attraction of this logic can be overpowering. It generates sympathy. It calls for, and often evokes, compassion. It is, however, deeply destructive. It leads people to see themselves as objects, not subjects. They are done to, not doers; passive, not active. The results are anger, resentment, rage and a burning sense of injustice. None of these, however, ever leads to freedom, since by its very logic this mindset abdicates responsibility for the current circumstances in which one finds oneself. Blaming others is the suicide of liberty. Blaming oneself, by contrast, is difficult. It means living with constant self-criticism. It is not a route to peace of mind. Yet it is profoundly empowering. It implies that, precisely because we accept responsibility for the bad things that have happened, we also have the ability to chart a different course in the future. Within the terms set by covenant, the outcome depends on us. That is the logical geography of hope, and it rests on the choice Moses was later to define in these words: This day I call Heaven and Earth as witnesses against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live. (Deut. 30:19) One of the most profound contribution Torah made to the civilisation of the West is this: that the destiny of nations lies not in the externalities of wealth or power, fate or circumstance, but in moral responsibility: the responsibility for creating and sustaining a society that honours the image of God within each of its citizens, rich and poor, powerful or powerless alike. The politics of responsibility is not easy. The curses of Vayikra 26 are the very reverse of comforting. Yet the profound consolations with which they end are not accidental, nor are they wishful thinking. They are testimony to the power of the human spirit when summoned to the highest vocation. A nation that sees itself as responsible for the evils that befall it, is also a nation that has an inextinguishable power of recovery and return. Probing the prophets Today’s reading is an especially difficult one to follow as almost half of its psukim describe the horrific punishments that would befall Israel if they ignore the laws Hashem commands them. These warnings include horrible diseases, military defeat and subjugation, drought and famine, eventual exile and, with that, the loss of their land. Studying the verses of the “tochacha”, indeed, simply listening to them, is not an easy task-especially for a generation who has seen the fulfillment of the horrific prophecies. The tannaitic scholars faced the unenviable task of choosing a fitting selection from the nevi’im (prophets) to serve as the haftarah for this parasha. Unfortunately, there are ample prophecies in the Tanach that speak of the terrible punishments that would befall the fickle nation (we need only peruse the selections we read over the pre-Tish’a B’Av Shabbatot), so it is understandable for us to wonder why, given to many possible prophetic readings, the Rabbinic scholars choose these 16th and 17th prakim of the navi Yirmiyahu, those chosen as this week’s haftarah. I would suggest that perhaps the rabbanim, in their choice of these chapters, purposely left a subtle message of hope for future generations. The admonition found in the parasha is preceded by a description of the rewards awaiting the faithful and closes with the reassurance that Hashem would remember them and redeem them. The “curses”, therefore, are “sandwiched” in between the comforting words of reward and those of redemption. (Indeed, as I have pointed out before, the very usage of “curses” to describe this section is misleading, for they are meant as “warnings” of what COULD happen – not what WILL happen). The navi Yirmiyahu follows that same pattern in the chapters of the haftarah. The opening words mark a break from the preceding prophecies of doom as Yirmiyahu calls out to Hashem as his “refuge” and “stronghold, depicting a time when G-d will be recognized by all and when all idolatry would be rejected as falsehood. Only then does the navi go on to condemn Israel for her sins. But even these words of condemnation are followed by a beautiful description of the reward that awaits the righteous who trust in Hashem and close with the message that Hashem remains the source of hope for Israel. An uplifting ending to the harsh prophetic words of criticism. The truth is that these prophecies, difficult as they are, were meant to bring Israel back to G-d; not frighten them away. The prophet knows full-well that there must always be hope in his message so that his words will encourage people and not depress them. We have witnessed the realization of the frightening predictions found both in the parasha and in the haftarah. But we have also begun to see the fruition of the promised blessings and consolations from G-d. Chazal, through their choice of prophecies, reminded us that curses will be followed by blessings and tragedies with celebrations. We, who have passed through the weeks of Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron and have, over the years, felt the misfortunes and heartbreaks; now look forward to experiencing the celebrations. Rabbi Rosner Renewal vs Change If you follow My statutes and observe My commandments and perform them (Vayikra 26:3) Much ink has been spilled explaining this pasuk. The Ohr Hachaim Hakadosh has 42 different interpretations of this pasuk. We will highlight an important and relevant lesson derived from this pasuk by the Menachem Tzion, Rav Menachem Sacks, the son-in law of Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank. In every generation there are movements among even observant Jews to “modernize” Judaism in an unhealthy way. Such individuals desire to maintain the “logical” principles of the Torah and they claim that in order to preserve our religion in a modern society, we should relinquish the irrational mitzvot, known as “chukim”. In an advanced society, we need to adapt our religion to the times. The Gemara (Shabbat 31b) states that when a person passes away, one of the questions that Hashem will ask of