Shmini: Arrogance and Bachelorhood

by Rav Moshe Tzuriel ZT"L, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Torah tells us (Vayikra 10,1-2) that Aharon's sons Nadav and Avihu "offered before G-d a strange fire that He did not command them."  Though this seems straightforward, still and all, our Sages found several other reasons for their deaths. For instance, Medrash Rabba (20,1) states, "Many women were waiting to get married, but Nadav and Avihu, in their arrogance, said, 'Our father's brother [Moshe] is a king, our mother's brother [Nachshon ben Aminadav] is the prince of the Tribe of Judah, our father is the High Priest, and we ourselves are deputy priests. What woman could possibly be suitable for us?'"

They were tainted, as often happens with those who come from distinguished lineage, with the sin of haughtiness, and thus did not even consider the offers of marriage suggested to them.

The Talmud is even more up-front about their "attitude" problem: "Nadav and Avihu were walking behind Moshe and Aharon, and one said to the other, 'When will these two old men die already, and you and I will lead the generation?' G-d then said to them, 'We will soon see who buries whom.'" (Tr. Sanhedrin 52a)

This terrible trait of arrogance was a part of them ever since the day the Torah was given at Sinai, as the above Medrash continues: "Already at Mt. Sinai their death sentence was handed down, for it is written (Sh'mot 24,11) that they "saw G-d and ate and drank"  - with no sense of humility, as if they were dining with a friend of theirs." They were not at all like Moshe Rabbeinu, about whom it is written at the Burning Bush, "Moshe hid his face for he was afraid to look upon G-d" (Sh'mot 3,6).

The Gemara (Eruvin 63a) also tells us that they died because they issued a Halakhic ruling in front of Moshe without consulting with him. That is, when they decided to offer the fire in the Holy Tabernacle, they did not ask Moshe beforehand, as they should have. This, too, shows their trait of arrogance.

But it was even worse than that – for they did not even consult with one another! The Torah tells us that each of them "took his own pan and placed in it fire," emphasizing that each one acted on his own. They had no humility even one towards the other, and certainly did not cooperate with each other. This was very unlike how Moshe and Aharon behaved, as we read in Rashi to Sh'mot 12,3: "They showed honor one to another, and each one asked the other, 'Teach me' – and [when they spoke to Israel], the words would emanate from between both of them, as if they were both speaking."

The Sages also added this "fault" to the list: They were punished because they had no children. What is the source for this? Bamidbar 3,4 recounts this sin and then adds: "They had no children."  This addition seems to be irrelevant, and therefore the Sages derived that it was precisely the reason for their punishment! For the Talmud teaches (Pesachim 113b) that among those who are distanced from G-d are those who were not married and those who have no offspring [for lack of effort]. This indicates that one who tarries in marrying is also at fault and distanced from G-d – for all this stems from arrogance.

When we see that the Sages state various reasons for a particular phenomenon, we do not assume that we simply do not know the real reason; rather, each opinion is showing us another aspects of the same explanation. In the case of Nadav and Avihu, we are happy to note that they were not guilty of many different sins, but only of various aspects of the sin of arrogance. Because they were privileged in various manners, Nadav and Avihu displayed arrogance in different ways.

We can say that this itself was the "strange fire" that they offered before G-d – for it is incumbent upon one who approaches the highest levels of holiness to feel humility.

Showing Humility

A few verses later, we read that Moshe instructed Aharon's remaining sons, Elazar and Itamar, to offer up the Rosh Chodesh sacrifice. However, because they were in mourning for their brothers, they burnt it on the Altar and did not eat from it. Moshe thought they had carelessly disqualified it, and when he tried to clarify this matter, Aharon explained that they were in mourning and therefore could not eat from it. Why did Elazar and Itamar not respond to Moshe? Because of their humility: They wished to show deference to their father Aharon, and also to not directly negate Moshe's words. Moshe then humbly admitted that he had forgotten this law.

Let us relate our message to the unmarried young men of today [2007]. Sadly, Interior Ministry statistics of 2003 show that among males aged 20-29, more than three-quarters are single, and among women – 60% are unmarried. [ed. note: More recent data show lower, but still worrisome, numbers.] It is well-known that the situation is better among the religiously observant community than in the general population. But even among the religious, there are still very many single men and women, even in the 27–30 age range. Why is this so?

Part of this is easily explainable, since by the time one finishes both military service and completes professional training, a young man is already approaching the age of 24–26. But this certainly does not explain away why many of those who delay are influenced by the aforementioned arrogance. There is no question that too many are overly selective, constantly waiting for what appears to be a better match - “more attractive,” or “more religious,” or someone with better financial means.

These unfortunate young men do not realize that as time passes, the “better” offers become less common, because they get taken by others...

It could be that the hesitation of these young men stems either from a sense of inferiority that they fear will be discovered by their dates. It could also be the opposite: They sincerely think that they deserve better. But they fail to recognize that just as the women suggested to them have flaws and imperfections, so too do these very men themselves have the same (both in terms of physical appearance and character traits) – and these only increase over time, rendering themselves at least as undesirable as they perceive the women to be!

In addition, the necessary flexibility required for a person to be patient and accommodating with their “partner” gradually decreases over time. As people grow older, their demands increase, which makes it harder to conclude a match.

Just as physical beauty is found primarily at a relatively young age, so too the ability to accept opposing views is more common among the young, who are more pliant and accepting. Similarly, the more one becomes established in society or in business, the less open s/he is to cooperating with someone who is different from them. This creates a kind of trap for all those waiting to hear a "better" offer.

Young men of our time must learn from the sin of Nadav and Avihu: not to fall into the trap of arrogance!

Shmini: The Eighth Day and the Illusion of Certainty

based on a Dvar Torah by Rav Yisrael Meir Lau, former Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Israel.

This week we read Parashat Shmini, which opens with the words, “And it was on the eighth day.”

The obvious question is: the eighth day of what?

It is the eighth day of the inauguration of the Mishkan, the sacred Tabernacle. On Rosh Chodesh Nisan, nearly one full year after Bnei Yisrael left Egypt, the Mishkan was finally dedicated, fulfilling the Divine command:

“And they shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them” (Shemot 25:8).

This was one of the most exalted and joyous moments in the wilderness. Moshe Rabbeinu consecrated Aharon and his sons before the elders of Israel, formally appointing them to their holy task as servants in the House of Hashem.

