Dear Members and Friends of Kehilat Shalom,
In honour of the upcoming Yom Tov of Shavuot, which runs from Thursday night through the end of Shabbat on Saturday night, I share with you the following learning from Rabbi Yaakov Glaser:
The Megilah of Ruth depicts the extraordinary tragedy that grips the family of Elimelech, as one trauma seems to follow another. The family uproots itself to find sustenance in years of famine. Then, while living in an alien environment, Naomi finds herself facing the death of her husband and then of her two sons. Left with but an echo of her family’s legacy, she turns to her two devoted, yet foreign, daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, and declares that they should return to their homes and to their lives. Naomi explains that she has no additional sons with whom they can rebuild this family, and that the most prudent path forward is to dissolve their relationship. Orpah embraces her mother-in-law and departs the family to return to her roots. Ruth, in contrast, steps forward with an overwhelming declaration of comradery and.
But Ruth replied, “Do not urge me to leave you, to turn back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may the Lord do to me if anything but death parts me from you.” Ruth 1:16-17
R’ Yaakov Kaminetsky, Emes L’Yaakov, Avos 1:12, asks: What was the catalyst for Ruth’s decision? What did Ruth see in remaining with Naomi? Her entire association with the Jewish people had been completely saturated with death and destruction! From where does Ruth derive the inspiration to remain with the Jewish people? Where in the megilah do we encounter the magnetism of Naomi to inspire such a deep and profound commitment on behalf of Ruth?
Rav Yaakov explains that there are two types of influence in the world: One is referred to as chinuch, and the other is identified as hashpaah. Chinuch refers to influence through direction and guidance. It is proactive, intentional, and at times even interventional. It is the modality through which parents and educators strive to instill specific ideals and practices into their children. However, notes Rav Yaakov, chinuch is not the exclusive source of influence for children, or for us as adults. There is another dimension known as hashpaah, which comes from the word “meshupah,” meaning “slanted.” A roof is slanted so that the rain that falls on it will slide off the sides of the home. The roof is not designed to intentionally move water from its structure to another place; this happens naturally because of its shape, and as a result, the individual or object below will become drenched. Hashpaah refers to the standing example that is set by those living a life of sanctity and nobility. Independent of the teachings that are conveyed, there is an independent flow of influence that “drenches” everyone in proximity to those who lead their lives personifying what we stand for. Perhaps Ruth’s commitment evolved from the standing example that Naomi set in how to contend with and overcome the vicissitudes of life. Naomi was a mashpia whose entire being radiated the values that would ultimately inspire Ruth to join the Jewish people, and eventually lay the foundation for Malchut Beit David (the Kingdom of the House of David, Ruth’s great-grandson).
From where do we derive the broader hashpaah of Yahadus? From where can we benefit not from the intricacies of expectations but from basking in the legacies of how the heroes of the Jewish people faced their challenges throughout our history?
We can suggest, that to this end, that we have been given the extraordinary world of Tanach. Tanach chronicles the history of the Jewish people, not only by providing specific directives, but by conveying the stories of the personalities who shaped our history. Throughout Tanach, we experience the triumphs and failures of Am Yisrael. The Gemarah in Megilah 14a writes, “Our rabbis taught: There were 48 male prophets and seven female prophets for Israel … Were there no more? … It seems that there were many more, as the beraita states: There were many prophets in Israel, double the number of people who left Egypt. Rather, prophecies that were relevant for all generations were recorded and those that were not relevant were not recorded.”
The narratives and prophesies of Tanach are those that are relevant for all generations. The study of Tanach allows us to internalize how to live the principles and ideals of Torah, both as individuals and as a nation.
May we all merit to grow from the chinuch of our tradition and from its hashpaah as well.
... Rabbi Yaakov Glaser, YUTorah.org (5779)
Wishing you a Chag Sameach and a very, very, very special Shabbat and Yom Tov,
_________________
Rabbi Leonard Cohen
Kehilat Shalom, Calgary
(403) 850-0106
leonardecohen@gmail.com

