Acharei-Kedoshim

http://www.chabad.org/parshah/article_cdo/aid/2894/jewish/Acharei-Kedoshim-in-a-Nutshell.htm The Parshah in a Nutshell Acharei-Kedoshim in a Nutshell Leviticus 16:1–20:27 The Parshah in a Nutshell Acharei-Kedoshim in a Nutshell Leviticus 16:1–20:27 Following the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, G‑d warns against unauthorized entry “into the holy.” Only one person, the kohen gadol (“high priest”), may, but once a year, on Yom Kippur, enter the innermost chamber in the Sanctuary to offer the sacred ketoret to G‑d. Another feature of the Day of Atonement service is the casting of lots over two goats, to determine which should be offered to G‑d and which should be dispatched to carry off the sins of Israel to the wilderness. The Parshah of Acharei also warns against bringing korbanot (animal or meal offerings) anywhere but in the Holy Temple, forbids the consumption of blood, and details the laws prohibiting incest and other deviant sexual relations. The Parshah of Kedoshim begins with the statement: “You shall be holy, for I, the L‑rd your G‑d, am holy.” This is followed by dozens of mitzvot (divine commandments) through which the Jew sanctifies him- or herself and relates to the holiness of G‑d. These include: the prohibition against idolatry, the mitzvah of charity, the principle of equality before the law, Shabbat, sexual morality, honesty in business, honor and awe of one’s parents, and the sacredness of life. Also in Kedoshim is the dictum which the great sage Rabbi Akiva called a cardinal principle of Torah, and of which Hillel said, “This is the entire Torah, the rest is commentary”—“Love your fellow as yourself.” http://www.chabad.org/parshah/in-depth/default_cdo/aid/42608/jewish/In-Depth.htm Also in our Parshah: the injunction not to "stand by your brother's blood" (i.e., the duty to "get involved" when another's life is threatened); the duty to "rebuke your fellow" over his wrongdoing rather than to "hate your brother in your heart"; prohibitions against slander and gossip, taking revenge and bearing a grudge. Kedoshim also contains the dictum which the great sage Rabbi Akiva called "a cardinal principle of Torah" and of which Hillel said, "This is the entire Torah; the rest is commentary": Love your fellow as yourself. In addition to these "mitzvot between man and man," there are "mitzvot between man and G-d" such as the chokim (supra-rational divine decrees) against hybrid cross-breeding of different animal species, hybrid planting of plant species, and shaatnez -- hybrid use of wool and linen in a garment. Also, When you shall come into the land, and shall have planted all manner of trees for food, then you shall reckon their fruit as orlah ("uncircumcised"). Three years shall it be as orlah unto you: it shall not be eaten. The fourth year's produce is to be taken to Jerusalem, where it is eaten in sanctity; "its fruit shall be holy for praise-giving to G-d." Only "in the fifth year shall you eat of its fruit, that it may yield to you its increase." And, You shall not round the corners of [the hair of] your heads; neither shall you destroy the corners of your beard... Do not prostitute your daughter, to cause her to be a harlot; lest the land fall to harlotry, and the land become full of foulness.... You shall rise up before the white-haired, and honor the face of the old man, and fear your G-d; I am G-d. And if a stranger sojourn with you in your land, you shall not wrong him... and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt; I am G-d your G-d. A severe warning is issued for those who assume the practice of the inhabitants of the land of Canaan to sacrifice their children to the pagan god Molekh. Kedoshim concludes with a list of prohibitions against illicit sexual relations: adultery, various incestuous relationships (a father's wife, a daughter-in-law, an aunt, a sister, a sister-in-law, etc.), homosexuality, bestiality, relations with a menstruating woman. And you shall be holy to Me, for I, G-d, am holy, and I have separated you from the nations, that you should be Mine. _____________________________________________________________________ After the death of the two sons of Aaron (Leviticus 16:1) Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria would explain this with a parable: A sick person was visited by a physician, who said to him: "Do not eat cold food and do not lie in the damp, lest you die." There then came a second physician who said to him: "Do not eat cold food and do not lie in the damp, lest you die as so-and-so died." The second one influences him more than the first. Thus it says: "After the death of the two sons of Aaron." DEATH OF NADAB AND ABIHU Who came close to G-d and died (16:1) They approached the supernal light out of their great love of the Holy, and thereby died. Thus they died by "divine kiss" such as experienced by the perfectly righteous; it is only that the righteous die when the divine kiss approaches them, while they died by their approaching it... Although they sensed their own demise, this did not prevent them from drawing near to G-d in attachment, delight, delectability, fellowship, love, kiss and sweetness, to the point that their souls ceased from them. (Ohr HaChaim) And he shall bathe his flesh in water, and clothe himself in them (16:4) On that day, the Kohen Gadol immersed (in a mikvah) five times, and washed his hands and feet from the kiyyor ("basin") that stood before the Sanctuary ten times: each time he changed his clothes, he was required to immerse once, and wash twice (once before removing the first set of clothes, and again after dressing in the second set). For there were five sets of services performed by him on that day: 1) The regular morning services, performed in the "golden garments" (worn by the Kohen Gadol throughout the year). 2) The special services of the day (reciting the confession over the Yom Kippur offerings, casting the lots, entering the Holy of Holies to offer the ketoret and to sprinkle the blood of the Yom Kippur offerings)--performed in the linen garments. 