A thought on Parshas Shlach

"... al kanfei big'dae'hem..." "...on the corners of their garments..." (15:38) The Torah commands us to place fringes on the corners of our garments, known as tzitzis. Some wear them beneath their clothing, some above, some dangling the fringes out and some tucking them in. But the mitzva is well known to us, and men go out of their way to wear a four-cornered garment in order to place the specially tied fringes on those corners. This is in addition to the tallis which men wear during morning prayers. In earlier times, men wore the cloak-like tallis throughout the day. In our times, it is generally thought of as a prayer shawl donned in the morning, or by a person leading group prayer services during the rest of the day. The smaller "tzitzis" garment is worn throughout the day to fulfill the mitzva. Rabbeinu Avigdor has a lot to say about the commandment of tzitzis. He surveys the halachic issues as well as some inferences and lessons we derive from studying other aspects of this mitzva. He also looks at the positioning of the saga of the Mekoshesh - the man who violated the Shabbos prohibition of gathering in the field - with the passage about tzitzis. What links these two disparate topics? Rabbeinu Avigdor suggests that the Torah is hinting that failing to recall that Shabbos is a day with special restrictions is linked to failing to preserve Shabbos through accenting its special opportunities. Something led the Mekoshesh to fail to observe Shabbos on that day in the desert. From the fact that the Torah immediately introduces the passage about Jews needing to dress distinctively, we can derive that a powerful way to remember to preserve the holiness of Shabbos is to dress specially. On the basis of this, Rabbeinu Avigdor the Posek rules that it is forbidden to walk out on Shabbos in a public place or street unless one is wearing his full attire.This helps remind us that Shabbos is sacred and special. Many authorities also bring this ruling, including the ReMa in Shulchan Aruch (301:16). Since the mitzva of tzitzis includes a theme of remembering (see verse 40), we can understand how another nuance of "remembering" associated with wearing special garments is that they will help us remember that the day of Shabbos is special. I can remember pointing this out to my sons when they were little that our best suit, shirt, tie, shoes and hat is set aside for Shabbos wear. Rabbeinu Avigdor adds that the term "corners" (kanfei big'dae'hem) is commemorative of the term "wings of eagles" (kanfei nesharim) which is used in Shmos 19:4. HaShem told Moshe that His bringing us out of Egypt was "on the wings of eagles." Wing and corner are the same word in Hebrew. Rabbeinu Avigdor observes that we show our indebtedness commemoratively to HaShem for bearing us on "eagles' wings" by bearing fringes on the winged corners of our garments. Moreover, he notes, the gematria of "tzitzis" equals the numerical value of "nesharim." They both add up to 600. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas B'haaloscha

"...shiv'iim ish..." "...seventy men..." (11:16) The Jewish nation has always enjoyed the offices of learned dayanim - elders and judges - who guide the people by ruling on their disputes and conflicts. The prototypical great court was made up of seventy one judges. This is implicit in our verse's instruction that Moshe take another seventy men from among the learned elders of the nation. In our parlance, this body of elders is known as the Sanhedrin. There is an entire tractate of mishna and Talmud bearing that title. Some of us know that the word is closely linked to the Greek words syn and hedron which means a council of persons sitting together in a circle. It is accurate to call our Great Court the Sanhedrin for in fact, they were seated together in a partial circle as they heard cases. Still, one wonders why our Sages settled on a Greek-based word instead of some Hebrew term for referring to this Great Court and its members. Some early sources (such as the MaHaRil of 14th Century Germany) have seen a notrikon of "sonaei hadras panim b'din" which means "those who are opposed to showing partiality while judging", which was a core value of those saintly judges. Thus, our Sages may have adopted this descriptive title since it had a literal as well as a deeper quasi-Hebrew or Aramaic connotation. Rabbeinu Avigdor offers different insights: He suggests that the first syllable (san) is a derivative of Sinai and the second two syllables (hadrin) is the verb form of hadar which means splendor. The judges of the Sanhedrin learned and knew the Torah that was given on Sinai, and they were always refining its splendor through bringing out its deepest lessons. They were "Sinai Hadrin" - those who beautified the Torah of Sinai. Rabbeinu Avigdor then adds that he also heard an interpretation that the first two syllables (sanae) come from the word sonae which means one who hates or is opposed to something. The second syllables (darin) is an Aramaic plural derivative of the Hebrew word doron which means gift. The Sanhedrin avoided taking gifts which might in any way bias their judgment in favor of one side. They were the Sonae HaDarin - the Bribe Haters. So, the term Sanhedrin was utilized because it had a recognizable overt meaning of "a seated council" as well as a descriptive deeper meaning which alluded to the high caliber and integrity of those who were worthy of joining its ranks. We have not yet merited in our times, alas, such a court. May it be reestablished in our day. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Bamidbar