them is: “Kavata itim laTorah?” Did you set aside time to study Torah?” But we have, on occasion, suggested another interpretation. “Did you adjust the times – the norms and influences of the day – to the precepts of the Torah rather than trying to adjust the Torah to fit with the times? (the latter would reflect -kavata Torah La’itim). The influence should be from within the Torah environment to the outside world and not the opposite. Some people try to adapt the Torah to modern times. They suggest that we be “open-minded” about contemporary norms and values. We say that, on the contrary, we need to open our minds to accept the Torah and adapt our lives to it. History testifies that once change is instituted at the “chukim” level, it eventually leads to the demise of the observance of rational mitzvot as well. Trying to modernize the Torah leads one down a slippery slope. Torat Hashem Temima Meshivat Nafesh” – only when Torah is complete does it restore the soul. Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik distinguished between a “mechadesh” (renewal) and a “mesahane” (change). It is important to constantly evaluate how to perform mitzvot properly in different situations. During the covid period gedolei hador were challenged with many new halachic questions that arose and many treatises were written to address those issues. As Hazal tell us “ein bet midrash b’li chidush”. However, to be “mesahane” – change halacha to adapt to modern times is prohibited. The Menachem Tzion interprets our pasuk as follows. If you follow my statues (“im b’hukotai telechu”), only if you keep the mitzvot, the chukim that may be difficult to comprehend, only then – will you continue to observe the rational mitzvot. Once chukim are ignored, other Mitzvot are later disregarded as well. During this period between Pesach and Shavuot as we prepare for our celebration of Matan Torah, may we strengthen our learning and observance of Torah and mitzvot, both chukim and mishaptim and transmit the full mesorah to future generations. Only then we will be worthy of the blessings that are promised in the following pesukim - peace and prosperity in the Land of Israel! Rebbetzin Smiles Mitzvah Mindset Parashat Bechukotai is well known for the extensive blessings and curses outlined if Am Yisrael follows the ways of the Torah. We find a fascinating stipulation, “Ve’im telchu imi keri, if you behave casually with Me…then I shall lay a further blow upon you,” (Vayikra 26:21). It seems we are held responsible for relating with Hashem with the attitude of keri, casually or with happenstance. What does this mean? How is it manifested in our daily behavior? Rav Gamliel Rabinovich in Tiv HaTorah explains that this easily refers to one who learns and practices mitzvot yet lacks focus and passion in his actions. In particular, Rav Rabinovich is critical of one who multi- tasks while doing mitzvot. When a person performs a task and is distracted by other things, it demonstrates that the task is not a primary focus. For example, one who stacks dishes and clears his table while he recites birkat hamazon or tries to open a water bottle while making the brachah shehakol is not thinking about the mitzvah he is doing rather he is concentrating on cleaning up or getting the bottle open. We can only do one thing at a time and that one thing is getting our dominant attention. When we do other things while performing a mitzvah “we walk with Hashem casually, with happenstance”. It degrades the mitzvah and negatively affects our relationship with Hashem. Rabbi Kaufman in Mishchat Shemen advises to try and do a mitzvah with the fullness of one’s being and presence of mind. We should activate all three aspects of anything we do: the thought, speech, and the deed. Ideally, when we set out to a mitzvah, we should be mindful of one we are about to do, we should articulate the mitzvah we are about to fulfill, and then do the mitzvah with conscious action. For example, how much more elevated the experience of paying a worker can be we have in mind that this is a mitzvah from the Torah, if we say the specific passuk, “beyomo titen secharo”, or articulate the mitzvah, and then actually pay the person. In doing so, we raise the experience from one of incidental circumstance, keri to one of focus, and true intent. Acting this way allows us to break from living a life of habit to living with meaning and purpose. Rav Reiss in Merosh Tzurim explains that although much of our mitzvah observance operates on automatic pilot, we must make the effort to be more alert, to know when and how to invest these actions with more meaning. This can be compared to the way a seasoned driver navigates his car. Although his decisions to accelerate or break are more instinctive, he is always alert to his surroundings on the road and will respond appropriately. We can be that ‘alert driver’ and infuse or mitzvah observance with consciousness and intent. Rav Gifter in Pirkei Torah adds that the more we invest our energy into living a Torah life, the more we find the sweetness and beauty in such a life. One who relates to Torah and mitzvot when it is convenient or only when he’s in the mood is primarily serving himself. This kind of attitude is what the Torah means by keri, happenstance. Each one of us has the capacity and bechirah to make Torah “our lives, and the length of our days”, it just takes a bit more application and focused direction. Rabbi Mischel Hello, It’s Nice to Meet Me! At the behest of the Friediker Rebbe (the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Reb Yosef Yitzchok, zy’a), Rabbi Moshe Yitzchak & Rebbetzin Rivkah Hecht had been the Chabad shlichim in New Haven, Connecticut, since 1941. Within days of arriving in New Haven, Rabbi Hecht began literally knocking on doors and visiting families in the community to encourage them to enroll their children in the city’s first Jewish day school, located in a dining room. As years unfolded, the burdens of an expanding community, of managing a shul, a day school, a yeshivah, a mikvah, open Shabbos dinners with dozens