​Our Parshiyot this week, Tazria-Metzorah, exhaustively relate the details surrounding the outbreak of skin disorders in the camp of B’Nai Yisrael. The rabbis, based on an incident later in the Torah concerning Miriam, determined that one reason for a person to be stricken with metzorah is that they engaged in Lashon HaRah (literally “bad speech”), spreading rumors about others, speaking ill of them, casting aspersions upon them.

The Chofetz Chaim, a giant of the late 19th century, made a life’s work of investigating the reasons for Lashon HaRah in an attempt to eradicate it. He arrived at seven causes for this destructive behavior. He even created a mnemonic to remember them all. He called it Kol Gehinom, translated as All Hell. Let’s briefly look at the seven of the causes of cruel speech:

1.     Ka’as-anger. If we let anger control us, Lashon HaRah is sure to follow.

2.     Laitzonus-scorn. If we treat serious matters lightly

3.     Ga’avoah-haughtiness. If we consider ourselves better than others.

4.     Hefker-abandonment. If we think it’s impossible to remain careful about speech.

5.     Yaiush-despair. If we give up the goal of remaining positive about situations and people.

6.     Nirganus-negativity. If we consider the world and its events as stacked against us.

7.     Omer mutar-ignorance. If we believe that we are allowed to say what we want because of ignorance.

If we can see ourselves in these pitfalls, and who can't?, perhaps we can realize the impact of our speech on others, the world and ourselves. In doing so, we can guard against the behavior of Lashon HaRah.


Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

​Triennial Reading, Leviticus, Chapter Chapter 10, verse 12 through Chapter 11, verse 32.

Nadav and Avihu, two sons of Aharon, are executed by God because of their offering a non-prescribed ritual in the new Mishkan. It is unclear from the text as to what sin they actually committed. One of the suggested reasons for their death was the sin of entering the Mikdash after having consumed an intoxicating beverage. This would seemingly be unfair because the directive against entering under the influence is written in the Torah AFTER their deaths. The Midrash seems to imply that it was expected of them to know that proper honor and respect to the Mikdash would prohibit their entering after imbibing. This brings up the question of whether a person should be held responsible for an act if they were not warned ahead of time. In judicial proceedings of the Sanhedrin there is a requirement to warn perpetrators of a crime of their sinful intentions before it is possible to execute them. Why is this not prescribed in Nadav and Avihu’s defense? When Cain killed Abel, was there a law already given to prohibit the act of murder? According to one Talmudic version, the seven Noahide laws were actually given to Adam and Eve and hence Cain should have known about it. But a simple reading of the text would indicate that he did not know because it was not spelled out clearly that such a prohibition existed.

Another interpretation that our Sages offer is that they were arrogant. There were many women who were unmarried and they clung to their bachelorhood through years of maturity. According to the Midrash, they looked around them and saw that Moshe was the king and he was married. Their uncle Nachshon was the prince of the tribe of Yehudah. Their father was the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest. They realized that they came from probably the most Yichus, the highest degree of religious and national pedigree that anybody possessed in the entire nation. They could have surmised, says the Midrash, “what woman is worthy of this family and for us as heirs to religious and national leadership.” The Midrash leaves this as a suggestion and invites us to discuss that challenge.

Another Midrash that discusses Nadav and Avihu tells us that the fire that consumed the brothers was actually the Angel of Death, which comes to teach us that the death of these two Kohanic princes was a source of pain to Hashem. These sons of Aharon were beloved and completely righteous, says the Midrash. In such a situation the Midrash is really telling us that their death might be beyond the scope of our ability to properly understand why Hashem felt it was necessary for them to die. In the post-Holocaust era this Midrash takes on special meaning because, more than 75 years later, we still cannot comprehend the divine judgment that allowed six million Jewish people to die in the Holocaust. The Shoa is commemorated each year, with Yom HaShoah falling during this week of Parshat Shemini.

The laws of Kashrut are listed in Shemini.  AS quiz:  Which of the following animals are kosher? (a) Buffalo. (b) Giraffe. (c) Antelope. (d) Peacock. (e) Honey from the bee. (f) Human Milk. (g) Llama. (h) Seagull. (i) Sturgeon.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

​We began our counting of the Omer Sunday evening, the night of the second Seder. Where does this tradition come from?