3) The two rams brought as "ascending offerings" and the day's musaf offerings--in the golden garments. 4) returning to the Holy of Holies to remove the pan of burning incense--in linen garments. 5) the regular afternoon services--in the golden garments. (Talmud, tractate Yoma) Two he-goats (16:5) They should be identical in appearance, height and price, and should be acquired together. (Talmud, Yoma 62b) http://www.chabad.org/global/popup/default_cdo/aid/2549/jewish/The-Angel-and-the-Drunk.htm A Throw of Dice And yet, as one delves beneath the surface diversity, similarities emerge. Purim means lots, and the festival of Purim is so named after the lots cast by Haman to determine on which day of the year the Jews should be slaughtered, G-d forbid. The casting of lots is also a central theme of Yom Kippur: in one of the most dramatic moments of Yom Kippur service in the Holy Temple, the kohen gadol (high priest) stood between two he-goats and cast lots to determine which should be offered to G-d and which should carry off the sins of Israel to the desert. A lot expresses the idea that one has passed beyond the realm of motive and reason. Lots are resorted to when there is no reason or impetus to chose one option over the other, so that the matter must be left to forces that are beyond ones control and comprehension. Therein lies the significance of the lots cast by the kohen gadol on Yom Kippur. After all is said and done, implied the lots, no man is worthy in the eyes of G-d. We all stand before Him with our faults and iniquities, and by all rational criteria, should be found lacking in His judgment. So we impel ourselves beyond the realm of convention and reason, beyond the pale of merit and fault. We disavow all the accouterments of physical identity-food and drink, earthly pleasures, and our very sense of reason and priority. We cast our lot with G-d, confident that He will respond in kind and relate to us in terms of our quintessential bond to Him rather than by the existential scales of pro and con. Hamans lot-casting was his attempt to exploit the supra-existentionality of the divine to an opposite end. The Jewish people, said Haman, might be the pursuers of G-ds wisdom on earth and the implementors of His commandments, thus meriting His favor and protection. But surely G-d, in essence, is above it all-above our earthly reason and its notions of virtue and deservability, beyond such concepts as good or evil. Ultimately, the divine will is as arbitrary as a roll of dice. Why not give it a shot? I might just catch a supernal caprice running in my direction. What Haman failed to realize, say the Chassidic Masters, is that we are G-ds "chosen people" in the ultimate sense of the word. He does not desire us and love us because of any reason or cause--because we are good or virtuous or wids. Also on the level on which darkness is as light and good and evil are equally insignificant before Him, G-d chooses-for no reason save that such is His choice-the nation of Israel. In the words of the prophet, ``Is not Esau a brother to Jacob? says G-d. But I love Jacob. Also when reality seems as arbitrary as a throw of dice-for the righteous Jacob is no more worthy (for worthiness is a moot point) than the wicked Esau-the divine lot inevitably falls with His chosen people. Thus, the festival of Purim derives its name from the lots cast by Haman. For this is not some incidental detail in the story of Purim but the single event that most expresses what Purim represents. Does Matter Matter Yom Kippur is indeed a day like Purim: both are points in physical time that transcend the very laws of physical existence. Points at which we rise above the rational structure of reality and affirm our supra-rational bond with G-d-a bond not touched by the vicissitudes of mortal life. A bond as free of cause and motive as the free-falling lot. But there is also a significant difference between these two days. On Yom Kippur, our transcendence is expressed by our disavowal of all trappings of physical life. But the very fact that these would interfere with the supra-existential nature of the day indicates that we are not utterly free of them. Thus Yom Kippur is only a day like Purim (kpurim), for it achieves only a semblance of the essence of Purim. The ultimate transcendence of materiality is achieved not by depriving the body and suppressing the physical self, but by transforming the physical into an instrument of the divine will. So Purim is the day on which we are our most physical, and at the same time exhibit a self-abnegation to G-d that transcends all dictates and parameters of the physical-rational state--transcending even the axioms cursed be Haman and blessed be Mordechai. Yom Kippur is the day that empowers the Jew to rise above the constraints of physicality and rationality. Purim is the day that empowers the Jew to live a physical life that is the vehicle for a supra-physical, supra-rational commitment to G-d. Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe And so shall he do for the Tent of Meeting, which dwells amongst them in the midst of their defilement (16:16) Also when they are in a state of defilement, the Shechinah (Divine Presence) dwells with them. (Talmud; Rashi) Following the Torah's account of the revelation at Mount Sinai and Moses' ascent to the top of the mountain to receive the Torah from G-d, come 16 chapters -- comprising the Torah sections of Terumah, Tetzaveh, Ki-Tisa, Vayak'hel and Pekudei - -in which are related: a) G-d's instructions regarding the building of the Sanctuary (Exodus 25-31, covering the sections of Terumah, Tetzaveh, and the first part of Ki-Tisa); b) The sin of the Golden Calf and the granting of the Second Tablets (Exodus 32-34, all in Ki-Tisa); c) The people's donation of the materials for the Sanctuary (Exodus 35) and the Sanctuary's construction, erection and sanctification (Exodus 36-40; these comprise the sections of Vayak'hel and Pekudei). THREE DIFFERENT CHRONOLGIES OF THE BUILDING OF TGHE