of guests, raising their own children, offering extensive adult educational programs…it all began to weigh on him. In 1974, as the debt and demands on his time and resources continued to mount, he wrote to the Rebbe, complaining that in more than 30 years of shlichus, despite his dedicated, hard work, he felt he hadn’t made much progress. Feeling overwhelmed, he considered the possibility that he simply could not continue in the role. He ended with a sincere plea that the Rebbe should consider their difficulties, “and help and do all he can.” The Rebbe’s response was indicative of how the leader of a generation believes in others and empowers all who turn to him for guidance: “... I have already followed your advice and done as you’ve suggested; I’ve sent there Rabbi Moshe Yitzchak Hecht. But it appears from your letter and from those preceding it that you don’t yet know him and are not familiar with the strengths and capabilities with which he is endowed. Whatever the case, you should get to know him now. Immediately, everything will change—your mood, your trust in God and simchas ha-chayim… Each man will stumble over his brother, [fleeing] as if from the sword, but without a pursuer. You will not be able to stand up against your enemies You will become lost among the nations, and the land of your enemies will consume you. (26:37-38) Rashi clarifies the import of these verses: “With fear in their hearts, they will run and flee in panic, and will stumble over each other… When you will be scattered, you will become lost from one another.” The students of the Baal Shem Tov expanded this interpretation:, avudim, means not only ‘lost from one another’, but also lost and exiled within — ‘You will lose your sense of self.’ The frightening warnings and prophecies of our sedra parallel those of the Tochachah in Parshas Ki Savo detailing horrific suffering, poverty, war, famine and exile. Worst of all perhaps is this verse: And your life will hang in suspense before you. You will be in fear night and day, and you will not believe in your life…. This is the greatest suffering, to not believe in our lives, to have no faith in oneself, no confidence, purpose or self-esteem. One can become “lost” to a sense of listlessness, alienation and placelessness, always thinking that who we are and what we do is not enough, that our efforts don’t matter, that life is too difficult. In this state, it is not long until one becomes, scattered, and, lost to oneself. While serving as the Rav of Boisk, Latvia, the great Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, zy’a, filled numerous journals with Torah thoughts, poetry and personal reflections. In one passage, he reflects on the ability to recognize the spiritual ‘diamond’ within ourselves and others, as essential to our path: “Until a person teaches himself to truly appreciate the eminence of the human soul, the eminence of the Jewish People, and the eminence of the Holy Land — including the proper yearning that each and every Jew should have for the rebuilding of the Temple, the restoration of greatness to the Jewish People, and their elevation in this world — it is almost impossible for him to truly ‘taste Divine service.” May the message of our sedra awaken us, and make us recognize and reveal our abilities and strengths. And may we “meet ourselves”, become who we really are, and merit that “immediately, everything will change—our mood, our trust in God and simchas ha-chayim…” Rabbi Shor Parshat Bechukotai begins with the words; “Im bechukotai teleichu” - “If you walk in my statutes and safeguard my commandments and fulfill them, then I will provide rain at its proper time.” Rashi, in a famous comment explains the words, Im Bechukotai Teleichu- if you walk in my statutes, to be an instruction to immerse ourselves in Torah- Shetihiyu Ameilim BaTorah-to immerse oneself in the labor of Torah. How are we to understand this insight of Rashi? In the fifth chapter of Sefer Iyov (verse 7) we read: adam le’amel yulad....A person is born to toil/labor. The Great Chasidic Master, the Avodat Yisrael of Koshnitz zy’a points out that the word L’Amel- lamed, ayin, mem, lamed is an acronym for the words Lilmod al menat lelamed- to study Torah, in order that we may teach it to others. How are we to fulfill the precept to walk in Hashem’s statutes? By delving into the Torah’s wisdom, and sharing the relevance, morality and beauty of Torah with others. Rabbi Avraham Borenstein, the Avnei Nezer, the first Rebbe of Sokatchov,zy’a defines this experience of ameilut b’Torah with these words from the introduction to his work Eglei Tal. ‘The essential definition of immersion in Torah is that one needs to find fulfillment, and sweetness or pleasantness in that which is being learned...’ Rav Kook zy’a, in the ninth chapter of Orot HaTorah, echoes these sentiments, and says though it is important that a person strives to achieve basic fluency and fundamental knowledge of all areas of Torah wisdom, it is important to recognize that as individuals each of our souls may be drawn more to a particular area of Torah study. True ameilut, is to find those areas of Torah wisdom that most resonate with our hearts and souls, and to let the sweetness of that wisdom permeate our entire being. Yehi Ratzon, that each of us may find that chelek in the Torah HaKedosha within which our neshama may truly experience that matikut, the sweetness of Torah, and be blessed to share the sweetness of Torah with one another.... Rabbi Friedman Kedushat Shevi’it The handling of holy shemitah produce is a critical element in the observance of the mitzvah of shemitah. Over fifteen different laws of shemitah produce are derived from the verses regarding shemitah in Sefer Vayikra. This includes who is permitted to eat theses fruits and vegetables, where they can be eaten, as well as the use of shemitah produce in non-food related activities. Now that summer is approaching, almost all produce will be somewhat affected by the laws of shemitah. When does produce acquire kedushat shevi’it? The timing of shemitah sanctity for