Parshas Mikeitz

In this week's parsha, the Torah recounts the discussion between the Shevatim upon hearing that one of them must remain in Egypt as a hostage. The pasuk tells us how they admitted one to another that they were guilty for not listening to their brother Yosef's cries, and were therefore suffering their current predicament as punishment. Reuven then said to them, "did I not tell you not to sin against the child?" What was the purpose of Reuven's statement? The brothers had just admitted what they had done wrong - why did he feel the need to chastise them after they had already expressed their remorse?

Rav Yosef Dov Solovetchik answers that we must pay closer attention to the exact words of the pasuk in order to appreciate what was going on. In their statement of regret, the brothers specifically use the word "achinu", meaning brother; Reuven merely uses the ambiguous word "yeled", meaning child. The brothers were expressing regret for their actions based on the fact that Yosef was a member of their own family, and that to commit such a horrible crime against one's own flesh and blood is a terrible sin. What Reuven was trying to tell them was that they should not regret their actions solely on the basis of the victim being a family member; even if the victim was simply a "yeled", a random individual with no relation to them, what they did was still very wrong. Selling an innocent person into slavery is a grevious sin, no matter who he is. And that is why Reuven felt the need to make his statement: he wanted to drive home the point that an offense committed is just as serious even if the victim is not a close family member, and thus they must do teshuva accordingly.

As human beings, we have a tendency to be more caring and compassionate toward members of our own family, and toward people we can relate to. Someone who is "not our type" can often wind up being neglected, or even oppressed. We must learn from this week's parsha that no one should be written off just because they do not have a close connection with us - every person is special, and every yid must be treated with dignity and care, like members of our own family.

Parshas Vayeishev

In this week's parsha, we learn about the strained relationship between Yosef and his brothers. The Torah tells us "v'hu na'ar", which Rashi elaborates as referring to the fact that he would busy himself with his hair. The difficulty with this is twofold: first of all, was Yosef really so materialistic that he would be so obsessed with his hair? And second of all, even if so, why use the word "na'ar" - meaning "child" - to describe his preoccupation with it?

The answer is that Yosef was not obsessed with the style or appearance of his hair; rather, Rashi is referring to the fact that he was constantly cutting it every day, and keeping it neat. Yosef knew from his dreams that he was destined to be king someday, and since the Rambam rules that a king must have his hair cut every single day so as to look presentable (as befits a king), Yosef was preparing himself for the role by starting to do so already while he was young.

So why does the pasuk use the word "na'ar", implying childishness? Because it was not his place to start acting like a king before his time came. A child does not understand how to wait for something; rather he demands instant gratification. So too, Yosef was acting like a king before he was supposed to, and thus the pasuk refers to his actions using the word "na'ar". There was no need for him to get an early start - when it is bashert for something to happen, it will happen, even on its own. Indeed, when his time finally did come, everything fell into place on its own - Pharoah had him removed from the dungeon and ordered that his hair be cut for him, without any intervention by Yosef himself.

There are times in life when we think we see ahead of time the path that Hashem has in mind for us, and we attempt to "jump the gun" and pursue it, only to be disappointed when things don't work out quite as we expected. We must learn from this week's parsha that everything has its time and place. Hashem has in mind exactly what will happen to us and exactly what we will get, and there is no need for us to try to take matters into our own hands. When the time is ripe, Hashem will orchestrate everything perfectly. All we have to do is wait patiently - and daven.

Parshas Vayishlach

In this week's parsha, the Torah tells us how Yaakov sent a message to Esav, hoping to stave off an impending conflict. In his message, he tells Esav "I have acquired 'shor' and 'chamor'", using the singular loshon for "ox" and "donkey". Rashi explains that it is "derech eretz" to refer to many units of livestock in the singular form. But to refer to it as "derech eretz" implies that it is actually somehow more befitting than using the plural form. What is so special about using the singular form?

R' Moshe Feinstein answers that it is because it is important not to be proud of one's fortune as a whole, but rather to appreciate each individual unit. Each animal in one's possesion is a reason to be thankful to Hashem for the goodness He has bestowed upon him; all the more so when one has an entire herd. And that is why Yaakov used the singular form of "shor" and "chamor" - to show that he appreciated each and every possesion as an individual bracha from Hashem.

We can learn from here an important lesson about the significance of each individual. There is no "herd mentality" in Klal Yisroel; not only is every possesion a unique blessing, but every individual is important in his own right as well. Klal Yisroel is the flock of Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and each and every one of us receives the same loving care and devotion from Him as if we were the only one.

