Emuna: Torah and Army: Which Takes Precedence Today?

by Rav Dov Lior - a Holocaust survivor, former Chief Rabbi of Kiryat Arba/Hevron, and leading religious-Zionist Torah scholar, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Some study in Yeshiva and some serve in the IDF – and both thus contribute to the war effort. But what about someone who has to decide which one is better for him?

Rav Dov Lior - responded to a student of a Hesder Yeshiva (combining Torah study with army service) who asked precisely that question:

Q. Should I continue studying in Yeshiva, or should I concentrate on my army service and become an officer?

Rav Lior: 

This is a very weighty question that comes up frequently in Hesder yeshivot. In general, one who can advance in Torah study and become a great Torah scholar, should drop everything else and dedicate his life to the world of Torah. We today are fighting on two fronts equally: for the State of Israel's physical existence, and for the spiritual image of the nation of Israel. The latter is where we decide whether we, nationally, take the path of the Torah of Israel, or be like all the other nations – and we don't have many people who can provide guidance and influence towards the path of holiness; for this, we need many students to be totally immersed in the world of Torah. 

I therefore look at each student individually, and if I see that if his Torah abilities are not particularly special, but that he does have the potential to advance in the army, become a commander, and sanctify G-d's Name in that way, then certainly he should go to the army. But the preference must always be given to the sphere of Torah, because we are short on forces in this area. 

Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neriah, of blessed memory (founder, in the 1930's, of the Yeshivot Bnei Akiva movement), once told us that in the Bnei Akiva movement, there was a tendency to direct all the youth to help build Kibbutzim – while he himself directed all those who were capable to go to Yeshivot. When asked why he did that, he said that in all the other fields, a natural selection process takes place, where all the fields are filled with people who are naturally drawn to them. But regarding Torah, if people are not specifically directed to it, the negative sitra achra forces take over and will prevent boys from going to yeshivot. Therefore, every student should ask his rabbi/teacher if he thinks he has the ability and skills to grow in Torah, in which case he should remain in the Yeshiva – and if the rabbi feels differently, then certainly the student should go to the army where he can contribute and raise up the nation with his talents.

The same calculation must be made when it comes to public activism and politics, which are also very important. Everyone must start out by learning Torah for at least two or three years, to ensure that he has a Torah background and that he can "open a sefer (Torah text)." Then, if he has the skills necessary to enter the world of politics, he should go in this direction, for it is important that we have people there, people whose judgment and decisions are not made based on what public opinion seems to want, but rather depend on what Torah says about the issues. 

As we know, our generation does not have many people who correctly view and comprehend the magnitude of the Divine Providence that we have been experiencing in recent decades. Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Charlop, student/friend of HaRav Kook, wrote some years ago that the main point of our generation is Eretz Yisrael, settling and building it, and installing Jewish sovereignty here. This is because he, as other great rabbis, had a Torah view of history; we must see the future based on the past and present.

The Talmud explains how the first disputes between Torah scholars came about: The schools of Shammai and Hillel differed on many points because, the Talmud says, "they did not serve as students to their teachers [they did not attend to their masters] sufficiently." 

Similarly in our generation: During the year preceding the unilateral Disengagement and expulsion from Gaza in 2005, then-Chief Rabbis Avraham Shapira and Mordechai Eliyahu emphasized repeatedly that Halakhically, based on the Ramban, one may not cooperate in any way with the expulsion of Jews or the transfer of parts of Eretz Yisrael to the enemy. Yet still, people who called themselves rabbis dared to differ with the Torah greats of the generation, and "ruled" that it was forbidden for soldiers to refuse army orders to facilitate the expulsion. I have no explanation for this, other than to say what the Talmud says: They did not learn from their own rabbis sufficiently, and thus, the Sages' words came true that in the times of the footsteps of the Messiah, "chutzpah will hold sway." 

 I personally am quite sure that if the entire religious public had arisen as one to say that they would not cooperate in any way with the expulsion, this crime might well have been prevented. But the public saw that some rabbis legitimized the move, and they therefore saw no reason to try to take their own individual initiatives against it. This was especially true for those who were threatened with dismissal or demotion – for not everyone has the necessary boldness and strength to stand up to such pressures. This is the weakness of our generation.

[In response to those who said at the time that perhaps we should take no further part in the IDF:] Even in the times of Moshe Rabbeinu there were those who sinned, and "light and darkness reigned simultaneously in confusion." This is not a reason to stop our attempts to integrate ourselves in the military. Our guys must highlight their skills in the army, and realize that our contributions are important – and in fact are already having an effect.

Vayehi: The Secret of Loving Brotherhood

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtat, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Vayehi (B'reshit 47,28-50,26), with which we conclude the Book of B'reshit, tells the story of Yaakov's blessings to his grandsons Ephraim and Menashe, sons of Yoseph.  

From Yoseph's point of view, children must be raised without the slightest fear that one of them is being treated unfairly compared to his siblings. He remembers that oh-so-bitter day when he was only 17 years old, how his older brothers caught him, sentenced him to death, removed his cloak, and threw him into a pit empty of water but filled with snakes and scorpions (37,23-24). At that moment, Yosef experienced on his own skin the tragic results of discrimination between brothers. [Note: It can be assumed that had Yosef not been treated so specially by his father, his dreams of domination would not have bothered the brothers so intensely.] 

Yosef thus made up his mind that if G-d would mercifully rescue him, and if he would merit one day to establish a family, he would treat his children equally, so as not to cause any jealousy. 

And thus he raised Menashe and Ephraim, until his own father Yaakov came along and seemed to repeat the mistake that Yosef sought to avoid at all costs. Yosef had brought his sons to Yaakov for a blessing, and placed them in such a way that when Yaakov would extend his right hand, it would fall on the older brother Menashe, while the left, weaker hand would be on Ephraim's head. (Yaakov was unable to see.)

But behold, Yaakov did not cooperate! "Yisrael [Yaakov] extended his right hand and placed it on the head of Ephraim, the younger son, and his left hand he placed on Menashe's head; he crossed his hands" (48,14). 

This was very displeasing to Yosef, understandably: "It was bad in his eyes" (verse 17). It brought him back to that terrible day, the result of treating siblings differently. "It must be," he thought, "that my father is not aware of what happened as a result of his own treatment of me at the expense of his other sons!" And so Yosef sought to correct the situation: "He tried to lift his father's hand from Ephraim's hand and place it on Menashe's… for he is the first-born" (verses 17-18). 

But Yaakov refused, and explained: "I know, my son, I know. [Menashe] will also become a nation and will attain greatness. But his younger brother will become even greater and will become world-filling nations" (verse 19). Our Sages understood this to mean: "I know, my son, what your brothers did to you in their jealousy, and that you fear that Menashe will similarly become jealous of Ephraim. But still and all, the word of G-d will stand, and his younger brother will become greater than him, and therefore requires a stronger blessing than he does."

Yaakov's explanation is this: "I know your fear, Yosef. But I also know that just because one child is treated differently, this does not have to lead to tragic jealousy. You need not place every portion on a scale in order to ensure that each child receives the exact same amount. Sometimes, children need to be treated differently, according to the circumstances – and at those times, the parent must explain that this is not a result of more or less love; the parent must ensure that there is no misunderstanding."

"Look, Yosef," Yaakov was teaching him, "you see that I have now explained to Menashe that it is not that I love him less. Rather, because of what I foresee in the future, I know that Ephraim will require a stronger blessing. Look, Yosef, and see that Menashe in fact understands the situation and accepts it whole-heartedly, without any jealousy."