And yet, at the very height of this majestic celebration, tragedy struck.

Aharon’s two eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu, died suddenly after bringing what the Torah calls “an alien fire before Hashem” (Vayikra 10:1). Rather than waiting for the heavenly fire that would descend as a public revelation of God’s Presence, they acted on their own initiative. In doing so, they diminished what should have been a supreme sanctification of Hashem’s Name.

Their deaths, in full view of the nation, remain among the most sobering moments in the Torah.

Chazal offer several explanations for their sin. Some suggest they were punished because they never married. Others say they entered the sacred service lacking the proper priestly garments.

But perhaps the most piercing explanation appears in Sanhedrin 52a.

The Gemara describes Moshe and Aharon walking together, with Nadav and Avihu following behind. Nadav turns to Avihu and says:

“When will these two elders die, so that you and I may lead the generation?”

It is a startling and deeply unsettling statement. Yet it reflects a timeless human temptation: the impatience of youth, the desire for influence, and the quiet assumption that the future is ours simply because we are next in line.

The Gemara continues that the Holy One, Blessed be He, responded:

“We shall see who buries whom.”

How powerful—and how humbling.

Human beings so often build their futures on assumptions that feel certain. We imagine timelines, inheritances, promotions, leadership roles, and carefully laid plans. But life rarely unfolds according to our expectations.

As the folk proverb teaches:

“I have seen many camels come to market carrying the hides of younger camels.”

Age alone guarantees nothing. Youth does not ensure tomorrow, and seniority does not necessarily signal the end.

As Shlomo HaMelech teaches:

“Many are the thoughts in a person’s heart, but the counsel of Hashem—it is that which endures” (Mishlei 19:21).

The lesson of Nadav and Avihu is not merely about punishment. It is about humility before Divine timing. Leadership, destiny, and even life itself are never ours by right. They are gifts entrusted by Hashem in His perfect wisdom.

Sometimes the young rush toward greatness only to discover that history moves at Heaven’s pace, not theirs. And sometimes those assumed to be fading remain standing far longer than anyone imagined.

May we learn from Parashat Shmini to walk with humility, patience, and trust in Hashem’s plan.

Tzav: Even Law-Breakers Deserve Some Respect

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

Technical laws, when they are given by G-d's holy Torah, can teach us much about even our inter-personal relations.

This week's Torah portion of Tzav (Leviticus, Chapters 6-8), discusses many details of the Holy Temple service. For instance, the sin-offering sacrifice (ḥatat) is to be slaughtered in the northern part of the Temple's main Priestly section, north of the large Altar. The Torah does not tell us this detail in a straightforward manner; we rather have to figure it out ourselves. How so?

The Torah states, "In the place that the burnt-offering [olah] is slaughtered, there the ḥatat shall be slaughtered" (Vayikra 6,18). And where is this place, the Talmud asks (Z'vahim 48a)? It is in the north, as written, "He shall slaughter [the olah] north of the Altar." (Though the context is referring to the Priest, the owner of the sacrifice may also slaughter; see Z'vahim 31b.)

This simple but technical law regarding the location of the hatat offering teaches us a very important ethical lesson: If there would have been a specific place set aside only for sin-offerings, then the sinners who bring them would be quite embarrassed; everyone who sees them in that place would realize that they have sinned. In order to prevent this, the sinners and those who bring other sacrifices are all assigned to the same place. So explains the Jerusalem Talmud (Yevamot 8,3).

How does the Talmud know that this is the reason for slaughtering the ḥatat there? Perhaps there is something special about the "northern" part of the Altar? The answer is that though this is certainly true, it seems obvious that the Torah could have simply stated straight out, "Slaughter it in the north!" But it didn't; it rather linked the ḥatat with the place of the olah, indicating to our Sages that the place of the ḥatat is not connected specifically to the north, but rather just that it should be together with other sacrifices – in order to avoid embarrassment.

There are several other Torah laws as well that teach us that the dignity even of sinners must be maintained. For instance, it is well-known that our primary prayer, the Amidah (Shmoneh Esreh), must be recited quietly. Why is this? Because it includes the blessing S'laḥ lanu, "Forgive us for we have sinned," in which the worshiper can add his own words of repentance for specific sins. In order that others not hear his words of confession, the entire Amidah is recited silently.

Even a thief in the midst of carrying out his crime is sometimes given extra consideration! The Torah tells us (Sh'mot 21,37): "If a man steals an ox or sheep and sells it or slaughters it, he is liable to pay five [times the value] of the ox, or four times the sheep." Why the difference between an ox and a sheep? Rashi cites the famous explanation of the Talmudic sage R. Yochanan: Because the thief must carry the sheep on his shoulders, he is "compensated" for the blow to his dignity by having to pay less than one who steals an ox, which can walk on its own. Both are gravely punished, of course, but the Torah makes this "token" difference in order to teach us how careful we must be when dealing with a human being – even a sinner.

Another fascinating example:

The Torah tells us (D'varim 20) that during wartime, everyone must participate in the battles – except for certain exceptions. These include one who built a new house and did not yet dedicate it; one who betrothed a woman and did not yet marry her – and one who is afraid. R. Yosi HaGlili explains in the Talmud that this refers not necessarily to one who is physically afraid, but rather fears that his sins will cause him to lose Divine protection. And the reason all of these exceptions are grouped together is so that no one will know who is turning back from the war because of his sins and who for the other reasons. Again we see that the sinner must be accorded the same "protection from shame" that everyone else is.

It should also be noted that when, unfortunately, a death sentence must be carried out, a woman convict is treated extra modestly – for even when she is about to be executed, her dignity is still an important priority.

Let us bring a final example, unconnected to sinners, but one that emphasizes how careful we must be not to shame another – even inadvertently! If Reuven owes money to Shimon, but he does not have the money to pay him back, Shimon must be careful not to have Reuven even see him on the street! That is, when Shimon sees Reuven happening to walk in his direction, Shimon must cross over to the other side, so that Reuven not be embarrassed before him. So precious are the Torah's ways and commandments!

As we began: "In the place where the olah is slaughtered, there – and not in its own reserved section – shall the hatat be slaughtered."