produce depends on the type of crop. For example, vegetables are holy the moment they are picked in the seventh year, while grapes or wheat must reach a third of their growth during the seventh year in order to qualify for the laws of shemitah. Other fruits have different markers of growth, which determine their status. The timing of the shemitah year and the growth of the crop are often not synchronized. Therefore, certain produce will remain kedushat shevi’it well into the eighth year. Rav Yechiel Michel Tikochinski (Sefer Hashemitah p.12), based on the Talmud Yerushalmi (Shevi’it 6:2) , explains that the laws of kedushat shevi’it apply and remain after the seventh year as long as the fruit is still edible. This applies whether it has remained on the tree or has been cooked in a dish. Rav Tikochinski also cites the Talmud Yerushalmi (ibid) that fruits and vegetables from the sixth year do not have kedushat shevi’it even if they grew throughout the seventh year. Therefore, citrus fruits such as oranges, which are found on a tree during the shemitah winter, do not have kedushat shevi’it Rav Tikochinski’s insight is accepted by all the poskim (see Kedushat Ha’aretz 20:12). The consumer must be aware that shemitah produce can be in the markets as late as the spring of the eight year. Fruits kept in cold storage, such as apples, as well as dried fruits, can reach the markets at any time in the future. Even the mitzvah of forfeiting fruit can apply in the eight year. For example, fruit that has holy shemitah status but only becomes edible after shemitah ends is required to be forfeited (hefker), even though that will only occur after shemitah. In summary: Produce that attained kedushat shevi’it (each crop according to its timetable) retains that status even in the eighth year and even if it is still on the tree Kedushat shevi’it produce can be found in the markets well after shemitah finishes. If one has a garden with shemitah fruit that has not ripened until shemitah has finished, he must still relinquish ownership of the produce. Rabbi Taragin A Bittersweet Guarantee Navigating prophecy can be tricky. The dramatic shift of the past century hasn’t ever occurred before and we possess no tradition or roadmap for direction. Moreover, redemption, by its very nature, isn’t logical and can’t be dissected analytically. Redemption will always lie beyond the reach of human cognition. We attempt to redeem our world through human effort and, when inevitably we come up short, Hashem descends into our realm and redeems it for us in a manner beyond human faculty and beyond human analysis. It is the unknowability and irrationality of redemption which renders it redemptive. Unlike halacha, geulah doesn’t inhabit the realm of the rational and isn’t lodged in the logic of the mind. Halacha can be carefully mapped, its rituals quantified, and its application reasoned. Redemption is a great leap into the unknown of history and will never be driven by logic or ration. It is lodged in the collective Jewish heart and the soulful song of our troubled common historical journey. Pioneers of Jewish redemption must walk through a door into the unknown. Walking through that door requires both faith and imagination. Though geulah is uncharted territory, we do have a general road map and a generalized sense of where this process is heading. We have B"H entered the fourth and final chapter of history. The first historical phase of 2500 years was characterized by theological confusion and moral mayhem. Only a few individuals discerned their Creator peering back at them through the veil of Nature and through the chaos of violence. Mass revelation at Sinai, in the year 2448, launched a 1300-year golden era of revelation, prophecy and Jewish monarchy. This period provided us Messianic horizons, but sadly, this potential was repeatedly squandered. Regrettably, we ceaselessly forfeited our invitation to a better future and, tragically, we were cast out of history into a two-thousand year trek through the wilderness of time. After 2000 years of waiting, we have finally advanced to the final phase of history. It may take some time, but the road back to utopia has shifted into full gear. We have turned the handle and entered a new room of history. How long it will take us to traverse this room is anyone’s guess. How do we know? Perhaps a third exile awaits us, crouching unseen in the jungle of history, ready to pounce and overwhelm our meager accomplishments. Ironically, the reassurance that we will not suffer a third exile is encoded within the gloomy tochacha sections of the Torah which describe our expulsion into exile. At the very moment that Hashem scatters us into the diaspora, He embeds deeply-coded clues for our return. On the way out, He waives us back in! A careful analysis of the differences between the two tochachot yields an important clue. The Ramban discerns close to a dozen differences between the first tochacha storyline and the second tochacha narrative. Based on these discrepancies, he associates the first tochacha in Bechukotai with the first exile and the second tochacha in Ki Tavo with the long exile of 2000 years. Remarkably, this assignment of an “exile” to each of the two respective tochacha sections implies that there will never be a third exile. If the potential for a third churban existed, there would have been an additional tochacha section in the Torah. By providing coded descriptions of each exile the Torah assures us that there will not be a third churban. The former Chief Rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Herzog, stressed this message of reassurance at a very frightening moment of Jewish history. On the eve of the six-day war he traveled to Australia to fundraise. Hearing that the Suez-canal had been sealed by the Egyptians and realizing the eventuality of war, he hurriedly traveled back to Israel. Sojourning over Shabbat in New York he spoke to the community about the inevitability of war. Hearing these ominous warnings, the community began to shudder at the prospect of a second Holocaust – this