Parshas Vayeitzei

This week's parsha starts by telling us how Yaakov departed from Be'er Sheva, heading for Charan. Rashi comments on this that the departure of a tzaddik from a place has a significant impact - the spiritual shine of the place is depleted. The question is, why did Rashi wait until Yaakov to tell us about this phenomenon? Why didn't Rashi tell us about the impact made on various places when Avraham or Yitzchak left them?

The answer is because by Avraham and Yitzchak, that their departure caused an impact was obvious - being the outgoing kiruv personalities that they were, everyone would notice the decrease in kedusha when they left. Yaakov, however, was a "yoshev ohalim" - a quiet, unassuming person - and thus one might have thought that he didn't make much of an impression when he left. That is why Rashi tells us that quite the contrary - the limud hatorah of a tzaddik like Yaakov Avinu is of such significance, that even though outwardly it may not seem impressive, nevertheless it has a tremendous effect on the spirituality of his surroundings.

Likewise, we must learn from here how choshuv an atmosphere of Torah is. Even if one is not actually learning in a yeshiva, by living in a Torah community and associating oneself with Torah scholars, one can benefit from the special aura that the Torah brings. By supporting Torah institutions and talmidei chachamim, one gains a share in the special light that is characteristic of the Torah and its followers.

Parshas Toldos

In this week's parsha, the Torah tells us how Eisav returned from thefield, hungry and thirsty, while Yaakov was cooking lentils for theirfather. Wanting something to eat, Eisav demanded that Yaakov feed himthe lentils. He didn't even bother calling the dish by its proper name, though; rather, he asked to be fed "the red substance".

A father once brought his young son to visit Rav Shach, zichrono levracha. Rav Shach took out two lollipops - a red one and a green one - and offered them to the child, asking him to choose one. Rav Shach's gabbai interjected, "Isn't Rebbe encouraging Middas Eisav in the child? After all, Eisav is is the one who chose 'the red one!'" Rav Shach replied that choosing a red lollipop is not Middas Eisav; it is ordinary behavior for a child. In fact, it is expected of a child. The problem only begins if this behavior is exhibited by an adult - then it is Middas Eisav.

Although as a child, a person is expected to appreciate only the outer appearance of something, as he gets older he is expected to place more emphasis on its intrinsic value. Going for the superficial, outer appearance is the hallmark of Eisav. Eisav was only interested in externality. He even went so far as to refer to his food as "the red substance". He didn't care what it actually was; the important thing to him was how it looked on the outside.

Everything in our lives has a superficial value, as well as an intrinsic value. When we are children, it is natural for a person to judge things by their external appearance. The brighter, redder, more flashy something is, the more a child is attracted to it. As we get older, however, we must adopt a more mature perspective. We must realize that our accomplishments in life should not be measured by how people perceive them from the outside; rather it is their inherent value that renders them truly worthy.

Parshas Chayei Sarah

In this week's parsha, Avraham Avinu instructs Eliezer to go search for a wife for Yitzchak. Avraham makes Eliezer take an oath that he will not choose a girl from Cana'an; rather, Avraham insists that Eliezer travel "el artzi v'el moladiti" - "to my land, my birthplace" to find a suitable match for Yitzchak. The question that arises is: why did Avraham insist on Eliezer finding a girl from his birthplace? It's not as if his hometown was a city of tzaddikim; quite the contrary, they were resha'im who attempted to burn him alive for believing in Hashem!

The Lev Avraham answers that Avraham Avinu was looking for a specific middah in his future daughter-in-law that would help ensure the survival of the Jewish people: that of being steadfast in one's beliefs. If a person is stubborn, it can indeed be detrimental; but if it is channeled properly, then nothing can get in the way of the person's dedication to avodas Hashem. Avraham Avinu saw in the people of his birthplace a tremendous stubbornness: not only did they attempt to burn him for not holding of their beliefs, but even when he emerged unscathed, they STILL did not give up their nonsensical ideals in favor of what was clearly the truth! And that was the kind of dedication to one's beliefs that Avraham Avinu wanted to harness for the future generations of Klal Yisroel.

As children of the Avos, we all have a certain innate stubborn streak within us. Being headstrong may at first glance appear to be a character flaw; but it is actually Hashem's gift to us, inherited from Rivka Imeinu. By harnessing the power of that stubborn streak, we are able to shield ourselves from the moral depravity that surrounds us, and remain firm in our commitment to Avodas Hashem.

Parshas Vayeira

In this week's parsha, the Torah tells us the legendary story of how the malachim came to visit Lot in S'dom. Having no salt in the house, Lot's wife went to a neighbor, ostensibly to borrow some salt. But her real intention was to betray their guests' presence to the other residents of the city, who were not fond of guests (to say the least). As punishment, when fleeing S'dom, Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt.

