Emor: What's in a Memorial?

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Emor (Vayikra 21-24) discusses mitzvot pertaining to Priests – and also to the dead. Priests, holy by nature, may not defile themselves by coming close to them. In this connection, we are enjoined to remember the dead – but there are particular ways to do so.

One of the tenets of the Jewish faith is that the soul never dies; it remains eternal long after death, and when a person passes on to the next world, his life continues in This World as well. How so? His descendants, his Torah study, and his good deeds continue to live on, whether in our practical world or in the spiritual world – and they thus guarantee that his life continues on. Our Sages even taught: "The Patriarch Yaakov did not die – for just like his descendants are alive, so too he is alive."

Still and all, only one of our great Torah scholars throughout the generations merited to have engraved on his tombstone as his appellation the words Lo Met, "did not die." This was the Kabbalist R. Yitzchak Chai Taib "Lo Met," one of the most venerated Tunisian rabbis (d. 1837). It is told that he received this unique addition to his name based on the following story.

On his tombstone was engraved “died (met) on the 16th of Iyar,” instead of the more proper word niftar (which implies that he was "released" of his eternal soul in this world). The Kabbalist then visited the stonemason in a dream, ordering him to erase the word met. The stonemason said that he could not erase the word, and instead he added the word lo above the word met, such that it read that R. Yitzchak Chai Taib "did not die."

Perhaps this unique title can be explained based on another story told about R. Chai Taib, which can shed some light on the entire subject of memorialization of the deceased. It is told of a certain very wealthy and miserly Jew, far from mitzvot and Torah observance, who lived in the famous Jewish community of Djerba in southern Tunisia. When he died, he was buried with little fanfare, and barely anyone came to console his family. The leaders of the community also did not come to the house of mourners, because they had nothing good to say about him.

One of R. Chai Taib's students did go to the mourners, and then returned to tell his Yeshiva friends of the sorry situation. The students were not moved, however, saying that such is the lot of a wicked man. But when R. Chai Taib heard of the matter, he announced that he would go to the mourners' home that very evening.

News that R. Chai Taib would speak there spread quickly throughout Djerba, and many people came to hear his words. He quoted the teachings of the Sages, that man's days in this world are few, that his wealth and pleasures and enjoyments are transient and ultimately worthless, and other stark messages of this ilk.

Suddenly, from among those who came to hear the Rabbi's words was heard heavy sighing and sobbing. R. Chai Taib then said: "My brothers, at this moment when we hear heartfelt feelings of repentance in our midst, because of the deceased - know that he has merited a place in Gan Eden (Paradise). This is because the reward of one who has brought merit to [others] is great, and with his death, the deceased has brought merit to you in your reflections of repentance."

In addition to this important message that R. Chai Taib taught by making efforts to raise up the soul of even the most distant Jew, we hear also a precise formula by which it is appropriate to eternalize and remember one who has passed away. We frequently see notes in the Yeshiva to the effect that "today's study will be on behalf of the uplifting of the soul of so-and-so." But – how can this work? Is the deceased still asked to perform mitzvot even after his death? After all, we know that "the deceased cannot praise G-d" (Tehillim 115,17)!

True, once one reaches the Upper World, it is too late for him to add mitzvot and merits – but those who are still in This World can do so in his name. That is, if Jews study Torah or perform good deeds because of what he taught them or for his merit, then it is because of him that spirituality is added to the world, and with this, his soul can be uplifted.

Similarly, if the descendants of the deceased perform good deeds, or if enterprises that he built continue to add goodness to the world, it means that he is actually continuing to act in this world – and thus his soul continues to be raised up.

This means, incidentally, that there is no need to note declaratively that the good deeds are for the sake of uplifting the soul of the deceased, since they are "automatically" in his credit. However, by noting that the good deeds and Torah are specifically for his sake, this can motivate others to more spiritual awakening and devotion to G-d – which itself will then be added to the deceased's "account."