time in the Land of Israel. He assured them that such a calamity could not possibly unfold, as we have a masorah of two exiles but not three. This masorah and his message are rooted in the analysis of the Ramban. This tradition is comforting and reassuring, but also dangerously seductive. Such is the way of redemptive euphoria: it is like lightning in a bottle- it can electrify history, but it can also electrocute it. If, indeed, we are here to stay and are guaranteed against a third churban, perhaps we can act brazenly or irresponsibly on our path to our assured future. If we know where this all ends, perhaps, we can take risks and chances since Hashem will always “have our back”. After all, there can’t be a third churban. True, we know exactly where we are heading, but we don’t know how long it will take to get there or how rocky the road may be. The eviction of 7 million Jews from the Land of Israel would entail, chas v’shalom a churban and we are guaranteed against it. However, the road to full redemption can be peaceful and smooth or it may be jagged and painful. Under the intoxicating spell of redemption our behavior must remain, responsible, measured and humble. We may know the final chapter of the book of history, we may have reached the final section of that book. But there are still many many chapters to be written. Let us write them carefully with a stable hand and courageous heart. And most of all with humility and gratitude that Hashem placed these pens in our hands. Rabbi Goldscheider The seven weeks of Sefirat HaOmer, which we are now counting, bring to mind the personality of Rabbi Akiva. The rituals of mourning that mark these days are based on the tragic death of Rabbi Akiva’s disciples. With this background in mind it is fitting to highlight three teachings from Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik zt”l that address the significant role Rabbi Akiva played in Jewish history and lessons to be learned from him for our own avodas Hashem. The Power of Positivity Of all the rabbinic sages of antiquity, perhaps none was more influential or famous than Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik can be counted among those who were drawn to Rabbi Akiva’s teaching. In his vast array of drashot the Rav highlighted teachings from this great Talmudic sage accentuating a common theme which sheds a light on Rabbi Akiva’s astounding legacy. Rabbi Akiva’s Mikveh Rabbi Akiva lived the first fifty years of life with the Temple of Jerusalem in existence. He personally witnessed the tragedy and experienced the trauma of its destruction. Based on the final Mishna in Masechet Yoma, we get a glimpse of the first Yom Kippur following the Temple’s destruction. We can only imagine what it must have meant to observe the holiest day absent of the rituals and the Kohen Gadol and the avodah in the Beit Hamikdash. Rabbi Akiva was not deterred. He resiliently declared to the broken-hearted nation: “Happy are you, O Israel! Before whom are you purified and who purifies you? Your Father in Heaven…Hashem is the hope [lit. “Mikveh’] of Israel’ ‘: just as the mikveh purifies the impure, so does the Holy One Blessed Be He purify Israel (Final Mishnah Tractate Yoma). The Rav explained that Rabbi Akiva was powerfully conveying the idea that God is so desirous for closeness with His beloved people that ultimately He Himself effects purification. God chooses to bypass the procedures that were required when the Temple stood. God exhibits even greater mercy and love when the people of Israel are forlorn and desperately need compassion. (Rabbi Soloveitchik on the Days of Awe, pp. 99-101). The Kriat Shema of Yaakov and Rabbi Akiva Why is it that an individual only fulfills the mitzvah of the Shema by reciting it twice daily? Why isn’t a single recitation sufficient? The Rav offered an exquisite explanation how the morning and night reading of the Shema are intertwined. He directs our attention to two remarkable readings of the Shema in our ancient past: One by Yaakov and the other by Rabbi Akiva. Yaakov descends to Egypt to finally reunite with his beloved son Yosef. The moment that they embrace, the Sages teach, Yaakov utters the words of the Shema. His words directed to God were evinced with unbridled joy. Yaakov was finally able to see the hand of God at work and how the atzat Hashem he takum, that the plan of God was always at play. The words of Shema were an expression of love. By contrast the Kriat Shema of Rabbi Akiva was enunciated under duress. The great master of Torah recited the Shema while undergoing torture, his body raked with combs of iron (Mesorat Harav Chumash, Bereshit, pp. 342-343, YU Torah, Kriat Shema and Birchot Kriat Shema, Genack). There is the morning Shema and the night Shema. There are moments when faith in God comes easily and other times where it is excruciatingly difficult to believe. The two recitations of the Shema represent the unfailing faith of a Jew. The day signifies light and clarity and the evening represents darkness and hiddenness. The Rav suggested that the two themes can be detected in the noticeable change of wording we attach to the Shema in the morning and night: “Rabba bar Chinena Saba said in the name of Rav: Anyone who does not say Emet Ve-yatziv at shacharit and Emet Ve-emuna at ma’ariv has not fulfilled his obligation [of Keri’at Shema as fully enacted], as it is said, “To tell in the morning of your kindness and your faithfulness in the nights.” (Tehillim 92:3) (Berachot 12b) The morning language of Ve’yatziv connotes God’s palpable presence and abiding strength. The language we attach to the Shema at night, Emunah, is suggestive of the notion that one must garner their strength to be faithful in challenging times. The Talmud, in another striking passage, alludes to the interdependence between the morning and evening Shema based on the number of blessings surrounding the Shema. In the morning three blessings are recited and in the evening four are recited (Berachot 11a). Rashi offers a beautiful explanation for the total number being seven. He quotes