Two questions arise here: first of all, why was there no salt in the house? What kind of self-respecting housewife runs a kitchen without salt? Second of all, why was Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt - how is turning into salt a suitable punishment for not hosting guests properly?

To answer these questions, let's analyze for a moment exactly what salt is. Salt is a food that is useless on its own - when eaten plain, it is neither tasty nor healthy. However, that being said, it is an extremely crucial ingredient in many other foods - as any chef will tell you, salt is one of the most versatile condiments there is. Thus we see that salt, by definition, is a food whose essence is serving others. Therefore, Lot's wife did not have any salt in her home: as a resident of S'dom, the selfishness was so ingrained in her that it was unthinkable to have a condiment whose whole essence is to not be selfish, whose purpose in creation is merely the enhancement of other foods. Likewise, that is why her punishment was to be turned into a pillar of salt: since she was so selfish all her life, in death she was converted into salt so that she would spend the rest of eternity as a food whose only purpose is to serve other foods.

We can see from here how important it is to be generous toward other people. A person should always strive to be like salt - always benevolent and caring to other people, even if it comes at great personal expense. Because by being kind to others, we are able to truly refine our character, and rise to greater spiritual heights.

(This week's dvar torah is in honor of hachosson Yoel ben Yisroel.)

Parshas Lech Lecha

In this week's parsha, Hashem tells Avraham Avinu to set out on a journey, without specifying the destination. There is a well-known Medrash which asks: "why did Hashem not tell Avraham his destination? So that Avraham would be rewarded for each and every step he took." Why was it necessary for the destination to remain a mystery? Couldn't Avraham have received the same reward even if he knew where he was going? What was it about the ambiguity of the destination that maximized his schar?

R' Boruch Ber Leibowitz answers as follows: if Hashem had told Avraham Avinu that his destination was Eretz Yisroel, then no matter how long the journey would have been, it still would have been just one mitzvah - that of fulfilling Hashem's command to travel to Eretz Yisroel. However, if the command is simply left as "go wherever I command you", then each and every step becomes its own mitzvah - and not only arrival at the destination - since each step is technically a fulfillment of Hashem's command. And that is why it was so important for Hashem to leave the destination shrouded in mystery.

The same concept can be applied to our times as well. When we live in a time of great turmoil, a time of uncertainty - whether financial, political or otherwise - we must keep in mind that it is for our own good that the future is unknown to us. The Ribono Shel Olam does not tell us what the end will be; rather, we follow him with blind faith down the path that He sets for us, so that we may receive schar for each and every individual step of the way. It is actually the greatest chesed that Hashem can do for us, since it enables us to earn the maximum amount of reward possible, and to achieve the highest levels of greatness.

(This week's dvar torah is in honor of Amram Zvi ben Avraham Moshe.)

Parshas Noach

In this week's parsha, the Torah tells us the story of how Noach built the teivah, and brought all of the animals inside - seven each of the kosher species, and two each of the non-kosher ones. Several times the Torah mentions how Noach was to bring livestock as well as birds. However, sometimes we see that the Torah mentions the birds before the livestock, and sometimes the livestock before the birds. Why the difference in order?

There is an interesting vort that is said which can be used to explain this phenomenon, as well as teach us a valuable lesson. If we analyze the pesukim in question, we will see that the pesukim where the birds are mentioned first occur while the future inhabitants of the the teivah have not yet entered it, whereas any mention of livestock being first refers to inside the teivah. That is because birds, with their ability to fly above all the other animals, are considered more choshuv than other kinds of animals. However, once inside the teivah, the birds lose the advantage that flight gives them, and are then considered lowlier than the rest of the animals. That is why the birds are then mentioned last.

The Jewish nation is compared to a bird, and the Torah is our wings. If we choose to confine ourselves into the "teivah" of the modern world with the "common animals" (the other nations of the world) and live by their degenerate standards, then we can lose our chashivus, our advantage over them, Heaven forbid. But if we break free of the barriers imposed upon us by the decadent society surrounding us, then we can be truly free, first and foremost above the other nations of the world. If we allow the Torah to be our wings and guide our flight, then nothing can prevent us from soaring higher and higher.

Parshas Ha'azinu - Yom Kippur

The Gemara (Bava Kama 50a) states that one who says that Hakadosh Baruch Hu is a "vatran" (that He dismisses wrongdoings), has forfeited his life. As a source for that statement, the Gemara quotes this week's parsha: "Hatzur tamim pa'alo, ki kol drachav mishpat". The D'var Avraham asks, how can the Gemara say that Hashem does not forgive wrongdoings? Don't we spend the entire Yom Kippur begging and pleading with Hashem to do just that - to forgive and forget our sins?

