Vayikra 2013

At the very end of this week’s Parsha, the Torah teaches us the rules related to a lying thief. Not only must the thief return the object in its entirety, but the Torah adds that he must also pay an additional fifth as a punishment for his lie. The Torah says, “Or anything about which he hath sworn falsely, he shall even restore it at first, and shall add the fifth part more onto it.” When describing the repayment of the principal amount, the Torah uses the phrase “Roshoh,” at first, which has an additional meaning of “head.”

The Sifsei Chachamim learns a powerful lesson from the double meaning of this word. He explains that the principal amount is clearly viewed as the primary portion of the money that is being paid, while the punitive fee is secondary. For this reason, the primary portion must be paid before the secondary portion. He continues to explain that within the human body, one could easily argue that the primary portion is the core or torso, which contains the majority of the organs, including the heart. The appendages of the arms and legs, and even the head, are all secondary to the core. Yet this is not the perspective of the Torah. The principal amount in the verse is compared to the head, which in truth is the principal portion of the body, with our torso, arms, and legs playing a secondary role.

This verse helps us maintain a perspective in regard to where our focus and priorities should lie. Our body is an amazing gift from Hashem that was given to us to help facilitate the many complex and important roles for which we were placed on this earth. Yet the body is a facilitator, not the goal or end game. All of the creatures in this world have fascinating and complex bodies just as humans, yet we are set aside and above due to the magnificent gifts that are found in our minds. The cheetah will always be faster, and the elephant will always be bigger, but no creature can compare to the intellectual capabilities inherent in the human mind.

Albert Einstein once exclaimed, “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift, and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” If the rational mind is a faithful servant, then certainly one can classify our bodies that way as well. It is incumbent upon us all to strive to maximize this tremendous gift and reach heights in our spirituality as well as our physicality.

After the euphoria of becoming free from Egyptian servitude, how does one go back to normal life? The miracles of the Ten Plagues, followed by the splitting of the sea, were probably overwhelming for a nation that had been exposed only to subjugation and humiliation for its entire collective memory. Suddenly they were free and invited to take advantage of all the benefits brought about through freedom. Of course, this reality can be fraught with danger as well. A scary parallel can be easily made to the hundreds of Holocaust survivors who survived the terror of the Nazis, only to die in DP camps due to the lack of ability of their bodies to acclimate to the abundance of food that was suddenly available. The process of becoming free, and making the transition a positive venture, is one that certainly needs to be done with thought and sensitivity. The transition to becoming a free people who enjoy the benefits of the world and the benefits of a relationship with Hashem is not one that can happen in an instant, and yet that is exactly what seemingly transpired.

Rav Sorotzkin, in his seminal work Oznaim L’torah, explains that Hashem recognized the need to help the Jews transition from the spiritual high of witnessing wondrous miracles to normal life. He explains that this is in fact the purpose and special character of the time period in of Sefirat Haomer. Before we can experience the giving of the Torah, we have a time period to work on mundane growth in mundane life. The drop from spiritual heights will happen, and other moments of spiritual rapture will happen again at some time in our lives as well. Yet, we still need to get from point A to point B. Sefira is a transition period which allows us to realize the value of each day and the potential in working toward a goal. Once we have excelled at elevating the mundane, we are ready for Shavuot, the next spiritual ecstasy. At that point, we are prepared to appreciate the holiday for the spiritual high it affords. Pesach, Sefirat Haomer, and Shavuot become an experiential, transformative process which impact us through miracles and through the mundane. We are then fully prepared to be free servants of Hashem. Let us make sure to make each day and opportunity worthwhile.

I recently came across an article written by Yvette Alt Miller on Aish.com in which the author describes the connections between the suffering in Boston and the ongoing struggles from acts of terror in Israel. The article offers five suggestions for how we can all respond and react to the recent horrible news, and turn the news into positive acts and thoughts. In light of the recent news, everyone could benefit from the suggestions she proposes.