MISHKAN In keeping with the rule that "There is no earlier and later in Torah" (i.e., the Torah does not necessarily relate events in the order in which they occurred), the biblical commentaries differ as to the chronology of these events. All told, there are no fewer than three different versions of the time-frame of the Mishkan's making vis-a-vis the making of the Golden Calf. The following timeline, spanning a period of almost ten months, is agreed to by all: 1) On Sivan 6 (or 7, according to Rabbi Yossi), G-d revealed Himself to all of Israel and proclaimed the Ten Commandments; on the following day, Moses ascended Mount Sinai to receive the Torah from G-d. 2) Forty days later, on Tammuz 16, the people made the Golden Calf, and rose early the next morning to worship it. On Tammuz 17 Moses descended from the mountain carrying the Tablets of the Testimony; upon seeing the people dancing around their idol, he smashes the Tablets at the foot of the mountain. 3) On Tammuz 19, Moses ascended Mount Sinai for a second 40 days to plead for forgiveness on Israel's behalf. At the end of this period, G-d tells him to carve two new tablets, upon which He will inscribe the Ten Commandments, to replace the broken tablets. 4) On the 1st of Elul, Moses ascended the mountain with the tablets he carved for a third forty days, which concluded on the 10th of Tishei (Yom Kippur). On that day, Moses received the Second Tablet from G-d and G-d expressed His full forgiveness of Israel's sin. 5) The construction of the Mishkan's components and vessels was completed 2 1/2 months later, on the 25th of Kislev (the first day of Chanukah). But the Mishkan was not set up until more than three months after that, on the 1st of Nissan (preceded by a week of "initiation," Adar 23-29). The above is derived by the Talmud from the Torah's account. The point of contention between the commentaries concerns G-d's instructions regarding the Mishkan and the people's donation of its materials. Nachmanides is of the opinion that these occurred in the order in which they appear in the Torah. Thus, G-d's instructions to Moses regarding the Sanctuary (recounted in Terumah and Tetzaveh) came immediately after the revelation at Sinai, during Moses' first 40 days on the mountain. Their implementation, however, was delayed by Israel's sin and the need for Moses to obtain G-d's forgiveness and a second pair of Tablets, so that the donation of the materials described in the beginning of Vayak'hel (Exodus 35) occurred on Tishrei 11, the day after Yom Kippur, followed by the Mishkan's construction and erection as per above. Rashi (who follows the Midrash Tanchuma), notes the many Scriptural and Talmudic indications that the Sanctuary was in response to, and an atonement for, the sin of the Golden Calf. Accordingly, Rashi is of the opinion that the divine instructions contained in the sections of Terumah and Tetzaveh were communicated to Moses on Yom Kippur, following Israel's repentance, G-d's (full) forgiveness, and Moses' receiving of the Second Tablets. A third opinion is that of the Zohar, which states that both G-d's instructions and Israel's donation of the materials occurred before the sin of the Golden Calf. (Thus, explains the Zohar, the people had to "unload the golden earrings which were in their ears" to provide gold for their idol, since their gold had already been donated for the making of the Mishkan.) According to this, the making of the Sanctuary was not a result of Israel's sin and their repentance thereof, but a mitzvah that was commanded, and begun to be implemented, before the incident of the Golden calf. The Tzaddik, the Baal Teshuvah and the Sinner The Lubavitcher Rebbe points out that these three versions describe three different states of the people commanded and empowered to make an abode for G-d. According to the Zohar, the commandment to make a Mishkan was directed to a nation of tzaddikim, perfectly righteous individuals untainted by sin or wrongdoing (in accordance with the Talmudic statement that, at Sinai, the people of Israel were born anew, and thus as pure of guilt or an iniquitous past as a newborn infant.) The dedication of the materials of the Mishkan was likewise by tzaddikim. This implies that the making of a physical home for G-d was possible only because the materials for its construction were dedicated (and thus sanctified) by a people still not tainted by that corruptive use of their gold, and that only such materials could have been fashioned into a home for G-d. According to Rashi, the commandment to make a Mishkan was directed to baalei teshuvah ("returnees" or "penitents") -- individuals who had fallen prey to the corruptions of the material, but had rebounded from their downfall to forge a new, invigorated bond with G-d. Indeed, the implication is that had the people of Israel not sinned by making and worshipping a calf of gold, there would not have existed the necessity -- nor the opportunity -- for a physical structure to house the Divine presence in the Israelite camp. The common denominator between these two approaches is that the sin of the Golden Calf did not actually interject (as it does in the text) between the commandment to build the Mishkan and the donation of its materials by the people: according to the Zohar both occurred before Israel's worship of the Golden Calf, and according to Rashi both came afterwards. In other words, both approaches share the notion that the commandment to build the Mishkan would not have "survived" Israel's sin. Indeed, such was the case with the very covenant forged between G-d and Israel: the Tablets were broken, and a new set had to be hewn and inscribed following the reconciliation of G-d and Israel. Indeed, there were several marked differences -- for the better and for the worse -- between the two sets of Tablets. In this lies the uniqueness of Nachmanides' approach, which insists on a "straight" reading of the text and an interpretation of the events that places G-d's instructions for the making of the Mishkan before the sin