Vayikra: Five Reasons for Torah Sacrifices

by Rav Hillel Mertzbach, Rabbi of the Yad Binyamin Central Synagogue, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion - Vayikra, chapters 1-5 in Leviticus - deals with several different types of sacrifices. The great sages of Israel had differing opinions about the purpose of the sacrifices. Let us examine several of their approaches to this question.

The Rambam: Correcting Idolatrous Thinking

Maimonides writes in his Guide for the Perplexed (Part 3, Chapter 46) that the sacrificial mitzvot are meant to correct idolatrous beliefs: "… The Egyptians and the Chaldeans, among whom the Israelites had lived from ancient times, worshipped cattle and sheep … and the people of India to this day do not slaughter cattle at all. G-d therefore commanded us to slaughter these three species in honor of His great Name, to publicize that the very things the [pagans] considered the ultimate [sanctity] are what are [slaughtered and] brought as offerings to the Creator, and precisely through them our sins are atoned. In this way, false beliefs - a disease of the soul - are healed, for every illness can be cured only by its opposite.”

The Ramban therefore brings two other explanations for the mitzvot of sacrificial service. The first is that when a person wishes to serve G-d, he must truly feel that he himself should have been offered up as a sacrifice, and that the burnt organs of the animals should actually have been his – in order that he realize that his sins to G-d, bodily and spiritually, deprive him of his right to life and deserve actual death.

Nachmanides (the Ramban) strongly objected to the Rambam's approach, and wrote against it vociferously in his commentary to this week's portion (Vayikra 1,9). Calling the Rambam's words on this matter "foolishness," the Ramban presented several difficulties with it:

1.      The Torah calls the sacrifices, "a fire-offering of a sweet flavor to G-d" and the like. Can it possibly be that the purpose of such a precious concept would be only to teach pagans the folly of their ways?

2.      The solution of offering up their gods in fire won't help persuade them that paganism is mistaken; they will just assume that the sacrifices are being offered in honor of their gods' zodiac signs.

3.      More than 1,000 years before the Torah was given, well before the pagans, Abel and Noah brought sacrifices to G-d. As such, the Torah's sacrifices can't simply be a response to pagan practice, because they predate it.

4.      If the Rambam is correct, why will we have to bring sacrifices in future times?

Nachmanides' Two Approaches

However, this explanation has come under criticism. For one thing, not all sacrifices in the Torah are totally burnt, meaning that they don't stand for a person "sacrificing" himself. In addition, other sacrifices are not for atonement at all, but rather for thanksgiving, etc. Thirdly, many sacrifices are on behalf of the entire nation; where does "sacrificing oneself" fit in there?

The Ramban's second explanation centers around self-nullification before the Divine will. In his words: “In truth, there is a hidden secret in the sacrifices… G-d is as if saying: 'I do not want sacrifices for their own sake, but just so that My will be done.'"

The Maharal of Prague (Tiferet Yisrael, Chapter Six) basically agrees: "The Sages teach that we must not say that G-d gave us mitzvot for the benefit of the recipient, namely the person fulfilling them; they are rather decrees from G-d, Who imposes decrees on His people [without explanation], like a king who issues a decree upon his subjects.”

Rav Sh. R. Hirsch and Rav A. I. Kook

In his work, "The Mitzvot as Symbols," the renowned 19^th-century Torah leader Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch explained that the sacrifices, like other mitzvot, are meant to express a symbolic idea. The sin-offering expresses the symbolism of our desire to ask the Creator for forgiveness for our sins; the thanksgiving sacrifice expresses, symbolically, our desire to give thanks, etc.

Rav Kook (1865-1935, the first modern-day Chief Rabbi in the Land of Israel) strongly opposed Rav Hirsch in this matter. He wrote in his Orot HaMitzvot as follows: "Delving into the depths of knowledge, we see that the mitzvot are not symbolic, merely for the purpose of noting something of the imagination; they are rather matters that actually form and effect the universal human existence."

In Conclusion

We have cited five reasons for the mitzvot of Temple sacrifices, each of which has a layer of truth. We have seen that the reason could be to separate us from idolaters, or to have us feel as if we ourselves are being sacrificed; it could be that it is a Divine decree, or something that helps us symbolically to express a truth; or it could be that they are for the purpose of a spiritual rectification in our souls.

What all these approaches share is that sacrifices, korbanot, are based on hitkarvut (the same k.r.v. root), meaning to "come close." The word kravaim, too, which refers to the inner organs of the sacrifice that are offered on the altar, also shares this root. Furthermore, one must feel that he is in a krav, a battle, to give his life in order to come close to G-d, and to ensure that his deeds emanate from his "insides," from his innermost being and true self.

We pray that we may merit to come close to G-d with all our hearts, and that He bring us close to Him with great love.

HaChodesh: A Special Month and its First Day

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

This Shabbat we will read not only the last two portions of the Book of Sh'mot – Vayak'hel and Pekudei – but also an additional passage in honor of the special month of Nissan, which begins next week. In fact, the name of this passage is HaChodesh, meaning "The Month."

Why and wherefore do we read HaChodesh? And is it connected with the curious fact that the Torah, which is not a history book, focus sharply in on the first day (Rosh Chodesh) of Nissan in two consecutive years?

The Book of Sh'mot begins, tells a long story of Israelites and their Exodus from Egypt, ending with the construction and completion of the Tabernacle (Mishkan), Israel's portable Holy Temple. Both of these two events center around Rosh Chodesh Nissan.

Chapter 12 in Sh'mot tells us that, shortly before the Plague of the Firstborns, G-d commanded Moshe and Aharon to tell Israel how to commemorate the coming days. On the first day of Nissan in the year 2448, the Israelites were instructed, first of all, how to relate to Rosh Chodesh Nissan: "This [new moon] shall be the head of the month for you, the first month of the year for you" (Sh'mot 12,1). The second of these two commands tells us to ensure that Nissan retains a prominent place in the Jewish calendar.

As Rav Eliyahu Ki-Tov writes in Sefer HaTodaah (Book of our Heritage), the verse states "the first month for you" – lakhem, in Hebrew -  spelled with the same letters as the word melekh, meaning "king."

The first command in this verse, however, is more specific. It instructs us regarding the laws of determining Rosh Chodesh, and also to set a permanent annual calendar. This command might seem trivial, but in fact it is a central tenet in Judaism in more than one way. For one thing, without knowing what day of the week or month it is, we would not be able to observe many of the Torah's commandment, such as the Sabbath and holidays.