The Torah tells us, "You shall count for yourselves from the morrow after the Sabbath, from the day of your bringing the Omer of the waving, seven Sabbaths shall it be."  This sentence gives us the basis for the counting of the Omer between Pesach and Shavuot, a count in which we are now in the midst.  However, there are some difficulties we find in connection with the Omer offering.

First, what does the word 'Omer' mean?  Omer was just a measure, the amount of grain that had to be brought to the holy temple as an offering.  Isn't it strange that this sacrifice should be called by the name 'Omer'? Other offerings have specific names: Pesach, Todah (Thanksgiving), and Shlamim (Peace).  Omer is a measure; why should that be the name of the sacrifice and the basis for the counting?  

Second, what is so crucial about this offering that we tie our counting between Pesach and Shavuot to this offering?

Third, why was the Omer brought on the sixteenth day of Nisan?  This is not one of the special days of Pesach, only the second day. What happened on this date that caused it to be singled out as sacred and special?

The Midrash elaborates on the merit of the Omer offering. Because of it, Avraham was promised the land of Canaan.  In its merit, the Jews were saved in the days of Gideon, Chizkiyahu, Haman, and Yechezekel.  The Omer saved the day.  So, what is so meaningful about the Omer?

The Midrash relates a conversation between God and Moses: :"In the wilderness I provided a daily Omer of manna for each Jew as recompense. Let the Jews now bring for me an Omer offering every year on the sixteenth of Nisan."
We can see, then, that our bringing of the Omer shows our gratitude for God's sustaining our ancestors in the wilderness.  In our generation as well, we must remember that as much as we work and as successful as we think we may be, it is God who gives us bread from heaven as He gave manna to the first Jews. We brought the Omer on the sixteenth of Nisan because we know that the manna stopped falling on Adar seven, the day of Moshe's death.  And the Jews' stockpiling of the manna ran out on the sixteenth of Nisan, some five weeks later.  Therefore, on the day they ran out of manna, they had to bring the Omer.  It took great faith to give away what you have with no certainty about the future.

In our day we count the Sefirah for seven complete weeks and connect it to the Omer offering. The 49 repetitions of the lesson of gratitude that the Omer represents reinforces this important point that we must never forget from where comes our sustenance, both literal and spiritual.  We were saved so many times because of the Omer because in each generation we acknowledge that God is the source of our livelihood.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Torah Reading, Leviticus, Chapter 7, verse 11 through Chapter 7, verse 38.

We read about the various sacrifices, an echo of last week’s Parsha, but this time it’s from the point of view of the Kohanim, the Priests who administered the rite of korbanot.

This Shabbat has the special name of Shabbat HaGadol, the Great Sabbath, a designation taken from the last line of the special Haftorah of the day that cites the coming of Elijah, a major, if invisible, guest at each of our Seders.
During this week leading up to Passover, we can spend some time in making our Seders more meaningful than ever. A few suggestions follow. All of them are found in the Haggadah. This little text, I would suggest, is more than just a storybook but a guide that can help us experience the full meaning of Passover and life. So here they are –four ways to prepare for Passover, just by opening the Haggadah.

--Number One: Get rid of all the Hametz in your life. If you open a Haggadah, you'll find that the first thing it instructs us to do is search for all the left-over hametz in our homes and to get rid of it by burning it and relinquishing ownership of it. Hametz, of course, is bread, cake, cookies, cereal and anything that contains a mixture of water and grain that has been allowed to sit for an extended period of time. But more than that, Hametz symbolizes the evil inclination in each of us. It's arrogance and anger, despair and distress. It is all those behaviors that enslave us in our daily lives. Getting rid of hametz, then, is more than spring-cleaning; it's all about renewal and an inner spiritual cleansing of our lives. As you get rid of the physical hametz in your home this week, take the time to work on getting rid of the emotional and social shmutz that hampers your relations with others and makes you unhappy.