of the Golden Calf, and the beginning of their implementation began after the sin and Israel's repentance. According to Nachmanides, the command and empowerment to build a home for G-d remained in force even as the people worshipped an idol of gold. Unlike the Torah itself (!), the command to build the Mishkan was not revoked, and no "second edition" was necessary. This means that the ability to make a Sanctuary for G-d rests also with a nation of resha'im, sinners and transgressors of the divine will! In other words, says the Rebbe, the different interpretations of the Torah's account put forth by the Zohar, Rashi and Nachmanides revolve around the following question: Who can make a "dwelling for G-d in the physical world"? The perfect tzaddik? The unique personality of the baal teshuvah? Or even the iniquitous rashah? There is an approach that says that only a tzaddik can take lowly objects such as gold, wood or animal hides and transform them into an abode for the divine presence. True, the spiritual tzaddik has no real connection with these materials: the glitter of gold means nothing to him, nor is he moved by the comforts of fine linen or the beauty of artistically woven tapestries. But precisely this is what qualifies him as a builder of a Mishkan. Because he is aloof from the enticements of the material, he can uncover the spiritual potential within the "lowly realm" without being ensnared by its lowliness. This is the approach of the Zohar, which sees the building of the Mishkan as having been possible only with materials donated by the perfectly righteous. A second approach argues that only the baal teshuvah, who has fallen prey to the corruptions of materiality, can truly exploit its divine potential. Only the baal teshuvah knows the material world "from within," having himself been very much a part of it; only the baal teshuvah is a living example of the transformation of lowly into lofty, as one who has exploited the momentum of his fall to attain even greater heights of connection to G-d. Thus, goes this line of thinking, if Israel had not fallen to the nadir of material corruption by worshipping an idol of gold, the making of a home of gold for G-d would not have been possible. This is the concept behind Rashi's interpretation, which dates the divine commandment to build the Mishkan on the 10th of Tishrei, following Israel's return to G-d and the renewed covenant it produced. A third approach rejects the entire concept that making a "dwelling for G-d in the physical world" requires any particular state or spiritual condition. Is this not the very purpose of G-d's creation of the world? Is this not the essence of man's mission in life? Man never loses this capacity, for it is integral to his very being. This aspect of the Torah is never revoked or "broken": in whatever situation a person finds himself, even that of a still-unrepentant sinner, he can make his material existence a home for "He who dwells amongst them in the midst of their impurities" (Leviticus 16:16). This is the conception behind Nachmanides' reading of the chapters of the latter half of Exodus, by which the commandment to build the Mishkan remains in force throughout the ups and downs of Israel's relationship with G-d, even as the rest of the Torah is shattered to pieces. All True "These and these are the words of the living G-d" says the Talmud of differing interpretation of Torah by its sages. G-d's dwelling on earth can, and must be, all three: a home for G-d built by the pristinely righteous, an abode build by the transformative power of teshuvah, and a divine inhabitation of every human effort to serve Him, no matter how lowly its origin. Indeed, the Rebbe points out, the Ark in the original Mishkan contained the first, broken Tablets as well as the second set. Thus it housed: a) the First Tablets, granted to a nation of tzaddikim; b) these, however, were broken, representing the depths of iniquity to which Israel had descended in the interim; c) the Second Tablets, embodying the power of teshuvah. Thus the divine command to make for G-d a dwelling out of the materials of physical life is addressed to the tzaddik, to the baal teshuvah and to the rashah. To the tzaddik it says: You are never too holy, too spiritual, too pure, to engage in the task of making Me at home in the lowliest elements of My creation. Indeed, because of your holiness, spirituality and purity, there is a dimension of My home on earth that only you can create for Me. To the baal teshuvah it says: When you agonize your your iniquitous or merely negative past (as you should), remember this: it is that very past that makes you the builder of a most central component of My home on earth. You, and only you, can achieve a true transformation of materiality into G-dliness. And to the rashah it says: No matter how distant your daily behavior is from My program for life, no matter how it conflicts with My will, when you do a single Mitzvah -- a single deed that I have commanded -- that part of your physical life shall become an home for My presence. Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; Turn not to idols, nor make to yourselves molten gods (19:4) At first, they will be just "idols"; but if you turn to them, you will end up making them "gods". (Rashi) You shall not go about as a talebearer amongst your people; you shall not stand by your fellow's blood (19:16) Said Rabbi Yitzchak: One who bears tales is a murderer, as it is written: "You shall not go about as a talebearer amongst your people; you shall not stand by your fellow's blood" (Tosefta, Drech Eretz 6:3) Evil talk kills three people: the speaker, the listener, and the one who is spoken of. (Talmud, Erachin 15a The speaker obviously commits a grave sin by speaking negatively of his fellow. The listener, too, is a partner to this evil. But why is the one who is spoken of affected by their deed? Are his negative traits worsened by the fact that they are spoken of? Indeed they are. A person may possess an evil trait or tendency, but his quintessential