Thursday, January 31, 2013

A thought on Parshas Yisro

"...Anochi HaShem..." "...it is I G-d your Lord..." (20:2) When HaShem speaks to us, as we wait gathered at the foot of Sinai, He proclaims in this first of the "10 Commandments" in direct and intimate terms "it is I, your G-d." You can imagine, I think, the scene: thundering, flashes of light, luminous cloud cover and a celestial voice unparalleled and never to be repeated in history! We hear and can discern words and terminology, yet the introductory message is very personal and direct. HaShem presents Himself audibly, in first "person." Invisible yet intimate. From the standpoint of the millions of Jews below, what was this like? How can you feel that someone or something is connecting with you on a first-name basis if you cannot see or touch him or her? I don't intend this as a joke, just as an analogy, but if you got a fortune in a cookie and it said, "Howdy, Avrumi (or whatever your name was), this is Fortuna and here is your individualized good news", you would be baffled since you don't know this Fortuna, you will never meet her, you don't know what or who or if she really is, and have no idea what she looks like. It would seem like an awkward way of communicating to you. You cannot answer back in a direct and personal way. How could you make use of that introduction in any meaningful way? Rabbeinu Avigdor opens our eyes. He begins with some remez, that approach to probing the deeper allusions of the Torah through parallel meanings. The word for "it is I" (Anochi) is equivalent, in numeric gematria, to the word for Throne (kisae). They both add up to 81. What this hints to is that the phenomenon of Mattan Torah included the parting of the Seven Partitions which demarcate each level of the Seven Firmaments (known in English lore as "the Seven Heavens" - we sometimes hear the expression "I was in seventh heaven"). With the removal of atmospheric conditions, we Jews were able to see into eternal space, past the galaxies and the celestial plane. In our mystical kabbalistic tradition (of which our Rabbeinu Avigdor was a master), the Kisae haKavod (the Throne of HaShem's imaginal Presence) sits beyond outer space. In declaring "This is I, HaShem your Lord", we had a momentary spiritual glimpse or encounter with that sense of the Sacred. We felt as if we were "meeting" the Divine. That is why the familiar and intimate Self-description was used. Why was that important? Why was that a necessary image for us to sense and behold? Rabbeinu Avigdor goes further. In receiving the Torah, we all needed clarity that there is no one and no thing other than HaShem. HaShem is One and there is no other one, no other entity in inner or outer space. This is what is meant when we are told later in the Torah (Devarim 4:34) "ata hor'aisa la'daas ki HaShem Hu haElokim, ain od milvado" - you have been shown to know that it is HaShem Alone who is Lord, there is none other. That verse recaptures the moment of the giving of the Torah, when the vision which accompanied the sound of the Voice was that of the supernal Throne of HaShem's One-ness. On the basis of this interpretation, Rabbeinu Avigdor now returns to pshat and psak - the direct and practical lesson of this midrashic lesson. We exercise the custom, he writes, on Simchas Torah, of saying that very verse as we prepare to receive the Torah from the Holy Ark. All of you who have assembled at the Aron Kodesh on that day remember how we chant the resounding "Ata ho'raisa." Rabbeinu Avigdor teaches us the origin of that practice. We say this verse to help us envision that first Giving of the Torah when we saw that HaShem Alone is the One G-d, indivisible and supernal, yet through His Torah, very intimately a part of each one of us who receive His teachings. Rabbeinu Avigdor adds that in Mesechta Sofrim (13), there is another custom brought to say that verse every Shabbos as the Torah is brought out. This was a practice introduced by the Jews of Sfarad, and is mentioned in Sefer HaManhig by Rabbeinu Avraham HaYarchi, who was one of the baalei Tosfos from Lunel, France. Our own master Rabbeinu Avigdor usually cites the customs of Ashkenaz, and those of us who follow those traditions say this verse only on Simchas Torah when we commemorate that moment at Sinai when all was clear. Good Shabbos. D Fox

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A Thought on Parshas Beshlach

