A Weekly Byte...From Isralight (Mishpatim 5767)

LAWS YOU CAN EAT, ENJOY AND SAVOUR

The job of a teacher of Torah is not to be a philosopher, ethical guide or law giver but rather a gourmet chef. A gourmet chef has the ability to bring the taste out of every ordinary cabbage, every simple bean sprout, as well as present it all in a delicious tantalizing way.

Once, I went to someone's home to raise funds for my institute. I thought we would have about a ten minute discussion. Instead, we were talking for five or six hours. I hadn't eaten all day, and I was starving. Finally I decided that instead of asking for a contribution, I would just ask for something to eat. So I said, "Could I just have an apple?"

She replied, "Oh, you must be starving. I'm so sorry!"

My hostess ran to her kitchen and made me a Salad Nicoise ? exquisitely arranged. Now, I'm not a big salad eater, but that's what she chose to prepare for me. Well, I took one forkful, and I have to admit I had never tasted a salad like that in my life. Because this woman was able to bring out its' true beauty and taste, suddenly I had a whole new appreciation for the vegetable kingdom.

Once I tasted this woman's Salad Nicoise, I could never be satisfied with lettuce and tomato alone. The job of a Torah teacher is to present the Torah in an appetizing way; to reveal the beauty and flavour of G- d's laws for all to see and taste.

THE TASTE OF LIFE

The Zohar, which is the Jewish mystical classic, written two thousand years ago, cautions us not to perform G-d's commandments like cows eating grass. Doing so brings ruins upon us. Let's try to understand what this means.

Essentially, the cow chews its food, stores it and then chews its cud, thereby re-chewing the food, over and over again. The Zohar is using this metaphor as a symbol for something that is done mindlessly without intention or taste. In Torah tradition there is a concept called taamei mitzvos, which can be described as the "reason for the commandments." But taamei mitzvos can also mean the "taste of the commandments." In Hebrew, taam means both "taste" and "reason" ? and there is definitely a connection between the two. Without understanding the reason behind Torah living it can become mindless and tasteless.

Imagine a person who observes Sabbath, but it has no meaning to him ? no taste. The only thing that keeps him doing it is guilt, or respect for the tradition, or simply habit. Without his understanding the meaning behind the observance, it will eventually stop sooner or later, in this generation or the next.

An experience I had working with a Jewish youth group describes how this translates down the line to the grandchildren. I was hired to try to rejuvenate interest for Judaism among the participants, and I thought a "Sabbath Experience" would be a great idea. So I presented my plan to one of the chapter presidents, a girl of about 16 or 17. She looked at me in total shock. "Sabbath!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Do you mean no tearing toilet paper?" This was the first thing that came to her mind. I said "Sabbath" and she thought "toilet paper." So in jest I said, "Yes! Haven't you ever tried that? For thousands of years Jews get together, put a roll of toilet paper on a table, sit around the table and chant, 'Don't tear it, don't tear it!'" She looked at me with an expression that said "Is this guy for real?" And then she said, "You know, I always wanted to ask a rabbi, 'are you allowed to flush on Sabbath?'" Imagine this is the question she always wanted to ask a rabbi.

Perhaps sometimes partial ignorance is even a greater problem than complete ignorance. At least when we know nothing, we don't have bad feelings. But partial ignorance can translate into a total distortion. Perhaps it would have been better for the girl to be completely ignorant of Shabbat than to think of toilet paper in association with the most beautiful of Torah celebrations. As a result she is not even open to experience an authentic Sabbath. Her reaction and associations are but a symptom of the real problem: she does not know (or is confused about) who she is and who her ancestors were. And she will have nothing real to say to her children about Sabbath. Sabbath is not just not tasteless, but perhaps even bitter tasting to her.

We can perform the commandments and the traditions like cows eating grass. They chewed before, they chew now, and they'll chew later because they chewed before ? and that's when it all starts breaking down. That's when children say to their parents, "Why should I do this? This is not interesting. This is restrictive and meaningless." And that's when some parents respond, "You should. You must. You have to." Rarely do people respond positively to empty demands; instead, they rebel against them. People respond to what they find clear, fascinating, relevant, inspirational and meaningful. Most people do what they want, not what they should.