goodness, intrinsic to every soul, strives to control it, conquer it, and ultimately eradicate its negative expressions and redirect it as a positive force. But when this evil is spoken of, it is made that much more manifest and real. By speaking negatively of the person's trait or deed, the evilspeakers are, in effect, defining it as such; with their words, they grant substance and validity to its negative potential. But the same applies in the reverse: speaking favorably of another, accentuating his or her positive side, will aid him to realize himself in the manner that you have defined him. (The Lubavitcher Rebbe The Psalmist compares slanderous talk to "Sharp arrows of the warrior, coals of broom" (Psalms 120:4). All other weapons smite from close quarters, while the arrow smites from the distance. So is it with slander: it is spoken in Rome and kills in Syria. All other coals, when extinguished, are extinguished without and within; but coals of broom are still burning within when they are extinguished without. So is it with words of slander: even after it seems that their effects have been put out, they continue to smolder within those who heard them. It once happened that a broom tree was set on fire and it burned eighteen months--winter, summer and winter. (Midrash Rabbah) Evil talk is like an arrow. A person who unsheathes a sword can regret his intention and return it to its sheath. But the arrow cannot be retrieved. (Midrash Tehillim) To what may the tongue be compared? To a dog tied with an iron chain and locked in a room within a room within a room, yet when he barks the entire populace is terrified of him. Imagine if he were loose outside! So the tongue: it is secured behind the teeth and behind the lips, yet it does no end of damage. Imagine if it were outside! (Yalkut Shimoni) Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov once instructed several of his disciples to embark on a journey. The Chassidic leader did not tell them where to go, nor did they ask; they allowed Divine Providence to direct their wagon where it may, confident that the destination and purpose of their trip would be revealed in due time. After traveling for several hours, they stopped at a wayside inn to eat and rest. Now the Baal Shem Tov's disciples were pious Jews who insisted on the highest standards of kashrut; when they learned that their host planned to serve them meat in their meal, they asked to see the shochet (ritual slaughterer) of the house, interrogated him as to his knowledge and piety and examined his knife for any possible blemishes. Their discussion of the kashrut standard of the food continued throughout the meal, as they inquired after the source of every ingredient in each dish set before them. As they spoke and ate, a voice emerged from behind the oven, where an old beggar was resting amidst his bundles. "Dear Jews," it called out, "are you as careful with what comes out of your mouth as you are with what enters into it?" The party of Chassidim concluded their meal in silence, climbed onto their wagon and turned it back toward Mezhibuzh. They now understood the purpose for which their Rebbe had dispatched them on their journey that morningYou shall not go about as a talebearer (19:16) A man once came to see Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch and proceeded to portray himself as a villain of the worst sort. After describing at length his moral and spiritual deficiencies, he begged the Rebbe to help him overcome his evil character. "Surely,'' said the Rebbe, "you know how grave is the sin of lashon harah, speaking ill of a human being. Nowhere, to my knowledge, does it say that it is permissible to speak lashon harah about oneself." You shall not stand by your fellow's blood (19:16) From where do we know that if one sees his fellow drowning in a river, being dragged off by a wild animal or attacked by robbers, that one is obligated to save him? From the verse, "You shall not stand by your fellow's blood." (Talmud, Sanhedrin 73a) You shall not hate your brother in your heart; rebuke, rebuke your fellow, but do not incur a sin on his account (19:17) If a person is wronged by another, he should not hate him and remain silent, as is said in regard to the wicked, "And Absalom did not speak to Amnon, neither good nor evil, for Absalom hated Amnon" (II Samuel 13:22). Rather, it is a mitzvah for him to make this known to him, and say to him, "Why did you do this-and-this to me? Why did you offend me in this way?", as it is written: "Rebuke, rebuke your fellow." And if that person expresses regret and asks him for forgiveness, he should forgive him... One who sees that his fellow has sinned, or is following an improper path, it is a mitzvah to bring him back to the proper path and to inform him that he sins by his bad actions, as it is written: "Rebuke, rebuke your fellow." When one rebukes one's fellow, whether it is regarding matters between the two of them or regarding matters between that person and G-d, he should rebuke him in private. He should speak to him gently and softly, and should tell him that he is doing this for his own good, so that he may merit the World to Come. If that person accepts [the rebuke], good; if not, he should rebuke him a second time and a third time. He should continue to rebuke him to the point that the sinner strikes him and says to him, "I refuse to listen." Whoever has the ability to rebuke and does not do so shares in the guilt for the sin, since he could have prevented it... One who is wronged by his fellow but does not desire to rebuke him or speak to him about it at all because the offender is a very coarse person, or a disturbed person, but chooses instead to forgive him in his heart, bearing him no grudge nor rebuking him, this is the manner of the pious. The Torah's objection [to remaining silent] is only when he harbors animosity. (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Character, ch. 6) Rebuke, rebuke your fellow (19:17) Our sages have said: "Words that come from the heart, enter