--Number Two: Formulate some new questions. Every one anticipates the recitation of the four questions usually by the youngest child at the Seder. But the four questions should be more than a formula. In fact, they are not even questions. They are queries that are supposed to make us curious and inspire us to ask our own questions. The whole point of the Seder is to ask questions - real questions. Nobel Laureate, Isadore Rabi once said that his mother was responsible for making him a great scientist. Each day when he came home from school she used to ask him: 'Did you ask any good questions today?' And the same applies to the Seder and Judaism in general. Take the time this week to compose some questions for your guests, (or for your host if you're attending another Seder). Ask about the significance of the Exodus, what it means to be Jewish, how we can believe in God today, and what our lives mean. Ask questions that will challenge your guests. Ask yourself: Why am I doing this? Why am I here? What can I learn from Passover? And who am I?

--Number Three: Ask yourself whether you're really free. At the Seder we say: "We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt but the Lord took us out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm." This is a great time to do an inventory of our freedoms. We ought to consider whether we can be completely free if others aren't. And what responsibilities does freedom imply? In an age of cell phones, texts and e-mails are we ever truly free? What does it really mean to be free today?

--Number Four: Prepare for Passover by writing your own Haggadah. Now, before you say - "Hey, what's wrong with the old one," let's look more closely at what the Haggadah says: "Each person is obligated to see himself/herself as if he/she personally went forth from Egypt." The Seder, then, is more than just a story; it is about coming to recognize that we are part of the stories we tell and that we relive the story of the Exodus in our own lives. If we just tell our ancestors story, we have not really celebrated Passover. Mitzraim, Egypt, is not just a place but a state of being. It's often pointed out that the word Mitzraim can also be read "Maytzarim," literally "the narrow straits." If we look back at our lives, we can tell our own story of liberation from the narrow straits of illness, anxiety, fear, or maybe ignorance. We all have a story to tell. We need to share our own story at the Seder and not just our ancestors.

While COVID still affects our lives, I hope that we can commune with some family and friends for the Seders and have truly memorable gatherings as we celebrate the ancient Mitzvah of commemorating our beginnings as a nation and the birth of our freedom. A Sweet Pesach to all!

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Torah Reading Triennial Portion: Leviticus, Chapter 3, verse 1 through Chapter 4, verse 26.

The Parsha we read this week is from the first book of the third section of the five of Torah, Leviticus, ViYikrah.  The entire book, not just this portion, concerns itself with sacrifices to be offered on the altar of the Mishkan, and later on the altar of the established Bais HaMikdash, the Holy Temple of Jerusalem. Since we no longer include the sacrificial rite as part of our worship of God, we must try to glean lessons from the text that can speak to us in our contemporary times.

"Vayikra el Moshe" –“He called to Moses” -- note that it does not say that God called to Moshe.  The wording in the first verse of Vayikra points us back to the end of Pekudei, which directly leads to the opening verses of this new Book.  The Mishkan was covered with The Cloud...and Moshe was (temporarily) incapable of communicating with God.  Hence, this opening verse of Vayikra picks up where Shemot left off, with God calling to Moshe in order to reestablish their connection. Some commentaries also point out from this first verse that it was only Moshe to whom God spoke directly.  Even when Aharon is around, and even when the Torah says:  "And Hashem spoke to Moshe and Aharon," the method of his "hearing" vastly differed from the way Moshe heard God's voice.

The subject at hand is sacrifices, and the sacrifices played a very important role in allowing an individual to approach Hashem in a way where all his or her senses are affected by the ritual. The donor must perform the mitzvah of laying their hands on the head of the animal, and then performs Vidui, the confession of sins. Both of these are important aspects of the ritual itself of offering a sacrifice.  The person bringing the sacrifice strongly felt the true importance in being able to approach Hashem in this way. This is the reason that some of our Siddurim include prayers that would allow us to return to these Temple services. Our services now have substituted prayer and meditation for the bringing of animals and grains for sacrifice. The goal of either ritual is to allow each individual the opportunity to feel closer to Hashem.

