A thought on Parshas Balak

"...va'yitzamed Yisroel l'Ba'al Peor...""...and Israel was hooked on Ba'al Peor..." (25:3)

Our nation's encounter with the seductive Midianites included a tragic entanglement with the cult which worshipped a bizarre idol. The word tzamad means an attachment, hence my colloquial translation about "getting hooked." It is an ugly image for a G-dly nation and the Torah is very direct in its description of our relationship with Peor as a tzamad.

Rabbeinu Bachya notes that there is a difference in saying that we became hooked to that pagan cult as compared with saying we were connected (deveikus) to it in the way that the Torah directs us to cling or be connected to our own G-d.

When we cling to HaShem, we aim to have, to feel, to have faith in, a steadfast and sincere relationship with Him. Nothing comes between us and our clinging to Him, ka'va'yachol. In the matter of Peor, it was a matter of being hooked, paired or coupled with something else. Rabbeinu Bachya notes that the seductive ploy of the Midianites to pair our men off with their princesses was the real hook which connected us to the idol involvement. It was not sincere. It was not pure. It was not spiritual and it was not faith driven. Rather, falling for the overtures of the Midianites and their wily offers led some of us to feel a self-deceptive inspiration to find the Peor cult fascinating. There was nothing sacred about our yearning, for there was no real yearning. It was a matter of cognitive dissonance: since we wanted to draw close to the tempting Midianites, and we would have to profess interest in their cult in order to do so, there were those who "suddenly discovered" that they wanted to accept the Peor practices as well. It was a convenient hook-up, not a spiritual bonding.

We are very good at pulling the wool over our own eyes when we are pursuing something which involves a values compromise. It's like the joke about the rabbi who is asked to give a dog a bar mitzva in his schul. He adamantly refuses until the dog's owner offers him a sum of money which he "can't refuse." He suddenly says to the owner, "why didn't you tell me your dog was Jewish?"

Many years ago as a yeshiva student, I used to spend time with Rav Moshe Ebstein who was a great talmid chocham and ba'al machshova. He used to point to the verse in Hoshea (4:13) which says people offer sacrifices to the "gods of the trees" "because its shade is good." This means that they have no real interest in the idol nor in worshipping it other than because they are getting some other benefit or pleasure from their involvement with that sect or cult (the "shade" which it offers.)

Today, while in the bank, a young woman approached me and asked me if I was a rabbi. She asked me if I could direct her and her fiance to a rabbi who might marry them. She then went on to say that "we are Israelis which is why we are not religious and don't have a rabbi or a synagogue."

Was she not religious because she was an Israeli, or was she not religious because she was not religious, and felt that she could explain that by referencing her having been brought up in Israel where, alas, religion is not hooked to the ideology of the government and the masses?

I don't know, but I directed her to someone who could help her, and asked her to be in touch with me along with her fiance if she needed anything more. A sad encounter, but I hope she will find inspiration and a better connection with her religion. I hope we all feel deveikus with our faith, and are not just hooked on it because of peer pressure or other ulterior motives.

Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Chukas

"...ha'nogae'ah b'meis...hu yischata bo...""...one who contacts a corpse will be purified with this..." (19:11-12)

The Torah prescribes a purifying ritual for those defiled by contamination through contact with the dead. They are cleansed with a water treated with the ash of a red heifer and with hyssop, a herb many identify with za'atar, used in cooking. This is the water of the para aduma, which has long been lost to us but will be restored when an unblemished red heifer will be found, and when the Moshiach is here. Until then, there is no way in which a person can attain complete purification, since all of us have had some contact with the form of tuma emanating from dead persons and from those who have been near them. Until then, we are limited by our ritual impurity, we cannot ascend to the makom ha'mikdash in Jerusalem, and we cannot remove our tuma.

Have you ever wondered why people, after visiting a cemetery, have the custom to wash their hands in the same way in which we "wash for bread" or upon waking up? Have you ever noticed how some have the custom, upon leaving a cemetery, of picking up some grass and a small clod of earth, then casting both behind them, before washing the hands?

Rabbeinu Bachya enlightens us: there may be no halachic necessity to do these practices. Once a person has entered a cemetery, the tuma status is automatic, and nothing can be done to remove it and purify him or her. In halachic reality, we cannot wash this off. Even a mikva lacks the potency to purify tumas meis. We know this, yet we also long for the coming of the Moshiach. We yearn for the day when there will be no mortality and the righteous of all generations will arise at techiyas ha'meisim. We experience the grief at a cemetery of not only actual losses but of the loss of our historical privilege to attain utter cleanliness. Only with that purity will we be allowed admission to the Holy Beis HaMikdash where we can engage in the Sacred avoda. We are aware of our status, stuck with our accumulated tuma.

We symbolize this awareness by enacting a "zecher l'mikdash" - a commemoration of the mei eifer para aduma - by taking grass, symbolizing the hyssop. The earth (afar) symbolizes the ash (eifer). The water symbolizes... the water. We do a token "cleansing" to show our readiness to reinstate all of that process. It is a facsimile of mei eifer para aduma!

My great rebbe Rav Wasserman zichrono li'vracha gave us the custom of visiting a cemetery during Tisha B'Av (it is mentioned by the Rema in Shulchan Orech although I do not know many people, other than talmidim of Rav Wasserman and select others, who actually practice this.) This year when we follow our custom of visiting a local cemetery, I hope to capture the fuller essence of the post-visit "cleansing." It is not to wash the hands, says Rabbeinu Bachya, but rather to enact our passion to hasten the coming of the Moshiach, when cleanliness will be next to G-dliness and we will make our way back to our tachlis when He is machazir Shechinaso L'Tzion.

Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought on Parshas Korach

""...va'yiplu al peneihem...""...and they fell over their faces..." (16:22)

Upon hearing the allegations made by Korach and company, Moshe and Aharon lowered themselves, covering their faces by laying head over arm, praying. Our sages derive from this imagery that we too lower head upon arm during select times in our own prayers. Why is this done and what does it express or symbolize?Rabbeinu Bachya offers three observations. Firstly, we signify our awe in the Presence of the Divine at those key moments of supplication. Secondly, we display our anguish and sense of lowliness when poised in that position. Thirdly, frozen in this crunched posture, we attempt to still our senses and stifle our sensations.

He elaborates: Men are accustomed to wrapping themselves in a talis, covering face and head, during special moments of intense prayer. We commune with Above not by facing the skies nor by holding head up high but by making our selves enshrouded and hidden, then we proclaim HaShem's majestic greatness by displaying our minute anonymity in His great universe.

Further, he writes, the lowered, covered stance signifies that a person feels blinded and confused, unable to navigate on his own, as if paralyzed with frailty, and needy of direction and support. Shutting out the senses and quelling all sensations expresses that we seek only to be vessels of HaShem's ratzon, awaiting His word and guidance to fill us and to illuminate us. We are still and we are quiet as we wait with hope and faith.

Rabbeinu Bachya then observes a difference between the Jewish prayer posture and that of the Christian world (he lived during the Golden Age of Spanish Jewry when the Moorish influence had waned and that of the church was on the ascent.) He says that those people do not know why they fold or clasp their hands, but it is similar to our own kavana. They try to symbolize with their steadfast hands that they have no personal strength to help themselves, and instead turn to Heaven with a gesture of being powerless.

We Jews, however, stand very still and keep our legs and feet together when we pray our Amida. This is a fuller means of symbolizing that we are immobilized and "unplugged"
without Divine will. Our steadfast stance communicates our realization that we are unable both to protect ourselves from trouble and to bring ourselves benefit without HaShem to empower us.

Covering our eyes, our faces, our heads, our entire selves, serves profound spiritual purposes during various forms and stages of praying. May our words, our thoughts, our feelings and our gestures be acceptable before Him always. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A thought On Parshas Shelach

"...v'aron bris HaShem u'Moshe lo moshu...""...and the Ark of HaShem's Covenant, and Moshe did not move..." (15:44)

The Torah pairs our Master Moshe with the Holy Ark. The verse incorporates them into a single clause, suggesting that if the Ark was not traveling, then Moshe would also stay put.

This thought goes deeper. There is a difference between a simile and a metaphor. A simile is when a comparison is made between two things as a means of borrowing an idea about one of them in order to describe a quality of the other one. For example, I could say that "my rebbe's words are as good as gold", and this would mean that I want others to attribute some quality of gold to those words. This might mean that his words were precious, or that his words were appealing to hear, or that I was greedy to take all of them for myself. That would be the use of a simile. If I said, however, "my rebbe's golden words", I would want you to fuse your image of gold with the image of my rebbe speaking, and experience that image at more than a cognitive level. I would want for you to have an almost transcendent sense of what it was like to learn from my great rebbe zichrono l'vracha.

Our verse's comparison could be understood as a simile: wherever you would find the Ark, there you would also find Moshe, as the words Aron bris HaShem u'Moshe imply. Moshe was similar to the Ark in the sense that he stayed with it. However, I think that Rabbeinu Bachya is interpreting these words metaphorically. There was an entity in the desert known as "the Ark and Moshe." Moshe was the embodiment of exactly what the Ark embodied. They were both entirely dedicated to containing HaShem's Torah. They were both the holders of the Covenant of HaShem. Moshe was a Holy Ark.

I believe that Rabbeinu Bachya employs this idea further in our parsha. The Torah vilifies one who blasphemes the Name of HaShem "...ki dvar HaShem bozza..." - for he has scorned the word of G-d. Some of us are aware that Chazal derive from this verse that one who is rude to a Torah scholar is also included in the category of ki dvar HaShem bozza. Now what we may not understand is how our sages inferred from those words that the verse is also referring to one who is confrontational and disrespectful towards a Torah scholar. Rabbeinu Bachya understands that here also, the Torah is making a metaphoric analogy between "the word of HaShem" and the talmid chocham. A Torah scholar is the word of HaShem. It is not only that he speaks and teaches HaShem's words. He is to be regarded as HaShem's words. He is actually the Torah come alive.

I can remember many years ago attending an emergency gathering in Baltimore following a much publicized moment when a well known figure cast aspersion on Rav Schach. This shocking statement made the international press and fomented horrible machlokes. Rabbi Ruderman zt'l, the Baltimore rosh yeshiva, delegated his son in law, the venerable Rabbi Yakov Weinberg zt'l to address the large crowd.

I still remember his screaming message "They ripped a Sefer Torah apart and they tore it to shreds!" That was no simile. It was pure metaphor. He viewed the great Rav Schach not as if he was a like a Torah, but as a living dvar HaShem!

We need to get hold of this thought. Our Torah scholars are our embodiment of the word of HaShem. Our Torah leaders are our Arks of the Covenant. And we too, when we learn and imbibe the Holy Words of Torah, we become containers for His Sacred Ways. Rav Moshe Feinstein zt'l went as far as saying that although we refrain from kissing a friend or even our child upon encountering them within a synagogue, if we encounter someone with whom we are close because we have high regard for the Torah they have learned then we may embrace and kiss them on the spot. We are giving reverence to their Torah.

Good Shabbos. D Fox