The Torah then tells us: "Yaakov blessed them on that day, saying, Israel will [in the future] will use you as a blessing, saying, 'May G-d make you like Ephraim and Menashe' – deliberately placing Ephraim before Menashe" (verse 20). The idea is that this will be the important blessing that all of Israel will learn, and use, for generations; every Friday night, fathers bless their children with these exact words. For it contains a great message: Children need not receive everything in precisely equal proportions; sometimes one child must receive more – but at those times, the parent must make sure that the children are like "Ephraim and Menashe," without jealousy and with understanding. The parents must be on top of the situation and see to it that the children do not misinterpret their parents' intentions.  

Interestingly enough, in this very setting, Yaakov appears to give another example of discrimination. He informs Yosef that his two sons would be equivalent to Reuven and Shimon and the others sons in terms of their future inheritances in Eretz Yisrael, thus that Yosef's descendants would have twice as much area as the descendants of his brothers. But Yaakov explains, in verse 20, that now that Yosef understands his role as a parent, and now that Yosef's brothers understand that not every discrimination is unfair, he can allot the portions in an unequal manner, according to what is necessary. 

But the sons also have a responsibility to ensure goodwill among them. In verse 10 we read that when Yosef brought his sons to Yaakov for the blessing, Yaakov "could not see… he kissed to them and hugged to them." This is of course very strange wording! Should it not have said that he "kissed them and embraced them"?

Yaakov was transmitting an important message to his grandsons at the very outset of their meeting: "Even when it seems to you that your father or grandfather is not seeing correctly and is acting mistakenly in discriminating between you, make sure you remain close, kissing each other and hugging each other! Do not let these actions cause hatred and jealousy between you, but rather continue to assume that there are no bad intentions, and continue to love each other!"

This is thus Yaakov's last will and testament to both parents and children. To the parents: "If necessary for you parents to act in a particular manner, make sure your children do not misunderstand it." And to the children: "If you suspect that you are being treated unfairly, remember not to let this cause jealousy; rather, assume that there are justified reasons, and continue to remain loving siblings!"

And this is the same message we pass over to our children on Sabbath night: "May G-d make you like Ephraim and Menashe, remaining always on loving brotherly terms, just as they were."

Emuna: A Fast Day on a Friday!?

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

In honor of the day of fasting that we commemorate tomorrow – the Tenth of Tevet, falling this year on Friday, Dec. 22 – let us discuss the significance of the fact that it occurs on a Friday, which it hardly ever does.

The following apparently true story is told about one of the Torah giants of recent generations. Shortly after his marriage, while he was still being supported by his wealthy father-in-law, a rare event occurred: Rosh Chodesh Tevet, which always occurs during Chanukah, also fell that year on Sabbath, such that three (!) Torah scrolls were ceremoniously removed from the Ark to be read from. Many in the congregation recalled that a special piyut (prayer-poem) was supposed to be recited in honor of the event, but they could not agree on exactly which one. Just before the dispute got out of hand, they remembered that their wealthy colleague had recently gained a scholarly son-in-law, and that this was their chance to test his mettle and see if he deserved his reputation as a Torah great. And so they waited for his arrival, and when he came, they asked him to decide the issue. He calmly answered, "Though I have studied Torah and Jewish Law in depth, I admit that I am not particularly familiar with the various customs of saying piyutim. Why don't we just look in the prayer book and see what it says?"

The congregation members, who knew little of Torah and Jewish Law, were aghast. Did this great Torah scholar actually not know the great importance of the custom of reciting piyutim? He was immediately branded an ignoramus, and the consequences for his family were grave indeed… 

Rare events are good opportunities for renewed reflection – and tomorrow provides precisely that opportunity. The Fast of the Tenth Day of Tevet very rarely falls on a Friday, and the Halakhah relates to this uniqueness and thus provides us with an interesting insight into the essence of the day. 

The Shulchan Arukh (550,3) rules: "All four of these fasts [those that begin in the morning, not the night before] – if they fall on the Sabbath, are postponed until Sunday; and if they fall on Friday, Vay'chal [the special Torah portion for fasting] is read aloud in Shacharit and Mincha." 

[The language here is not precise, the Mishna Berurah tells us, because actually three of these fast days never fall on Friday, while the Tenth of Tevet never falls on the Sabbath.]

The bottom line is that the Fast of Tevet is the only fast day that occurs on Friday. We then fast all day, even after sundown and up to the time that the stars are seen – which means, that we actually fast for a short time on the holy Sabbath day itself. 

This situation has an ancient explanation, as the Abudraham wrote: "We have a tradition that if this fast day would ever fall on the Sabbath, it would not be postponed, and we would fast on the Sabbath." The only other fast day that the Sabbath does not override is Yom Kippur! Why? Because it is not a fast of mourning, but rather of repentance. We also know that regarding both Yom Kippur and the 10th of Tevet, the Bible says the words, b'etzem hayom hazeh (Vayikra 23,28; Yechezkel 24,1). As such, the Tenth of Tevet must also have an element of repentance. How so?

We know that the fast of Tevet commemorates the tragic event of the beginning of the Babylonian siege on Jerusalem nearly 2,500 years ago. This ultimately led to the destruction of the First Holy Temple, the downfall of the Kingdom of Judah, and the Babylonian exile of the Jewish people.

In what way is "repentance" a part of the Fast of Tevet? 

The answer is rooted in the very siege on Jerusalem that this day commemorates. From one standpoint, nothing actually happened that day - and if the Jews had repented and the Babylonians would then retreat, we would never remember that there had been a plan to destroy the city and Temple. For instance, 150 years earlier, King Sancherib of Assyria began a siege upon the same city, but it ended miraculously, and nothing happened.

The other fast days that commemorate the destruction of Jerusalem, such as the 17th of Tammuz and Tisha B'Av, mark tragic events that actually happened. On the 10th of Tevet, however, we note only the harbinger of a great punishment – rendering it a call for repentance and improvement of our ways more than a day of mourning for an actual tragedy that took place. 

This could be the point of disagreement between R. Akiva and R. Shimon bar Yochai regarding when the fast should be held. In the Talmud (Rosh HaShanah 18b), R. Shomon bar Yochai says that the fast is not held on the date of the start of the siege, but rather on the date that those in the Exile actually heard the news of the destruction. We can explain the dispute as follows: R. Akiva, active during the period of Bar Kokhba, sought to ensure that Israel would not be exiled for a long period and would even be redeemed in his generation – and therefore for him the Fast of Tevet was a reminder that we must do teshuvah and improve our ways. But R. Shimon bar Yochai was active chiefly after the failure of the rebellion, when we knew that we were headed for a long Exile – which renders the Fast of Tevet more of a sign of mourning for the finalization of the Destruction. 

This fast takes place in the winter, when one quarter of the year has passed (precisely three months after Yom Kippur, the 10th day of Tishrei). This day is therefore a reminder that we can still rectify our situation, and that if we "grasp" the coming year and handle it correctly, we will merit Redemption, both personal and national. The fast days over the actual destruction are still ahead of us: If we do not repent, we will have to suffer through them – deservedly so, for the Sages teach that a generation in which the Temple is not rebuilt, is as if it was destroyed in its time – but if we mend our ways, these days will become days of joy!

Vayigash: The U.S.I. – United Strengths of Israel

by Rav Yaakov Shapira, Rosh Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The portion begins with Yehuda dramatically approaching Yosef – whom he knows only as the viceroy of Egypt, but not that he is actually his long-lost brother – to demand that he release their Binyamin to his father Yaakov. The Medrash describes this encounter as one between powerful kings. Let us seek to understand the profound meaning of this portrayal, even as we also seek to answer these questions: 

1. How did the fathers of the holy Tribes of Israel, who were great tsaddikim, even consider killing their brother Yosef, whom the Zohar refers to as the pillar of [the foundation of] the world?