No Jews in the Land of Israel? Impossible!
In addition, Maimonides (in his Book of Mitzvot, positive mitzvah #153) writes that the mitzvah of determining the months and festivals is fulfilled exclusively by the Great Court in the Land of Israel, or by virtue of its calculations. The Rambam continues: "Let us assume, for example, that there would be no Jews in the Land – Heaven forbid that G-d would do this, because He promised that he would never totally erase the signs or vestiges of the Jewish nation… - we would not be able to calculate the calendar…"

This tells us two very basic principles of Judaism. One is that the so-critical calculations regarding the beginning of the months and year are not made by individuals, but only on a national basis, by the Court in Jerusalem. Until the Court is reinstated, the calendar that we use is based directly on its original calculations.

The second point is that the lack of Jews in the Holy Land is something that can simply never happen, because it would mean, Heaven forbid, the end of the Jewish Nation – which is impossible as long as the sun, moon and stars exist (see Yirmiyahu 31,34-35); without a Jewish presence in the Land, there is no Judaism!

Back to the first Rosh Chodesh Nissan: G-d further commanded us on that day how to start preparing for the first Passover celebration, including when to take a Paschal lamb, and not to eat leaven but only matzot for the week of the holiday.

The Ten Firsts

Exactly a year later, on the second Rosh Chodesh Nissan, the Torah tells us exactly what happened on that very special day – and it was quite a list! The first thing that happened, as we read in this week's Torah reading in Sh'mot 40,2 and 17), is that the Mishkan was finally erected – after a few months of construction and a few more months of waiting for the month of Nissan to start!

In addition, the Gemara tells us that no fewer than ten "firsts" happened that day. Given that the sanctification period for the sons of Aharon as priests had just ended, it was the first-ever day that the Cohanim, and not the first-borns, served as Priests; it was the first day that the regular daily Temple service was held; it was the first time that the Priestly Blessing was recited; and more.

Why, Then?
When we speak of the special HaChodesh reading, then, we have to figure out why the first one was chosen, referring to the Rosh Chodesh just before the Exodus – and not the second one, which was a festive day having to do with the Grand Opening of the Mishkan!

According to Rashi, the answer is clear: He says (Tr. Megillah 29a) that the HaChodesh passage is connected to the upcoming holiday of Passover, in that many laws of the holiday are included there. It is therefore logical to read from the Rosh Chodesh passage that deals with Passover.

However, the Jerusalem Talmud (JT) has a different take. Based on a question it asks, we can see that the JT feels that the main thing about HaChodesh is that the Mishkan was erected on that day. Let us explain.

The JT asks why it is that during this period when four special passages are read over the course of a few weeks, the passage of the Red Heifer comes before HaChodesh? It ought to be the opposite, the JT states, because the Red Heifer was prepared for purifying the Israelites on the second day of Nissan – which comes after the construction of the Mishkan on the first day! This tells us that HaChodesh is meant to commemorate the Mishkan – so why, then, is the passage that we read taken from Sh'mot 12 and not from Sh'mot 40 or Vayikra 9, which tell the story of the first days of the Mishkan?

Firstly, let us answer the JT's question: The passage of the Red Heifer precedes that of The Month because it "involves the purification of all of Israel" – reason enough to give it precedence.

Let us now try to answer the question on the JT: It could be that the Sages did not want to choose to read about that second Rosh Chodesh, when the Mishkan was dedicated, because of the terrible tragedy that occurred in the midst of the festivities: the deaths of two of Aharon's sons, Nadav and Avihu, for having offered up a "strange fire." [See Vayikra 10 to learn about this tragic episode.]

Other Possibilities
It could also be that the passage in Sh'mot 12 was chosen because of the critical importance of the mitzvah of having a set calendar, as we explained above. Or it could be because of its relevance to the time of year – Passover; it is as an essential reminder that the month of Nissan is approaching and we must prepare to ascend to Jerusalem in purity.

In any event, even though we read the Passover section for HaChodesh, it is good to have in mind as well that this upcoming day of Rosh Chodesh Nissan marks the anniversary of the Mishkan's presence in Israel – and therefore the beginning of G-d's "dwelling in our midst" (Sh'mot 25,8).

Ki Tisa: Superficial Spirtuality

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Ki Tisa (Sh'mot 30,11-34,35) tells the momentous story of the sin of the Golden Calf. It happened while Moshe Rabbeinu was on Mt. Sinai learning the Torah that G-d was about to give Israel – and so Moshe didn't know about it until G-d told him: "Your nation has strayed quickly from the path that I commanded them; they have made for themselves a cast-metal calf" (Sh'mot 32,7-8). Moshe immediately prayed for the nation, and G-d "refrained from [punishing] the nation as He had said" (verse 14). However, when Moshe saw for himself how the nation was sinning so egregiously, he "became angered and threw down the Tablets [of the Covenant] and broke them" (verse 19).

How can we explain Israel's sin? The nation had merited to see with its own eyes amazing miracles and Divine leadership, including the Ten Plagues and especial providence at all times, as written, "G-d went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to guide them… and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light...” (13,21).

They also experienced, of course, the splitting of the Red Sea, a miracle so great that the Sages taught that those who experienced it were on a level even higher than prophecy: "From where do we know that even a maidservant at the sea saw what the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel did not see? As is written, “By the hand of the prophets I made Myself known in visions” (Hoshea 12,11), and “The heavens were opened and I saw visions of G-d.” (Yechezkel 1,1)" – whereas the Israelites saw Him even more directly than via a vision, singing afterwards in the Song of the Sea, “This is my G-d” (15,2).

The Sages explained this via a parable likening the situation to a human king who entered a province. He arrived with great fanfare - trumpets sounding around him, mighty warriors standing at his right and left, troops marching before and behind him. And yet everyone had to ask, “Which one is the king?” – because he was a human being like everyone else and was not distinguishable. But when the Holy One, blessed be He, revealed Himself at the Red Sea, no one needed to ask, “Which one is the king?” Rather, as soon as they saw Him, they recognized Him and sang out, “This is my G-d, and I will glorify Him" (Sh'mot 15,2). [Based on Mekhilta, B'shalach, section 1]

Returning to our question: How could it be that the Israelites were surrounded by miracles and ascending ever upwards to be worthy of the greatest occasion in human history – the Stand at Mt. Sinai – and then, at the last minute they fall into the grave sin of idol worship!

