Author: ATT Chicago

Written by: Rabbi Avrohom S. Moller

The Torah gives us the following instruction for assembly of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) walls. “והבריח התיכון התוך הקרשים מבריח מן הקצה אל הקצה – The center rod passed through the inside of the planks (of the Mishkan walls) bolting them together from end to end.”

This passuk describes a wooden rod passing through three walls of the Mishkan, north, west and south. The Gemara (Shabbos 98A) tells us that they were able to miraculously push this rod through the walls and turn the corners as it was pushed in for a total of 50 cubits (approximately 80 feet). What does this rod symbolize and why the need for its continuity from end to end? Furthermore, Rashi tells us that Yaakov Avinu planted the trees that provided this wood. Why did he do that?

Reb Zalman Sortzkin (Lutzker Rov 1881-1966) explains in his Sefer, Oznayim LaTorah, that the Jewish people have many divisions and the different communities have different temperaments and character. It is exceedingly challenging to unify the Jewish people around a cause and the only unifying element is our Torah. We can travel through time and space and the only common theme we will find in our eternal nation’s history and dispersion is the Torah and its way of life.

When Yaakov Avinu was on his deathbed, he was concerned that his children would go separate ways after his death. They reassured him by saying Shemah Yisroel, affirming that their faith in Hashem would keep them together. Yaakov planned that the Mishkan would be the central focus and unifying factor for the period in the desert and beyond (Yehoshua Chapter 22).

The center rod holding the separate planks together symbolizes this value. The Tree of Life is our Torah and it is the only source of unity for us. Rabbi Saadya Gaon (882-942) writes, “Our nation is only a nation because of its Torah.” The miracle of bending the corners signifies that this unifying force defies the rules of logic and is the secret of our eternity.

Written by: Rabbi Mordechai Raizman

Eternal Commitment

AT the end of this week’s Torah portion, the famous phrase Naaseh V’nishma is quoted. Our ancestors stated, “We will do what is commanded and then we will listen.” They took the ultimate leap of faith and put their trust in G-d to follow the Torah and its commandments. The Talmud relates that at the actual giving of the Torah, G-d picked up a mountain and was holding it above their heads. G-d says to the people, “Either you accept the Torah or you will be buried there.” The commentators wonder about this sentence. It would seem the correct way of saying it would be – If you don’t accept the Torah, you will be buried here – since G-d is holding the mountain on top of them. What is the meaning of you will be buried there which seems to reference another place?

The Tzobiner Rav z”l (a 20^th century revered Rav) answers that G-d was explaining to them the importance of this acceptance. Just like we need air to breathe physically, we need the Torah to breathe spiritually. When B’nei Yisroel accepted the Torah, it was not just for the moment, an acceptance of here and now. Rather, an acceptance for all generations in the future as well. G-d was illustrating that without the Torah and its values it is as if one is dead. There will be your burial place is a reference to later at any point in time if one chooses to live devoid of these values.

Today we have many challenges in our society that confront our values on a daily basis. We need to keep making the choices that will keep the eternal flame of the Jewish people alive. G-d is still talking to us. We just need to respond.

Written by: Rabbi Avrohom S. Moller

When the Torah relates Yisro’s visit with Moshe Rabeinu and the Jewish people, the passuk reintroduces us to Moshe’s two sons and repeats the reasons that Gershom and Eliezer were so named. Gershom’s name reflects Moshe’s feeling of loneliness, “I was a stranger in a strange land.” Eliezer’s name commemorates Moshe’s escape from the executioner’s sword in Egypt after he killed the Egyptian beating a Jew.

There are two points to consider about these pesukim. Why is this information repeated here if the narrative is about Yisro’s visit? The Torah already explained this in Parshas Shmos when Gershom and Eliezer were born. Secondly, if Egypt was a hostile place for Moshe and he was a wanted man there, why did he consider Midyon, a far more hospitable place, to be a foreign land?

The Meshech Chochma (R. Meir Simcha HaCohen of Dvinsk 1843-1926) explains that Moshe Rabeinu wasn’t pining for Egypt as his birthplace but missing being amongst his brothers. In fact, when he returned to Egypt as Hashem’s emissary to Pharaoh, he told his father-in-law, “…must return to my brothers in Egypt and see if they are still alive” (Shmos 4:18). This is in spite of the fact that he was raised away from his people in Pharoh’s palace. This enormous feeling of kinship and concern for his Jewish brethren overshadowed his concern for his own life and safety. It explains why he named his first son to reflect his longing to be with his people and only his second son to commemorate his new lease on life.

The way Moshe conducted himself with his family is the insight the Torah gives us into his personality and his qualification as a leader. The man who would be the intermediary during Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah, needed to have a tremendous love for his people that overshadowed any feeling of self.  This is why the Torah reiterates this information here as the Jewish people were getting ready to receive the Torah.

Written by: Rabbi Mordechai Raizman

Seeing the Future

In the beginning of this week’s Torah portion the verse states, “Vachamushim olu Bnei Yisroel maeretz Mitzrayim.” Rashi quotes a Midrash in one interpretation that explains the word vachamushim to mean that only one-fifth of the Jewish people went out of Mitzrayim (Egypt), while the other four-fifths died in the plague of darkness. Rav Shimon Schwab (20th century Gadol) asks, “How do we understand this interpretation? The great celebration of our exodus from Egypt is marred by the death of the majority of the people?”