"If any man (Adam) brings an offering."  (1:2).  Rashi, relying on various Midrashim, says that the deliberate use of the word Adam here indicates that just as the first man did not offer a sacrifice of anything acquired by way of robbery (everything was his) so we, too, are commanded that we cannot bring a stolen item as an offering to God.  Commentators have questioned the need for this commandment. It is as if to question who in the world would steal and bring the very stolen item to the Beit HaMikdash as an offering?   However, it could be that a person stole a quite a bit of money or cattle and then decided to give a little bit to charity or for a sacrifice, with the thought that this will atone for all the rest which he or she has kept from the robbery.  Here too, the gates of the Beit HaMikdash are closed to him. We have seen this phenomenon in our day. People who have stolen millions have, at times, donated a portion of their ill-gotten gains to schuls or religious institutions. A famous instance of this involved the Jewish Theological Seminary. When the source of the donation became clear, JTS rejected the donation and removed the donor’s name from its rolls.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Torah Reading Triennial Portion: Exodus, Chapter 37, verse 17 through Chapter 39, verse 21.
Second Torah, Exodus, Chapter 12, verses 1-20.
 
The Parshiyot we read this Shabbat are the final two of the book of Exodus, the second of the five books of the Torah. The subject matter is the construction of the Mishkan, the moveable sanctuary that our ancestors worshipped at during their sojourn in the Wilderness.
 
I found the following D’Var that I wanted to share with you in part, written by Ilana Kurshan:

Torah Reading Triennial Portion: Exodus, Chapter 31,
verse 13 through Chapter 33, verse 11

“I said to them, Whoever has any gold, let them break it off. So they gave it me; then I cast it into the fire, and there came out this calf.” (Exodus 32:24)

We are told about the construction of the Menorah.  It was cast out of a solid piece of gold by an artist who carried a God given vision. The menorah had seven branches with carefully carved petals and flowers along each branch. The carving of the menorah can be likened to Michelangelo’s carving of the statue of David. Michelangelo shared how he looked at the solid piece of marble and chiseled away everything that was not David. In the same way, Bezalel looked at the gold and cut away everything that was not the menorah.

But this week we have a very different image. The Israelites, led by Moses’ brother Aaron, built a Golden Calf. Moses confronts his brother, asking how this could happen. Aaron says that he collected the gold from the people. He hoped that the people would hold on to their valuable gold, thus avoiding the building of an idol. But the people willingly gave Aaron their gold. Aaron claims that he threw the gold into the fire, and the Golden Calf simply emerged on its own. Rashi writes that Aaron cast it into the fire not knowing that this calf would come out. It just happened.

The Golden Calf just happened. There was no will, no vision, and no skill behind it. It was pure happenstance. Aaron did not mean for it to happen. It was out of his control. It is as if the calf created itself. If an event happens by chance, on its own, then nobody is to blame. And one of the fascinating facts of this story is that Aaron is not blamed and not punished. It was an event beyond his control.

There is an important insight here. When something good happens like a work of art, we are willing to give full credit to the artist. When something bad happens like a Golden Calf, nobody is to blame. It just happens. How often do we take credit for the good things we do but take no responsibility for the bad things we do? How often do we say, “it just happened?” We were caught up in events beyond our control. Our genes made us do it. Or our upbringing made us do it. We are victims. “The devil made me do it.” It is not a sin but an illness. It just happened.
I often think of a Midrash about the world’s first murderer Cain, who slew his brother Abel. God asks Cain, where is your brother, and Abel answers, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Midrash compares it to a thief who runs into the night watchman after committing a robbery. The thief says, “I am a thief, I am simply doing my job. But you are a watchman. You should have done a better job guarding these items. You, the watchman, not me, the thief, are to blame.” In the same way Cain blames God. “You created me. You gave me my evil inclination. God, it is your fault that I killed my brother.”

We live in an age where people avoid blame. Events just happen. But if we are to take credit for the good things we do, we need to accept blame for the bad things we do. If an artist made the menorah, then an artist also made the Golden Calf. Accepting blame is the first step towards true repentance. Aaron was unwilling to accept the blame. He said the Golden Calf just happened. Perhaps if he had accepted responsibility, the Golden Calf would not have become the worst sin of the Israelite’s sojourn through the wilderness.