The answer is found in the fact that there was one tribe that actually did not sin and did not allow themselves to follow the masses. The Tribe of Levi stood steadfast in their loyalty to G-d: "Moshe… called, 'Who is for G-d?' And all the Levites gathered to him" (32,26). In recognition, G-d "differentiated the Tribe of Levi, to carry the Ark of the Covenant, to stand before G-d, to serve Him, and to bless in His Name up to this very day" (D'varim 10,8).

What gave the Levites the strength to remain loyal to G-d, in the face of the nation's deterioration? What was their secret?

The Rambam (Laws of Avodah Zarah 1) teaches how Avraham Avinu taught the world of the existence of the One G-d, and how Levi in particular stood out in this faith:

"Avraham began to proclaim to all that there is one G-d in the entire world and that it is correct to serve Him… He planted in their hearts this great fundamental principle, wrote texts about it, and taught it to his son Yitzchak, who also taught others and turned their hearts to G-d. [His son Yaakov also taught] others and turned their hearts to G-d, as well as all his children. He selected his son Levi as the leader [and] the head of the academy to teach them the way of G-d and observe the mitzvot of Avraham. Yaakov commanded his sons that the leadership should not depart from the descendants of Levi, so that the teachings would not be forgotten. This concept gave strength among the descendants of Yaakov and those who gathered around them, until there became a nation in the world that knew G-d. When the Jews remained in Egypt, however, they learned from the Egyptians’ deeds and began worshiping the stars as they did – but the tribe of Levi did not; they clung to the mitzvot and never served false gods."

Even King Pharaoh recognized that Levi and his descendants were the Jews' spiritual leaders and teachers, and therefore he did not enslave them: "We see this from the fact that Moshe and Aharon were able to come and go as they pleased… And it is customary for every nation to have teachers…" (Ramban's commentary to Sh'mot 5,4).

The faith and spirituality of the Levites were deeply implanted within them, as they were very connected with their forefathers' tradition, and dedicated themselves to learn G-d's path. They experienced G-d's miracles as did the other Israelites – but it was not these that gave them faith; rather, they had a very strong basis even beforehand. Therefore, even when the nation strayed off the path towards the "modern" idol-worshipping culture of the Egyptians, the Levites did not go with the flow but rather remained true to their principles.

The other tribes, however, were not yet strong enough in their faith to withstand the false ideologies of Egypt. When they saw G-d's great miracles, they were quite impressed, and even abandoned idol-worship for a time and "believed in G-d and in His servant Moshe" (14,31). But their faith was not firmly grounded in their fathers' traditions or in deep study of the way of G-d. Their spirituality was based primarily on the extraordinary miracles and wonders.

Therefore, when doubts began to arise regarding Moshe's return, and, as the Medrash teaches, the Satan showed them a kind of image of Moshe being carried in the heavens (Rashi, 32,1), they were influenced and became totally open to the new ideology of the “Golden Calf.”

Our holy Torah is teaching us here a critical lesson: In order for faith in Hashem to withstand passing ideologies and ism's, the younger generation must be grounded in Torah learning, firmly based on genuine tradition and love of the study of Torah.

Tetzave: Light Up the World!

by Rav Hillel Mertzbach, Rabbi of the Yad Binyamin Central Synagogue, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's portion of Tetzave (Sh'mot 27,20-30,10) tells us of the final preparations for the dedication of the Mishkan (Tabernacle, the portable, mini-Beit Mikdash for use before the real Beit HaMikdash is built). These include the consecration of the sons of Aharon as Priests and the special sacrifices involved therein; the fashioning of the Priestly Garments; the daily Tamid altar sacrifice; and the construction of the Incense Altar.

The first two verses of Parashat Tetzave are a command to light the Tamid lamp in the Tabernacle: "You [Moshe] shall command the Israelites to [bring] you pure olive oil to keep the lamp constantly burning. Aharon and his sons shall arrange it [to burn] from evening to morning, before G-d, in the Communion Tent outside the curtain concealing the [Ark of] Testimony; a law for all generations."

Several questions present themselves, the answers to which can help us understand an important principle regarding the function of the Mishkan in particular and the People of Israel in general. 

1. Why is Moshe told to "command" Israel regarding the oil and the lamp, when until now he was simply told to "make" the various parts of the Mishkan, without a "command"?

2. Last week's Torah portion of Trumah featured the instructions to fashion the Mishkan and its utensils, and this week's portion deals mainly with the garments and other preparations. Why is this topic of preparing the Perpetual Light placed in the Torah precisely here, right in the middle? Why does it belong here?

3. In addition, this command appears elsewhere in the Torah (Vayikra 24,1-5), and immediately afterwards we read of the mitzvah to prepare the Lechem HaPanim (the Showbread). If the two are connected, why does the Torah not speak of the Showbread here as well, together with the command to light the Ner Tamid?

4. And speaking of the second command to light the lamp, in Vayikra, why does it say there that the lamps should be lit on a Menorah, candelabrum, while here in Tetzaveh no mention is made of the Menorah?

Let us provide one comprehensive explanation to answer these questions, beginning with this underlying fundamental regarding the Mishkan: After the Torah tells Moshe to build the Tabernacle's utensils (Ark, Table, Altar, etc.), but before the practical preparations for their use begin, and before the garments are made, G-d wants to inform us of the ultimate objective of the Mishkan altogether: It is nothing less than to light up the entire world!

This is why the Torah does not tell us here where exactly the light is to be placed, whether in a Menorah or not. That's not relevant yet. Before getting into all the details, G-d informs us: "Know and remember what the purpose of the Mishkan is: It is to illuminate the world."

This principle is very important to know before the Priests come to wear their special garments. G-d wants them to hear and internalize this message: "You are not receiving these unique clothes simply for their beauty. Your goal is to serve as My emissaries to light up the world." Only after the purpose has been made clear will it be appropriate to talk about how this is to be done, including the various details. But if the goal is not sufficiently clear, the Priests are liable to make various "mistakes," such as seeing their fancy garments as a means for personal honor and the like. In such a case, the b'gadim, clothing, will become bogdim, traitors. Only when the final objective is clear can one set out on the next step of the journey: "You shall make garments of holiness for Aharon your brother, for honor and beauty" (28,2). 