But when people are studying Torah in the Yeshiva in any event, and then someone comes and posts a note saying that it's for the soul of the deceased, this is ineffective, as the deceased had nothing to do with this Torah study. Rather, one who wishes to benefit the soul of a dear one, must do something concrete that advances closeness to G-d in the world.

For instance, if he motivates others to do an additional good deed, or to study more seriously, or contributes money so that others can do these mitzvot -- and all for the soul of the deceased – the deceased has a share and part in these good deeds, and his soul is uplifted. The soul cannot be raised up merely by hitching a ride with others.

In Parashat Emor, with which we began, we learn that the Cohanim (Priests) are linked up with "life," and are prohibited from coming in contact with death or corpses who are not direct relatives. The High Priest is further enjoined not to touch or come close even to his deceased parents; "he shall not leave the Holy."

Why is this? Is it really proper that the High Priest should thus "turn his back" on his parents who loved and raised him, and not take part in their funerals?

The answer is that it is precisely in this manner that the High Priest, the man of "inner spirit," continues the path of his parents – by living a life of spirit. He shows that it is his performance of good deeds in this world that raises up his parents' souls, and not various external ceremonies. He thus shows, in addition, that one's life continues in this world not only in his physical lifetime, but also spiritually and eternally, via physical acts of his students and descendants.

Yes, it is true that "the deceased cannot praise G-d." But one who dies "lo met," does not actually die, and his strengths continue to live on and on, and he most certainly "praises G-d," more and more, forever.

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim: The Strange Case of the Back-and-Forth Format: Rebuke with Love

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah reading comprises two portions – Acharei Mot and Kedoshim (Vayikra 16-20). Between them they have 79 Torah commandments, including (especially in Kedoshim) many having to do with dealing honestly in monetary matters. Perhaps most famously, however, is the commandment to "love your neighbor as yourself" (Vayikra 19,18) – and related mitzvot, such as not to embarrass people, not to take revenge, and perhaps surprisingly, to admonish those who are sinning and help return them to the Torah path. How is admonishment related to love?

The relevant verse is: "Do not hate your brother in your heart; you shall certainly admonish him, and do not bear sin because of him" (19,17). This appears to say that if one has sinned against you or offended you, do not keep your angry feelings to yourself; rather, the Rambam writes (Laws of Character Traits, Hilkhot De'ot, 6,6), you are "commanded to make the matter known and ask him: 'Why did you do this to me?'" That is, you must not let your resentment fester, but rather show him that you were offended or wronged, for the goal of making peace with him.

However, there is another way in which this mitzvah of admonishment, called "tokhecha," can be fulfilled. The Rambam (in the very next paragraph, Law 7), abandons the case of one who was wronged by another and discusses this new case: "If one sees that his fellow Jew has sinned [in general] or is following an improper path, you must [seek to] correct his behavior and tell him that he is harming himself by his evil deeds… [You should] rebuke him privately, patiently and gently, and tell him that [you are] only saying this for his own benefit, to allow him to merit the life of the World to Come..."

There are, of course, many details as to how this commandment must be fulfilled, so that it does not lead to hatred and resentment. In fact, the Rambam continues in the next paragraph (Law 8) to details some of these laws.

Fascinatingly, however, in the next law, Law 9, the Rambam returns to the original case, and says: "If one was wronged by a colleague and prefers not to admonish him or even mention the matter… but rather forgives him in his heart and bears no hatred, this is pious behavior – for the Torah is concerned only that there be no feelings of hatred."

That is to say, he no longer has an obligation to admonish! Instead, because he was able to totally forgive him, this not only takes the place of rebuke, but is actually considered a very high level of behavior.

Back and Forth

If we follow carefully the above rulings by the Rambam, we can almost not avoid asking the following question: Why does he discuss the case of one who was wronged by his colleague in Laws 6 and 9, and the laws of one who has sinned in general in Laws 7 and 8? Would it not have been more logical to place Law 9 right after 6, and thus complete the first topic, and only then to teach Laws 7 and 8?