The answer is that there is a difference between vitur (disregarding a wrongdoing) and selicha (forgiveness). To ask of someone to be mevater on something means to ask that it be disregarded because you feel that what you did is not important enough to bother the offended party. Therefore, if someone says that Hashem is a vatran, he has forfeited his life since by definition, he has stated that he (and his actions) are not of any importance to anyone, so technically there is no reason for him to live. On the other hand, to ask for selicha, forgiveness, means to acknowledge that you have indeed committed a terrible offense, yet you are nevertheless asking the offended party to be kind and forgive your indiscretion. That, says the D'var Avraham, is the focus of Yom Kippur. Not to marginalize ourselves or our sins, but rather to confess them in great detail, and beg of Hashem that He forgive us for what we have done.

As we approach Yom Kippur, we should keep this valuable lesson in mind. We must realize our significance, and the importance of our actions. We must not attempt to downplay what we have done; rather we must truly regret all of the golden opportunities we have squandered, and promise to do better in the future. And in that merit, may we be zoche to a gmar chasima tovah, and a year full of bracha and hatzlacha.

Parshas Vayeilech - Rosh Hashana

We stand now just before one of the most awesome times of the year, the yom tov of Rosh Hashanah. As we all prepare for the awesome day of judgement, we hope and we pray that we will merit a good year, a year of both spiritual and physical enrichment.

One of the names given to Rosh Hashanah is "Yom Teruah" a day of blowing, since the blowing of the shofar plays such a central part in the seder hayom. Among the many reasons given for blowing the shofar is that it is me'orer middas harachamim, it awakens the divine attribute of mercy. How does the shofar do that? What is it about the simple blowing of a horn that can bring about a merciful judgement?

Perhaps it is because of what the shofar represents. The shofar represents a person's ability to change for the better, to improve oneself. The pasuk tells us "kol hashofar hoileich v'chazeik me'od" - the sound of the shofar gets continually stronger. Just as the sound of the shofar starts out small, but gets stronger and stronger, so too a person who starts out small has the ability to change for the better, and get stronger and stronger in his avodas Hashem.

Likewise, this lesson is evident from the construction of the shofar itself: the mouthpiece is just a small, narrow opening, while on the other end is a large opening many times its size. The kol hashofar starts out by passing through a small opening, and then through an ever-widening chamber, until it emerges full force from the other end. So too, a person may start out small, but has the capacity to grow from his experiences until he emerges a much better person, strengthened by his challenges.

And that is how the shofar is me'orer middas harachamim. The sound of the shofar implores Hashem to judge us favorably, with rachmanus, in the merit of the fact that we can - and will - change for the better. That, we hope, is why will be deserving of the middas harachamim.

May Hashem grant us all a meaningful year of growth, and may we be zoche to achieve new heights in avodas Hashem, and in return may Hashem judge us favorably and bestow upon us a year of health and prosperity.

Parshas Nitzavim

In the end of this week's parsha, the Torah tells us "Re'eh nasati lifonecha hayom es hachayim v'es hatov, v'es hamavas v'es hara." Several pesukim later, the Torah finishes off by saying:"ubacharta bachayim, l'maan tichyeh atah v'zarecha" - and you should choose life, so that you and your children will live. Why does the Torah say "atah v'zarecha" - you and your children? Wouldn't it have been enough merely to say what the benefit will be for the person himself who is mekayem the mitzvos?

R' Moshe Feinstein, zatza"l, says that the Torah is hinting to us how to ensure that we are able to successfully pass on our Jewish legacy to future generations. The Torah tells us "ubacharta bachayim" - that we should choose to do the mitzvos with life and joy, so that "l'maan tichyeh atah v'zarecha" - not only will you thrive from it, but your children will as well.

Indeed, R' Moshe points out, years ago there were many Yidden in America who were moser nefesh for Shabbos, looking for a new job every week because they would not work on Shabbos - and yet, many of their children ended up abandoning Yiddishkeit, rachmana litzlan. How could such a paradox come about? Says R' Moshe, because there was one saying that was very popular among them, which practically destroyed Yiddishkeit: "Es iz shver tzu zein ah Yid" - it is difficult to be a Jew. Even though those precious Yidden were willing to make great sacrifices for Hashem, many of them did not do so with joy, and they were therefore not able to pass on the same level of dedication to Yiddishkeit to their children.