The Rashbam, one of the early Torah commentators (R. Shmuel ben Meir, of the 12th century), explains that the emphasis on a "command" to take oil for the Mishkan light is because "the language of 'command' always means that it is for all generations." That is, every generation must constantly know and remember what is the purpose of the Mishkan: to light up the world. 

This is certainly true for our generation as well. We must remember constantly our purpose, which is to bring light by magnifying and promoting G-d's name in the world. By continually reviewing, refining, and perfecting for ourselves what we are doing here in this world, we will be able to "dress ourselves" and set out to accomplish our various missions that stand before us, personally and nationally. Let us not fall into the trap of wearing various articles of clothing that betray and belie our very essence!

Teruma: Who's in the Center?

Condensed from an article by Rav Azriel Ariel, Rabbi of Ateret in the Binyamin Region, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The ongoing debate in Israel over judicial-system reform has exposed the chasm between the modern liberal outlook and the traditional Jewish worldview. The core of the dispute lies in a fundamental question: Who is in the center – mortal man, or G-d?

A religious worldview places G-d at the center of life, and man's role is to actualize his identity as a “servant of G-d.” This is known as Theo centrism. The liberal worldview, on the other hand, demands the opposite: free human autonomy, or anthropocentrism, wherein the human being is at the center; he gets to choose a religious life if he feels that it enhances his quality of life and advances the values that he has chosen to commit to. According to this latter view, no absolute value stands above "man," and certainly no value exists for which human life may be compromised.

Is it possible to build any kind of bridge, even a narrow one, between these two polar opposites?

Rav A. I. Kook, the great visionary of the 20th century and first Chief Rabbi of the modern Jewish population in the Holy Land, can help us. In his article Daat Elokim, he does not accept the conception that G-d is simply our "boss" or "master," nor does He turn to man only from "above;" He is rather also present within us, here "below."  

Our belief that we were created in the image of G-d means that we meet up with the Divine attributes imbued in our soul. Our "love" for G-d is not just a longing for the exalted, but also "solidarity" with a Being that has positive attributes that are similar to those we find in ourselves. That is, we love Hashem our G-d precisely because we love ourselves, and we admire in Him the greatness of character that we find in ourselves. Our faith and trust in Him is not detached from the faith and trust we have in ourselves and the strengths with which He imbued us.

We're Not Passive
As religious Jews, we are not totally passive vis-à-vis G-d. Rather, when the Torah warns us against saying and feeling, "My successes are due to my own strength" (D'varim 8,17), this is only if we say it boastfully. Actually, we should have this sentiment, and we should recognize our strong points – but only as something that was granted us by G-d: "Remember that Hashem is He Who gave you these abilities" (verse 18). The "I" and the "Infinite" are not in constant conflict; in truth, the latter is revealed, partially, in the former.

But still, this is not the total answer to our question; that would be too easy.

One who senses within him the aspiration for goodness and holiness that exists in his soul, need not live with a feeling of conflict between his personal autonomy and G-d's word. Yes, there is surely a measure of a clash – but only as inner tension within him, between two conflicting voices in his personality. The believer does not perceive G-d's commandments as something that coerces and represses him, but rather as "instructions" [from the same Hebrew root as the word Torah] as to how to actualize himself in a balanced manner. He views it as guidance that gives the appropriate space to both the physical and the spirit, thus raising the entirety of his personality to a life of deep meaning and satisfaction.

Is this a realistic option? In principle, yes – but not always in practice. It is actually a vision for the future, as the Prophet Jeremiah foretold in G-d's name: "I will place My Torah in their midst and inscribe it upon their hearts." There will then be no need for external coercion, "for all will know Me, from their young to their elderly" (Jeremiah 31).

It's Already Starting
In several of his writings, Rav Kook states that this "future vision" is already beginning to be actualized: "In early times, the general 'mind' of mankind was less developed, and its desires were more barbaric – and therefore the Divine vision was entirely devoted to rejecting the wayward 'intellect' that was subject only to animalistic urges…" But now, he continues, the world has been becoming more refined: “The world's refinement … has greatly purified the human spirit, so that even though this purification has not yet been completed, still, much of [man's] thoughts and the natural striving of his will are, of themselves, directed toward the Divine good” (Orot HaKodesh II, p. 545).

This does not at all mean that the time has come to place the individual in the center and rely upon his identification with the word of G-d in his inner character. There are still "many parts of the spirit of knowledge and human will that have not yet been refined," and which are therefore still dangerous because of the presence of "many remnants of barbarism." This is because the illusion that we have reached the "complete rectified state [causes] every abomination and deceit to be masked by a shining wrapping."

The liberal demands recognize the change in the human spirit; but on the one hand, the time for their implementation has not yet arrived, and on the other hand, "when the pure tradition and religion come to subdue this refined element, they will not succeed." We must acknowledge the tension within us between the old ‘religious’ voice and the new ‘liberal,’ moral, and instinctively-natural voice, and manage it in a manner suited to our generation.”

The practical implementation of this understanding stands at the basis of Rav Kook's classic work, Lights of Repentance. He writes there: "The primary repentance, which immediately illuminates the darkness, is that a person returns to himself, to the source of his soul - and he then will return to G-d…"

"I Will Dwell Within Them"

This concept is found in the beginning of this week's Torah portion of Teruma (Sh'mot 25,1 - 27,19): "They shall make for Me a Sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst." On the face of it, the command appears to reflect the "old" religious conception demanding that G-d's word be placed in the center and man's personality be shunted aside. Many commentators, however, note that the verse actually renders Israel, not the Sanctuary, the ultimate goal: "I will dwell in their midst," not "in its midst."

That is, the function of the Sanctuary is much greater than simply finding a place for the Divine Presence. It is rather to bring G-d to dwell within us, in our hearts. This will then bring peace between the two bitter rivals – Judaism and liberalism – with the understanding that in the center stands "the G-d that is within each person."

Hopefully, this insight will help lower the flames a bit in the sharp clashes that we see today between different sectors of the nation. 

Shekalim: The Half-Shekel – Then and Today

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

This coming Shabbat is known as Shabbat Shekalim, because we will read aloud – as we do very year before Rosh Chodesh Adar – the passage of the Shekalim (Sh'mot 30,11-16), in addition to the regular weekly portion of Mishpatim. The Shekalim passage deals with the half-shekel that every Jew was called upon to donate annually for the Temple service.

