Sunday, May 25, 2008

Generation To Generation By Rabbi Dovid Goldwasser

“Al totzar es Moav v’al tisgar bom milchamah -- Do not distress Moav and you shall not provoke war with them”(Devorim 2:9)
Rashi explains that with reference to Moav the Torah
“Al totzar es Moav v’al tisgar bom milchamah -- Do not distress Moav and you shall not provoke war with them”(Devorim 2:9)
Rashi explains that with reference to Moav the Torah only prohibited Bnai Yisroel from waging war against them. However, as concerns Ammon, Hashem forbade Bnai Yisroel from even harassing or provoking this nation in any way.
What reason was there for this difference in attitude to the two nations?
Rashi expounds that this was a reward for the careful discretion of the mother of Ammon, who did not expose her father’s misdeed -- unlike her older sister who indelicately named her son Moav, meaning “from the father”.
Maran HaRav Shach ztl. points out that it is necessary for us to have a deeper understanding of the ancestry of Ammon and Moav, who were descendants of Lot and his two daughters. This incident happened thousands of years earlier. Is it possible, then, that something that occurred one time is powerful enough to affect all the generations?
HaRav Shach answers that all the maasim – actions -- that are done in creation are connected in one very long chain. We are not unique from our forefathers and foremothers; we are a link in the chain of all the generations since the beginning of time. Whatever happened thousands of years ago is linked to us in a practical way. Therefore, any deed that was performed even one time in history has the power to affect all generations till the end of time.
We find in a similar vein, that Moshe Rabbeinu was afraid of Og Melech HaBoshon, and Hashem had to direct him, “Do not be afraid of him.” Our chachamim question the source of that fear and point out that it stemmed from Moshe’s knowledge of Og’s assistance to Avraham Avinu. Despite the fact that it was a one-time deal that was never repeated, Moshe was afraid that the merit of this kindness would protect him many years later, notwithstanding all the evil deeds he had done in his lifetime.
A person’s maasim are relative to the entire world. As such, their impressions – whether good or bad – exist forever and do not diminish or disappear over time. For that reason, Moshe Rabbeinu was afraid of that one good deed that Og had done so many generations earlier.
A young avreich in Yerushalayim who frequented different shtiblach in his neighborhood, had never davened in Zichron Moshe. One afternoon, however, he had a strong compulsion to daven mincha in Zichron Moshe. As he passed one of the rooms where men were learning, he felt an inexplicable urge to enter and see what inyan in gemara the group was learning.
When he glanced over the shoulder of one of the baalebatim seated near the door, he was totally taken aback. He noticed that in the margins of the yungerman’s open gemara there appeared an unmistakably recognizable signature – that of his grandfather, a great talmid chacham who had perished in the Sho’ah. According to all reports, and the family’s deep distress, the grandfather’s Shas which contained all his remarkable haga’os had been destroyed in the Sho’ah. Yet, here in front of his very eyes, there appeared to be a personal copy of his grandfather’s gemara!
When the shiur ended, the avreich went over to the older man who had the gemara. The man explained that after the war a person approached him and gave him the Shas as a gift. His only request had been that he should take the Shas to Eretz Yisroel. And, stated the man, “From that day on the Shas has remained in my possession.” He was only too glad to return the set of Shas to the family.
The family’s simcha was understandably boundless. But they were even more amazed when, after checking through the entire Shas, they realized that the only daf which actually contained the grandfather’s signature was the one that was being learned that day in Zichron Moshe. From all the thousands of dafim upon which the grandfather had written his haga’os, only this specific daf included his personal inimitable signature that the avreich had recognized.
Hashgacha Pratis had led the avreich -- who never davened in Zichron Moshe -- to go in there on that day, specifically, when that particular daf was being learned in the shiur, so that the divrei Torah could be returned to its owner.
(Tuvcha Yabi’u)

