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!

Toldot: Esav's Deceptive in His Perennial Struggle with Israel

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

This week's Torah portion of Toldot (B'reshit 25,19-28,9), recounts the birth of twin boys, Yaakov and Esav, to Yitzchak and Rikvah. Even inside their mother's womb, these twins went their separate ways – one to holiness, one to the opposite. 

The root of the conflict between them lies in the fundamental contrast that divides them. On the one hand, within our Patriarch Yaakov were embedded spiritual powers as early as when he was in the womb, and from there they continually grew and expanded. On the other hand, Esav's impurity simply could not tolerate the revelation of holiness. 

The struggle between them began before they were born, as G-d told Rivkah: "Two nations are in your womb… and one kingdom shall be stronger than the other" (25,23). And it continues up to this very day, as the Sages taught in the Midrash: "It is a clear Halacha [Jewish law] that Esav loathes Yaakov."

The source for this hatred is imbedded so deeply within Yaakov's nemesis that it cannot be repressed in This World. Only when Yaakov and his descendants – the Jewish People – attain a sufficiently sublime level of spirituality will the wickedness in the world recognize the power of this spirituality and yield to it. 

This long-lasting struggle is waged on various fronts, and we see in this week's Torah portion that it involves deception and trickery as well. At one point, Rivka warns Yaakov to watch out for his brother: "Esav your brother is mit'nachem to you to kill you" (27.42). The renowned 19th-century commentator Netziv (R. Naftali Tzvi Berlin, in his Harchev Davar) explains the word mit'nachem to mean that Esav is playing a tricky game here. For he knows that Yaakov knows that he wants to kill him, and he sees Yaakov taking extra precautions against him. Esav thereupon acts, on the outside, as if he does not want to harm Yaakov. Rikva, however, sees right through him, and warns Yaakov that his brother is aiming "to kill you - his declaration that he wants peace are just a trick so that he will be able to harm you, and you must therefore escape."  

Over the past years [this was written in late 2007 - HF], we have been witness to a phenomenon by which our enemies claim to want peace – when really their intentions are to soothe us to careless sleep. The true desire of the Europeans and their Arab supporters is to destroy Yaakov, its land, and its state. There is absolutely no truth to their peace declarations. 

Our nation must know that our peace and security will not come from the other nations, but rather from within our own spiritual strengths. We must strengthen our Torah observance, and then "the voice is the voice of Yaakov" (27,22) – at which time Esav and supporters will have no ability to harm us.

We pray to merit that our nation and all its members awaken from their slumber, recognize their mission in the world, and act in accordance with the Divine charge. Would that we be a light unto the nations, and merit to see G-d's salvation upon His nation and inheritance – very soon!

Emuna: Iron Swords: The War Against Hamas, 5784 (2023)

by Rosh Yeshivat Beit El Rav Zalman Baruch Melamed, speaking to soldiers of the IDF Chief Rabbinate currently engaged in identifying corpses and related work, yeshiva.co, translated by Hillel Fendel. 

I have experienced many wars in my lifetime. I was a boy during the Second World War, and I remember that after it ended, when it became clear what had happened in Europe, there was a special Yizkor prayer in our synagogue in Tel Aviv, and it was filled with terrible sobbing and loud wailing; everyone there had lost parts of their families.

A few years later, the War of Independence broke out. I was only 10 years old, but I remember that once again we had to deal with dead and wounded. Many people were killed during that war, including a neighbor of mine.

And after that, I experienced the Sinai Campaign, the Six Day War, the Yom Kippur War, and the wars in Lebanon. We have had many wars – but after each one of them, we came out strengthened. During the War for Independence, we were 600,000 Jews here, and now we are many, many times that amount. 

We are in the midst of a long process of the Ingathering of the Exiles, and the price we pay for acquiring the Land is a high one. The Talmud tells us that Eretz Yisrael is acquired through tribulations and afflictions. To this, the Gaon of Vilna adds (Kol HaTor 1,13) that during the process of Redemption, we must remember this truth – and know that "in this way the Land is genuinely acquired." He continues: "We must therefore not, Heaven forbid, retreat at all even if there is some difficulty, Heaven forbid – but rather be sure that these hardships will themselves sprout the deliverance." 

Among the tests that the Patriarch Abraham had to undergo was being forced to descend to Egypt because of a famine in the Land that G-d had just then promised him. The Zohar states that if it were not for this test, Avraham would not have been who he was. Without the need to meet and withstand this and other hardships, he would never have reached the exalted level he ultimately attained. And this is how we must view the difficulties of our times. 

I thought to myself of these souls of all the dead ascending to the Heavens – and the Master of the Universe greets them and says, "You were killed simply because you were a Jew, because you are a son of Mine – so you have to be close to Me here." Even those who didn't live Torah or know about it in their lives, we have heard that in their final moments they said Shma Yisrael. And if they didn't say it, they thought Shma Yisrael, or felt it in some way. They were all killed with a connection to their source.