When the meaning and the taste of G-d's commandments are lost, then there is no love for it and no joy in it. When a person whom you love asks you for a favor, it is easy to do it, it's a pleasure. But when you don't like the person, the favor can be the hardest thing in the world because there are no good feelings surrounding it.

I think a lot of people don't have good feelings about a Torah life because they don't understand the meaning of it. They don't know the taste of it and, worse, they likely have a bad taste about it. The Talmud says that when people accept the commandments with joy and happiness, these feelings are guaranteed to be long lasting. But when people accept commandments with anger or feelings of coercion, though they may observe them for a while, eventually they reject them and everything breaks down.

MISERABLE DANCING BEARS

This is the tragedy of religious education today. At home and in school, as children and even later as adults, we learn an incomplete and often wrong definition of our relationship to G-d. For many the word "G-d" conjures up serious negativity and distorts the meaning of any other words associated with it like Torah, commandments, Sabbath, etc..

Then, what should be holy words become, instead, triggers for our distorted images and bitter experiences from the past. Our first step in overcoming this huge obstacle is to get in touch with these triggers in order to then create a new trigger, a new identification, a new understanding, a new feeling.

How the mind stores images and then reacts to triggers is an amazing psychological phenomenon. Most of us have had the experience of, for example, driving a car and, all of a sudden, feeling overcome by a sad feeling. We get in a bad mood ? doing nothing, just driving ? and we don't know why.

What can happen is this: While you are driving you hear a song on the radio that happened to be playing in a restaurant when you were breaking up with your boyfriend or girlfriend. You may not have payed any attention to the song playing at the time; it could have been background music. As you were experiencing that traumatic moment, you heard the Beatles singing, "She loves you, Yeah, yeah, yeah," and you did not even notice it. Then one day you happen to be feeling really happy. You are driving down the highway, it's a beautiful day, and the radio announcer says, "Now let's hear an oldie but goldie from the Beatles: "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah." Suddenly you sense a dramatic shift in your mood and feel depressed. You don't know why, but the words "she loves you" call forth that painful break-up mood from your memory bank.

This same kind of reaction is triggered in many of us regarding G-d and religion. And when that happens our minds can bring up a lots of stuff ? pain, sadness, guilt, disempowerment, etc.

. I was told that some circus trainers teach bears to dance by making them walk on hot coals. When the bear is walking on hot coals, it starts to make jagged movements from the pain. As the bear is walking over the coals and shaking in pain, the trainer plays music that later becomes a trigger for the pain of the coals. At that point, they can bring out the dancing bears for all to watch with wonder and joy. When the music starts to play, the bear starts to dance. But his heart cries because is re-experiencing the painful musical association.

A similar thing happens for many people when it comes to religion. I have met people from religious backgrounds who once kept Sabbath, ate Kosher, and prayed three times a day. But these practices were joyless and came with a lot of confusion, fear, oppression, and guilt. These people's negative experiences turned into painful triggers that forced them to run from G-d and any religious institution. They don't even believe that one could enjoy and love living G-d's word.

G-D WANTS YOU TO BE HAPPY

When I was in my early 20s, I studied in a yeshiva and completed my rabbinical ordination. After many years of full-time Torah learning, I felt I would like to start reaching out and teach. Because there are so many thirsty souls in the world that know so little about the Torah, I felt that I should share what I have learned thus far. But I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do just yet; perhaps I was too young or perhaps I was not learned enough. I decided to ask a Torah scholar, Rabbi Joseph Shalom Eliyashuv, for advice. Rabbi Eliyashuv is considered to be one of the greatest Torah authorities of our generation, and I was a little nervous to meet him. I shared with him my dilemma and asked him, "What does G-d want me to do?"

Rabbi Eliyashuv turned to me and said, "You should sit and continue to learn for a couple more years." Hearing that, I must have made a very contorted face, like "ugh!" because he asked, "What's wrong?" Spontaneously I said, "But I'm not happy just sitting and learning. I want to go out and teach!"

"Why, then, are you asking questions?" he asked. I was shocked by his question. It is common for everyone in the Torah community to ask Torah Sages questions.

"I beg your pardon," I stammered.

"Why are you asking questions?"

"Because I want to know, what is it that G-d wants me to do?"