In the coming days, we will certainly be flooded with advertisements and announcements calling on all of us to fulfill the "remembrance of the half-shekel” – zekher l'machtzit hashekel – by donating to various important institutions. Undoubtedly this will provide us with opportunities to fulfill the important mitzvah of charity. Let us first, however, recall the original mitzvah and what it involved.

When the Holy Temple stood, the communal offerings, such as the daily Tamid and Musaf sacrifices, were purchased with communal funds. The half-shekalim were donated during the course of the month of Adar, and each year, from Nissan through Adar, only the shekalim of that year were used; the funds were not carried over from one year's communal offerings to the next, but were rather used for other Temple needs. As the Mishna teaches, announcements were made throughout the land to remind everyone to fulfill the mitzvah of donating their share. Today, in commemoration of those proclamations, we read the shekalim passage from the Torah.

Even from distant lands, almost wherever Jews lived, they would contribute the half-shekels to the Holy Temple. With great self-sacrifice, Jews from all over the world would send, or bring, the sacred funds. Sometimes they had to cross deserts and hostile territories, where bandits would attack their caravans in an attempt to seize the chests of money, and the pilgrims would have to fight fiercely to protect the Temple funds.

Several centuries ago, half-shekel coins of pure silver somehow spread throughout the Jewish world, and it was claimed that these were coins from the Temple period. Many Jews, with great longing for the rebuilding of the Temple, spent large sums of money to obtain such a coin. It was later discovered, however, that the coins were forgeries; their value dropped, of course, but the inner yearning for the great and holy Beit Mikdash remained unchanged.

In the last generation, several half-shekel coins were discovered in archaeological excavations in the area of the Temple Mount. More recently, a half-shekel was even found in soil that had been removed by the Muslim Waqf from the Temple Mount in its attempts to destroy any vestiges of the Holy Temple. The discovered coin was minted during the time of the great Jewish revolt against the Romans that led up the exile and destruction some 1,950 years ago.

The Torah states in the Shekalim passage that G-d told Moshe, "This they shall bring: a half-shekel of the sanctuary standard." Rashi explains that the word "this" indicates as if Hashem was pointing out to Moshe a coin of fire and saying, "This is what they shall give."

We know of another Sanctuary vessel that G-d pointed out to Moshe in this manner, and that was the Menorah. This was because the Menorah was very complex, and G-d had to make it Himself for him. But a coin is not so difficult to fashion; why did G-d have to point it out to Moshe - and in a format of fire, to boot?

The answer is that this is precisely the profundity of the mitzvah of the half-shekel. It is a mitzvah based on silver, which is the basis for all physical and material human existence – but when it is donated to the Holy Temple, it becomes a spiritual fire that ascends and raises up.

During this period of the year, when we read about the half-shekel and remember it with charitable donations, let us pray that will be privileged – this very year! – to fulfill this mitzvah not only in "memorial" form, but in actual practice: giving a half-shekel to our genuine Beit HaMikdash, in all its glory upon its speedy rebuilding, Amen!

Mishpatim: Can We Have Both Truth and Peace?

by Rav Hillel Mertzbach, Rabbi of the Yad Binyamin Central Synagogue, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Following the Majority

In this week's Torah portion of Mishpatim (Sh'mot, chapters 21-24), we are taught many Torah laws, including many having to do with courts and civil law. Verse 23,2 reads as follows:

"Do not follow the majority to do evil; do not speak up in a trial to pervert justice; follow the majority." Perhaps because there are different ways of translating this verse, the commentary of Rashi rings very true: "The Sages of Israel have [various] derivations on this verse, but the wording of the verse does not fit in well with them…"

The basic difficulty is that the verse appears to contradict itself. First it says that one must maintain what appears to him to be the truth, even if the majority does not agree with him. That is, he must not follow the majority if he believes they are doing the wrong thing. But the verse then concludes that even in precisely such a situation, he must follow the majority!

Individuality or Collectivism?

I heard from my good friend Rabbi Sar'el Rosenblatt that the verse must be understood as referring to two different stages in a person's development. One must begin by thinking carefully about an issue, then coming to a conclusion, and then expressing his truth – even if he finds himself in the minority. If you conclude that the others are mistaken, then speak up and struggle for the truth!

However, when it comes to actually deciding on the course of action to be taken, and you have not succeeded in convincing them, then there can be no choice but to accept the majority opinion.

In the world of ideas, absolute truth has a place of honor. But in the world of deeds and practicality, we must function democratically, where the minority bends itself to what the majority determines.

Mordechai's Two Hats

The happy Purim month of Adar is about to begin (this Tuesday and Wednesday). Let us look at how Mordechai HaYehudi acted throughout the Purim story. On the one hand, the story begins with Mordechai angering the wicked Haman, by being the only one who refuses to bow down to him: "Mordechai would not bow and would not bend" (Esther 3,2). 

As detailed in the Talmud (Megillah 19a), this was exactly what raised Haman's ire against the entire Jewish populace. That is, Mordechai was the only one to act this way. All the other servants of the king, not only the Jewish ones, bowed to Haman, because they realized the danger of not doing so. But Mordechai felt that it was forbidden to do so, and the Sages recount that he argued about this with the other members of the Sanhedrin (Great Court). They said to him: "Do you not realize that by refusing to bow, you could cause us all to be killed!" He said, "I cannot do otherwise; I am a Jew!"

They said to him, "But you know that your own forefathers bowed down to Haman's forefather, when Yaakov and his sons met up with Esav [Parashat Vayishlach, B'reshit 33)." Mordechai answered, "Yaakov's youngest son Binyamin was not yet born then, such that he did not bow down – and I am descended from Binyamin… Just like he did not bow down, neither will I!"

We see here that Mordechai insisted on taking an extreme position, even at the expense of endangering all of Israel, because he reasoned that it would be a desecration of G-d's name to bow down to Haman. He fulfilled what he felt was "do not follow the majority to do evil."

On the other hand, later on, we see that Mordechai changed his tune. The final verse in Esther reads: "For Mordechai the Jew was second to King Ahashverosh, great among the Jews and accepted by most of his brethren, seeking the good of his people and speaking peace for all of their descendants."

Mordechai underwent a transformation of sorts, from an independent thinker and doer, to one who was accepted by most – not all, as the Talmud notes pointedly – and seeking peace for all.