In one case, a mother and daughter sat in their shelter with terrorists all around them, knowing they could burst in at any moment. At one point, the little girl said to her mother, "We have to say Shma Yisrael." Her mother said, "Not yet; only at the end do we say Shma Yisrael." They never before spoke this way – but that's how it is, the entire nation of Israel is connected in some way or other to its source.

And now, the souls of these bodies which are being taken care of so lovingly and caringly, look down upon those who are doing this holy work, and they are very happy that they are being cared for, being identified, and being brought for a Jewish burial. The merit of those who are doing this work is tremendous, with all the terrible difficulties that we know that are involved. The greater the hardship, the more meritorious is the work.

With G-d's help, we will come out of this situation even stronger. Every tribulation that comes upon Israel brings salvation with it. We know that we will not revert to our previous state, but to a new level of the Nation of Israel, a new togetherness and unity, a Nation of Israel stronger and healthier and more connected to its roots, with the help of G-d.

Hayei Sarah: The Ever-Flowing Spring of Kindness of the Patriarch Abraham

by the late Chief Rabbi of Israel and Rosh Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, Rabbi Avraham Shapira, and edited by Rabbi Binyamin Rakover, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion – Chaye Sarah (B'reshit 23,1-25,18) – is one replete with acts of chessed, kindness. Possibly the most famous of them occurred when Rivka gave water not only to Eliezer but to all his camels. In truth, this portion is simply the climax of all the kindnesses of Avraham Avinu. Our Sages enumerate all of Avraham's acts of chessed that are recounted in the Torah. Among them are those of the beginning of Parashat Chaye Sarah, where Avraham put in great efforts to find a burial plot for Sarah, and of course buried her, eulogized her, and wept over her.

But why are these acts considered "kindnesses?" Is it not natural and self-evident that a husband would do this for his wife? 

It must be, then, that Avraham did not do all this simply because he felt he "had to," or because that's what everyone does; he did it from the very source of chessed. 

The very basis and foundation of kindness is not the act of goodness itself; there is rather something that precedes it, and that is the love of kindness. As the Prophet Micha exhorted (6,8): "What does G-d require of you other than to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with G-d." Chessed is not merely a limited human attribute, but is rather an ever-flowing spring. After I thought of this concept, I saw that Rabbeinu Yonah had already written it. One who has a love of kindness is not happy only when he does chessed, but also when someone else does a kindness. As we read in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers, 5,13[16]), one who gives and is happy when others give as well is considered "pious" – and it is also a sign that he is a descendant of Avraham Avinu. The basis of all good attributes is "love," and when one works with love, he is of the seed of Avraham. 

Accordingly, it is clear that Avraham's deeds when his wife died are considered true kindness, for they stem from the very source of chessed, and not just because she was his wife.

Lot, too – Avraham's nephew – performed kindness. The Medrash says that he saved Avraham and did not reveal to Pharaoh that Sarah was his wife. He did this even though it was under dangerous circumstances. However, Lot's chessed did not stem from the very source of kindness, but only because that was what he had learned and that was the custom in his family. It certainly was not rooted in the "love of kindness" that Avraham felt.  

We see this in the way Avraham behaved with the people of Het, from whom he wished to purchase a burial plot. As soon as they said something gracious to him and showed willingness to allow him to acquire the site, he showed them great appreciation by bowing down (B'reshit 23,7). This was not a mere formality, but rather true gratefulness and appreciation of chessed for its own sake. 

The Medrash tells us that the Torah refers to B'nei Het, the men of Het, ten times (including once in Parashat Vay'chi), and that this corresponds to the Ten Commandments. They merited this special status because they acted kindly with Avraham, and "whoever makes a solid deal with a righteous person, it is as if he fulfilled the Ten Commandments." Their leader Ephron, on the other hand, was more concerned with the money that he would receive, as we see from the exorbitant price he exacted; this is why his name was written deficiently, without a vuv, in the verse recounting the payment.

An interesting question arises here: Why did Avraham send emissaries, the people of Het, to their leader Ephron to ask him to agree to the sale? Was this not a violation of the last of the Ten Commandments, namely, "Do not covet?" According to the Medrash P'sikta, this is actually the gravest of all the Ten Commandments, because as the Maharal of Prague explains, the desire and lust for "more" and for things that are not ours is the source of all sin! If not for this lust, there would be no reason to sin! And as we just saw, the men of Het had a connection to the Ten Commandments, so how could Avraham have acted in this way? 