the heart." It therefore follows that if you seek to correct a failing of your fellow and are unsuccessful, the fault lies not with him, but with yourself. Had you truly been sincere, your words would certainly have had an effect. (The Lubavitcher Rebbe) Rebuke, rebuke your fellow (19:17) Why is the word "rebuke" repeated? Because first you must rebuke yourself. (The Chassidic Masters) Your fellow is your mirror. If your own face is clean, the image you perceive will also be flawless. But should you look upon your fellow man and see a blemish, it is your own imperfection that you are encountering -- you are being shown what it is that you must correct within yourself. (Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov) Rebuke, rebuke your fellow (19:17) On one occasion, Rabbi Aaron of Belz was informed that one of the town's residents had desecrated the Shabbat. He immediately ordered both the informer and the Shabbat violator to appear before him. "I order you to donate two pounds of candles to the synagogue," said Rabbi Aaron to the informer, "in order to atone for the fact that you spoke negatively of a fellow Jew." "And you," said the Rebbe to the second man, "I fine one pound of candles, for being the cause of your fellow Jews speaking negatively of another Jew." Rebuke, rebuke your fellow (19:17) Said Rabbi Ilaah in the name of Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Shimon: Just as it is a mitzvah for a person to say what will be accepted, it is a mitzvah to refrain from saying things that will not be accepted. Rabbi Abba said: Indeed, it is an obligation [to act thus], as it is written (Proverbs 9:8): "Do not rebuke a fool, lest he hate you; rebuke a wise man, and he will love you." (Talmud, Yevamot 65b) You shall not take vengeance nor bear any grudge (19:18) What is revenge and what is bearing a grudge? If a person said to his fellow, "Lend me your sickle," and he replied "No", and on the following day the second person comes to the first and says, "Lend me your ax," and he replies: "I will not lend it to you, just as you would not lend me your sickle"--that is revenge. And what is bearing a grudge? If one person says to his fellow, "Lend me your ax," and he replies, "No", and on the morrow the second asks, "Lend me your garment," and the first answers: "Here it is. I am not like you who would not lend me"--that is bearing a grudge. (Talmud, Yoma 23a) You shall not take vengeance nor bear any grudge against any of your people; and you shall love your fellow as yourself (19:18) How does one avoid acting vengefully? One should think: If a person were cutting meat and the knife cut his hand, would that hand cut the first hand in return? (Jerusalem Talmud, Nedarim 9:4) Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) Rabbi Akiva said: This is a cardinal principle of the Torah. (Midrash Rabbah) A gentile came before Shammai and said to him, "I wish to convert to Judaism, on the condition that you teach me the whole Torah while I stand on one foot." Shammai drove him away with the builder's cubit which was in his hand. When he came before Hillel, Hillel said to him: "What is hateful to you, do not to your neighbor. This is the entire Torah; the rest is the commentary--go and learn it." (Talmud, Shabbat 31a) Why did Hillel say that this is "the entire Torah"? Granted that it is the essence of all mitzvot governing our behavior "between man and man"; but the Torah also includes many mitzvot that are in the realm of "between man and G-d." In what way is the mitzvah to "Love your fellow as yourself" the essence of mitzvot such as praying, or ceasing work on Shabbat? The explanation can be found in the answer to another question: How is it possible to love another "as yourself"? Are not self and fellow two distinct entities, so that however closely they may be bound, the other will always be other, and never wholly as the self? As physical beings, one's self and one's fellow are indeed two distinct entities. As spiritual beings, however, they are ultimately one, for all souls are of a single essence, united in their source in G-d. As long as one regards the physical self as the true "I" and the soul as something this I "has", one will never truly love the other "as oneself." But if the soul is the "I" and the body but its tool and extension, one can come to recognize that "self" and "fellow" are but two expressions of a singular essence, so that all that one desires for oneself, one equally desires for one's fellow. Otherwise stated, the endeavor to love one's fellow as oneself is the endeavor to cultivate one's own spiritual identity; to see the soul and spirit as the true and ultimate reality, and the body and the material as extraneous and subservient to it. This is the entire Torah. (Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi) Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) A soul might descend to earth and live seventy or eighty years for the sole purpose of doing a favor for another--a spiritual favor, or even a material favor. (Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov) When two people meet, something positive must result for a third. (Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch) Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) Love of a fellow is the first gate leading into the palace of G-d. To love a fellow is to love G-d. For "You are children unto the Lord your G-d" (Deuteronomy 14:1); one who loves a father loves his children. "Love your fellow as yourself" is an elaboration and elucidation upon "And you shall love the L-rd your G-d" (Deuteronomy 6:5). When one loves one's fellow one loves G-d, for one's fellow contains within himself a "part of G-d above" (Job 31:2). By loving one's fellow, the innermost part of him, one loves G-d. (Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov) The three loves--love of G-d, love of Torah and love of one's fellow--are one. One cannot differentiate between them, for they are of a single essence. And since they are of a single essence, each