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Beyond Nature


Hashgacha Pratis, or Divine Providence, refers to Hashem’s supervision and governance of every action and aspect of the world in which we live. Nothing in life happens by chance, coincidence, or due to the fickleness of others. However, the Hashgacha Pratis may sometimes be manifest overtly, and at other times it is operative within the seemingly natural order of the world.
Hashgacha Pratis, or Divine Providence, refers to Hashem’s supervision and governance of every action and aspect of the world in which we live. Nothing in life happens by chance, coincidence, or due to the fickleness of others. However, the Hashgacha Pratis may sometimes be manifest overtly, and at other times it is operative within the seemingly natural order of the world.
One can easily see this in the Purim story. Each separate event that transpired was not miraculous in itself. Esther found favor in the eyes of Achashveirosh and was chosen to be the queen; the plot of Bigsan and Seresh to kill the king happened to be overheard by Mordechai; one night, the king simply could not sleep, etc. These were all occurrences that seemed to be quite “natural,” and not at all out of the ordinary. Yet, when the entire story of Purim is studied as a whole, the miraculous nature of the different chapters is blatantly evident.
This is the reason, explains the Kotzker, that the story of Purim is written in the megillah. The literal meaning of megillah is scroll. The word megillah is also a loshon of revelation. The story of Purim reveals to us the miraculous way that Hashem conducts our world even though at times it may be concealed from the human eye.
The gemara in Brochos (33b) states, “Hakol b’yedei shamayim chutz miyiras shamayim -- everything is from Heaven except for the fear of Heaven,” meaning that all that happens within the world has been divinely decreed. Throughout our lives we are benificiaries of Hashem’s special protection, for we know that everything that exists in the world has been created for us.
Moreover, even the challenges that a person experiences in his life are bequeathed by Hashem in order to foster his spiritual growth and development, as the gemara states (Brochos 60b), “Kol d’avid rachmana l’tav avid -- whatever Hashem does is for the good.”
R’ Aryeh Levine elaborates on this Chazal, and explains that R’ Akiva stated that no matter what occurs, eventually some good will result from it. Nachum Ish Gam Zu, however, said that whatever happens is in essence good right now, in and of itself.
The pasuk states in Parshas Ki Savo (Devarim 28:3), “Baruch atah ba’ir ubaruch atah basodeh – you will be blessed in the city, and you will be blessed in the field.” The Baalei Tosafos comments that “you will be blessed in the field” is referring to Tzion, similar to the expression (Micha 3:12), “Tzion sodeh teichoresh – Tzion shall be plowed like a field.”
HaGaon HaRav Simcha Wasserman ztl. asks: How could “Tzion shall be plowed like a field” be interpreted as a bracha? Rather, it would seem to be the opposite of a blessing and actually implies destruction.
He answers that one who is unfamiliar with the agricultural process could indeed construe the plowing of the earth and the breaking up of the land, as an act of destruction. In truth, however, the work of plowing is in preparation for planting. The Baalei HaTosafos’ explanation is in fact telling us that the bracha is the plowing of Tzion, which will prepare it for its sowing.
*
The Baal Shem Tov was once sitting together with his talmidim, when he suddenly erupted in laughter. The talmidim could not imagine what had triggered such mirth.
The Baal Shem Tov explained that in a distant land, for the last sixteen years, an eminent ruler had workers building a magnificent palace for him. In fact, it was not entirely completed yet.
A Jew had been walking by the palace during a storm, when it intensified in strength, and big rocks of hail and sleet began to forcefully fall from the skies. The Jew, fearing for his life, ran under the elegant porticos for protection from the onslaught of hailstones.
After the storm had subsided, the Jew emerged from his cover to continue on his way. As soon as he left his shelter, the entire structure came crashing to the ground.
“I could not contain my laughter,” continued the Baal Shem Tov, “as my whole being rejoiced.” The episode was incredible, but the inspiration was awesome. “How could I not be deeply moved by the realization that the sole reason for the construction of this edifice was in order to save the Jew from the harsh elements. And the moment that its usefulness ended, the entire palace fell into ruins.” (Derech Emunah)