Youth and Maturity

This can also be likened to personal human development. In our youth, we are often romantic, demanding what appears to be justice, truth and ideals. But as years pass, we generally see life more calmly and are open to accepting that there are other opinions. As adults, we no longer adopt only "Do not follow the majority for evil!" but rather understand that practically speaking, things must be accomplished according to the majority opinion. Thus, peace will be achieved.

Nor can it be any different. If we would run directly to "peace" without first clarifying what is the truth, then even peace will not be able to be achieved.

We learn from here that we must contain a duality: On the one hand, we must recognize the absolute truth, and so build our personality - and from there we must reach containment and acceptance of and by the majority, which will lead to seeking and speaking peace.

An Eye for an Eye

This message is taught elsewhere in Parashat Mishpatim as well. The Torah states that if one maliciously causes another to lose his eye, for instance, he must be punished by losing his own eye: "An eye for an eye" (21,24). The Oral Law, however, determines that this is meant only to show the severity of the incident, but that in reality, the offender must simply pay money in compensation. That is to say, the absolute truth is that causing one to lose an eye must ideally cost the perpetrator an eye, but in the practical world, this cannot be the case.

In conclusion, we are not at liberty to give up on the truth, nor may we cede peace. It is incumbent upon us to begin with the truth, and from their make our way to peace. As in the words of the Prophet Zechariah (8,19): "The truth and the peace – you must love." truth will lead to peace.

Yitro: Honor Your Parents – and Yourselves!

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion Yitro (Sh'mot, chapter 18-20) features the actual Giving of the Torah to Israel on Mt. Sinai and the text of the Ten Commandments. Let us discuss the fifth commandments, "Honor your father and your mother," and the reward we are promised for its fulfillment, "so that you will live long on the land that Hashem your G-d gives you" (Sh'mot 20,11).

The Ten Commandments are the fundamental guidelines of all the mitzvot of the Torah, and actually include within them all 613 mitzvot of the Torah. Rashi states this in his commentary to Sh'mot 24,12, and Rabbeinu Saadia Gaon explains how each and every mitzvah is derived from G-d's words to us at Sinai.

Why was this commandment of honoring our parents chosen to be the only one of the ten whose reward is specified? The rewards for the other nine are, by design, not outlined here!

Another question is why is "long life" the reward for this mitzvah? Again we turn to Rav Saadia, who lived over 1,000 years ago, and who explained as follows: It is because sometimes, we find that parents live for a long time, and actually become a burden of sorts on their children who seek to honor them. Therefore, G-d set "long life" as the reward for this mitzvah, meaning that we must honor our parents as we live together with them – and if perhaps you feel distress over their lives, you must understand that it is actually your own life about which you are troubled. (This is one explanation among many.)

But let us return to the main question: What is it about the mitzvah of honoring parents that its reward is spelled out in the Ten Commandments, unlike the other nine?

What We Learn from First-Fruits

Let us turn to the mitzvah of Bikurim: bringing the First Fruits of one's field to the priests in the Holy Temple. The Torah says that you must bring them to the "priest who will be in those days" (D'varim 26,3): Rashi explains that this tells us that no priest is ineligible to receive the Bikurim. Rather, you must give them to whichever priest you find serving in the Temple.

In my article "Bringing Bikurim Without Calculations," I cited various commentators' opinions regarding why one might not want to bring the Bikurim to a given Cohen. I added that upon deeper reflection, we find that there are in fact various calculations that one could have regarding which Cohen to give to or not: This one is not scholarly or righteous enough, this one he never talks to, while the other one is a friend of his… But the bottom line is that the holy Torah understands our hearts, and knows that a person is willing to give to Hashem whatever He commands – but not necessarily if it goes to another person. In such a case, he has all sorts of calculations…

This is why the Torah says, "The first of the fruits of your land, bring to Hashem your G-d" (Sh'mot 23,19), and tell him, "I have said today to Hashem your G-d…" (D'varim 26,3) – Bikurim must be brought as if they were going straight to Hashem; rise up above all your petty calculations!

Rav Yehonatan Aybeschutz, in his Yaarot Dvash, states clearly that if a person comes to ask about his slaughtered chicken or cow, and the rabbi tells him it is not kosher and must be thrown out – the man will do so with no hesitation. But if he has a monetary dispute with another man and is found liable to pay him, he will be quite upset – especially at the judge! And the reason is because he has no problem giving to G-d Who gave us the Torah, but when it comes to paying a man, that is much harder because of the jealousy involved.

And this brings us back to the mitzvah of honoring our parents, where possible resentment at giving to others can apply most significantly. Our Sages describe the great difficulty of observing this mitzvah properly with the words of R. Yochanan – both of whose parents died before he ever got to know them. He actually said, "Fortunate is the man who did not see his parents" – because, Rashi says, it is impossible to honor them properly enough.

Making Sense

The Arukh HaShulchan writes that honoring one’s parents is categorized among the "rational commandments," and in fact has spread to the nations of the world. Even those who deny the Torah are careful with this mitzvah, because it makes sense. Yet we, the people of Israel, must observe it not because of its logic – but because G-d commanded us to do so! This, he writes, is a fundamental concept in all the mitzvot of the Torah.

And yet, though it is an understandable and compelling mitzvah to anyone with a modicum of understanding, it comes at a great cost. We must nullify our own needs in order to properly give to our parents what they need, especially as they grow older and infirm – and it is therefore frequently natural to seek excuses why not to perform it as best we can.

This is why the Torah tells us that we must do it, "in order that your days be lengthened." This mitzvah is the only one of the Ten Commandments in which one must give something to another – and not just once, but throughout his life: As the Gemara tells us, "One must honor him in his [the parent's] lifetime and also after his death" (Kiddushin 31b). Again, the Torah understands how we think, and therefore emphasized that when one gives to his parents, he is actually giving himself as well: "… in order that your days be lengthened on the land." This removes the instinctive difficulties involved in giving others, as explained above, and it becomes much easier to properly fulfill this mitzvah.

This explains why the Torah wrote the reward for this mitzvah here in the Ten Commandments – because it is actually not just a reward for its fulfillment, but rather an intrinsic part of the very reason why we are commanded to perform it with the expectation that we will do it correctly. This is not a "mitzvah with its reward alongside it," in the words of the Gemara - but rather a "mitzvah with its reward inside it!"

Honor your parents, for this means lengthening your days!