"...v'haya mishneh..." "...and it was double..." (16:8) The manna which sustained our people in the desert would be collected each morning. Anything leftover at night's end would disintegrate or decay. The exception was on Shabbos. The Torah tell us that a double portion was available each Friday morning to assure that the Jews had enough to last until after the Sabbath ended. We were forbidden to forage and to gather in the field on Shabbos, even to survive in that desert wilderness. Hence, manna was provided in double amounts on Friday, and miraculously, it did not rot over Friday night. There are various customs as to how we preserve this historical phenomenon in our times. We know that three meals - shalosh seudos - are arranged each Shabbos. Most people have two loaves at each of those three meals, so that at every sitting, the miracle of the double portion is commemorated. Rabbeinu Avigdor offers a different view. The Torah declares that a portion of "two omers" of manna appeared for every person on Friday, in contrast with the single omer which fell on the other six days of the week. An omer is sufficient to provide a person with two loaves, one for the morning weekday meal and one for the evening meal. This means that on Friday the double portion of manna would suffice for four loaves. That means that Friday morning each person had a single loaf for breakfast, which left three loaves to be used over the three meals of Shabbos. Following that system, in commemorating the manna phenomenon, every Friday night, a person should have three loaves on hand and eat one of them. Shabbos morning one has two left and eats one of the two. By the third meal, a single loaf would remain. So, on the basis of this accounting, Rabbeinu Avigdor reasons that at "Seuda Shlishis" we only need to have one challa. But this means that there is nothing unique about the third Shabbos meal. It is like any other weekly meal at which we have a single loaf or roll or piece of bread present. The symbolism of this meal in commemorating the manna is that we specifically have one loaf only, which is what they had left Shabbos afternoon in the desert. However, Rabbeinu Avigdor rules that there is in fact a uniqueness to Seuda Shlishis, in contrast with normal weekday meals. He rules that one should say kiddush! He holds that one must say a kiddush at every meal over the course of Shabbos. The Friday night formal kiddush is known to us. The daytime "kiddusha rabba" which the Talmud dictates is, with some scriptural preface, a simple bracha of "borei pri ha'gafen". We all say this at our second meal, which is the Shabbos daytime lunch. According to Rabbeinu Avigdor, the same kiddusha rabba should be recited again at Seuda Shlishis to distinguish it from a weekday meal. This past Shabbos and Sunday, I had the wonderful opportunity to spend some time with the Tolner Rebbe shlit'a of Jerusalem. He was in Los Angeles and I was invited to meet him. He is a great gaon and tzadik. One of the questions he asked over Shabbos was on the famous song "Menucha V'Simcha" which catalogues (if you study it) the sequence of activities which are observed every Shabbos. It gives a chronological hymn about Shabbos. Near the end, after singing about Shabbos morning prayers, the final stanza begins "B'mishneh lechem v'kiddush rabba" - with the double loaf and the kiddush blessing. The Talner Rebbe asked that surely the author should have reversed this order. It should have said, "B'kiddush rabba u'mishneh lechem" - we say the kiddush and then eat the double loaves. He mentioned that there is actually an edition which does reverse this order, although it sacrifices the rhyme which would match the subsequent words (ruach nadiva only rhymes with kiddush rabba, not with mishneh lechem). I suggested to the rebbe that with Rabbeinu Avigdor's ruling, the song makes perfect sense. The only meal where there is "mishneh lechem" according to him is the second meal, or lunchtime. That is what distinguishes lunch since evening dinner has three loaves at the table, and the third meal only has one. However, we go from "mishneh lechem" - the second meal - to Seuda Shlishis, the third meal, which only has a single loaf yet it takes its unique Shabbos quality from the fact that we recite kiddush rabba. So, the hymn first refers to "Mishneh Lechem" which is the lunchtime meal which follows morning prayers. It is the only one of the three Shabbos meals which has mishneh lechem. The next clause in the hymn, Kiddush Rabba, refers to the third meal, which is unique in that it has a kiddush even though it lacks a special combination of challos. In view of Rabbeinu Avigdor's practice, then, we have an understanding of why the unknown author of Menucha V'Simcha arranged the song with that sequence of events. Perhaps he was a Frenchman, as was Rabbeinu Avigdor. Good Shabbos. D Fox