Sunday, May 11, 2008

A Mirror Image

The term hashgacha consists of two components: One is Divine Guidance and the other is a form of Divine shemirah – protection. Although Divine Providence, or hashgacha, is exercised over all the creations, certain tzaddikim and righteous people merit an additional hashgacha, the Divine Protection.
The term hashgacha consists of two components: One is Divine Guidance and the other is a form of Divine shemirah – protection. Although Divine Providence, or hashgacha, is exercised over all the creations, certain tzaddikim and righteous people merit an additional hashgacha, the Divine Protection.
The hashgacha and shemirah of Hashem function in a manner that is similar to a shadow, as they rely solely upon the actions of man. A shadow occurs when an opaque object blocks light from the sun or other light source. If one places his body directly in front of the sun’s light, he will cast a shadow of his body. If he places a finger in the direct path of the sun’s light, only his finger will cast a shadow. Corresponding to the way a person directs himself to Hashem and depends upon Him, so Hashem in return focuses His Divine Providence and Divine Protection upon the person.
Each morning after Shacharis, we recite the Thirteen Principles of Faith, which represent the main tenets of our belief. In the first ani maamin, we state: “I believe with complete faith that the Creator, blessed be His name, is the Creator and Guide of all the created beings, and that He alone has made, does make, and will make all things.”
For this reason, we are mispallel to Hashem, the Creator and Guide, in the Birchos HaShachar, “Baruch Atoh Hashem …. pokei’ach ivrim” – that Hashem should open our eyes so that we can see the hashgacha in our lives.We pray that He bestow upon us His Divine Assistance, as we say (Tehillim, 27:11) “Horeini Hashem darkecha unecheini b’orach mishor – teach me Your way, Hashem and lead me on the path of integrity.” We are aware that often times it is difficult for us to comprehend the hashgacha of Hashem, how He guides the world and its creatures and therefore we are mispallel for His Divine Assistance.
HaGaon HaRav Elchonon Wasserman expounds in his Sefer Kovetz Ma’amarim that Klal Yisroel’s comprehension of Hashem and His world is established in two ways, as stated in the Torah (Devarim 32:7), “Zechor yemos olam binu shenos dor vador – remember the days of the world, understand the years of generation after generation. One must remember what has happened in the past in the world, and secondly he must understand it. However, as is stated in Pirkei Avos (4:14)), “Al binascha al tishan – do not rely on your own understanding,” meaning that one should not base his perceptions on his limited intellect. Rather, as the posuk continues in Devarim, “she’al avicha v’yagedcha zekeinecha v’yomru lach.” R’ Elchonon explains that our chachamim, who accepted the tradition from Har Sinai, were able to illuminate the clandestine ways of Hashem. They have taught us that the objective of Hashem’s hashgacha is for Bnai Yisroel, as the pasuk states further (Devarim 32:9), “Ki chelek Hashem amo Yaakov chevel nachalaso – For Hashem’s portion is His people, Yaakov is the measure of His inheritance.”
The Vilna Gaon states that the hashgacha that we observe in our world is only a replica of what is happening in Shamayim. To clarify this statement, R’ Elchonon presents an example of a window display in a food shop that contains apples, peaches and plums -- various artificial fruit that do not have any taste or fragrance – to show what they sell inside. That sample, or reproduction, is what we are witnessing in the events of this world.
*
In the years before the collapse of Communism, I made a number of visits to the Soviet Union to bring chizuk, words of Torah, and the all-important tefillin and mezuzahs.
This time a Chumash class for young professionals had been arranged, in an apartment building in the center of the city. We were amazed to see almost thirty people gathered – where only five or six had been expected – and we were introduced to all of them, including a young doctor named Sasha.
It was not particularly safe to be out in the street after 11:00 PM, and as that hour approached we reluctantly attempted to take our leave of the group. As I stood with my hand on the doorknob, Sasha came rushing over to me and urgently pleaded, “Od chamesh dakos – five more minutes.”
It was difficult to refuse his sincere request, and we sat down once again to learn, with even more fervor than before. The audience was rapt with attention, and time passed quickly. Once again we got up to leave and said our goodbyes. No sooner did we walk to the door, however, then Sasha was there again, barring our way. He grabbed my arm and looked imploringly into my eyes. “Od chamesh dakos – five more minutes.”
It was much after midnight before we were finally able to leave, but not before Sasha, with much gratitude, invited us for a farewell seudah the next day at his home. We were touched by his gesture and accepted his invitation.
As an acknowledgment of our respect and affection for the young doctor, I decided to bring along a gift. I dug my hand into my flight bag, in which I had hidden various religious articles and pulled out a tallis. This might be a good gift, I thought; Sasha could be a chassan soon and will need a tallis.
For some reason, though, I put it back and searched again. I came up with a Kiddush cup. Inexplicably, I again felt it was not appropriate and put it back.
Once more I stuck my hand into the bag, and this time I pulled out a challah cover. It was made of white terylene with a light blue Magen David embroidered on it, and across the front, in blue, were the Hebrew words Shabbat Shalom. I immediately decided it was the perfect gift for Sasha, put it into a brown paper bag and hid it under my jacket.
Upon our arrival we were astounded to see that not only were most of the participants of the previous night’s lecture present, but so too were at least a dozen new people. The group was exuberant, and the table was set with a small array of delicacies. Although we were reluctant to deplete their meager stock which had surely been carefully hoarded over the year, we did not want to offend our host, so we sat down and joined everyone at the table.
When Sasha went into the kitchen during the meal, I followed him there to present him with the gift in private, since I had not brought a gift for everyone.
I watched as he opened the bag, took out the challah cover and unfolded it slowly. Then, after taking one look at it, Sasha burst into tears. I felt bewildered, not knowing what to say or how to react.
After a few seconds, Sasha composed himself and wordlessly led me down the hall to a tall bookcase with some old crumbling sefarim on the top shelf. Sasha climbed upon a stepladder and took out something very carefully from between two tall volumes.
“You don’t know how long I’ve hoped for this,” he said to me, as he handed me what he had just taken out. It was a thin, white folded paper napkin. I slowly opened it up and looked at it. There on the front was drawn in blue marker a Magen David, and across the top, in the same blue ink, was written in Hebrew Shabbat Shalom.
Sasha took the challah cover I had given him, folded it up, and placed it between the two sefarim. He pointed to the nap kin I was holding in my hand and said softly to me, “This one is for you.”
The Ribono shel Olam had not only chosen the exact matanah Sasha was to receive, but even its color and design.