This Shabbat, we also read from a second Torah about the Red Heifer, the Parah Adumah. It gives the people of the Wilderness the means to achieve ritual purity. This is a reminder that Passover is approaching (as if we needed a reminder) and that we should begin to ready ourselves for it.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

​Triennial Reading-Tetzaveh, Exodus, Chapter 28, verse 1 through Chapter 29, verse 18.

This week’s Parsha lends itself to an almost literal reading—Tetzaveh describes in great detail the duties of the kohanim, and the rituals that those priests were responsible for.  The detail is incredible—all the colors and fabrics of the priestly vestments are described.  We are told that every priest wore four vestments, and that the high priest—the Kohen Gadol—wore an ADDITIONAL four.  In this Parsha (and only in this Parsha), we read nothing of Moshe, and, instead, Aharon—quiet older brother of Moshe—moves from the background to the foreground.  
I want to focus on one detail.  What might seem to be a tiny detail, a detail that hardly merits mention.  On a literal level, this detail represents a part of the high priest’s wardrobe, and it appears at the hem of Aharon’s robe.  In other words, it’s the BOTTOM, the lowest part, of his priestly outfit.  We are told that at the hem of the robe were “golden bells and pomegranates of blue, purple, and scarlet.”  This line is just one of many in Tetzaveh that lovingly specifies the details of ritual practice and wardrobe.  

If we imagine for a moment what these hems must have looked like, we can only guess at their beauty, at their majesty.  But here I want us to move beyond the literal and to think about another sensory aspect of these priestly garments—the sounds of those bells.  The bells announced Aaron’s arrival—and I’m guessing that the sound of those bells must have been like the ring tone on your cell phone—you recognize it as your own. So, people must have been able to recognize Aaron’s ring tone wherever he went. His comings and his goings.
But it’s also important to note that the sound of those bells works in TWO directions, not one.  On the one hand, the people know that Aharon is coming. On the other hand, Aharon HIMSELF is aware of the sound that he makes as he performs his priestly role, as he moves from place to place.

So what, you might ask? That was then, this is now. But let’s think more about those bells. What does it mean that people would know that Aaron was approaching? To me, it makes clear that they won’t be surprised by him.  No sneak attacks.  There’s a midrash that tells us that, even when someone knows you’re coming, you should make a noise out of respect, as if asking for permission.  In fact, to underline this point, Rashbam says, “Do not enter YOUR house suddenly.”  Think about that—YOUR OWN HOME.  Even on your own property, you need to give the people there some time to prepare, a little warning.

So, what we are describing here is basic courtesy—DEREK ERETZ.  If we have to enter OUR OWN homes slowly, how much greater a responsibility must we have to enter the homes of OTHERS with care and without haste?  Even the high priest had that same obligation, that same boundary.   And even when invited. And if the ranking official of the holy spaces had to conform to this compassionate behavior, all of us must be under the same obligation.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Triennial Reading-Terumah, Exodus Chapter 26,
verse 1, through Chapter 26, verse 30
Second Torah, Parshat Zachor, Deuteronomy
Chapter 25, verses 17-19

Torah Reading:

Inside the Holy of Holies was the Ark. Inside the Ark were the Tablets of the Ten Commandments. There were other items in the Holy of Holies that we know about through tradition. There was an urn with Mannah in it as testimony to these events for future generations. In addition, there was the anointing oil that Moshe had made to anoint the Kohanim in the Tabernacle. Next to the Aron was the Staff of Aharon which had sprouted flowers and almonds (Numbers 17:25). The High Priest’s vestments were also kept there. The broken Tablets of the first set would be in the Holy of Holies as well. In addition to this list was also the Torah scroll that Moshe had written himself, also right outside the Aron.

This entire Parshah is puzzling to us. We live primarily in Exile, and we have no Mishkan or Holy Temple. There is no High Priest and there are no sacrifices. What good then does it do us to read about how the Mishkan was constructed? Why do we have to know how the beams and pillars were made and what their dimensions were, and how the priestly vestments were made? What use is it to us to know how the sacrifices were offered? There are no practical applications of these things today. If you are going to tell me that we need them to know how to do it in the future, it is really not necessary. The future construction of these utensils and the Holy Temple will come only when the Mashiach is here. And by definition the Mashiach will be the King and he will teach us how to make all these items and how to keep them. So, our understanding of this portion and its intricacies are subject to the Mashiach’s review and endorsement. Without his say the future is not going to happen. Therefore, this question remains: why read and study it if there is no application for this knowledge today?