Thursday, January 10, 2013

A thought on Parshas Vaera

"...HaShem haTzadik..." "...G-d is Just..." (9:27) When Pharaoh is confronted with further signs that unnatural changes are destroying his empire, he confesses his guilt and admits that HaShem is just in His decrees against the Egyptians. What is the deeper significance of these words, as Pharaoh utters them? Rabbeinu Avigdor begins at the pshat level and points to the irony: earlier on (5:2) this same Pharaoh had claimed that he did not know or recognize this purported "G-d" of the Jews; now he concedes that this G-d is real. He concedes and acknowledges that this HaShem is just and correct in punishing the Egyptians. Rabbeinu Avigdor then goes to the drash level. He cites a midrashic tradition that when the tides turned at the sea and drowned the Egyptian army, Pharaoh was saved. This, says Rabbeinu Avigdor, was because he had accepted the judgement against him as our verse writes. He had accepted HaShem's justice, which is known as tziduk ha'din. Rabbeinu Avigdor now adds a surprising angle of interpretation. He turns to sod, a more mystical level of finding interrelatedness within Biblical passages, and then develops from it a halachic teaching. It is clear from the Torah that something significant happened when Pharaoh declared "HaShem haTzadik." From the midrashic understanding, we see that the word "tzadik" is a noun, and not an adjective. Moreover, it is a sacred noun rather than a common noun. That is, Pharaoh is not describing HaShem as just or righteous. He is naming HaShem "the Just One." That means that with those words, Pharaoh actually "anointed" HaShem with a "new" title. This was an act of submission on his part. In the same way that a servant bows to a king in acknowledging that he is his sovereign ruler and master, Pharaoh was acknowledging that when HaShem acts, His actions are just and unquestionable. This was a great moment in the history of humanity. For this reason, we can then follow why the midrash is certain that Pharaoh deserved a personal miracle - he survived the catastrophe at the sea. And now, Rabbeinu Avigdor introduces a practical application of this message. You may recall that at many points in the year, we offer prayers of awareness that HaShem is the Just G-d. At the close of our Ashamnu confessions, we echo a verse from the Book of Nechemia (9:33) "V'Ata Tzadik al kol ha'ba aleinu ki emes Asisa va'anachnu hirshanu." I have always chanted this, along with most others, as "V'Ata....Tzadik al kol ha'ba..." etc. and I have always assumed that the proper meaning is "And You (HaShem) ---- are justified in all that overcomes us." Rabbeinu Avigdor corrects this. He rules (as psak) that it is proper to call out aloud as a single clause "V'Ata Tzadik" - You are Just! Since HaShem veritably glorifies Himself before the Heavenly host when He is acknowledged as Just, it is that proclamation which is central. The words of contrition and confession which follow in that verse are powerful and very important, but the statement which can change the decree, that can alter the natural progression, is "HaShem You are Just." Good Shabbos. D Fox

Thursday, January 03, 2013

A Thought on Parshas Shmos

"...v'yit'men'aehu ba'chol..." "...and he hid him in the sand.." (2:12) When Moshe intervened to stop an Egyptian guard from beating a Jewish slave, he killed the Egyptian. The Torah relates how he hid the corpse in the sand. Despite Moshe's right to protect the helpless slave, as well as Moshe's authority as a member of Pharaoh's royal family, he seemed set on covering his tracks. The Torah enunciates how he buried the man in sand. Rabbeinu Avigdor begins with a midrashic view of the verse. The sand was chosen by Moshe as a symbol for his Jewish brothers: he said to them, "You have been compared to the sand." One aspect of sand is that when it shifts in the wind or slides with gravity, it makes no sound. At most, the sound of shifting sand is a whisper or a low humming. "This is a time for the Jewish nation to exercise its "sand likeness" by remaining silent." The time has not yet arrived for us to draw attention or make a dramatic move. Moreover, Moshe was drawing on the great merit of the Patriarch Yaakov. HaShem had promised Yaakov (Berishis 13:16) that his descendants would be like the sand. For this reason, Moshe chose sand to bury the Egyptian. This represented a symbol of the forthcoming ascendance of the Jewish nation in rising above their enemies, in fulfillment of that Divine promise of becoming like the sand in their exile. Now Rabbeinu Avigdor ties the midrashic with the halachic, as is his unique style. It is because the sand served that helping function long ago in Egypt that a mohel should choose sand specifically for burial of the foreskin following a bris mila. Most other authorities do not bring this custom yet Rabbeinu Avigdor writes that "this is now the practice of all sages", and this is his psak halacha. Moshe turned to the sand because it is a symbol of Jewish cohesiveness and of Jewish discretion. He used it as a lesson for his nation, and as a means of recalling HaShem's pledge to save His people and let them flourish. In our times, we can utilize sand for another "burial procedure", to demonstrate the timelessness and enduring unity in HaShem's world, where all things serve a purpose, and all things are remembered. Good Shabbos. D Fox