the Talmud Yerushalmi that the seven blessings are based on the verse, “Seven times a day I praise You.” (Psalms 119:164). The two recitations of the Shema are to be seen as a single unit. (Al HaTefillah, p.72) Rabbi Akiva and Turnus Rufus Only a man of unceasing optimism would begin at the age of 40 to study Torah. Only a man of extraordinary resilience could witness the death of his 24,000 students and could pick up the pieces and start over with only five disciples (Yevamot 62b). The Rav exquisitely emphasized that it was not merely Rabbi Akiva’s optimistic view towards life but his iron will, determination, and self-sacrifice that led to his successes. This powerful message is conveyed in the following episode. The Rav cited a dialogue between the evil Roman governor Turnus Rufus and Rabbi Akiva (Midrash Tanchuma, Parshat Tazria, Siman 7). Turnus Rufus asked: If God hates the uncircumcised, why does He create man in an uncircumsized state? Rabbi Akiva rejoined: “Does the earth yield its bread?” In his elliptical response, Rabbi Akiva conveyed that, just as God desires that man bring forth bread through effort, it is only man who can sanctify himself. If man wants to attain holiness the initiative rests with him: He must circumcise himself, be’damayich chayi - Through your blood you all live (Yechezkel 16:6). Only through the “blood” of his personal sacrifice shall man live on a holy plane. Without tlil and suffering, there is no holiness. (Derashot HaRav, Lustiger, p.173) Rabbi Meir Soloveitchik, a great-nephew of the Rav, suggested that Rabbi Akiva’s very name hints to his unusual personality. Akiva is essentially an aramaic variant of Yaakov, or Jacob. The name Jacb and Akiva both derive from the word Ekev, or heel. The heel is the lowest portion of the body, yet, at the same time, it is the first part of the body usd to step a step forward. In other words, it is precisely one’s initial downfall that can ultimately emerge as a key to progress. (‘Rabbi Akiva’s Optimism’, Meir Soloveitchik, AzureOnline) OU Israel Parenting Column Dear OU Parenting, My elementary school-age child has been talking about his Lag Ba’omer plans. He has started collecting sticks with his friends, and he told me they are planning to build their own bonfire. I am a relatively recent oleh, and we didn’t have these types of Lag Ba’omer celebrations in the United States. I am concerned that the kids are making a fire, but I also know that this is something that he and his friends are really excited about. Do you have any tips for how to handle this situation? A. L. Rabbi Dr. Ethan Eisen, PhD Dear A. L., This column will be printed after the Lag Ba’omer celebrations, and I hope that everything worked out smoothly with whatever bonfire plans your son had. One aspect of your question that deserves its own column is how we as parents, who brought our families on Aliyah, approach the cultural differences that emerge between ourselves and our children. The celebrations associated with Lag Ba’omer here in Israel are largely foreign to olim, who for many, Lag Ba’omer was a day characterized by getting a haircut, and praising their children’s school project of paper bows and arrows. Child-constructed bonfires seem odd to many olim, and it is worth giving more focus in a future column to how to best address these cultural differences. I want to focus on the specific question of communicating with your son after the fact, when you may use this opportunity to share with your child both concerns and guidance regarding the Lag Ba’omer activities. Children’s safety and protection against property damage are often major worries for parents, but kids are typically not thinking about those issues—they are thinking about how much fun they will have with their friends. As such, before he has participated in a bonfire, he may not be able to understand or internalize the messages you are trying to convey. However, after Lag Ba’omer may be an ideal time to offer guidance for the future, as the experiences of the day are salient in your son’s mind. For example, around the Shabbat table, your son will probably be excited to share with you what his Lag Ba’omer was like, which can provide a comfortable opening for you to ask questions that are important to you and relate to your concerns, such as: “what did you use to build the fire?”, or “how close were you to the fire?”, or “how did you put the fire out?” Hopefully he says they used discarded wood; however, if he says they put in other materials like plastic, or that wood was retrieved from someone else’s property, you can gently instruct him about what materials are safe to put in fires, and from where firewood can be retrieved. Similarly, there can be a discussion about general fire safety, resisting peer pressure to do something unsafe or illegal, and conversation about protecting the environment. Having these conversations with your son in the context of retelling his story will likely feel less “lecture-y,” and can be better received by your son, and any other children around the table. These valuable opportunities for providing guidance and improving communication are not limited to Lag Ba’omer. Of course, sometimes engaging your child in conversation before an event is important and the most effective way to prevent something unwanted from happening. But, as parents, it is useful to keep in mind that even if we miss the chance to speak with our kids prior to an event, that doesn’t mean the opportunity to offer guidance and perspective is lost. Indeed, it could be that after the fact is when our input will be most welcome. Menachem Persoff Sustainability in the Torah In this week’s Parshah, the opening sentence urges us to follow Hashem’s statutes, observe the commandments, and perform them. Rashi explains the seeming redundancy of expression by asserting that the intense study of Hashem’s decrees, to better understand the commands and practice them, is the optimal formula for receiving the ensuing Berachot. The blessings acquired for such loyal actions confer on both the individual and the