From Many, One

In the Torah reading for this week, we move from sefer Shemos (Exodus) to Vayikra (Leviticus). In this week's parsha, Vayikra, the Torah discusses the various korbonos (offerings/sacrifices) that individuals are instructed to bring. The parsha begins with G-d telling Moshe (Moses) to speak to the People of Israel, telling them, "Adam ki yakriv mikem korban" ("When a person from among you brings a sacrifice"). Chazal, the early sages of Judaism, teach us that the central purpose of offering a sacrifice is to nullify our personal desires to the Divine will. The focus of the system of sacrifices is not the blood spilled upon killing the animal, as indeed not all sacrifices were animals, but the focus and contrition of the person who brought the offering. The root of the word for sacrifice (korban) actually means "close" or "near", as the entire process was meant to draw an individual closer to G-d, closer to the community, and closer to their true essence through the symbolic giving of their own "animal self".

An interesting feature of the words spoken from Moshe to Klal Yisroel regarding sacrifices is the seemingly extra word "mikem" or "from you". Had this word not been included, the words themselves would still make perfect sense and also seem to have the same meaning ("When a person brings a sacrifice"). Because we know that not even a single letter in the entire Torah is unnecessary, we have to wonder why this word appears in the text, and what it comes to teach us.

The Chiddushei HaRim, the first Gerer rebbe, says that the answer to this question comes from the famous adage, "If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I?" It is commonly known that each person comes into this world with a specific task that is meant for that person alone, with a special piece of the universe to rectify that only they can impact. When a person works toward their task and eventually achieves this task, the ramifications are found within the entire community, and the whole of redemption is only achieved in the unity of countless individuals' tasks.


With this in mind, the Sfas Emes, the grandson of the Chiddushei HaRim, explains the need for the word "mikem" in the verse. The korbonos we bring are effective only because we bring them as a small part of a greater community. Not only does this apply to the actual physical offering brought, but also to the deeper meaning of the offering: self-sacrifice. Whenever we realize that we are part of a larger story, and our actions impact all of those around us, we come closer to understanding the great importance of replacing our desires and will with the will and desire of G-d.

New Car, Caviar, Four Star Daydream

Quid, bucks, pesos...whatever you call it, it seems that everyone thinks they need just a little bit more. As for Israel, flocks of recently-released soldiers go to the U.S.A. every year to work in malls and make whatever money they can so that they can come back to Israel and spend it on items that are priced incorrectly. You see, in Israel the pricing doesn't match the currency. Israel's currency is the shekel, which is made up of 100 agorot, just as the dollar is made up of 100 cents. However, unlike in America, Israel has discontinued the usage of any agorot coins except for 10 and 50. This would seem to work fine, except for the fact that pricing has not reflected the change. Since you cannot possibly pay 9.95, and a store cannot possibly give you 5 agorot back if you give them 10 shekels, the store always steals form you. This evening, as my roommate and I were getting ready for melave malka (the meal after Shabbos), I opened the (newly re-installed) refrigerator to find that he had also purcahsed the same chumus as I had, only his was priced 4.95 and mine was priced 4.99. I wasn't sure if I should feel bad that his cost 4 agorot less, or happy that the store stole 4 agorot less from me in the end.

This Shabbos, as I ate lunch with my roommate by the amazing Novominsk couple down the street, the husband (a man who is as religious, but probably as hip, as one can get) turned the conversation from the usual topics of Dire Straights, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, jazz, and yarmulke-wearing-women, to a strong statement brought out from this week's parsha. In parshas Vayikra, the Torah portion read this Shabbos, outlines are given regarding the types of korbanos (offerings) that are to be brought, as was addressed in the previous post. When dealing with the korban olah, the "burnt offering" (which actually means "elevated offering" and not "burnt offering"), we are given three ways of giving the korban. First, if a person is of substantial wealth, they are to offer something from their flock of cattle or sheep. If they could not afford this, they could bring doves. For the poorest people in society, the offering was made from flour and oil. Because the latter offering, the korban mincha, is form the depths of the person, mefarshim (commentators) make it clear that this is an offering that is more dear to G-d.

According to the Chasam Sofer, the poor person is not easily able to offer the korban mincha. First of all, "poor" in their sense is not simply low income. These were people who completely depended upon the Torah obligations on society in order to survive. Therefore, the flour was made by the people who gave the korban mincha. This means that they had to harvest the wheat on the corners of the field (which the Torah requires be left on all fields for poor people), then worked in their home, and the same with the oil. For a poor person, their offering was extra work, and took out of their vital food storage. Because it required so much effort, eventhough it was not what others might consider "top notch", this is why it was so dear to Hashem.

My host continued by saying that Chazal offers a warning to those giving korbanos, that they should be sure to have kavanah (intention) when giving them. Many have understood this to mean that the poor person, while doing so much work to present the korban, should not be diverted by the work, but should remember to have proper intention. However, the heiliger Kotzker Rebbe zt"l says that this is a warning for the wealthy person. If you are poor, and you korban takes so much effort, how could anyone believe that you wouldn't give it with the proper understanding, and even deeper personal meaning? For the wealthy person, who walks down the main street with their fattest cow on the way to offer such a wonderful korban, the Kotzker Rebbe says that they are the ones who need to be reminded of the real meaning behind the mitzvah.