​A non-Jewish optimist says, “It can get better!” A Jewish optimist says, “It could be worse.”
In this week’s double parsha, Behar-Bekhukotai, we read of a hazard for our community today and in the near future:
“If your brother becomes destitute and his hand falters with you, you shall strengthen him, outsider and settler, that he may live with you.” (Vayikra/Leviticus 25:35)
וְכִֽי־יָמ֣וּךְ אָחִ֔יךָ וּמָ֥טָה יָד֖וֹ עִמָּ֑ךְ וְהֶֽחֱזַ֣קְתָּ בּ֔וֹ גֵּ֧ר וְתוֹשָׁ֛ב וָחַ֖י עִמָּֽךְ
The placement in this sentence of the words “outsider and settler” – in Hebrew, “ger v’toshav” – has an ambiguous meaning. The rabbinic interpretations of this, from order of my least to greatest preference, are that:
- you support someone needy so that they retain a status at least that of the outsider and settler in the community;
- you support your brother (or fellow community member) no less than you would an outsider or settler; or
- you support an outsider and settler no less than you would a brother.
A key word in understanding this requirement for compassion and tzedakah is the repeated word “imach” (עִמָּךְ) – with you. The verse could easily be complete without either mention of this word, i.e.: “If your brother becomes destitute and his hand falters… you shall strengthen him… that he may live.” One of the important tenets of Torah interpretation is that no word is superfluous. What does “with you” signify?
The wording of the passuk (verse) suggests that we collectively hold some accountability for the downturn of any fellow community member. If someone’s hand falters “with you”, you cannot readily neglect or feign ignorance of this distress. The Talmud states that “poverty in a person’s home is debilitating” (Baba Batra 116a). Commenting on this Talmud quotation, Rav Meir Leib Frye (via Yismach Yehudah and Rabbi Yissocher Frand) explains that unlike evident poverty, poverty “in a person’s home” describes someone who displays the trappings of wealth, but whose actual poverty is hidden. For example, a person living in a fine house in a well-off neighbourhood, with a seemingly comfortable lifestyle, may in fact be going through great financial distress – from debt, loss of income or employment, or other misfortune of business or economic downturn. And yet, such knowledge may be hidden within the four walls of that person’s home. In such case, only a few close individuals may be aware of this person’s distress.
In this instance, it is a mitzvah for those in the know – trusted confidants or others – to strengthen this person how they can, and prevent them from a potentially debilitating downfall, not only in income but status. There is a story in the Talmud (Ketubot 67b), where Hillel buys a poor member of an aristocratic family a horse to ride and a slave to run before him. Fairness in tzedakah does not preclude the exceptional provision of material help to prevent a person from undue distress. Elishai Ben Yitzchak of Bar-Ilan University notes that there is a distinction, however, in the dispersal of tzedakah from public/community funds vs. from one’s private assets. Funding must be equitably disbursed from the public purse (e.g., a Federation or Jewish Family Service) so that there is a fair standard shared by all those in the community. However, an individual (or small, close-knit group) may have the social responsibility to prevent the economic collapse of someone close.
The repeated term “with you” signifies the potential situation and its remedy. It may well happen that someone with you may experience economic distress. In such a situation, the Torah mitzvah is to “strengthen them”, preventatively if possible, to hold them up that they neither collapse nor arrive at more dire need. That way, you ensure that they may continue to “live with you”, to maintain their well-being until they can stand on their feet again.
The Warning
The double parsha also contains the dreadful warning of the “Tochecha” or rebuke. It is a series of increasing threats and dire admonitions by Hashem to the people, lest they defy the ways of G-d’s Torah. The extreme urgency of the Tochecha may be compared to the warnings a parent gives their child about dangerous situations: bad, harmful things may happen. The greater the danger, the harsher the warning. Such warnings, clearly, are intended as a deterrent.
The sudden impact of the current pandemic has driven home how critically we must avoid taking for granted our good fortunes. A careless communal and societal response can lead not only to illness and death, but also to psychological distress and financial ruin. At the same time, it may be unwise, or an unreasonable expectation, to simply return to the prior status quo – socially, economically or otherwise.
Given that we know, in our wisdom, that “it could be worse”, we are challenged to respond to the deterrents of our time. Let’s continue in our precautions with the ultimate intent of preserving life. We are challenged to hold together, as friends and community, to help one another in need.
With that in mind, I strongly encourage everyone to wear facemasks in any public indoor or crowded space. And let us do the mitzvot needed to prevent grief and to preserve one another’s well-being.
Shabbat Shalom!