"Of course, G-d wants you to be happy," he answered, "and you didn't tell me you weren't happy in the yeshiva. If you're not happy just sitting and learning, and you'd be happier going out and teaching Torah, then do it. Don't you think teaching Torah is also a commandment?"

Suddenly I realized how I had missed a fundamental Torah truth. I did not understand my happiness was an important or even valid factor in religious law. In fact, I assumed that the more you suffer the holier you must be. Can you imagine my surprise and relief? Had I not made that contorted face, and had the great Rabbi Eliyashuv not been sensitive enough to see it, I would have walked out of his office and sat in yeshiva for years, feeling miserable and thinking that I am such a holy martyr ? a true servant of G-d. It may sound crazy, but that was my baggage. I did not think that happiness was a consideration in Torah law. But here was one of the greatest rabbis of our time ? a holy gourmet chef ? saying, "G-d wants you to be happy."

Rabbi David Aaron Author of Endless Light, Seeing G-d, The Secret Life of G-d and Inviting G-d In ------------------------------------------------------------ Small Tastings of Torah, Judaism and Spirituality Rav Binny Freedman, Director

Portion of Mishpatim

(For a printable format go to: http://www.isralight.org/assets/Text/RBF_mishpatim07.html)

Sunday mornings for me, even twenty years later, still have a tinge of sadness. While Westerners most often view Sunday morning as the chance to sleep late, relax with the family, and catch up on the news, for most Israeli soldiers it is the most depressing moment of the week.

Every Sunday morning, all over the country, soldiers begin their long, weary trek back to their bases and the duties that await them. The weekend is over, and with it the freedom to be master of one?s own time, if only for a while. The thought of heading back to the hellish reality of gray & olive green, yelling and running, patrols and battle-rations ruins many a Saturday night in Israel.

I still remember, in Officer?s course, when they decided to begin flying us down to base. It is astronomically costly to put a cadet through tank officer?s training, and the powers that be decided it was more efficient and economical to get us down to base faster rather than waste eight hours on buses deep into the Negev desert. As painful as Sunday mornings were, these flights took us to new depths of depression. Instead of having five or six hours on a long bus-ride to acclimate ourselves back to the reality of army life, we would arrive at the stark, gray, air force terminal, get on a plane at 10AM, and by 11, we were already working on the tanks.

There was one curious detail to these Sunday mornings. I don?t know how they managed it, especially considering the security clearance necessary to enter the military terminal, but every Sunday morning, without fail, there were always two Lubavitch (Chabad) Chassidim offering the guys a chance to put on tefillin. Most often, the guys made fun of them, with the occasional joker taking a turn at ?the tefillin game? in between stories of his Saturday night conquests... (Though the week we went up to Lebanon, there was a large group who thought of it as extra third party insurance...!)

I always wondered what the value of such an action really was. Wouldn?t it have been more valuable, if someone was willing to invest a few moments, to explore the philosophy, or why of the mitzvah, rather than simply ?perform? an action almost divested of any meaning?

On the other hand, someone wrapping tefillin on their arm does indeed fulfill the mitzvah of tefillin. So what is the relationship between what we do, and our need to understand the purpose of our actions?

This question of finding the balance between the doing and understanding seems to be very clearly resolved in an oft-quoted verse from this week?s portion, Mishpatim. The Jewish response to Hashem?s desire to give us the Torah is two words:

?Na?aseh Ve?Nishma? ?We will do, and (then) we will listen?

The Jewish people, presented with the opportunity to receive the Torah from G-d, rather than question its contents, or explore its values, simply respond that they are willing to accept it, sight unseen. ?Just tell us what to do?, exclaim the Jews, later you?ll let us know what it?s all about!

Jewish tradition extols the virtue of this moment, describing it as an extraordinary leap of faith, which formed the basis for our relationship with Hashem and His Torah. Indeed, the Talmud (Tractate Shabbat 88a) has G-d Himself proclaim, regarding this statement:

?Mi Gilah Le?Banai Raz Zeh...?? ?Who?, asks G-d, ?revealed this secret, (used by the angels) to my children??

This statement is so powerful; it is deemed positively angelic, resonating with the essence of angels who perform Hashem?s service, irrespective of the purpose behind their mission...