"...ae'leh kru'ae ha'aeda..." "...these are the ones who are called upon..." (1:16) The Torah introduces the tribal heads who were to lead the nation on their travels. Each tribe had a representative. They are referred to here, collectively, as "the ones called upon." They are the ones who were summoned to the task of leading, the ones whom the tribes turned to and called upon when in need of direction. The atypical feature of our verse is the spelling of that word "kru'ae". It is pronounced as I have transliterated it here (kru as in 'crouton'; ae as in 'atheist', 'weight', 'aimless' etc.) yet it is not spelled out letter by letter in the typical manner. Usually, a word with that pronunciation would be written kuf, reish, vov, alef, yud. The middle letter, vov, would give it the "u" sound when dotted in the middle. However, in the Torah, the word is written kuf, reish, yud, alef, yud. The vov is shortened and looks like the smaller letter yud. That means that by all rights, we would have pronounced the word kree'ae. It is our mesora, however, that we overlook the actual spelling and we are meant to pronounce the word as if the yud was a vov. It is pronounced kru'ae. What might we able to interpret from this contrast between the visible and audible? What secret meaning might await us here? Rabbeinu Avigdor says that the yud, which represents the number ten, means to allude to how each of these tribal leaders had been present at the giving of the Torah. They had each embraced the "Ten", meaning, the giving of the Tablets on Sinai. Hence, they were worthy and learned people. They were learning people, as well, and in a position to listen to the needs of their nation and to seek counsel from the Torah and listen to their Torah teachers. This is the lesson of the vov which is written as a yud. Rabbeinu Avigdor then compares our word to one found later on in parshas Korach. In the Korach uprising, we are told that the ring leaders selected prominent men. They called them up to help spearhead a planned rebellion. The Torah refers to those men as kree'ae moed - men called to the meeting. Oddly, that word is written kuf, reish, alef, yud. There is no middle yud even though it is pronounced as if it had a yud. It is almost the opposite of our verse's word. Our word has a yud but is pronounced as if it had a vov. This second word has no yud but is pronounced as if it does have a yud. What is the lesson here? Rabbeinu Avigdor writes that we infer here the opposite lesson. The men who joined and led the rebels were "lacking Ten". From the fact that they defied the Torah leaders, it was apparent that they had not embraced the Torah at Sinai. Part and parcel of accepting the Torah is that we accept those who are truly learned in Torah and who live by the Torah. Those who do not respect Torah leaders do not respect Torah itself. Hence, they are missing their yudishkeit. Good Shabbos from Jerusalem. D Fox

A Thought on Parshios Behar Bechukosai

"...v'eschem Azareh ba'goyim..." "...and I will disperse you among the nations..." (26:33) There is great pain and fear in the threatening words of the tocha'cha this week. HaShem has given us the ground rules for survival as a Jewish people in our own land. We have rules to obey, we have practices to promote, and we have standards to excel at. The Torah gives us the fearful alternative fate of failing in those areas. The concept of exile is outlined, with all of its consequences and destruction to life as we should have lived it. Our verse here enunciates an aspect of exile which seems definitional. Of course if we are exiled, we leave our homeland. Ergo, we go elsewhere. What is it about being "dispersed" that is worse (and different) than merely being exiled? What is the scourge and tragedy of being dispersed? After all, the Talmud states that being dispersed helps guarantee our survival in exile! If we are scattered into smaller communities, as opposed to congregating in one land or location, we are able to exist without such easy detection. We are able to maintain some level of safety even if our brethren in some other land are in trouble r'l. So, what does our verse portend in understanding the horrors of exile? What is tragic about dispersal? Rabbeinu Avigdor - drawing on the same midrashic theme taken by Rashi -offers that for a Jew, this dispersal is actually the hardest part of exile. He reasons that when we are distressed or down, it can be most comforting to connect with our fellow Jews. It is calming and reassuring to have family, relatives, "landsmen" in our lives. People feel nechama - relief and comfort - when they see their compatriots. In contrast, when we are as disconnected "as barleycorns thrown to the fields", the feeling of isolation is unbearable. Rabbeinu Avigdor cites a verse (Yechezkel 20.:23) which declares "And I will cast you out among the nations and you will be scattered across many lands." That is terrifying because of the abject lonesomeness which dispersal entails. He writes that this is the "midda kosha" - the worst that can happen to us. I have noticed over the last many years that, whether in my own town or when I travel, when Jews pass each other in the street or chance upon one another on some mountain trail or other spot, sometimes some of us avert our eyes, avoid interaction or at best mumble something not unkind but unintelligible. In contrast, I can remember growing up in California and because of the relative scarcity of Jews, when you saw someone - even a stranger - who was a "landsman", you would go so far as to cross the street in order to greet him. Last summer, my wife and I took our oldest grandson to Yosemite. My wife had on a baseball camp, left over from some family reunion, which said "Savta." Some woman on one of the hiking trails noticed it, came over and said "Shalom" and the two of them talked a bit in a warm "heimishe" manner. I remember driving home from the desert once and noticing a car stopped on the side of the highway. There was a man with a yarmulka next to it who looked worried. This was not the New Jersey Turnpike where such can happen. This was no place. I remember pulling over and asking if he needed help. He seemed irritated and uncomfortable with that. I wondered later if I had not looked Jewish if he would have felt more at ease. I will never know. What touches me about this view of Rabbeinu Avigdor is that he is mindful and sensitive to something which we sometimes are unfeeling about: exile is a lonely place yet the balm to help relieve the hurt is having co-religionists nearby to connect with. We need that. They need that. That can be our source of comfort and can help pave the highway which we will travel in our journey out of golus towards geula. I am sending this out a bit early because I depart shortly for Jerusalem b'H. I will also try to get out my Parsha Thought on BaMidbar soon. Good Shabbos. D Fox