one embodies all three. So if you see a person who has a love of G-d but lacks a love of Torah and a love of his fellow, you must tell him that his love of G-d is incomplete. And if you see a person who has only a love for his fellow, you must strive to bring him to a love of Torah and a love of G-d--that his love toward his fellows should not only be expressed in providing bread for the hungry and water for the thirsty, but also to bring them close to Torah and to G-d. When we will have the three loves together, we will achieve the Redemption. For just as this last Exile was caused by a lack of brotherly love, so shall the final and immediate Redemption be achieved by love for one's fellow. (From the words spoken by the Lubavitcher Rebbe immediately following his formal acceptance of the leadership of Chabad-Lubavitch in 1951) Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) One must love the lowliest of men as much as the greatest Torah scholar. (Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov) Three great Chassidic leaders were famous for their ahavat yisrael ("love of a fellow Jew"): Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, and Rabbi Zusha of Anipoli. Rabbi Zusha was a living example of the maxim that "Love covers up all iniquities" (Proverbs 10:12). What the ordinary observer would perceive as a glaring deficiency, or even an outright sin, would not "register" in his holy eyes and mind. Rabbi Zusha was simply incapable of seeing anything negative in a fellow Jew Rabbi Levi Yitzchaks ahavat yisrael found expression in his incessant efforts as an advocate for the people of Israel. Unlike Rabbi Zusha, he was not blind to their misdeeds and failings; but he never failed to "judge every man to the side of merit" to find a justification, and even a positive aspect, in their behavior. (A typical story tells of how, upon noticing a wagon driver who was greasing his wheels while reciting his morning prayers, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak lifted his eyes to Heaven and cried: "Master of the Universe! Behold the piety of Your children! Even as they go about their daily affairs, they do not cease to pray to You!") But the Baal Shem Tov's love ran deeper yet. To him, ahavat yisrael was not the refusal to see the deficiencies of a fellow, or even the endeavor to transform them into merits, but an unequivocal love regardless of their spiritual state. He loved the most iniquitous transgressor with the same boundless love with which he loved the greatest tzaddik; he loved them as G-d loves them as a father loves his children, regardless of who and what they are. Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) I learned the meaning of love from two drunks whose conversation I once overheard. The first drunk said: "I love you." "No you dont," replied the other. "Yes, yes, I do. I love you with all my heart." "No you dont. If you love me, why dont you know what hurts me?" (Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) Our sages have said: "Do not judge your fellow until you have stood in his place" (Ethics of the Fathers 2:4). Since the only person in whose place you can truly stand is yourself, this means that you are qualified to judge only yourself. Regarding yourself, you must condemn your moral and spiritual failings and be critical of your every achievement. Regarding your fellow, however, you must employ a double standard: your love and esteem toward him should be amplified by every positive quality you see in him, and should not to be affected in the least by any seemingly negative things you might observe. (Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi) When I was four years old, I asked my father: "Why did G-d make people with two eyes? Why not with one eye, just as we have been given a single nose and a single mouth?" Said father: "There are things upon which one must look with a right eye, with affection and empathy; and there are things upon which one must look with a left eye--severely and critically. On one's fellow man, one should look with a right eye; on oneself, one should look with a left eye." (Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch) Love your fellow as yourself (19:18) The Torah commands to "Love your fellow as yourself." Why only as much as yourself? Indeed, Chassidim have always maintained that the meaning of the verse is the very opposite of how it is commonly understood. Despite all that you know about yourself, the Torah is saying, you should try to love yourself as much as you love your fellow... (Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch) When you shall come into the land, and shall have planted all manner of trees for food... Three years shall it be "orlah" unto you: it shall not be eaten. On the fourth year, all its its fruit shall be holy for praisegiving to G-d. And in the fifth year shall you eat of its fruit, that it may yield to you its increase... (19:23-25) Thus the fruit tree passes though all three basic Halachic (Torah-legal) states: the forbidden, the sanctified, and the permissible. The fruit tree can therefore be seen as representative of the whole of creation, which likewise is divided among these three categories. There are, for example, foods that are forbidden to us (e.g., pork, meat with milk); foods whose consumption is a mitzvah---an act that sanctifies the food, elevating it as an object of the divine will (such as matzah on the seder night); and foods that are spiritually "neutral"--eating them is neither a transgression nor a sanctifying act. The same applies to clothes (the forbidden shaatnez; the mitzvah of tzitzit; and ordinary clothes); speech (gossip and slander; the holy talk of prayer and Torah study; talk of everyday matters); sexuality (adultery and incest; the mitzvah to "be fruitful and multiply"; ordinary marital life); money (thievery; charity; legal business dealings); and to every other area of life. Otherwise stated: there are elements of our experience and environment that G-d commands us to reject and