That is why the Torah mentions "v'zarecha", to remind us what an important role the proper attitude plays in instilling the beauty of Yiddishkeit into our children. If we go about our mitzvah observance in a dry, unfeeling manner, then our children will pick up on those sentiments, and will not be enthusiastic about leading a Torah lifestyle. But if we do the mitzvos "bachayim", with life and with enthusiasm, then b'ezras Hashem we will be zoche to raise children who love Hashem and His Torah, and who will follow in our footsteps in serving Hashem.

Parshas Ki Savo

In this week's parsha, the Torah discusses the mitzvah of bikkurim, the bringing of the first-ripened fruits to the beis hamikdash. Bikkurim is such an important mitzvah, that the Sifri writes about it: "if you will fulfill what is written here (i.e. the mitzvah of bikkurim), you will inherit Eretz Yisroel". However, the Hafla'ah asks, the mitzvah of bikkurim can only be fulfilled AFTER Klal Yisroel
enters Eretz Yisroel. If so, how can inheriting Eretz Yisroel be in the merit of bikkurim? How can Klal Yisroel's entry into Eretz Yisroel be contingent upon a mitzvah that they can't even fulfill until after they enter the land?

Perhaps we can answer that the Sifri was not referring to the mitzvah of bikkurim itself, but rather the concept behind it. Let's analyze how bikkurim works: Hashem gives a person his land, and the opportunity to work the land, and rain to help his crops grow, and so on. And in return for that, as a small token of gratitude, the person brings the first fruits that grow as a gift for Hakadosh Baruch Hu, to show his thankfulness and appreciation for all the kindness that He has bestowed upon him. Thus we see that the essence of the mitzvah of bikkurim is showing appreciation to Hashem. That, says the Sifri, is what entitles a person to inherit Eretz Yisroel. If a person is always thanking Hashem and appreciating everything Hashem does for him, then he is indeed worthy of inheriting the Promised Land.

The lesson here is clear: we must always be thankful for everything Hashem does for us, even the little things that we would otherwise take for granted. If we are always cognizant of Hashem's goodness, then we will merit His continued blessing, and the long-awaited return of the Jewish people to Eretz Yisroel.

Parshas Ki Seitzei

In this week's parsha, the Torah presents us with the legendary mitzvah of Mechi'as Amalek. The Torah says "Timcheh es zecher Amalek mitachas hashamayim", eradicate the memory of Amalek from under the Heavens. At first glance, though, this mitzvah would seem somewhat obsolete in today's day and age. Since we have no way of knowing who is part of Amalek today, how can we fulfil this mitzvah?

However, if we take a moment to study the essence of this mitzvah, we will see that it still applies today. The main weapon of Amalek was "asher karcha baderech" - that they "cooled us down on the way". Klal Yisroel was "on the way" to achieving greatness. They were burning with a fervor and desire to do the will of Hashem, and Amalek came and washed that all away. Therefore, the Torah said that in retribution for cooling down Klal Yisroel, Amalek must be eradicated.

And that is how we can fulfill that mitzvah today. Each and every one of us has lofty goals and aspirations. However, inside of us a small voice that tries to discourage us, that tells us we can't do it. No matter what mitzvah we attempt to do, this voice is always there, always trying to cool us down. That is the voice of Amalek. That is the power of Amalek, unfortunately alive and well within us.

Therefore, our mitzvah - even in today's day and age - is "Timcheh es zecher Amalek". Not the nation Amalek, since we cannot know who they are; rather, the Amalek within ourselves. We must seek out and destroy the yetzer hara within us which tries to discourage us from pursuing our goals and dreams.

Parshas Shoftim

In this week's parsha, the Torah tells us about egla arufa, the calf that must be slaughtered when a victim is found murdered outside a city, without any clue as to who the murderer is. The Torah says that when sacrificing the calf, the elders of the city say "yodeinu lo shafcha es hadam hazeh" - our hands have not spilled this blood. Rashi explains that they mean to say "we did not fail to feed him, and we did not fail to escort him on his way out of the city, and we are therefore not responsible for his death". Now, the part about not feeding him is understandable: if a person does not eat, he will eventually die of starvation. But the part about not being melaveh him seems a bit strange: why do the elders of the city have to declare that they were melaveh him? It seems to imply that if he were not escorted out of the city, they would be directly responsible for his death. Why? How could a mere lack of accompaniment be grounds to hold someone responsible for a murder clearly carried out by someone else?