2. Their father Yaakov said that he wanted no share in the counsel of the instigators (Shimon and Levi; B'reshit 49,6). How, then, did G-d Himself allow the sale of Yosef to take place?

3. Why did Yosef not inform Yaakov of his whereabouts throughout the period that he was the ruler in Egypt?

The Holy Sh'lah (R. Yeshayahu HaLevi Horowitz, born in Prague, died in Safed in 1630) wrote that each of the Tribes has its unique function within the Jewish People, namely, to reveal certain powers and forces in the nation. The dispute here was not just a regular brotherly spat, but rather a struggle over the very future of the Israeli dynasty. The forces of each Tribe do not, in fact, clash with each other – but this had to be made manifest, via a long and painful process.

The dynasty of Joseph, the Sh'lah continues, was slated not to replace the dynasty of Judah, the ancestor of David and his kingdom, but rather to prepare the way for it. Yehuda, who feared that Yosef was demanding the kingship in Israel for himself alone, was accordingly prepared to follow the dictate of the Talmud (Sanhedrin 110a) that "whoever challenges the dynasty of the House of David should be bitten by a snake." Yosef, therefore, knew he had to explain the truth to the brothers. After he revealed to them his true identity (45,3), he explained to them that he had been Divinely sent simply to prepare the way for the eternal Israelite kingdom. 

That is, in order for the Kingdom of Judah/David to be stabilized, it must be preceded by the Kingdom of Joseph. It wasn't only Adam [who lived 930 years, instead of 1,000] who gave 70 years of his life to David, as the Medrash teaches; the Zohar says that Yosef, too, gave years of his life to King David. Yosef is the foundation for the Kingdom of Yehuda and the Dynasty of David. He was sent to Egypt in order to purify that lowly land that is called the "nakedness of the land" – and that is why he originally accused the brothers of coming to spy on the "nakedness of the land" (42,9), as if to say, "That's not your job right now! It's my job to purify this land, and later Yehuda will take over!"

We read that Yaakov sent Yehuda ahead of the other brothers (46,28) to prepare the way for them spiritually. But Yosef's mission had to be first, and this is why he was Divinely sent well before the brothers came. And this mission was not only for then, but for the future as well: The Messiah ben Yosef is the predecessor of the Messiah ben David, for whom he will pave the way.

Responsibility

We know that Yehuda was willing to give his life for the sake of Binyamin, second son of our Matriarch Rachel. The explanation for this is that the Kingdom of Israel actually began with Binyamin's descendant King Sha'ul. Binyamin's strength lies in the fact that he never bowed down to Esav, as the other brothers did, and in that his descendant Mordechai similarly did not bow before Haman; this refusal to accept any authority other than G-d is precisely what is necessary for a King of Israel (Horayot 3,3). 

Yehuda explained to Yosef that he had made himself a "guarantor" (44,32) for Binyamin to Yaakov. This was one reason why Yaakov sent Yehuda to prepare a Torah academy in Egypt; another reason was in order to reveal the attribute of royalty and leadership [in Yehuda's pioneering Torah activities] – for all the actions of the brothers were actually for the purpose of revealing the force of Royalty in Israel.

When Yaakov originally sent Yosef to see how his brothers were doing up north near She'chem and to bring back a report, Yosef fulfilled this mission with great self-sacrifice, for he knew that his brothers were hostile towards him, and he ended up being sold into slavery. But he did so because he wished to connect the Kingdom of Yosef to that of Yehuda, as stated above. 

The Prophet Yechezkel (37,17) foresaw the unity of these two kingdoms. And as explained by HaRav Kook in his famous eulogy for Binyamin Zev Herzl, Israel is destined to combine its two holy forces - Torah and holiness with that of earthy nationalism – to form a nationalism that is not secular but is rather infused with sanctity. May this come to full fruition speedily in our days!

Miketz: The True Chanukah Message for Today

by Rabbi Dov Lior, former Chief Rabbi of Kiryat Arba/Hevron, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Chanukah occurs every year at the time of year when we read aloud the stories of Joseph and his brothers - including especially how Joseph remained loyal to his faith and family even when he was alone in Egypt. It is clear that the messages of Chanukah are related to these national beginnings of our people, as related in the Book of Genesis. 

Joseph's descent into the darkness of Egypt was for the purpose of laying the groundwork for the construction of the Nation of Israel. The Israelites had undergone quite a process from the time they were a group of individuals in the Land of Canaan, until their recognition as a "people" by none other than King Pharaoh of Egypt. Until then they were known as the "sons of Yaakov," but the king referred to them as "the nation of the sons of Israel" (Sh'mot 1,9). 

The survival of the House of Jacob in the darkness of the exile and impurity of Egypt for over 200 years was made possible by the righteousness of Joseph, Yosef HaTzaddik, who maintained the lifestyle and faith in the G-d of his forefathers just as he was taught in his father's home. Yosef remained a faithful Jew even though he was nearly as powerful as a king, and taught his sons Ephraim and Menashe his traditions as well, so that they would not be swallowed up in the cheap and misguided culture of the Egyptians. 

These days of Chanukah have served, ever since the days of the Hasmoneans and up to today, as days of great inspiration for the Nation of Israel. The mighty and heroic victory over the Syrian Greeks was not limited to its time alone. It rather instilled national pride in our people for generations on end, up until this very day.

Greek culture - that of superficiality and the pursuit of luxury - sought to overcome the powerful spirit of the Torah of Israel and human striving for sanctity of life and eternal values in every situation. Torah’s victory over the Greek culture of yore is that which gives us the spiritual armor to stand, even now, against the dark winds blowing around the world, seeking to prevent the historic return of the Nation of Israel to its Land and the establishment of its kingdom - the Kingdom of G-d - that has forever been the destiny of Israel.

The problem in our time is not one of territory, in that our enemies want our land. It is rather that they object to our very existence. We stand for too much spirit, to their taste, and they cannot take that we reflect it to the world. They are against the State of Israel as the country of the Jewish People, and the ethics and goodness that we grant the world are a constant reminder of all that they hate. As we see clearly, their objections are not becoming lighter or easier - but we are confident that “the eternity of Israel will not lie,” and that our national return to our holy and ancestral land  that began over a century ago will become stronger and stronger, to the point that the light of our Redemption will become a great torch leading the camp. We pray that we will all merit to experience the redemption of our nation and entire Land very soon.

Emuna: Chanukah Candles, Holy Temple Candles

by Rabbi Re'em HaCohen, Rosh Yeshivat Otniel, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The central mitzvah of the Chanukah holiday - the eighth and last night of which we celebrate tonight - is the nightly lighting of the candles. As is well-known, this practice was instituted to commemorate the miracle of the Menorah lamps in the Holy Temple, which were lit for eight full days even though the oil was sufficient for only one day. We must therefore explain the essential relationship between these two commandments, namely, the lighting of the Menorah lamps and the lighting of the Chanukah candles. 

In the Al HaNissim prayer, we note that after the military victories of the Hasmoneans over the Greeks, and after the purification of the Holy Temple, "Your sons came and… lit candles in Your holy courtyards." We generally understand this as a reference to the lighting of the Menorah – but the Menorah is in the Sanctuary of the Temple, not in the Temple courtyards! The prayer must therefore be referring to the general lighting of Chanukah candles in the Ezrat Nashim and the Ezrat Yisrael, the courtyards of the Temple. But why is it important for the prayer to specify that the Chanukah lightings took place in the courtyards? 