1. Feel the pain personally. When we empathize with other people’s pain, it helps us feel more connected with others, more human. I saw this in my own reaction to the bombings. I went to college in Boston, and it will always be “my” city. When I heard of the bombings, I thought of a college friend who was running in the marathon. It made the connection seem so immediate, and I thought of Israel – where everyone knows someone in the area each time there’s an attack. This sort of connectivity binds us together and helps ensure we’re sensitive to other people’s pain.

2. Find ways to help. Reaching out to others with aid is another way to help and also to feel connected with our fellows who are in pain. This can take the form of personal aid – an example from inside Israel is the practice in recent years of citizens from all over Israel to drive down to the besieged town of Sderot, which has been bombed incessantly in recent years, to do their shopping. Another way to aid others experiencing tragedy is to pray on their behalf. One common practice is to recite Psalms in aid of a sick or injured person. Not only does this lend strength to the victims, it helps empower us and our families too, as we cast about for ways to help.

3. Do good in memory of the victims. What can we do for the victims who died in the Boston attacks? Again, the example of Israel can help. There, it’s common to take on a specific obligation – for instance deciding to study a Jewish text in the memory of one who has died, taking on the performance of a new Jewish ritual, or pledging charity. Doing so elevates the memory of those who have died, and helps us spread goodness in their names.

4. Answer despair with hope. The Jewish prayer that’s commonly said when disasters strike is brief: “Blessed is the faithful Judge.” It reminds us that God is in charge of the world, that He has designed it with a purpose. Even horrific events – even occasions that baffle us and leave us wounded – have an ultimate purpose. Like the Jewish mourner’s prayer, which praises God and doesn’t mention death, Jewish responses to tragedy contain a seed of hope. They remind us that even our darkest moments can lead us to become better people. Like the citizens of Israel who tie their Independence Day celebrations to their solemn Memorial Day events, we too can ask ourselves what we can do in the face of tragedy. We too can think deeply about our response: we too can try to live better – to build a better community, to lead more deeply-considered lives – as a way to honor those who died.

5. Don’t take life for granted. In the aftermath of the Boston attacks, take some time to sit and consider your own life: realize for a moment how precious it is. Take some time to plan what your goals are, and how you might reach them. For, as Americans, we’ve only just realized what Israelis already know: each second in our lives is precious, and it’s up to us to use them well.

If one were to randomly open up the first several verses of this week’s Parsha, he may come to the conclusion that the Torah is discussing Shabbat. After all, the word Shabbat, or derivations of the word Shabbat, are found nine times in the first eight verses. Yet it has nothing (or seemingly nothing) to do with the seventh day of the week. In fact, the Torah is referring to the Shemittah and jubilee years, rules and ordinances that are related to the land and to the farmer. Yet of course, there are significant connections and lessons to be unearthed in this seemingly innocuous reference.

We find in our lives that we have special days in our calendar—birthdays, anniversaries, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day—that give us the opportunity to think about the virtues that another person brings into our lives. Hopefully, as we are writing a card or buying a present, we recognize that this person’s virtues are not related specifically to that day, but that in reality every day that we get to share with them is a precious gift.

Shabbat serves the same function. Shabbat is a wonderful opportunity to take a step back from the grind of the week and refresh and recharge, not only in a physical manner but also from a spiritual perspective. The week flies by, often without a chance for contemplating the inherent holiness in our lives. Shabbat is a chance to focus on this holiness and remind ourselves of the holiness that can be found on any day of the week.

Shemitta allows the land to rest in the seventh year. This rule applies only in the Land of Israel. The Ponovitcher Rav explains that the “Land’s Shabbat” is also an opportunity to appreciate the holiness of the Land of Israel. This break gives the farmer—and in turn the rest of the Jewish people, who are also greatly affected by Shemitta—the security of knowing that the holiness of the land will never be forgotten.

The Omer period is a time of mourning that includes abstaining from music, weddings, and haircuts. As these restrictions are relaxed, we have the opportunity to appreciate the “smaller things in life.” The happiness of sharing in a Simcha with a friend or family member, the way a song can improve your mood, and the feeling one gets when “looking his best” have all been absent for thirty-three days. Now that we have them back, we are reminded of the joy and beauty in our mundane lives. May we make the most of this appreciation and let it last as long as possible.