This question does not appear to be addressed by any of the major commentaries on the Rambam. This makes it possibly even more puzzling: Why did the Rambam, the great organizer of the laws of all the Torah's mitzvot and the Talmud's rulings, choose to break up the laws of the tochekha in this manner?

Perhaps we can offer the following explanation:

The Rambam was not coming to teach us the laws of hokhei'ach tokhiach, rebuke and admonishment – but rather the "special character traits that must accompany the administering of such admonishment." That is, this mitzvah is not just a mechanical one, but rather one whose fulfillment requires special attention to how it is to be carried out.

This becomes somewhat evident when we us review some of the details that the Rambam included in the laws of this mitzvah: "If [one who has wronged you] asks you to forgive him, you must forgive…" That is, the Rambam steps back from the mitzvah of rebuking to tell you that the goal of the obligation is to be able to forgive him!

The Rambam then continues [regarding one who sinned in general]: "You must tell him that you are admonishing him only for his own good, and that he is only harming himself by his sins… You must speak to him calmly and nicely, and say that you wish only to help him attain the World to Come…" What beautiful sentiments accompany this seemingly harsh mitzvah!

The Rambam then elaborates at length that when rebuking him for sins between-man-and-man [as opposed to sins between-man-and-G-d], you must "not shame him, and certainly not in public." Don't get carried away in your fervor to rebuke and cause him shame, which the Sages teach is akin to spilling his blood! And by the by, we can infer from the Rambam's last words that you must be careful not to shame him even when talking to him privately...

And finally, the Rambam concludes by returning to where he started - the scenario of one who wronged another - and explains that the ideal is actually not to rebuke at all, if possible, but rather to attain the level of midat hassidut, true piety, and forgive him in your heart altogether! This of course only applies when one has sinned towards you, and not in general – and this is why the Rambam returns to this case at the end, in order to conclude with this highest level. 

In sum: The strange format by which the Rambam explains the mitzvah of rebuke is so that he can teach us, at the same time, the important character traits and sensitivity that must accompany its performance. 

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim: Shabbat Strengthens Family Bonds

based on a Dvar Torah by Rav Meir Kahana, Av Beit Din in the rabbinical court of Ashkelon and Chairman of the Rabbinical Judges Union.

There is a strong connection within the Jewish people regarding family values and faith, and this is expressed through the observance and remembrance of Shabbat.

Parashat Kedoshim, which describes the holiness and unique status of the Jewish people, opens with the commandment: “A person shall revere his mother and father, and you shall keep My Sabbaths; I am the Lord.” These two commandments are presented together, even though there can be tension between them. If a parent tells a child to violate Shabbat, the child must not listen. Although honoring parents is a very important commandment, Shabbat takes precedence, since the parent is also obligated to honor God.

At the same time, on a simple level, these commandments are not just in tension—they are connected. A parent is responsible for ensuring that their child observes Shabbat, showing that Shabbat is a central part of faith.

Shabbat represents belief in the creation of the world. By observing it, a person affirms that God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. In this way, keeping Shabbat expresses belief in the ongoing renewal of creation.

Similarly, the sabbatical year of the land and the cancellation of debts reflect the idea that God created the world and gave us the ability to function within it, both agriculturally and economically. This creates a link between honoring parents, through whom we come into the world, and observing Shabbat, which expresses belief in God as the Creator. These commandments are therefore deeply connected.

The opening commandments of Parashat Kedoshim also parallel the Ten Commandments. Both honoring parents and keeping Shabbat are fundamental elements of faith in God.

Shabbat is a defining sign of the Jewish people because it expresses the belief that the world has purpose. During the six days of the week, people work, and on the seventh day they stop and reflect on the purpose of life and creation.

The family is the primary environment in which a child’s faith is formed. It is the basic unit that builds the wider community and the Jewish people as a whole. The importance of family in Judaism is closely tied to the message that the Jewish people convey to the world: that God is one. This belief is expressed both in Shabbat observance and in family life.