nation. In but ten sentences (in contradistinction to the numerous verses recounting the punishments for disloyalty to Hashem), the Torah recounts a life full of material rewards – seemingly an unfitting prize for spiritual accomplishment! These ten sentences, however, possibly match the ten pronouncements with which Hashem created the world, as if to suggest that the ultimate spiritual reward can be accomplished through material benefit. For, after all, in a land where the rains fall in the appropriate time (the first of the blessings), the human, animal, and plant worlds all benefit for the good of mankind, in general, and Eretz Yisrael, in particular. In such a world, bereft of hunger, poverty, and insecurity, we are better able to serve Hashem, observe His statutes and earn the ultimate spiritual rewards in Olam Habba. For the initial outcome, as described in the Torah narrative, is that Hashem will walk among the people to be their God and “they will be a people unto me” (Vayikra 26:12). In today’s parlance, we might say that the “rains in their time” is Hashem’s way of ensuring sustainability. The world will live in harmony, nature taking its natural course to create mutual interdependence and homeostasis. And, of more import, following the biblical narrative, is that in Eretz Yisrael, we shall fulfil a dream: “Venatati Shalom Ba’aretz” – ‘I shall induce peace in the Land.” For the Ramban, this means that brothers will no longer fight among themselves. In other words, there will (finally) be unity in Israel! Of course, in that context, and in conclusion, we might remind ourselves that one of the primary principles that we are to imbibe and observe as Jews is the command to “Love your neighbour as yourself.” So, as we prepare to wish each other “Shabbat Shalom,” let us say together: Shabbat Shalom! Rabbi Mann Interrupting Shabbat Meal for Shema/Sefira Question: When we make early Shabbat, is it better, when nighttime falls, to recite Kri’at Shema and sefirat ha’omer during the meal or to wait until after the meal? Answer: We will be assuming you were correct in starting the meal. To make that clear cut, you should have started the meal at least a half-hour before the optimal time for these recitations, which is tzeit hakochavim (Mishna Berura 267:6 regarding Kri’at Shema; ibid. 489:23 regarding sefirat ha’omer). Grounds for leniency to start eating after this point are beyond our present scope (see discussion in Piskei Teshuvot 489:16). The mishna (Shabbat 9b) says that we interrupt certain activities, including eating, in order to recite Kri’at Shema, but do not interrupt for tefilla, as only Kri’at Shema is a Torah-level obligation (Rashi ad loc.). The above refers to a case where he started when he should not have, but if he started early enough before the time for Kri’at Shema, he is not required to interrupt the meal (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 235:2, see Mishna Berura ad loc. 21). According to the Rama (OC 489:4), sefirat ha’omer is like Kri’at Shema – if he started eating when he should not have, he should interrupt the eating for sefirat ha’omer, but if he started when he was allowed to, sefirat ha’omer can wait until after he finishes eating. Sefirat ha’omer is treated as strictly in this regard as Kri’at Shema because of the opinion that sefirat ha’omer is a Torah-level mitzva even when there are no korbanot (Rambam, Temidin 7:24, as opposed to Tosafot, Menachot 66a), and/or because it is a minor disruption of the meal (Mishna Berura 489:25). When it is not required to interrupt, is it positive to do so anyway? The Yerushalmi (Shabbat 1:2) says regarding one who is not required to interrupt eating for Mincha, that if he voluntarily interrupts, we call him a hedyot (simpleton), like others who do things from which they are exempt. Many explanations are given as to why it might be objectionable to “go the extra mile” – it may be haughtiness, it can reflect poorly on those who follow the halacha as given, it can distort the true halacha (see opinions in Encyclopedia Talmudit, entry “Kol hapatur min hadavar v’oseihu”). This rule appears at odds with the common halachic rule that one who is more machmir than he needs to be is lauded as worthy of blessing, and many attempts are made to distinguish between various cases. Regarding the case of Mincha, which the Yerushalmi addressed, while some say that one who is unnecessarily stringent is called a hedyot (Magen Avraham 232:9), others question whether this is accepted (Be’ur Halacha to 232:2; see Divrei Yissachar 18). Regarding voluntarily stopping the meal for the generally more stringent Kri’at Shema and sefirat ha’omer, none of the major commentators raises the prospect of calling him a hedyot. There may be reasons to prefer a voluntary interruption of the meal specifically for sefirat ha’omer. We have seen already the idea that sefirat ha’omer is fulfilled with relative ease, as it does not require much of a break. Additionally, there is special importance to the concern that if he forgets to recite sefirat ha’omer that day, it might disqualify the entire mitzva (see Noda B’yehuda I, OC 27). On the other hand, the Sha’agat Aryeh (22) says that on Shabbat, when one is in the midst of a mandatory full meal, the obligation of Birkat Hamazon (50 + times a year) is more frequent (tadir) than sefirat ha’omer (49 times a year), which gives the former precedence regarding order. (It is unclear if this applies if one does not plan to bentch until much later). In this regard, Kri’at Shema is more common, and therefore has preference over both (ibid.). In summation, there is nothing halachically compelling about either reciting Kri’at Shema and sefirat ha’omer as soon as possible or waiting until the end of the meal. Therefore, the most important determinant is what system works best so that you do not forget to do all the mitzvot sometime during the evening. Rabbi Bloom Harvest By A Jew In A Heter Mechirah Field For Agricultural Experimentation Question: I am a scientist at an agricultural research institute. I would like to