The answer is that there is a difference between the Sanctuary and the courtyards. The Chanukah candles, burning in G-d's courtyards, correspond to the Temple service that is performed there – i.e., that which features human participation. Kabbalah sources identify the Azarah [courtyard] with the worlds of Asiyah, B'riah, and Yetzirah (Doing, Creation, and Creation) – worlds in which activities of differentiation between good and evil take place. This work requires of man to utilize all his strengths in the service of G-d. And in fact, a very large altar stands in one of the courtyards, the Ezrat Cohanim, just outside the Sanctuary; the Talmud (Yoma 21b) teaches that even though the altar fire descends miraculously from the Heavens, it is still a mitzvah for Israel to bring fire from a non-sanctified source. However, this must be done in holiness; that is, every Priest who takes part in the Azarah service on the altar must wash – purify – his hands and feet beforehand.  

On the other hand, the lighting of the Menorah takes place in the Sanctuary – where man totally and completely nullifies himself before the Holy One, Blessed be He. Therefore, man's non-sanctified fire has no place in the Menorah, whose fire must be kindled totally from the large fire burning on the Altar. A Priest who merely enters the Sanctuary, even without performing any service, is obligated in purification of hands and feet. The Sanctuary is therefore identified by the Kabbalah with the World of Emanation, the most supreme of the worlds; its essence is totally Divine, and the work of the other worlds - differentiating between good and evil - has no place here.  

As such, the basic difference between the service of the Sanctuary and that of the Azarah is rooted in the Divine task assigned to mortals. In the Sanctuary, man is required to minimize himself and his presence, while in the courtyards, he must actively participate.  

The Medrash notes that the Menorah passage in the Torah is adjacent to the passage recounting the sacrifices offered by the Tribal leaders for the dedication of the Tabernacle – the passage that we read aloud in the synagogue throughout Chanukah. These two passages represent the above two aspects - the Sanctuary and our self-minimization, and the Azarah and our participation. 

As such, the Medrash tells us that the sacrifices in general are offered only when the Holy Temple is extant, whereas the Menorah lamps are forever. The Ramban (to Bamidbar 8,2) explains that these lamps are those of Chanukah, "which we light even when the Temple stands in ruins." 

To fill out the picture of the relationship between the lighting of Chanukah candles and the Menorah lamps, let us delve into the following point: The foundation of the Menorah lighting is linked with "constancy." It must be a ner tamid, a perpetual light (Sh'mot 27,20). The Rambam explains that this means the Menorah must be kindled morning and evening, so that it remain lit at all times. Rashi, however, says that the Menorah must be kindled only every evening, such that it gave off light only at night – but every night! The Medrash Tanchuma says that once it was kindled on Rosh HaShanah, it never went out throughout the entire year. In this context of perpetual Divine illumination, we are commanded to nullify ourselves totally before G-d.  

Furthermore, although the Priest is the one who is commanded to light the Menorah, a non-Priest who lights is not punishable by death as if he had performed a Temple service activity – because lighting the Menorah does not have the status of a mortal Temple activity. 

In contrast with these non-mortal aspects of the Menorah lighting, we see that Chanukah lighting has a more down-to-earth status. For one thing, the Talmud rules that the actual lighting is what effects the mitzvah (as opposed to where it is placed after it is lit), meaning that it is specifically dependent upon man's actions.  

Similarly, the Chanukah candles must be lit at the entrance to one's house – his physical domain.  

What happens when the Temple is in ruins and there is no Temple service? The Menorah service sheds its aspects of "Sanctuary" and of man's minimization, and takes upon those of the Altar and of man's participation in the service of G-d.  

The illuminating power of Aharon HaCohen's teachings is expressed by the lighting of the Menorah. But after the destruction, this power continues to illuminate the light of the Torah through the Chanukah candles, lit by Klal Yisrael and directed outward. They express hope for the very soon return of the illumination of the Menorah, which expresses the inner illumination. That is, ideally Aharon HaCohen – the High Priest –spreads his Torah illumination via the Menorah; but after the destruction, this force continues to shine via the candles of Chanukah, which are lit by Klal Yisrael and are directed outwards. They express the hope for the restoration of the Menorah illumination, the inner light, very soon. 

Vayeshev: Eradicating Hatred in Our Generation

Abridged from an article by the late Rabbi Moshe Tzuriel, prolific Torah scholar and rabbinic teacher in Yeshivat Hesder Rishon LeTzion, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

When we study the weekly Torah portion – this week it is Vayeshev, chapters 37-40 in B'reshit – we must remember that the reason the Sages instituted the public reading of the Torah is not simply so that we should mechanically hear the words. Even to simply understand them, while important, is not enough; rather, the objective is to learn from them what it is we must change in our lives.  

For instance, it is not enough to be saddened each year at the sale of Joseph by his brothers and to register their sin and punishment. We must rather think deeply as to whether we might also be repeating this same disgraceful sin in our own generation, in our own homeland.  

The renowned 15th-century Torah scholar and Spanish statesman, Don Yitzchak Abarbanel, explained what it was that caused our ancestors to suffer in Egypt for so long. In his commentary to the Passover Haggadah, he wrote that it all happened because of the sale of Joseph by his brothers; he was sold to Egypt, there he ascended to power, and to there his brothers later came to seek food and were not allowed to leave for a while. From this we learn the terrible severity of the sin of sin'at ḥinam, causeless hatred.  

Many events in Jewish history are attributed to the sins and events of the sale of Joseph, based on the axiom that the destruction of the Holy Temple was rooted in sin'at ḥinam (Yoma 9b). For instance, the Temple was built in the portion of the tribe of Binyamin because he was the only one of Joseph's brothers who did not take part in his kidnapping and sale. In addition, Yehuda did not merit to have the Temple built in his inheritance because, though he tried to save Joseph, he did so weakly, and did not succeed. 

But we must understand: Was the brothers' hatred of Joseph truly "causeless?" They actually had a seemingly good reason, which was that he spoke slanderously about them to their father (37,2). And even though he certainly had good intentions - that their father should reprove and educate them - he should have spoken to them first. In addition, lashon hara (slanderous speech) is such a grave sin that it is likened to the three cardinal sins of idol worship, incest, and murder (Tr. Arachin 15b). Were the brothers not justified in their hatred of Joseph? 

To answer this, we must learn an important point made by the Rambam in his commentary on the Mishna (end of Tractate Sanhedrin), where he outlined his famous Thirteen Principles of Faith. The Rambam wrote: "One who believes in these principles is [officially] an Israelite, and we are obligated to love him and have compassion on him and treat him with love and brotherhood – even if he may have committed a sin because of his lusts and the strength of the Evil Inclination upon him… Only one who heretically departs from these principles of faith may and must be hated…" [I found no rishonim, great Torah scholars of the Medieval Period, who differed with the Rambam in this point.]  

Every hatred of a Jew who is not a heretic is forbidden! It is sin'at ḥinam and a sin that has brought upon us the exile to Egypt and the destruction of the Holy Temple. And the Jerusalem Talmud teaches [Yoma 1,1]: "Every generation in which the Holy Temple was not rebuilt, is considered as if it were destroyed in that generation." This means that since G-d certainly wants to rebuild His Temple, He does not because the sin of causeless hatred is still rampant and therefore prevents it. As such, those who act with hatred towards other Jews are responsible for the continued destruction of the Holy Temple! 

Rav Chaim Yosef David Azulai (18th century, Jerusalem), known by the acronym Ḥida, wrote as follows:  

"Hatred stems from arrogance. And the Second Temple was destroyed because of it, even though that generation was otherwise great in Torah and mitzvot (Yoma 9b). And we continue to be guilty of this sin. How then can we merit Redemption while the reason for the destruction – sin'at ḥinam – is still rampant among us?" 

We do not need to be reminded of the many examples of this sin in our midst. Many sectors refer to others with derision and call each other names, while public figures verbally attack each other mercilessly.  