After two and a half years of war, family life has been deeply affected, with many parents serving long periods in reserve duty. As a result, there has been a strong effort to reinforce family connections—grandparents helping out and parents dedicating as much time as possible to their children when they return home.

Shabbat observance has also been challenging in this context, especially in complex situations such as military service. Even so, all of these elements are part of one broader system: expressing faith in God. The Jewish family that observes Shabbat reflects the broader mission of the Jewish people in the world.

Tazria–Metzurah: Why Demolish the Houses?

based on a Dvar Torah by Rav David Davidkavitz, rabbi of the community of Yitzhar, Rosh Yeshiva “Ro’eh Yisrael”, and director of the Kashrut Department of the Samaria Religious Council.

Parashat Tazria–Metzurah serves as a preparation for the month of Iyar and all its special days. There is a unique mitzvah in the Torah that is not only a commandment but also a kind of gift: the demolition of houses in the Land of your inheritance that are afflicted with tzara’at — “And I will place a plague of tzara’at upon a house in the land of your inheritance” (Leviticus 14:34). This mitzvah exists nowhere else in the world; it is unique to the Land of Israel.

Our Sages explain that this is actually a gift: when one finds in the Land of Israel a house that belonged to a non-Jew that is afflicted with tzara’at, it is considered a blessing, because treasures are sometimes hidden within its walls — valuables that the Canaanites concealed. Through demolishing the house, these treasures are revealed — Rashi on Leviticus 14:34 (based on Vayikra Rabbah 17:6) — and therefore it is a great gift, “when you come into the land of your inheritance.”

One might say that in recent times, much discussion has revolved around the demolition of enemy houses that served as infrastructure for terror. There is a profound dimension to this, as explained by the Zohar (Tazria–Metzora): the primary purpose is not the physical treasure hidden in the walls, but rather the destruction of houses of idolatry that existed in the Land of Israel. The Creator placed treasures within them in order to bring about their destruction, but the ultimate goal is the removal of evil from the land.

The Land of Israel is not suited for houses of idolatry, nor for homes associated with bloodshed — places where weapons are hidden, even in children’s rooms, bedrooms, and institutions of education and healthcare. The essence of the Land is to increase goodness in the world — it is a “land of life” (based on Deuteronomy 30:20). Therefore, there is no place within it for homes built upon corrupt values.

As we approach the month of Iyar and read Parashat Tazria–Metzora, we come to understand the importance of purity — the purity of the home, the purity of clothing, and how a Jew appears both externally and internally. What kind of light does he radiate? Originally, a person was clothed in “garments of light” (Bereishit Rabbah 20:12), which over time became “garments of skin” (Genesis 3:21). Yet the inner light of a Jew still exists — “A person’s wisdom illuminates his face” (Ecclesiastes 8:1). One’s appearance and entire being should reflect the Name of God.

Therefore, “You are children to the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 14:1) — but this must be expressed with grace, so that “all the peoples of the earth shall see that the Name of the Lord is called upon you, and they shall fear you” (Deuteronomy 28:10).

Tazria-Metzurah: The True, Shining Face of Humbleness

by Rav Naim Ben-Eliyahu ZT"L, Former Rosh Yeshivat Ben Ish Chai, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

One of this week's two Torah portions, Tazria (Vayikra 12-13), begins with the sacrificial offering that a birthing mother must offer, but then continues with the laws of various bodily impurities.

The Torah tells us here that the purity or impurity of a leprosy-like lesion is determined exclusively by a Priest, based on his on-site examination. This is because of the Priest's high spiritual level; he is able to see a superficial phenomenon and understand its depth, for he is like a Divine angel – as is written, "For the lips of a Priest will guard knowledge, and teaching should be sought from his mouth - for he is a messenger [angel] of the Lord of Hosts" (Malachi 2,7).

In Torah law it is clear that the color of a skin that is touched with leprosy is evidence of an inner and deep problem, and only a Priest graced with deep vision can uncover and diagnose the issue and its solution.