My host offered another interesting, amazingly powerful vort on this. Based on the Torah, for a wealthy person (who is able to give of the choicest animal in their flock) to give the korban mincha (like a poor person) is not only inappropriate, but mocks the entire system and is an aveirah (grievous misdeed). The Chofetz Chaim draws a parallel with what we commonly view as replacing korbanos: tzedakah (charity). For a poor person to give even the most basic, tiny amount of tzedakah, Hakadosh Baruch Hu takes great pleasure in this. However, when someone has the ability to give large amounts of charity, yet gives only a little, they are not only failing to do what they could, but they are doing an aveirah. This, as well as the related example with the animals, is because Hashem gives us everything for a purpose, and that purpose is to use it to elevate the world. As he finished giving over this last vort, he looked at me and said, "I mean, this wasn't even coming from a Chasidishe Rebbe! It was the Chofetz Chaim! What a vort!" What a vort indeed.

I've Been Smiling Lately...

As the previous yeshiva period ended yesterday, I had all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted today. Luckily, today was one of the nicest days since I've been in Israel. Everywhere there was sunshine, people out on the streets, and a cool breeze blowing across the city. Times like these, where I can just wander around with my thoughts and Yerushalayim, make me realize how special this city is. Everything has as many sides are there are eyes to see them. Being here, I've seen Israel with both of mine: an irreligious occupier on the one hand, and a strangely happy place, full of life and energy on the other. However, I can never quite place what it is about Israel that brings people back. One might say the history, or the religious significance, but those are really just for tourists and extremists in the West Bank. All I can say about Israel is that it is full of life. It is full of life in a way that America isn't. Perhaps that is the result of living a life where people on all (not both, there is never simple duality) sides of the conflict face death, but it infuses Israel with something that is palpable. Author Jack Kerouac once said, "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars...and everybody goes 'Awww!'" If he wanted to find a place like the person he was seeking, Israel would certainly be that place. Holiness can be felt in the air.

In this week's parsha, we begin to read about the korbanos (offerings) that are to be brought in the beis hamikdash (temple). Today, as I sat in the Old City, looking out on the sight where the temple once stood and korbanos were offered, it was easy to get lost in the whole situation, thinking about that which used to be carried out on the very spot where I sat. The Torah says that a person is to bring an offering "from animals, from cattle, or from the flock". Why does the Torah state animals, and then name two things that are obviously covered under the category of "animals"? Rashi (the greatest commentator on the basic meaning of the Torah) says that this was to show that not all animals are acceptable, but only those that are domesticated among the flocks of Klal Yisroel. What is the significance of this, why not all animals, such as those captured in hunting or through effort? The Medrash Tanchuma says that this is to show that all G-d wants is that which is easily available. To initially draw close to HaKadosh Baruch Hu, we need only give that which we already have in our possession. Afterall, it was G-d who gave it to us in the first place, and it was meant to be used for something greater.

Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis tells a related story about using whatever we have in our immediate possession to form a bond with G-d. Once, while waiting in the car for a friend on 13th Avenue in Boro Park, she saw an older Jewish woman begging for money on the street. After receiving money from several people, the lady moved to the side, began eating something small for lunch, and came to blend in with the crowd. Soon, an elderly man walked down the street, asking for money as the woman had just done. When he approached the lady, not knowing that she was in the same situation as he was, he asked her for money. Immediately, the woman reached into her pockets and gave the elderly man charity. This, remarked Rebbetzin Jungreis, is the mark of a real, deep-down religious Jew. This is a person who knows that what we have is only from G-d, and we must use it as G-d tells us.


This week's Torah portion goes further to say that with each one of the offerings, we should bring salt. The Midrash explains that when the world was created, and the "lower waters" were split from the "upper waters", the lower waters were upset that they were left in the physical world, seemingly further away from the revealed Divine. G-d evened this out by noting that each korban (offering) would have to be brought with salt, which is taken from the waters of the earth. If this is a way of rectifying the split between the two waters, why not have sea water given with every offering instead of salt, something that only comes out of the water? Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky zt"l says that this is exactly the point! The water itself is elevated simply through evaporation, an easy process. That which is left behind is the salt, which does not naturally climb on its own. In this requirement, G-d is telling us that we should offer up those parts of us not naturally drawn to spirituality and elevation. When we work to bring that which we have difficulty carrying out of gashmius (physicality), this is the greatest offering.

Now we can see a glimpse of the importance and relevance of a korban (offering). In an attempt to get ourselves back on the right path, we must first offer up that which is easily attained, and has already been put in our midst by G-d to create the initial connection. This might be our quickness to feel spirituality in song, or meditation, or religious study, or giving charity. In fact, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov said that giving charity makes up for multitudes of misdeeds, and the reason can be understood in light of this. As it is using something granted to us by G-d to open a channel of holiness in this world, and tugging our heart to move further in the right direction. Once we begin to engage in these things, and we feel ourselves open up to HaKadosh Baruch Hu once more, then we work to elevate whatever brought us to sin, that which is not naturally inclined to align itself with G-d, and in this "salt" is found our individualized task in this world. The whole system of korbanos (offerings) exists to change us internally and bring us even closer to G-d. This is why an offering is called a "korban", which has the same root as the word "karov", meaning "close" as they are meant to bring us nearer to G-d. Now it becomes more clear why, in the Nevi'im (Prophets) it says that more than sacrifices, G-d prefers humble people, contrite hearts, and repentent souls, because this is the intended result of the offerings.

With the arrival of the new Hebrew month of Nissan, may we all strive harder to elevate that which does not easily move upward, so that we can look beyond ourselves, see the life swirling all around us, and uplift the universe to see the final redemption soon, in our days. Omayn.