The Chafetz Chaim (Orach Chaim 1, Mishna Berurah and Beiur Halakha) wrote that one must not fight with others regarding the observance of Torah commandments – unless his rivals are heretics who are seeking to uproot Torah observance and he has first sought to make peace with them.  

But regarding our approach to Torah-observant Jews who follow their rabbis – if one engages in disseminating hatred against them, his sin is greater than can be borne. [See my work Otzrot HaMussar, p. 981-982.] One who studies the story of the sale of Joseph and is not shocked to trembling from the causeless hatred that caused it, has simply missed the point. And as the Ḥida wrote (cited above), this has great ramifications for our generation as well.  

The author of the Kitzur Shulchan Arukh, Rabbi Shlomo Ganzfried, wrote that one who has sin'at ḥinam in his heart for a Jew, his prayers are not heard. And the Arizal states that this is true not only on Yom Kippur, but all year long. We thus hear a terrible warning as to why many of our prayers are not answered, whether for communal matters or those of the individual.  

Just like one would never eat meat whose kashrut is doubtful, one must all the more so run away from any doubtful situation regarding hatred for another Jew. The rabbis of every group must teach this educational point over and over, almost more than any other topic. 

In conclusion, let us see the words of Rav Kook that he wrote in the wake of the terrible dispute regarding the sale of land during the Shemittah year: "We must, in this generation, grasp onto the attribute of peace, and increase love and brotherhood in Israel, and increase the honor of Torah scholars." (Igrot HaR'iyah, Vol. I, p. 347).

Emuna for Chanukah: The Third Player in the Contest Between Good and Evil

by Rabbi Elyakim Levanon, Rabbi of the Shomron Regional Council, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Talmud tells us the story of the most famous Chanukah miracle: "When the Syrian Greeks entered the Holy Temple, they defiled all the oils in the Sanctuary. When the Hasmonean Kingdom later ascended and defeated them, the Jews wished to light the Menorah – but could find only one flask of pure oil that still retained the seal of the High Priest [attesting to its purity], and even this was sufficient for only one day. A miracle occurred, and they were able to light the Menorah for eight days." (Tr. Shabbat 21b) 

Two Forces 

A battle of titans has been raging for many centuries among various worldwide forces. During the ten generations between Adam and Noach, we note two powers that actually started in the Garden of Eden, represented by the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The first struggle began when the world split up into these two parts. Adam and Chava were commanded to both choose good and stay away from evil: "From all the trees in the garden, you may certainly eat, but from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, do not eat" (B'reshit 2,16-17). In this first battle, evil won out, thanks to the wily serpent which tempted Adam and Chava to eat from the forbidden tree, leading to their expulsion from Eden. 

Next came Kayin and Hevel (Cain and Abel), where again the evil emerged victorious over the good. For the ensuing eight generations, G-d gave humanity further chances to choose good, but the final conclusion was: "G-d saw that man's wickedness on earth was great, and that every impulse of his inner thoughts was only evil all the time" (6,5). There was no choice but to flood the world to destruction and rebuild it anew. 

The Triplicate Strand 

What change was to be expected in this new world? Why should the forces of evil not overcome those of good once more?  

The answer is that a triple strand was created. No longer would there be only two forces; to good and evil was added a third one, a mediating force. Just as a court cannot have only two justices, but must include a third one so that a clear decision can be reached, so too the world must not be left alone with only good and bad.  

From then on, the struggle became not simply a head-on clash between good and evil, but rather one in which each side tries to sway the third force to its side. If the forces of good are able to succeed in bringing those in the middle over to their side, the two of them together will overcome evil. But of course the opposite can also be true, Heaven forbid. 

During the next ten generations, from Noach until the Patriarch Avraham, each of the three powers found its place among Noach's three sons: Shem took the banner of the straight and good; Ḥam adopted that which is bad and impure; and Yefet was the intermediary force, blessed by his father accordingly: "May G-d enhance Yefet, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem" (9,27).  

The Hashmonaim and the Greeks 

The Torah tells us (10,2) that Yavan (Greece) is descended from Yefet, the intermediary force between purity and impurity. The pious try to eat only when they and the food are pure, but even food that has become defiled is permitted for consumption. Yavan stands for the power of "regular food" - human thought, philosophy, all that shows the greatness of mortal wisdom. Sometimes, human thought joins up with sanctity and dwells in the tents of Shem, and sometimes it descends to the pits of impurity, leading to the ruination of that which is holy. 

When the Greeks rose to power, they chose to descend upon the latter path and join with the forces of evil, of Ḥam. They therefore warred with those who continued the path of Shem – Israel – and defiled all that was sacred. The coalition of intermediary and evil nearly defeated the holy. Many throughout the Jewish Nation were drawn to the immorality of Greek culture.  

But the evil did not reach the highest point of holiness in Israel, and the family of priests, led by the High Priest, remained untouched by the impurity: A flask of oil with the seal of the High Priest was saved – and from it Israel drew its strength to spread its light of purity. The light was increased, and gradually all of Israel was restored and returned to the Beit HaMikdash. Miraculously, the Menorah was lit for eight full days, one day after the other, until purity returned to the Nation of Israel.  

Good and Bad Coalitions 

We are witness today to a great empowering of a force that threatens to swallow everything. Nothing seems to stand in its way as it seeks to trample, expel, and destroy "every good portion" in its path. The non-holy powers that exist in Israel – science, academia, technology, integrity, basic ethics – all these should join up with the holiness in Israel, and together build a country on healthy and worthy foundations.  

Unfortunately, however, the median forces joined up with those of evil in many cases and allowed themselves to totally deteriorate. [Regarding the case of Israel's withdrawal from Gush Katif, which ultimately led to the recent Simchat Torah massacre and subsequent war in Gaza,] the courts that were responsible for basic morality abandoned their post and "legalized" the expulsion of thousands of families from their homes. The academic and media worlds were similarly silent in the face of this injustice, which was allowed to take place with barely a protest from these bastions of democracy. 

Here must come the forces of holiness and rise up with confidence and sense of mission to take up the mantle of leadership. They must attract and draw to them the positive forces that are certainly to be found among the "secular" public.  

The joining up together of holy and secular forces, with the holy leading the way, can and will ultimately shed its light on the negative forces found within our nation. Together, the two will succeed in neutralizing the poison of the evil elements and return them as well to the chain of positive action, to build and not destroy, to plant and not uproot.  

The nation walking in darkness will see great light! 

Emuna for Chanukah: Competition and the Lonely Road to Heaven

by Rabbi Haggai Londin, Rosh Yeshivat Hesder Holon, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The period of Chanukah – the eight-day holiday that begins this year next Thursday night – is a good time to recall the cultural war that took place two millennia ago between ancient Greece and Israel. 

On the one hand, there is an idolatrous world that sees only blind nature and chance running the world. On the other hand, there exists the Jewish world that believes that we can overcome these restrictions.   

There are many ramifications to this struggle between us and Western culture, the offspring of ancient Greece. One of these is the concept of competition. The world in which we live is one in which competitiveness reigns in nearly every sphere. Whether it be sports, test scores, the workplace, style-and-fashion, and even in Torah – we find ourselves comparing ourselves and being compared to others.  

The competitions begin at an early age: A child comes home from school with a good test score, and the parents' first question is: "What did the other kids get?" The child thus learns very clearly that in order to be happy, it's not enough for you to be successful; the others have to be less successful.  

Then, of course, the parents continue this lesson with declarations such as, "Our daughter will go to the high school where the best girls go," "Why can't you be like your brother?", and even, "How dare they not accept our child to be a counselor in the youth movement?!"  