We might well ask: This entire matter of lesions and leprosy appears to be rather sordid; why does the Torah give so much attention and space to this matter? And how is it that the Priests must leave their holy priestly duties in the Holy Temple to deal with it?

King Shlomo describes the beauty of the "beloved" with these words: "His head is as the finest gold; his locks are curled, as black as a raven [Heb.: orev] (5,11)." And the Medrash explains that even these matters - discharges, afflictions, and the laws of menstruation and childbirth, which are considered “dark” and unpleasant, are like an orev before the Holy One, blessed be He – from the same root as arev, meaning pleasantness and sweetness. These matters are actually pleasing and sweet before G-d, as written: “Then shall the offering of Yehuda and Yerushalayim be pleasing [arvah, from the same root] to the Lord…” (Malachi 3,4).

But why, actually, are these matters so pleasing to G-d?

This can be explained with a parable:

There was once a king’s son who was born with extremely delicate and fair skin. Everyone marveled at his complexion and his skin's pure radiance. One day the child fell ill with chickenpox. All of his skin began to take on a strange color, the sores opened, and blood and pus oozed out. The king immediately summoned a doctor, who applied various kinds of ointments, iodine-based treatments and the like to the skin. Seeing his son in this condition, the king was very happy – because he knew that his beloved son was in the process of healing via the doctor's treatments.

A few days after the prince recovered, the king called him and, with great love and affection, began to teach him the laws of skin afflictions: how they come about and how they are healed, so that his cherished son would know how to guard himself against them.

Precisely in this manner does Hashem teach us the laws that are explained here in Parashat Tazria. "What do they stem from, spiritually? How are they healed? And how can we protect ourselves from them?" And this is why they are pleasant and sweet before Him.

The Torah describes the appearance of the leprous growths as being "deep under the skin" and "not deeper than the skin" (13,3-4), about which even Rashi says that he does not quite understand what it means. The holy Ohr HaChaim, however – R. Chaim ben Atar (early 18^th century, Morocco) – explained it very profoundly, as follows: 

A person's skin reflects his spiritual state, for he was created in G-d's image. If one does good deeds, speaks good things, and is steeped in Torah and mitzvot, his face shines and his skin is radiant. And if he is a sinner, his skin will reflect this as well. And if then repents, G-d Himself will forgive him, erase his sin from his body, and cleanse and polish his skin.

The Ben Ish Chai (R. Yosef Chaim of Baghdad, d. 1909) was asked how it could be that Moshe Rabbeinu did not know that his face shone after he spoke with G-d (Sh'mot 34,29), whereas R. Shimon bar Yochai – who was certainly not greater than Moshe – said about himself that he saw that his countenance shone?

The Ben Ish Chai's answer is very deep – a concept that “no ear has heard and no eye has seen.” He first cites the Talmud (Gittin 36b) which states: “Those who are insulted but do not insult in return, who hear their disgrace but do not respond… Scripture says about them, ‘But those who love Him are like the rising of the sun in its might.’ (Judges 5,31)."

This alludes to Moshe Rabbeinu, the Talmud states, who was humble and did not take offense at or respond to insults. However, this high level is actually not the highest – for it means that he felt insulted, and understood that his honor was impugned, but simply worked on himself not to respond.

An even higher level is one who does not even know that he was insulted! He is so far from feeling arrogance or self-importance that he does not feel there is anything about him that is "good enough" to be insulted. This was the true level of Moshe Rabbeinu, explains the Ben Ish Chai: that he did not even know that his face radiated and shone, felt nothing different, and could not understand why he was being looked at strangely.

This helps us understand what the Holy Ohr HaChaim explained here: One's skin is a testimony to the depth of his character. If he is insulted yet does not even notice it, his character is so profound and deep that it is recognizable on his skin – as with Moshe, to whom we can apply this verse: "A man's wisdom will light up his face" (Kohelet 8,1).