Rav Schwab suggests the following understanding. Perhaps Rashi is explaining to us the effects of individuals exponentially over time. Perhaps not all four-fifths died then, but a minority of people died at that time. Taking those individuals and looking at what could have potentially come from them over time, we get a much more significant number equal to the four-fifths of the Jews at that time.

The Midrash is teaching us to look at the future and realize what potential one individual may have. I heard a story from a great talmid chacham years ago that relays this message very well.

There was a snowstorm one day and only two other boys and he showed up for class. The Rebbe started teaching and was raising his voice and acting out the lesson as if there were a full class of boys in the room. After the lesson, this student asked his Rebbe, “Why did you have to strain yourself today and teach as if there was a full class since there were only three of us in the room?”

The Rebbe responded, “You are mistaken. Each one of you represents hundreds if not thousands of people. The lessons you learned today will be imparted to your families for generations as well as all with whom you come in contact. There were thousands of people in the room today. How could I teach with any less enthusiasm?”

The Midrash is teaching us an important lesson. Don’t underestimate the potential effect of one individual. Each person interacts on a daily basis with many people, family, friends, co-workers, etc. Let us make the most from all of our interactions in creating a Kiddush Hashem wherever we go.

Written by: Rabbi Avrohom S. Moller

Throughout the narrative of יציאת מצרים – the exodus out of Egypt, the Torah says that Pharaoh’s heart was hardened or heavy. This metaphor is understood to mean that he was being obstinate, and he was being foolishly brave in opposing Hashem’s demand that he free the Jewish people.

Rav Sholom Schwadron, the Jerusalem Maggid, asks why the Torah doesn’t describe Pharaoh as having no heart at all. After all, he wasn’t displaying any good judgment and seemed to be acting with no thought or emotion.

Reb Sholom quotes the Mesilas Yesharim – (Path of the Righteous, a mid-16^th century ethical work by R. Moshe C. Luzzato) that explains that Pharaoh and his behavior are an allegory for the Yetzer Harah, the evil inclination, which drives us incessantly and wants us to be so immersed in our daily affairs that we don’t reflect on our spiritual state at all. This makes us vulnerable to all sorts of mistakes and bad choices.

Pharaoh also had moments where he acknowledged Hashem’s power over nature and that he could not challenge Hashem’s wisdom and power. Those occasions were few and short in duration. He immediately returned to his stubborn behavior and refused to follow through on those short bursts of clear thinking. This is described as having a hard heart. He was capable of thinking and seeing the truth; he wasn’t able to act on that truth. His desire for power and control dissipated any impression he had from those short moments of insight.

When we read about Pharaoh and his behavior, we are supposed to look at ourselves and think whether we don’t display similar behavior. Sometimes, we feel overwhelmed by life and we crave control. This may lead us to ignore Hashem and his Torah. These parshiyos help us refocus on what a hard heart can do to us and reminds us that we have the benefit of learning from Pharaoh’s lessons.

Written by: Rabbi Mordechai Raizman

In this week’s Parsha we come across the four words that represent different levels of redemption. The first one is vehotzasi, alleviating us from the burdens of Egypt, the second is vhitzalti saving us from the hard labor, the third is vgoalti, the actual leaving of Egypt, and the last is vlokachti, G-d saying that He will take us for His nation. What does it mean to be the nation of G-d? What responsibilities accompanies that relationship?

Chazal tell us that there are three qualities that define the Jewish people: being compassionate, having a sense of embarrassment, and bestowing acts of kindness to others. At a time when we are focused and living up to these values, we represent the nation of G-d. G-d took us out of Egypt for a purpose. It was not just for freedom from slavery, but freedom for living up to these values and changing the world around us.

I heard a beautiful story that took place at the recent Siyum Hashas in Met Life stadium. One of the volunteers inside was handed a ticket by a member of the crowd coming in. The volunteer was told that this was an extra ticket that he had and if the volunteer found someone who needed it, he should please give it to him. The volunteer didn’t think there would be a need for it, but he took the ticket just in case.

 A few minutes later an officer outside the gate called this volunteer outside to help him with a situation that was unfolding. There was a man crying, and the officer was trying to calm him down without much success. The man said that he had a ticket for the Siyum and had been looking forward to this special day. Unfortunately, when the ticket was scanned, it was discovered that it was not a valid ticket. However, the sad man was convinced that his ticket was authentic and somehow the scanner wasn’t working properly. Security had no choice and refused to let him in.

When the volunteer heard the story, he immediately pulled the ticket out of his pocket that minutes before he had just received and said, “Here, I have an extra ticket. Use this one.”

The officer was amazed exclaiming, “Wow! That is so nice. We usually don’t see things like that happen here.” The volunteer explained that he had just received the ticket a few minutes before from someone who didn’t need it and wanted to help a person if it proved necessary. The officer replied again, “Wow!  Your G-d is really unbelievable.” 

This is who we are as a people. When we act in the ways that G-d wants us to follow, we are a reflection of G-d in this world and are truly His nation.