The answer is that there is more to accompanying someone than meets the eye. When you accompany someone, you are not merely "walking him to the door"; rather, you are showing him that you care about him, that you are with him wherever he goes. However, when a person leaves a city without levoya, he feels abandoned and alone, disconnected from his social network. He can become depressed, thinking that people do not care about him. Such a person is much more likely to succumb to the dangers that lurk on the road, with fatal results. That is why the elders of the city have to declare that the victim was escorted out of their city - because if not, they could indeed have (however indirectly) brought about his demise.

There is an important lesson for us to learn here: the importance of being part of a tzibur, part of a group of friends, part of a social network. We are in a long and bitter galus, with many trials and tribulations, which we can only overcome as part of a group. If we try to make it alone, we are doomed to fail; but if we band together with our friends, we will be mechazeik one another, and we can succeed beyond our wildest expectations.

Parshas Re'ei

This week's parsha begins: "Re'ei anochi nosein lifneichem hayom bracha uklala." The Torah outlines the choice a person has between the blessings he will receive for observing the mitzvos, and the curses that can Heaven forbid befall a person if he does not. However, it is interesting to note that there is a discrepancy between the two verses: whereas the pasuk dealing with the curses uses the conventional lashon of "im lo sishme'u", the pasuk dealing with the blessings uses the lashon of "ASHER tishme'u", abandoning the usual conditional word "im". What is the reason for this deviation from the norm?

Perhaps we can answer that it is because the Torah is trying to tell us something more than just the cause-and-effect of mitzvah observance resulting in blessing. Rather, the Torah is hinting to us by using the word "asher" that mitzvah observance is actually a reward in and of itself. A person must always remember that it is a privilege to serve Hashem, a gift bestowed upon us like no other. We are fortunate that we are the am ha'nivchar, that we have the opportunity to serve Hakadosh Baruch Hu and to glorify his name.

That is why the pasuk says "Es habracha asher tishme'u el mitzvos Hashem Elokeichem" - in the literal sense, this can be interpreted as "the blessing IS that you will observe the mitzvos of Hashem". By following the Torah, a person enjoys a more fulfilling and enriched lifestyle. He merits the beauty and that only Shabbos can bring. He merits the fulfillment that can only come from Torah study. And he merits the enjoyment that only a spiritual person can feel.

Parshas Eikev

In this week's parsha, Moshe Rabbeinu says "v'ata Yisrael mah Hashem Elokecha sho'el me'imach, ki im l'yirah es Hashem Elokocha" - "And now, Yisroel, what does Hashem your G-d ask of you? Only that you fear Hashem, your G-d". The Gemara in Brachos asks the famous question: is fear of Hashem really such a small matter? To which the Gemara answers: yes indeed, to someone like Moshe Rabbeinu, fear of Hashem is a small matter.

The obvious question is, we all know that when speaking to someone else it is important to speak to them on their own level, so that they can relate to what is being said. If so, why would Moshe Rabbeinu say something like that to Klal Yisroel on his own level? Shouldn't he have been more considerate of the fact that even though it may have been simple for him, for Klal Yisroel it is more difficult?

The answer is, says R' Ahron Kotler, that each and every member of Klal Yisroel has a small part of Moshe Rabbeinu within themselves. Every Rebbe gives over a part of himself into his talmidim, and since Moshe Rabbeinu was the Rebbe of Klal Yisroel, a small part of his spirit is imbued in each person. And when a person focuses on that part of himself, the part of pure holiness that comes from Moshe Rabbeinu, then indeed, he will find that it is truly not difficult to fear Hashem.

Parshas Va'eschanan

In this week's parsha, the Torah records the first paragraph of Shema, the paragraph of "Ve'ohavta es Hashem Elokecha". There are several inconsistencies between the first and second paragraphs of Shema, some of which are mentioned by the Vilna Gaon.

First of all, the first parsha is written in singular form ("bechol levovCHA, ubechol nafsheCHA"), whereas the second parsha is written in plural form ("bechol levavCHEM, ubechol nafsheCHEM"). Second of all, the first parsha makes no mention whatsoever of schar ve'onesh, whereas the second parsha goes on in great detail about the rewards of following Hashem and the punishments of chas veshalom doing the opposite. And third of all, the first parsha mentions "bechol me'odecha" - serving Hashem with one's money, whereas the second parsha does not. What is the reason behind these discrepancies?

The answer is that the first parsha is referring to the special people who seek to be close to Hashem, whose profound dedication to Avodas Hashem sets them apart; the second parsha is referring to the more average person, whose religious convictions are more often dictated by the conventions of society.