New recruits into the army are asked, "What, you're not in a combat battalion?" and high school graduate girls are reminded all-too-often, "Nearly all the girls in your class are married already!"  

All this is accompanied by our own thoughts: "I'll never be as pretty as her!" or "How come the Cohens [or Levis] have more money than me [or perhaps a larger house, or greener grass]?"  

Sometimes this feeling of competition reaches heights that are beyond the rational. I was once at a memorial service where it was festively announced that the last request of the deceased had been "to have the fanciest gravestone in the entire cemetery!" I kid you not. 

The first official competitive institution in history was the Olympics – and it is no wonder that modern competitive sports are rooted in a pagan society such as ancient Greece. Idolatrous man, who perceives the world as one of divisiveness and separation, sees reality as an arena of struggle between warring forces and gods. In the Greek pantheon, many gods are in constant conflict with each other: Zeus quarrels with Hera and Apollo, and Poseidon is always furious with Aphrodite or others. It's all-out war. A pattern of life is therefore established in the pagan culture that relates to everyday life as a war of existence and survival of the fittest. They are always checking to see who's faster, taller, stronger. 

Judaism, on the other hand, believes in a unified perception of reality, one that is a united organic entity. "Hear O Israel, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One." Life is not simply a collection of details uncoordinated with each other, but rather the very handiwork of G-d. This means that the success of each individual is beneficial for the entire whole, and his failure is that of the entire community. The materialistic understanding of life sees the world as limited, and therefore it's "either me or you." But in the faith-based outlook, the world is divine and infinite, and as such, there's room for everyone. 

Our Sages teach: "No one can touch any part of that which is prepared for someone else" (Yoma 38b). That is, everyone receives precisely what was designated for him by G-d. Faith in G-d means that no one's success comes at the expense of anyone else. Rather, G-d doles out exactly what each one is supposed to receive.  

Of course, sometimes competition is valuable in order to challenge ourselves to reach greater heights, such as in a good basketball game or chess match. "Jealousy among teachers [or writers, or scholars] increases wisdom" (Bava Batra 21a), for they will try harder to excel. But empowering the act of competing and making our sense of fulfillment conditional on a victory over someone else, is deplorable in its very essence.  

How do we free ourselves from the darkness of Greek culture? Here are a few ideas from every-day life: 

1. The less we watch or take part in competitions, the better. This includes the Bible quiz, game shows, and the like. It is good to announce to the children, "Whoever finishes studying a chapter in Bible or in Mishna [by a certain time] will receive a prize!" There is no need to have them compete and thus pit one child against another. 
2. We must learn to stand up for ourselves without trying to dwarf others. A saying attributed to Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, the father of the Mussar movement, states: "If you want to raise yourself up, build yourself a stage; don't dig a ditch for someone else." Of course, when applying for a job, it is justified to explain why you feel you are perfectly qualified for the position – but there is a thin line, that must not be crossed, between highlighting your virtues, and sneakily presenting the other's faults.   
3. Most important of all: Develop the ability to look at yourself – alone. Constantly comparing ourselves to others stems from over-emphasis on externals, and this is our unwanted legacy from Greece. The body, esthetics, materialism – these are what are valued in Greek culture. But Jewish culture is different: The more one learns Torah, refines his personality, and accustoms himself to find satisfaction in intellectual, emotional, and spiritual pursuits and accomplishments, the less threatened he will feel from the outside world. He will stand before the Master of the Universe and find there his fortune and happiness, without having to worry about others. This is a sense of freedom that releases him from all bonds. As he becomes a free man, he lights within himself a small candle that pushes away so much darkness.  

One of the sentences that have accompanied me throughout my life was told to me many years ago by a certain Torah scholar. I was engaged in justifying something I had done by claiming, "Everyone does it!" He looked at me in silence for a few seconds, and then said with special emphasis, "On your way up to Heaven, you're alone. Don't forget that." I didn't.

Vayishlah: Release Me, for the Dawn Has Broken

by Rabbi Mordechai Hochman, a former Rabbi/Teacher in Yeshivat Beit El, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

When Yaakov was on his way back to the Land of Israel, a "man" wrestled with him. The Medrash explains that this was a struggle within the People of Israel, between the spiritual-angelic spheres and the material-mortal aspects. When the latter relates to itself as nil, the spiritual will truly give it life – and then the dawn will break and both will be Redeemed. 

In this week's Torah portion of Vayishlach, we read (in B'reshit 32,25-31) that a man wrestled with our Patriarch Yaakov until dawn, dislocating Yaakov's hip joint in the process. The man asked Yaakov to release him, "for the dawn has risen," but Yaakov demanded a blessing first. The man asked Yaakov's name, changed it to Yisrael, and blessed him. Yaakov then asked for the angel's name, but received no answer. Let us present an approach to this fascinating incident. 

We have explained elsewhere that Yaakov wished to establish in the Land of Israel a "kingdom of priests and holy nation" (Sh'mot 19,6). But when he encountered a "man" of his own descendants who did not want to live a spiritual life, but sought only to live a normal, physical life like Esav, a "man of the field" (B'reshit 25,27) – he did not reject him. Rather, he informed the "man" that Israel needed him, and that in the holy nation that would arise in the Land, both "angels" and "men" would be required. The "man" agreed to remain until dawn, i.e., until the Redemption. 

That is, while Yaakov did not see this as a healthy phenomenon – described as a "dislocated joint" caused by the struggle with the "man" (32,26) – he still did not want to give up on the physical aspects of Israel. One opinion of our Sages is that the spirituality of the Throne of Glory does not dwell on the actions of such a man, but another opinion, that of R. B'rechya, is that it does dwell on these actions, but only if a certain condition obtains, as we will see. 

First let us cite (in paraphrasal) the Medrash B'reshit Rabba (78,1) on this incident:  

R. Chelbo says in the name of R. Shmuel bar Nachman: "They are new every morning, great is Your faith" (Eccl. 3,23) - No group of angels repeats its praise of G-d from one day to the next; rather, G-d creates a new group every day which says praise and then leaves."  

R. B'rechya objected: "But the angel said to Yaakov, 'Release me, for the dawn has broken' and it is time for me to say praise! And this, despite the fact that he was created the day before!"  

R. Chelbo reacted strongly: "Strangler! Did you think to strangle me?! I asked R. Shmuel bar Nachman myself this question, and he answered me that it is referring to the angels Michael and Gabriel, who are the only two angels that are not replaced." 

R. Chelbo's response is quite strange. Why should he accuse R. B'rechya of wanting to strangle him?! The discussions of the Sages are filled with questions back and forth; why should the questioner be accused of negative intentions? Not to mention that R. Chelbo himself asked the same question! 

Let us first note that when we find the Sages occasionally relating to each other in a strange or unduly aggressive manner, this is not to be understood at face value. Rather, there is the "outer" level of the story, that which is understood at first glance, and then there are additional layers, whose meaning is grasped only after delving further into the matter. The strange stories of the Sages are their way of hinting that we must consider the matter on a deeper level, enabling us to climb to higher and more spiritual levels. 

When R. Chelbo accused R. B'rechya of wanting to strangle him, he was providing a key by which to understand what happened between Yaakov Avinu and the "man" who wrestled with him.  

Firstly, the Torah is called "song" (D'varim 31,19); the Rashbam explains that "song" is an organized account or narrative. Not only is the Written Torah a "song," but the Oral Torah as well. Therefore, when R. B'rechya objects to the organization and logic in the words of R. Chelbo, he seems essentially to be preventing these words from being included in the "song" of the Oral Torah – meaning that they will not be handed down through the generations of Israel. This prevention of being allowed to "sing" is like strangulation! 