disavow; elements that we are empowered to sanctify by directly involving them in our relationship with G-d; and finally, there are elements which, even as they serve as the "supporting cast" for our fulfillment of G-d's will (e.g. the food that provides us with the energy to pray), remain ordinary and mundane. In light of this, would it not have been more appropriate for the three stages of the fruit tree to follow an order of increasing sanctity--i.e., the forbidden, followed by the permissible, and culminating in the holy? Instead, the Torah legislates three forbidden years, followed by a year in which the fruit is sacred and its consumption a mitzvah, after which the fruit becomes ordinary food! Even more surprising is the fact that the fruit of the fifth year is presented as the product and goal of the first four: for three years you shall abstain from a tree's fruit, says the Torah, and on the fourth year you shall sanctify it, so that on the fifth year,"it may yield to you its increase." Keep from transgression and sanctify the holy so that you should have a lot of ordinary fruit to eat! In truth, however, the ultimate purpose of our lives lies in the realm of the "ordinary". Only a small percentage of the world's leather is made into tefillin; only a small part of a community's man-hours can be devoted to prayer and Torah-study. The greater part of our lives falls under the "spiritually neutral" category: elements that, even as they serve a life that is predicated on a commitment to the divine will, remain ordinary and mundane components of a material existence; elements whose positive function does not touch them deeply enough to impart to them the "holiness'' that spells a manifest and tagible attachment to the Divine. But it is in this area that we most serve G-d's desire for "a dwelling place in the lowly realms"--that the ordinary landscape of material life should be made hospitable to His presence. asnd subservient to His will. (The Chassidic Masters) You shall rise before the white-haired, and honor the face of the old man (19:32) The Rabbis taught: I might think, even before an aged sinner; but the Torah uses the word zakein ("old man"), which refers to a sage... to one who has acquired wisdom... But Issi ben Yehudah said: "You shall rise before the white-haired" implies any hoary head. Said Rabbi Yochanan: The law follows Issi ben Yehudah. Rabbi Yochanan used to rise before the heathen aged, saying: "How many experiences have passed over these!" (Talmud, Kiddushin 32b-33a) The Torah considers old age a virtue and a blessing. It instructs to respect all elderly, regardless of their scholarship and piety, because the many trials and experiences that each additional year of life brings yield a wisdom which the most accomplished young prodigy cannot equal. This is in marked contrast to the prevalent attitude in the "developed" countries of todays world, where old age is a liability. Youth is seen as the highest credential in every field from business to government, as a younger generation insists on "learning from their own mistakes" rather than building upon the life experience of their elders. At 50, a person is considered "over the hill" and is already receiving hints that his position would be better filled by someone twenty-five years his junior; in many companies and institutions, retirement is mandatory by age 65 or earlier. Thus society dictates that ones later years be marked by inactivity and decline. The aged are made to feel that they are useless if not a burden, and had best confine themselves to retirement villages and nursing homes. After decades of achievement, their knowledge and talent are suddenly worthless; after decades of contributing to society, they are suddenly undeserving recipients, grateful for every time the younger generation takes off from work and play to drop by for a half-hour chat and the requisite Fathers Day necktie. On the surface, the modern-day attitude seems at least partly justified. Is it not a fact that a person physically weakens as he advances in years? True, the inactivity of retirement has been shown to be a key factor in the deterioration of the elderly; but is it still not an inescapable fact of nature that the body of a 70-year-old is not the body of a 20-year-old? But this, precisely, is the point: is a persons worth to be measured by his physical prowess? By the number of man-hours and inter-continental flights that can be extracted from him per week? Our attitude toward the aged reflects our very conception of "value." If a persons physical strength has waned while his sagacity and insight have grown, do we view this as an improvement or a decline? If a persons output has diminished in quantity but has increased in quality, has his net worth risen or fallen? Indeed, a twenty-year-old can dance the night away while his grandmother tires after a few minutes. But man was not created to dance for hours on end. Man was created to make life on earth purer, brighter and holier than it was before he came on the scene. Seen in this light, the spiritual maturity of the aged more than compensates for their lessened physical strength. Certainly, the physical health of the body affects ones productivity. Life is a marriage of body and soul, and is at its most productive when nurtured by a sound physique as well as a healthy spirit. But the effects of the aging process upon a persons productivity are largely determined by the manner in which he regards this marriage and partnership. Which is the means and which is the end? If the soul is nothing more than an engine to drive the bodys procurement of its needs and aims, then the bodys physical weakening with age brings with it a spiritual deterioration as well---a descent into boredom, futility and despair. But when one regards the body as an accessory to the soul, the very opposite is the case: the spiritual growth of old age invigorates the body, enabling one to lead a productive existence for as long as the Almighty grants one the gift of life. (The Lubavitcher Rebbe)