harvest samples of wheat planted during shemitah in a field sold through heter mechirah. Is it permissible for a Jew to harvest in this way, since it is not the regular method of harvest and in addition I do not intend to eat the wheat kernels? Answer: In principle, ketzirah, grain harvest, is one of the four biblical actions that are forbidden to Jews even if heter mechirah was performed. It is permissible only for non-Jews. Rambam (Shevi’it 4:1) writes: “The statement “Do not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest” means that one should not reap it in the same manner as one does every year... Examples of ‘regular’ harvesting include harvesting the entire field, piling up the grain, and threshing it with cattle... Instead, he should reap the land little by little, thresh the resulting (small amount of) grain, and partake of it.” Rambam implies that the prohibition relates to harvesting large amounts in the general manner of harvest. However, harvesting small amounts for immediate use and not for large-scale piling of grain for storage or threshing is not a biblical prohibition. Small-scale grain harvest usually is forbidden rabbinically in a field sown during shemitah, but is permissible even by a Jew if the field was sold by heter mechirah. as we shall see below. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach permits Jews to harvest on land sold to a non-Jew Rabbi S.Z.Auerbach (Ma’adanei Eretz §2) writes that even though grain and grape harvest are biblical prohibitions, after heter mechirah only sowing and vineyard pruning are forbidden to Jews during shemitah. However, harvesting is permitted in the same way as in all other years since these acts are linked to ownership of the produce and the soil is sold to a non-Jew and thus is not holy. This is distinguished from sowing and pruning, which are independent of ownership but are forbidden acts in and of themselves since it is forbidden for Jews to sow even in fields belonging to non-Jews. Thus it is permissible for a Jew to harvest the wheat of a non-Jew in Eretz Yisrael, which is the case in heter mechirah. It should be noted that Rabbi Kook (Mishpat Kohen 67) forbids Jews from participating in any grain or grape harvest following heter mechirah. In conclusion: During shemitah a Jew may harvest small quantities of wheat samples grown on land that was properly sold to a non-Jew. Torah4Teens By Teens NCSY Sam Frank ChashModi’in Madrich We Create Our Mindset At the beginning of this week’s parsha, Bney Yisroel are promised great blessings if we follow in the ways of HaShem. We are also warned of the great curses and suffering that will befall us if we do not. In telling us what we should do, the pasuk tells us of how we need to learn the Torah and perform its mitzvot (Rashi). When the Torah warns us about what not to do, the pasuk uses a slightly different wording but still a parallel opposite of the first pasuk. “If you don’t learn the Torah and don’t follow its commandments...” The Torah then proceeds to add a few things that are not found in the ‘what yes to do’ section, the first of which being “Ìand if you despise My statutes.” Why is it that the Torah doesn’t charge us with ‘cherishing’ His statutes the way we are warned from despising them? I’d like to suggest an explanation based on the famous line, KI ACHAREI HAPEULOT NIMSHACHIM HALEVAVOT. When we act disdainfully towards the Torah and its mitzvot, it’s only natural that we will become our emotional perspective. On the other hand when it comes to the active performance of learning Torah and following the mitzvot, we are held responsible to invest and make a real effort, and be’ezrat HaShem be zoche to experience the DERACHEHA DARCHEI NOAM VCHOL NITIVOTEHA SHALOM of a life of avodat HaShem. Although, sometimes we won’t, and it’s in those times especially where we don’t find any mention of or have any feeling of ‘cherishing His statutes’ that the Torah reminds of just how much bracha we are deserving of and just how valuable we, and all that we do, are to Hashem. Shabbat Shalom! Abigael Elkaim 12th Grade, Modiin Bows and Rainbows The annual Jewish festival of Lag B’Omer occurred this past Wednesday night, on the 18th of Iyar, and we celebrated by throwing parties and making bonfires. It is also common, especially among children, to play with bows and arrows on Lag B’Omer. Why are bows and arrows, normally used as weapons, used to celebrate the life of the holy and humble Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, one of our greatest sages and top students of Rabbi Akiva? According to our sages, one connection between Rashbi and the idea of bows and arrows is that no rainbows appeared during his lifetime. The Sages tell us that while rainbows are a very beautiful sight, they signify that G-d is unhappy with the world, and instead of sending punishment and destruction like He did through the mabul, He sends a rainbow as a sign to tell us to improve. A rainbow is therefore a symbol of Hashem’s promise to Noach never to destroy our world again because of our sins. The merit of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, however, was so strong that it overpowered the sins of his generation, and that’s why no rainbow was ever shown by G-d. But what do rainbows have to do with bows and arrows? The Hebrew word for “rainbow” in Hebrew is keshet and, interestingly, the same word, keshet, is used for the bow used in archery. Therefore, when we use bows and arrows, it is a way to commemorate Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai’s strong merit during his time. Just as Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai’s humility and holiness merited his nation’s salvation, we too can strive for greatness in our time. When using a bow and arrow, the closer in you pull the bow toward yourself, the further the distance the arrow will travel when released. As Jewish people, by focusing on our own actions each day, we make a huge impact on our nation as a whole, and with each mitzvah and act of kindness, our merits as a nation will only grow!!