One answer we glean from rabbinical writings is that studying these portions of the Torah earns for us the merit of actually performing the construction of the holy objects.

Maftir: Parshat Zachor
The second Torah reading this morning is one that gives this Shabbat its name, Shabbat Zachor, the Sabbath of Remembrance. We are commanded to remember the atrocities of Amalek. They attacked the stragglers of B’Nai Yisrael, those least able to defend themselves. We are told that, in every generation, members of Amalek rise up to do us harm. History has shown us that this teaching is, regrettably, true. We always commemorate this Shabbat right before Purim, a story of a member of Amalek seeking to wipe us out.

Haftorat Zachor
The Haftorah provides us with another example of the evil of Amalek, who attacked the Jews in the Wilderness and still constituted a threat in the days of King Saul. Saul’s failure to totally annihilate Amalek, as God commanded, sets up later attacks on Israel. It also spells the end of his favor in God’s eyes, and leads to his removal as monarch.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Exodus Chapter 22, verse 4 through Chapter 23, verse 19.
 
This Shabbas is one of three Torahs-pretty rare on our calendar. We have the regular reading. Mishpatim, the reading for the New Moon and the commemoration of Shabbat Shekalim, explained below.
 
The chapters in Parshat Mishpatim cover a vast array of social rules, moral imperatives, ethical injunctions and civil and criminal laws, all of which are linked to the Decalogue (Ten Commandments) which were read last Shabbat. 
 
Compensation must be made for damages caused by one's animals grazing on another's property or from a fire that one carelessly caused. Responsibilities of guardianship, situations in which someone is guarding that which belongs to someone else, are also discussed.  The general principle is that liability increases with the benefit that the one guarding the property receives or expects for his services or that he gains from the entrusted property. 
 
The subject matter moves from "stolen property to the stolen heart" and deals with the man who seduces an unmarried woman and is required to pay punitive damages to her and/or her father and must marry her provided that she consents.  Three capital offenses described as "toevot" (abominations) follow -- the prohibition of sorcery, bestiality and apostasy. 
 
This section concludes with laws that express concern for the disadvantaged of society --  the stranger, the widow and orphan, and the poor.  The Torah states, for example, that one who lends money to a poor person should not demand repayment when none is reasonably forthcoming.  Included in this passage is the prohibition of charging interest on personal loans.  Additionally, if one takes a poor person's bedding as security for a loan, it must be returned each evening for his use.
 
One is forbidden to curse judges, The Judge, God, or leaders of the people.  One should not withhold the gifts (e.g., firstlings of the soil, of the human womb and of domesticated animals) from God.  While the latter laws deal with animals that are to be dedicated to God, the following law refers to those prohibited for human consumption.  A "treifa," literally an animal torn up by a predator and left to die, is forbidden to eat. 
 
This section concludes with laws intended to maintain the integrity of the judicial system and those regulating humane treatment of one's enemy.  For example, courts many not hear one side of a dispute without the other party being present.  Included in this prohibition is not to be influenced by rumors, Lashon HaRah.  Judges may not accept testimony from unworthy witnesses.  In their deliberations, judges must be careful not to do anything that might pervert justice or unfairly shift the feelings of the court against the accused. Generally, rules of law are determined by majority vote of the judges.  Judges may not show favoritism, even towards the less fortunate.
 
Special Haftorah: Shabbat Shekalim
 
This haftorah signals the onrushing of special days on our Luach. It precedes Purim, and this haftorah, along with three others, lead us into the cherished days of Pesach. Despite our reluctance to speak about money on Shabbat, this haftorah emphasizes the monetary donations that ensured the upkeep of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. We can perhaps draw from this reference that, since we no longer have a place for sacrificial offerings, our support of worthy, Jewish causes takes the place of lambs and goats on the altar. And it’s so much more streamlined to donate funds rather than lead an animal to Jerusalem for ritual slaughter!