And this cry-out by R. Chelbo is also symbolic of what happened between the "man" and Yaakov Avinu. Until this point, the "man" aspect of Yaakov was busy helping the "angelic" Yaakov engage and toil in the song of Torah via his physical and earthly work. But now, as they wrestled, the "man" seemed to be demanding to say a "song" on his own! 

This is in fact an important stage in the Redemption process, because his desire to "sing" is actually the "redemption of the will" – and the stage after that will be the actual Redemption in which the "man" will sing the "song" and be like an angel. But when the angel prevents the "man" from singing, demanding that he first bless him (verse 27), this is a form of strangulation!  

Why, in fact, does the angel wish to "strangle" the man in this manner?  

Let us recall that in B'reshit 14, King Malki-Tzedek blessed Avraham Avinu after the great war – but did not bless his 318 soldiers; for they were only assistants. As we said above, regarding the angel and the earthly "man" here, the latter must fulfill a particular condition before his actions are blessed. Yaakov told the "man," his wrestling partner, as follows: "If you wish to 'sing' on your own, you must first recognize that the angel is the central player here, and that you are only his assistant. You must understand that your success in work and in war is only in the merit of the Torah of the angel." 

The "man" agrees to this condition! He asks Yaakov, standing for the "angel," what his name is, and then says to him, "Your name will no longer be Yaakov, but rather Yisrael – for you have become great before G-d and man; you have won." That is, the "man" acknowledges that the actions of the angel are important and influential both in the upper worlds and in This World – and the name Yisrael shows the linkage between both these worlds.  

Yaakov then turns to the "man" and asks him to tell him his name – but the "man" dismisses this request: "Why should you ask my name?" With this humility, he is showing that he is only ephemeral in this world, and that therefore his name has no real importance. As we read in Job (Iyov14,19-20): "Stones are eroded by water, washed away… but the hope of man You have destroyed. You overpower him to eternity, and he leaves [i.e., he is no more] …" 

In sum, the "man" recognizes the worth of the angel by upgrading his name, and recognizes his own lack of importance by not giving his own name – and this is the very blessing that Yaakov wished to hear from the man. As summed up there: "He blessed him there." 

And by virtue of this acknowledgement and understanding, his own earthly actions are upgraded, and the spirituality of the Throne of Glory can dwell upon them, as stated above. 

The Medrash above concludes that the angels involved were actually Gabriel and Michael – and Gabriel, despite being an angel, is also referred to as "man" (Daniel 9,21).  

When Yaakov Avinu saw that the "man" lowered himself before the angel, he was happy to note, as he had hoped and foreseen, that the spirituality of both was in force. As written at the end of their encounter: "Yaakov named the place Pni-el, 'for I have seen G-d face [panim] to face and my soul was saved.'" That is, he saw here a struggle between two spiritual strengths - "face to face" – and not just between the forces of physicality and spirituality. And he declares that after the "man" has nullified himself, he has now gained a level of spirituality, and thus even the actions of the "man" will be written in the eternal work of the Nation of Israel."  

And when he concludes that "my soul was saved," he is referring to both souls of Israel: that of the angel and that of the "man," who was revealed in the end to be an angel. 

In this article, we have learned that when we see strange behavior on the part of our Sages, we must know that this is their way to arouse us to take a deeper look at the situation and internalize the lesson we are being taught. In this case, their behavior seemed to be strange; but on a deeper level, it taught us the merits of the various groups that exist within our nation.

Emuna: Judging Favorably – Even the Good Ones

by Rabbi Zalman Baruch Melamed, Rosh Yeshivat Beit El and former Chief Rabbi of Beit El, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Sages teach (Pirkei Avot 1,6): "Judge every person favorably" [though the literal translation is: "Judge the entire person favorably"]. This means that we must judge everyone favorably – both those who are good and those who are less good. 

This is considered a praiseworthy approach – as opposed to having criticism on everyone, which is a foul trait. But even worse than that is one who judges the evil ones favorably, while judging the good people negatively. King Shlomo in Proverbs (17,15) states this clearly: "To acquit the guilty and convict the innocent - both are an abomination to G-d." 

The renowned 18th-century Rav Yechezkel Landau, also known as the Noda B'Yehuda, explained this verse as follows: One who judges a wicked person favorably – that is not terrible; on the contrary, he has a good trait of finding the positive. And one who indicts, in his mind, the righteous – this is also not abominable, though it is not good. But one who does both of these – judging the wicked favorably and also the righteous negatively as he constantly seeks out their shortcomings – about him the verse states: "Both are an abomination to G-d."

The Gemara in Tr. Sanhedrin (p. 26a) tells us that R. Chiya bar Zarnoki and R. Shimon ben Yehotzadak were on the road to Asya to intercalate the year; they were unable to do so in Eretz Yisrael. Resh Lakish met them and decided to join up with them, for he wished to see how it was done. Along their way, Resh Lakish saw a man plowing a field. He said to the other Sages: "Look at this priest who is plowing during the Sabbatical Year [when working the land is forbidden]." They said to him that the man might be a hired worker in a Gentile-owned field, in which case it is permitted. 

Resh Lakish then saw another man pruning vines. He again said, "Look at this priest pruning vines during the Shemitah." They answered that he might need the branches to make a bale [ekel] for his olive press, i.e., not for agricultural purposes, in which case it is permitted. Resh Lakish said to them, in a play on words: "The heart knows whether he is doing so for a bale [ekel], as you say, or in deception [l’akalkalot]…"

The Gemara asks why Resh Lakish assumed the men were priests, and answers: "It is because priests are suspected of desecrating the Sabbatical Year…"

After Resh Lakish continually bothered them with his comments, the two Sages said that he was a nuisance. When they reached their destination where they intended to intercalate the year, they went up to the roof – and then removed the ladder so that Resh Lakish would not be able to join them. Some time later, Resh Lakish came to R. Yochanan and asked, "Are people who are suspected of desecrating the Sabbatical Year [that is, treating it with disrespect] fit to intercalate the year?!"

The question may here be asked: Why did Resh Lakish awaken to this problem only after they removed the ladder and didn't let him into the room? He could have raised this objection as soon as he saw them judging the two men favorably! 

The answer is in keeping with what we said above. At first, Resh Lakish thought that they were judging everyone favorably, which is of course a good trait. But when he saw that they didn't judge him favorably, but rather called him a nuisance and didn't let him join them in the intercalcation procedure, he thought to himself: "They judged them favorably, but not me. This means that they judge people favorably only when it is convenient for them. If so, then given that they judged only these Sabbatical-violators favorably, it could mean that they themselves are guilty of violating the Sabbatical laws." This can be what the Noda B'Yehuda was explaining. 

And thus, we must be careful not to behave in a distorted manner, but rather to judge everyone favorably – both those who are seemingly guilty and, all the more so, those who are righteous.

Vayeitze: The Attributes of Truth and Eternity: One and the Same

by Rabbi Zalman Baruch Melamed, Rosh Yeshivat Beit El and former Chief Rabbi of Beit El, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

In honor of the weekly Torah portion of Vayeitze (B'reshit 28,10-32,3), we bring you a treatise on the Patriarch Yaakov and Beit El, the city he founded, by the founder of modern-day Beit El.

In 1978, during the first months of our residence in what was to become Beit El, when we still lived in caravans in the army camp, without running water, our teacher and rabbi Rav Tzvi Yehuda HaCohen Kook zt"l came to visit us.

We gathered in the military synagogue [which has now recently been renewed for the use of the residents of Beit El's newest neighborhood, Ramat Beit El] and we asked Rav Tzvi Yehuda to speak. He asked us, "Where is the baal habayit, the master of the house?" He was referring to the commander of the military camp, and he explained that without the commander's permission, he had no authority to speak. We ran to find him, and he in fact came, sat down, and spoke to Rav Kook for a few minutes. After receiving his permission to speak, the Rav, in an off-the-cuff manner, delivered a wondrous lecture on Yaakov Avinu and Beit El.