The answer must be that one may not covet something that the owner wants – but in this case, Ephron had no interest in the field, but only in the money that he would receive for it. Avraham wanted the field because he knew that it was the burial place of Adam and Chava, while Ephron had no interest in its special qualities, other than its monetary value. Ephron's guiding principle was money, while for Avraham, it was love of G-d leading to love of kindness.

When Kindness is Evil

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

What is true kindness? 

In this week's Torah portion of Vayera (B'reshit 18,1-22,24), we read of two angels disguised as men whom Lot kindly hosted in his home. Rashi tells us that he learned this blessed trait of welcoming guests from his uncle Avraham, our Patriarch Abraham. 

We then read of the evil S'domites who came to Lot's house and violently demanded that they hand over his guests for their own evil designs. Lot refused, as we would expect – but then he shocks us with his "solution" to the problematic situation: "Behold, I have two virgin daughters; I will bring them out to you and you can do as you wish to them. Just to these men do not do a thing, for they have come to take shelter in my home" (19,7-8). 

What is happening here?! Lot, the nephew of Avraham who lived in his house and from whom he learned how to be compassionate and kind, is willing to abandon his own daughters to a frenzied mob?? Can there be a worse instance of corrupted behavior? 

Not only that, but the truth is that when Lot was given a choice of where to live, he chose, of his own volition, to live among these evil S'domites (13,10-13)! Is Lot some kind of schizophrenic? 

The Medrash Tanchum goes so far as to say that Lot apparently wished to keep his daughters for incestuous purposes for himself: "The way of the world is that a person is willing to kill or be killed to save his wife and daughters – and yet Lot gave them over by his own choice! G-d thereupon said to him: 'By your life, save them for yourself - and in the end, schoolchildren will laugh derisively when they read: Both daughters of Lot with child by their father (19,36).'" [See also the Ramban's commentary to this passage, particularly verses 7-8.]

From these words of our Sages, it is quite clear that Lot was not a particularly great tzaddik… He chose to live with the vile people of S'dom so that he could behave like them – even to the point of being willing to ditch his daughters; he had an evil heart and a distorted S'domite ideology. 

But then, how do we explain his proclivity to welcome guests, which is certainly a kind and blessed trait?

We read in the Book of Proverbs (Mishlei): Chessed leumim chatat, "Righteousness exalts a nation; kindness of nations – sin." (14,34). Rashi explains that the Gentiles would snatch from one and give to another, i.e., perform kindness in a sinful manner. We note that the singular "nation" in this verse indicates one special people, Israel, while the second part of the verse is written in plural, speaking of the Gentiles in general. 

The message of the verse is clearly to warn us from stealing, even if we then do kindnesses and give charity with what we have stolen. It is a Halakhic principle that a good deed done in a sinful manner [such as making fun of someone in order to build up someone else] is nothing more than a sin (Sukkah 30a). Rabbeinu Menachem HaMeiri wrote in the 13th century: "The kindness and charity done by Israel, and those imbued with their traits, is a great honor to them, because they do these deeds with their own property and from the labor of their hands; but the kindnesses done by the Gentiles and those who follow them are actually 'sins', for they steal from one and give to another…"

The Talmud (Bava Batra 10b) cites many Rabbinic explanations on the above verse from Proverbs. Their common thread is that idolaters and the like do not really perform good deeds, but rather perverse their ways and act in a praiseworthy manner externally, while their deeds are actually motivated by wickedness and have evil consequences. 

Lot, too: "Lot lifted his eyes and beheld the entire plain of the Jordan, well-watered… And he chose [that area] …" (13,10-11). Lot lives in Avraham's house, but was in reality focused on the area of S'dom. He chose to separate from Avraham and his G-dly path, and instead joined up with the S'domites. Lot chose the land of rivers and brooks – the land of men of evil and iniquity. 

After a while, his conscience began to bother him, for after all, he had lived with the truth for many years in Avraham's house. He did not know what to do – until he found a solution, the type of solution chosen by those who wish to follow their lusts but whose "good hearts" don't let them do so with abandon. He took one attribute from Avraham – that of welcoming guests with kindness – but did so only externally and superficially. He would act as if he was very kind, to the point that he would even abandon his daughters simply to protect his guests – and all this just to quiet his conscience and then continue along the evil path he had chosen. "The kindness of Gentiles is sin" – kindness that stems from their evil traits and with very ulterior motives, and not from walking in G-d's path, is no longer kindness, but rather cruelty and sin. They steal from their own families in order to help others, and are compassionate to cruel enemies while hurting their own countrymen. 

The holy Torah teaches us that even when we welcome needy guests into our homes, or any mitzvah, it must be done from pure motives, and certainly in a thought-out manner according to Torah principles. Only in this way will we merit to fulfill the above verse, "Charity will exalt a nation," and not, Heaven forbid, "Kindness of nations is sin."