But is this really the ideal? Does Judaism encourage us to completely abrogate the all-important faculty of intellect? Am I not supposed to question?

The Sefer HaChinuch (Book of Knowledge), written by an unknown but widely accepted medieval commentator, was one of the first works of its kind, exploring the philosophical underpinnings of the mitzvoth in the Torah. In his introduction, he explains that there are those who will suggest that ?Tzaddik Be?Emunato Yichyeh?, the truly righteous live by faith alone, implying that if one truly believes, there is no need for understanding. To them the Chinuch responds with the verse:

?K?sil Ba?Choshech Ye?halech?; ?A fool walks in darkness?.

In essence, G-d gives us an intellect, and we are meant to use it!

In fact, one wonders how the Jewish people were meant to fulfill the Torah (the ?Na?aseh?, or ?doing?), without first exploring it! How could they know what Hashem wanted them to do, if they did not first study what the mitzvoth were all about?

Indeed, this is precisely the question of Rabbeinu Yonah on the Mishnah in Ethics of the Fathers (3:9), which says that the main thing is not the study, but rather the action. Whereas the Mishna seems to be pointing out that the purpose of study must always be the ethical behavior it hopefully leads to, here, in our portion of Mishpatim, the implication of ?Na?aseh ve?Nishma? (?We will do, and (then) we will listen?) is that the action precedes the study, and is not dependant on it at all, which seems to be completely illogical!

And even more challenging: what does this say about our relationship with the giving of Torah in the first place?

Imagine you are in the process of a business negotiation, and are about to sign on a new partner. So you prepare a long and complicated contract and get together to share it with him for his perusal. And imagine he walks in and says: ?No problem!? I don?t need to look at this, signs the 200 page contract and runs off to his tennis game. You would begin to wonder whether you had the right partner! How intelligent is a person if he is presented with a complex contract and doesn?t even bother to look at it? What sort of attitude does that represent? Certainly one would wonder about the perspective and dedication of a person with such an attitude.

So how could the Jewish people, presented with the greatest book ever written, not want to peruse its contents? How could we just accept it at face value, without utilizing the intellect that Hashem gave us: a gift that ultimately elevates us above the animal?

Rav Avigdor Nevehnsal, in his Iyunim on Sefer Shemot, points out that everything depends on who the author is. Obviously, if I were about to sign a business contract, it would be foolish not to examine closely the contents of that contract. But what if the person giving me the contract is my father? Well, then the idea of closely examining the contract is ridiculous. If my father, who loves me so deeply, who brought me in to this world, and who wants only the best for me, were asking me to sign something, then why would I even waste the time looking at the document? In such a case, having not read or even seen the contract, the question is not how could I sign? The question is: how could I not sign?

You see, everything begins with the relationship. If Hashem, who brought me into this world, is giving me something, how could it not be good? Judaism does not suggest that my relationship is based on the fact that Hashem created me. It is, rather, based on the idea that Hashem creates me all over again, every day. And whatever Hashem gives me on this day, is the gift I am given by the Endless One, who gave me the day to begin with. Why would I not want whatever Hashem wants to give me?

So the Jewish people at Sinai were not abandoning logic, they were actually employing the only logical response possible. Every relationship, ultimately, begins with trust; the willingness to allow myself to be totally in someone else?s hands.

In 1967, with the lightning victories that saw the Israeli Defense Forces return to Jerusalem, conquer the Golan Heights, and re-claim all of Judea and Samaria, the slogan that spread through the country was ?Kol Hakavod Le?Tzahal?, ?hats off to the IDF?.

But in 1973, as Israel digested the enormity of the brink from which they had been saved, when a mere battalion of thirty some odd tanks were somehow able to withstand the onslaught of two full divisions of (650) Syrian tanks in the Golan, a very different saying took hold of the State of Israel:

?Yisrael Betach Be?Hashem? The nation of Israel has trust- bitachon- in G-d.

To anyone willing to see, in those frightening hours of Yom Kippur, we were very much in the hands of G-d.

And this is one of the hardest aspects of any healthy relationship; to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and even dependant; to admit that ?I need you?. For so many people this is so hard... But there are very few things in this world as holy as the gift of showing someone else that you really need them.