The first parsha is written in singular form because there are only a few select people who really stand out in their Avodas Hashem, who have almost a private relationship with Him, so to speak. When a person reaches that level, that makes him truly an individual, hence the first parsha of Shema being written in the singular form; as opposed to an average person, whose religious observance is dictated by what other people are doing, and thus is addressed by a parsha written in the plural form.

Likewise, schar ve'onesh is not mentioned in the first paragraph because tzadikim do not need the concept of schar ve'onesh to keep them in line; they serve Hashem because of their love for Him. Such a concept belongs in the second parsha, since it is the average person who needs such motivation.

But perhaps the most crucial of the three is the third discrepancy: the fact that it says "bechol me'odecha" only in the first parsha and not the second. The reason for this is that parting with one's money for Hashem's sake is one of the most difficult tests a person can face, a test which only a true tzadik can pass. People can be very nice to one another and do lots of chesed, but when it comes to giving up of their wealth for Hakadosh Baruch Hu, they inexplicably find it difficult to come through. That is because money is the ultimate test of a person's dedication to Hashem. That's where a person must face the real challenge: am I just a beinini, whose parsha makes no mention of "bechol me'odecha" because serving Hashem with one's money can be too difficult to handle? Or do I wish to strive to be a tzadik, and to triumph the nisayon of money?

Parshas Devarim

In this week's parsha, the Torah recaps the various events that occurred to Klal Yisroel in the desert. Among the events mentioned is the story of the Meraglim. The pasuk says "Vatikrivun eilai kulchem", which Rashi explains that it was "b'irbuvia", meaning that the incident of Klal Yisroel demanding to send spies occurred in a totally discombobulated fashion. Rashi goes on to contrast how the story of Matan Torah was organized and proper, with the younger generation respecting their elders, and the elders respecting the leaders; whereas by the story of the Meraglim, the younger generation was pushing and shoving their elders, and the elders were pushing and shoving the leaders - a scene of total mayhem. Why did Rashi feel the need to draw a contrast between the two events? Wouldn't it have been enough to merely highlight what was wrong by the story of the Meraglim?

Perhaps we can suggest as follows: Klal Yisroel could have shrugged off the blame by saying that even though they sinned, it wasn't really their fault; rather, they erred due to the hysteria that came about because of the tremendous lack of order. After all, any major event that occurs with a lack of proper structure would be enough to throw people into a panic and cause them to act irrationally. Therefore, Rashi mentions another such incident, where there was the same potential for panic, but Klal Yisroel rose to the occasion: Matan Torah. By Matan Torah, too, there could have been much confusion and mayhem, which would have been easily attributable to the magnitude of the event causing a disruption of order and structure. Rashi is pointing out that since we see that Klal Yisroel did not buckle at another occasion under similar circumstances, obviously such circumstances cannot be a plausible explanation for the sin of the Meraglim.

This concept is unfortunately true in our times as well. All too often, we find ourselves dismissing questionable behavior with all kinds of excuses. "It's too difficult", "I'm too tired", "I don't have time" - the list of possible excuses is endless. But we must be honest with ourselves: is that REALLY the reason why we are not doing a particular mitzvah properly? If we were faced with a similar set of circumstances, except in a case where it is to our material benefit to follow through on the action in question, would we still give the same excuses? Or would we somehow find the strength to go ahead and do whatever it is?

We must be very careful to give Hashem the same level of consideration we do for ourselves, if not more. If we would overcome a particular inconvenience or physical discomfort for our own sake, then of course we must do so for Hashem's sake as well. And in the merit of making the right choices, may we be zoche to have this coming Tisha B'av converted into a time of happiness, with the coming of Moshiach and the rebuilding of the Beis Hamikdash, b'meheirah b'yomeinu.

Parshas Masei

This week's parsha is Parshas Masei, which discusses the travels of Klal Yisroel. It is also the week of Shabbos Chazak, when we finish one of the five Chumashim and say "chazak, chazak, v'nischazeik". What connection can be drawn between these two points?

Perhaps we can suggest as follows: when a person is travelling, he is "out of his element". He is no longer secure in his comfortable, familiar surroundings, but rather he is out "in the wild", unaware of the dangers lurking just around the corner. The spiritual challenges he faces can be quite overwhelming. At a time like that, the solution is to band together with other people. As the pasuk says about Yaakov Avinu, "Vayevoseir Yaakov levado" - when Yaakov remained alone, with no one else with him - "vaye oveik ish imo" - only then was the Saro Shel Esav able to attack him. But when a person is together with friends, then "Ish es rei'eihu ya'azoru, ule achiv yomar chazak" - he can be strengthened enough to defeat the challenges that come his way. And that is perhaps why we end the parsha discussing Klal Yisroel's travels by saying "chazak, chazak, v'nischazeik" - to remind us of the importance of a traveler being mechazeik himself through his friends.