He began with the Patriarch Avraham, continued with Yitzchak, and then reached Yaakov. Rav Kook explained that the trait of Yaakov is that of emet, truth, which is the trait of eternity. Our Sages teach (Taanit 5b) that Yaakov never died – and Beit El, too, has the unique quality of long life, as we learn in the Medrash (B'reshit Rabba 69,8):

"The Torah states that Luz was the original name of Beit El… The same luz with which sky-blue wool is dyed, the luz that Sennacherib attacked but whose population he did not transfer, the luz that Nebuchadnezzar attacked but did not destroy, the luz over which the angel of death never had dominion." This was a city in which life did not end and there was no death; when people became old, they would leave.

The Sages also note that there is a bone in the body called the luz – a special bone that never ceases to exist; even after death, it does not disintegrate. From it, it is taught, the body will be rebuilt and resurrected during T'chiyat HaMeitim (Resurrection of the Dead). That is, it has ever-lasting existence.

Once again we see that there is a connection between the place Beit El (Luz) and long life – and that is the concept of the trait of Truth. This is not a one-sided trait, but rather a central trait, one that is eternal. And this is the trait of Yaakov Avinu.

The Talmud (ibid.) asks: If Yaakov did not die, was it for naught that the Torah tells us that he was eulogized and embalmed and buried? The given answer is that a verse in Jeremiah compares Yaakov to his descendants, and therefore, "just as Yaakov's seed lives forever, so too he lives forever." We can explain that Yaakov Avinu is essentially the entirety of Israel, Clal Yisrael; he is the choice Patriarch, for all his children continued in his path [as opposed to Avraham and Yitzchak]. When his children live, it is as if he is living. "The eternity of Israel will not lie" (Shmuel I 15,29); the eternity of Israel is forever.

This city also has another unique quality. The above Medrash states that the city of Luz had a concealed entrance, hidden among the mountains, and when people would come to the city for the first time, they did not know how to get in. In fact, the entrance was via a luz tree. Concealed things exist for very long. The Sages say: "Blessing is only upon that which is hidden from the eye." Thus, what characterizes Beit El also characterizes Yaakov Avinu. As the Torah states, he dreamt of a "ladder standing on the ground, with its head reaching the heavens" – this is the trait of truth, the trait of eternity.

Emuna: How the Four Places Called "Zion" are All the Same

by Rabbi Moshe Tzuriel of Yeshivat Hesder Rishon LeTzion, a widely-recognized and prolific Torah scholar who passed away three months ago, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel. 

The name Zion (Tziyon) in the Bible can refer to four different places: The Temple Mount, the city of Jerusalem, the entire Land of Israel, and the City of David, south of Mt. Moriah. 

Let us seek out one common thread that will explain the various meanings.

The 16th-century Maharal of Prague, in his famous commentary on Rashi at the end of Parashat VaYetze, explains that the holiness of the Land of Israel stems from the presence within it of Jerusalem. That is to say, Jerusalem is heart of the Land. And from there we can also note that the heart of Jerusalem is the Temple Mount, the site of the Beit HaMikdash – and that the Dvir (the Holy of Holies), where the Tablets of the Covenant were placed, is the heart of the Beit Hamikdash. 

The Dvir is the primary source of the sanctity of the Holy Temple [see Rav Sh. R. Hirsch's commentary to the Torah, Lev. 4, verses 17, 33 et al]. The word dvir is from the same root as dibbur, which means "speech," and this connects the Dvir with the Ten Dibrot, known as the Ten Commandments. The great esteem and admiration that we have for the bringing of sacrifices in the Temple, and the closeness to G-d that it brings, all stem from our adherence and obedience to the words of the Ten Commandments, which include all 613 mitzvot of the Torah [as the 10th-century R. Saadia Gaon stated; see Rashi to Sh'mot 24,12]. 

The Tablets of the Law on which were written the Ten Commandments are literally the handiwork of G-d, as is written: "…the two Tablets of the Testimony, stone tablets written with the finger of G-d" (Sh'mot 31,18). The Torah also states: "And the tablets are the work of G-d, and the writing [thereon] is the writing of G-d, engraved on the Tablets" (Sh'mot 32,16). 

And those very Tablets, given at Sinai, are in the Ark of the Covenant – which itself is in the Dvir, the Holy of Holies, which itself is the very heart of the Holy Temple. After all, the Dvir is the place where no one may ever enter, except for the High Priest on Yom Kippur – and even then, only for a few minutes each of the four times he enters it that day. 

Based on all this, we can understand why the Prophet Yeshayahu states: "For from Zion will go forth Torah" (2,3). 

And with this inspiration of G-d's Torah in the Holy Temple, the wise men of the Sanhedrin convened in the Chamber of Gazit in the Temple, and issued rulings on all matters of doubt having to do with Jewish Law (see Rambam, Laws of Mamrim, Chapter 1).

The word tziyun, which is the same as Tziyon (Zion) but with the shuruk vowel (oo) instead of a cholam (o), means "sign." For instance, we read in the words of the Prophet Yirmiyahu (31,20), "Hatzivi lakh tziyunim," meaning, "Set signs for yourself." Tziyun is also used to mean "gravestone marker" and the like. 

This is the mobile tziyun – but the Tziyon that is quite permanently set in the ground, what we call Zion, is Jerusalem and the Land of Israel. One hundred and fifty mentions of Tziyon in the Bible refer to the Holy Temple, Jerusalem, and the Land of Israel. 

Only in four places does the Bible use the word Tziyon to refer the City of David, which is the area south of the Temple Mount, including the Shilo'ach spring (Nechemiah 3,15). But these four are actually only two, because the verse in Shmuel II 5,7 is repeated word-for-word in Chronicles I 1,5, and the same for Kings I 8,1 and Chronicles II 5,2. The latter pair of verses speaks of "bringing the Ark up from the City of David, which is Tziyon." Why was it called Tziyon? Because the Tablets of the Covenant were there!

But we must ask: Why, in Shmuel II 5,7, was the Fortress of David given the name "City of David" name even before David conquered it? The Metzudot David commentary explains that this is because later, after the conquest, it was given that name. I would like to expand on this and say that it was similarly called "Fortress of David" at an early stage because of the future, i.e., that David was to bring the Ark and the Tablets to that spot. As follows: 

The City of David was called Tziyon in the above verses simply because of the few years in which David placed the Ark of the Covenant, with the holy Tablets inside, in that place. Both sets of Tablets were there: the second set, as written in D'varim, and the first set, those that Moshe shattered during the Sin of the Golden Calf. In addition, an entire Torah scroll was placed in the Ark (Bava Batra 14b).

David was king in Jerusalem for 33 years, after which his son Shlomo took over. From then, it took another seven years for the Temple to be built – and for at least some of this time, the Ark with the Tablets was in the City of David, that is, Tziyon. (When the Philistines returned the Holy Ark to Israel, it was housed in the house of Oved-Edom, from where David brought it to the City of David.)

In short: The word Tziyon signifies the Tablets of the Covenant, which are themselves the sign – tziyun – of the Torah that G-d gave and implanted within us.  

The following objection might be raised: "There was no Ark at all in the Second Temple?!" The answer is that in fact, there was an Ark then, but it was hidden and buried under the ground (Yoma 54a). And since it, too, will one day be restored to us, the name of the site is still "Tziyon." 

And for this reason, the city of Jerusalem, too, and also the entirety of the Land of Israel are called Tziyon – and all in the merit of the Torah that is there!