And if love is all about giving, then trust is all about learning to receive. If I am doing all the giving, and you?re not learning to love me back, then it may be loving-kindness (Chesed), but it?s not a relationship. Relationships are about give and take, which is all about trust.

The more I learn to trust, the more I learn to love. And it is my intellect; the capacity to reason, that becomes the basis for this trust, which allows love to grow...

That is the first step: ?Na?aseh?; if you are asking me, then that is what I will do; it is really what I long to do...whatever you are giving I am ready to receive.

I recall once, coming home from as long trip to the States. There is no feeling like coming home, and if that home is in the mountains of Judea, just south of Jerusalem, and if your wife and four incredible children are waiting for you in that home; it just doesn?t get better than that.

And I would always pause for a moment, after knocking (there is a tradition to always knock before entering a home, even your own...) before entering the house, just to revel in that moment. Hearing the sounds of my children, running to the door because they know Abba (Dad) is on the other side; experiencing a moment of pure, unabashed recognition of all the blessings in life, I was about to open the door when I suddenly hear my wife?s voice: ?DON?T COME IN!!?

Now, this is a strange thing to hear, especially after nearly two weeks away from home, and considering that my wife knows that it?s me at the door... But you know what? If my wife says don?t come in, then I?m not coming in...

So I wait at the door, somewhat puzzled for a couple of minutes, and finally one of the kids opens the door, and my wife isn?t even at the door. But there is a reason, I?m sure...

So understand, if you really have a relationship with someone then you know there is a reason. And I know how much my wife loves me, so why would she ask me to do something that wasn?t good for me?

Only later, when I find out why she behaved so strangely, when I discover one of the kids was sick and threw up by the front door, and my wife didn?t want me to walk in and slide thru a pile of ... do I realize all over again how blessed I am. Because if my wife was away for two weeks while I had to do everything in the house, and our kid had just thrown up, well, she would be arriving just in time to darn well clean it up herself!!

And when I later find out what that trust was really based on, then my relationship grows even deeper...

That is the second stage; Nishma... when I find out what its all about. Nishma is the desire, born of the depth of my relationship with Hashem, to discover what it is really all about...I so want to know what Hashem has given me, because I want to love Him even more...

The true challenge of intellect is to know when to apply it, and when to let it go. If everything must always be analyzed, there is very little room for a relationship to grow. At a certain point in every relationship, you have to be willing to take a leap of faith. You have to be willing to accept that you don?t, and in fact will never have all the answers.

If every soldier needed to understand every order he received, you?d never be able to take a hill. Long ago, an officer of mine taught me that the true meaning of being an officer was not about getting through the grueling training. The real question is: can you become the type of officer whose men will follow you anywhere?

That only comes from a deep trust... In fact, one of the greatest experiences is when you reach that point of recognizing that there are many things that will forever remain beyond our ability to understand...

Ultimately, faith begins, where reasoning ends, and that is the balance of Na?aseh and Nishma...

Love is a good example of the balance between faith and reason. You have to begin with logic, but for love to succeed, you have to take a leap beyond logic. And that?s when love grows.

Rav Shlomo once pointed out, that some of the greatest moments of love begin with the phrase: ?close your eyes!? Love?s greatest moments begin with the willingness to take that leap into the unknown. On the other hand, you wouldn?t respond to that request by closing your eyes, if you were on the NY subway, and the person speaking was a complete stranger...it is reason that calls faith to come and take its place at the table. Ultimately, we need to find the balance of Na?aseh and Nishma; to discover the relationship that allows us to take those leaps, and to come back to the meaning of those leaps, to allow the relationship to grow.

You never know what Hashem is giving you, nor where it is coming from, much less where it is headed. And there are no guarantees in this world...

But if we are blessed to know, above all else, that whatever Hashem does is coming from a good place, for a good purpose, then whether we are ever blessed to understand that purpose or not, it will always, ultimately be something we are able to receive...

And the real secret of the Jewish people?s ability to utter the words, and be willing to leap first, and understand later, came from the fact that more than at any other moment in history, at Sinai we were truly, in the words of the Talmud, ? One people, with one heart.?

Shabbat Shalom,

Rav Binny Freedman

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