As we enter Bein Hazmanim, we should keep this lesson in mind, being that Bein Hazmanim is the "travel season". We should use this opportunity to meet with each other, to renew old relationships, and be mechazeik one another. And b'ezras Hashem, the chizuk will hopefully carry us through any challenges that may arise.

Parshas Mattos

In this week's parsha, when discussing how to handle spoils of war, the Torah begins by saying "Elazar the Kohein said to the soldiers who were coming to war". The question that arises is, since Elazar was speaking to the soldiers who were returning from war with the spoils after the war was already over, why does the pasuk say "haba'im l'milchama" ("who were COMING to war")? Shouldn't it rather say "haba'im me'hamilchama" ("who were RETURNING from war")?

The Divrei Shaul answers by quoting a story from the Chovos Halevavos. There was once a wise man who saw a group of soldiers returning from war laden with riches which they had conquered, joking and laughing about all the parties they were going to have now that the battle was won. "Fools!" he said to them, "you think the war is over? Quite the contrary, the battle has only just begun: the war you are returning from is a small, physical battle. Now you have to fight a much bigger battle - the battle of the Yetzer Hara! Now that you are rich from the spoils of war, your nisyonos are immeasurably greater!"

So too, says the Divrei Shaul, is the case over here. Although the soldiers were returning from the battle of Midyan victorious, the pasuk refers to them as "haba'im l'milchama" ("who were coming to war") - because indeed, their real battle was only just beginning. Now was when they would have to fight their evil inclinations and make sure to take the proper course of action in handling the spoils.

Indeed, this concept does not only apply to war, but to our regular daily lives as well: whenever a person's physical or monetary situation improves, his nisyonos grow as well. The Chofetz Chaim says that in Rosh Chodesh bentching, we ask for yiras shomayim twice. Why? Because after asking for yiras shomayim the first time, we ask for "chaim shel osher v'chovod" - a life of wealth and honor. And once a person has wealth and honor, his previous level of yiras shomayim will not be enough to sustain him - he must ask again for additional yiras shomayim, so as to triumph the new nisyonos that will undoubtedly arise.

As we go through life, we must be sure that as our status in life changes, so must our level in Avodas Hashem. A person cannot "rest on his laurels", expecting his current spiritual level to carry him through life at a constant, positive pace. Rather, he must constantly ensure that his level of yiras shomayim is on par with his station in life. One must always strive to reach higher and higher.

Parshas Pinchas

In this week's parsha, we find the story of Pinchas, who was the epitome of zeal on behalf of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. With one zealous act, he curbed Hashem's anger, and ended the plague that was raging through Klal Yisroel. The obvious question is, what was the source of this unusual display of courage? How did Pinchas have the fortitude to rise above the level of those around him, and do what no one else was brave enough to do?

The answer is that unfortunately, most people do not act according to what is right, but rather according to the way they feel society dictates they should. Even if people know that something is wrong, they will not speak out against it and protest it if they feel that people will look down upon them for taking the unpopular side. Pinchas, on the other hand, acted according to what was right, not what was popular. Pinchas realized that the situation called for an "out of the box" approach and took action accordingly, despite the risk that people would look upon him as a fanatic. He didn't care what people thought - his only concern was to do what was right, for the kavod of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. In fact, the pasuk does not say "tachas asher kino l'Elokim" (merely "to G-d"), but rather "l'Elokav" ("to his G-d"). Because in this case, his devotion to Hashem was singular to him. He was the only one who took a stand for what he felt was right, without factoring in the opinion of the rest of the world.

Taking action the way Pinchas did can only come from a very deep sense of devotion to Hashem. That's why we say the halacha in such a case is that although "kano'im pogim bo" (kano'im may take matters into their own hands, and administer vigilante justice), nevertheless "v'ein morim kein" (we do not instruct people to do so) - an act like that cannot be planned or rehearsed; rather, by definition, it must be spontaneous and unexpected. It must come from deep within a person, from a natural revulsion toward evil and a desire to do the right thing. That is why although the parshiyos of Chukas and Balak (the parshiyos immediately preceding Pinchas) may be paired as a "double-parsha", as well as Matos and Masei (the parshiyos immediately following Pinchas), the parsha of Pinchas always stands alone. It is to remind us that Pinchas is unique. His parsha is always by itself to highlight his individuality.

We each have challenges in our lives that we face. We must learn from Pinchas not to merely "follow the herd", but rather to make our own choices. We must always rise to the occasion, and do what we know is right.