Dear Members and Friends of Kehilat Shalom,
 
This weeks’ double Parsha, Aharei Mot – Kedoshim, contains a fascinating sequence outlining the elevation from lowliness to sacredness.  At the beginning of Aharei Mot, Aharon, the high priest, is commanded to an expiatory sacrifice on behalf of not only himself and his family, but all the people of Israel.  This atonement was to take place on the tenth day of the seventh month: Yom Kippur.  Recall that two of Aharon’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, died instantly when they brought a “strange fire” to the Lord.  The incidents of Aharei Mot, literally meaning “After the death”, follow in the wake of this tragedy.

When we find ourselves in the direct presence of death, we enact mourning rituals which traditionally included the sprinkling of ashes on one’s head, and sleeping/sitting on the ground.  It is as though we are returning to a primeval state, where we symbolically depict our mortality of beginning and ending in the earth; indeed the word “Adam”, signifying humanity, literally means earth.  In our lowest spiritual form, we are but earth – indistinct from the elements that surround us.  It is from this base that one begins one’s climb to sacredness.
 
We do not truly know Aharon’s state of mind upon the horrible death of his two sons, for his immediate reaction was silence, then compliance.  The expiatory sacrifice performed by Aharon may have been necessary to indicate to him, and to the Jewish people collectively, that Hashem did NOT regard the people as inherently laden with sin or evil.  Humanity has the right to begin each year, and indeed each moment, with the potential to do good and to be sacred in Heaven’s eyes.  Even when one is utterly bereft, one has the choice to live life with a sense of purpose and meaning.  This is the first rung on the path to sacredness: the recognition that, even if our bodies be molecularly indistinct from the Earth around us, we have the choice to live our lives with purpose and potential.
 
The laws of sacrificial atonment are followed by laws pertaining to the consumption of animals.  A person who randomly kills an animal for personal consumption, without providing an offering at the Tabernacle, is considered a spiller of blood (Vayikra/Leviticus 17:4) and “tameh”, i.e. in a state of spiritual subjection.  The Sages explain that in the primeval world of the Garden of Eden, humans did not eat animals, as it is written, “Hashem said, ‘See, I give you every seed-bearing plant that is upon all the earth, and every tree that has seed-bearing fruit; they shall be yours for food” (Bereshit/Genesis 1:29) – indicating plants, rather than animals, as humanity’s food.  In the casting out from Eden, humans came to depend upon animals as a source of food.  Nonetheless, Jews are commanded not to eat the animals’ blood, but to offer it up to G-d.  This is because blood represents the fundamental life-force; and such life-force belongs to Hashem and not to humanity.  This suggests a next rung up on the ladder of sacredness: recognizing the soul inherent in every living being.
 
The Torah then includes a famous verse which is fundamental to our attitudes towards life and death:

• “And you shall observe My decrees and My laws which a person shall perform, and live by them; I am the Lord.” (Vayikra/Leviticus 18:5).

According to the Sages, the two words in Hebrew “v’chai bahem” – “live by them” – signify that we are meant to live by Torah, and not die from it.  This is the source of the fundamental precept of “pikuach nefesh” – for the purpose of saving lives, we are permitted (in fact, commanded) to transgress virtually all other tenets of Torah.  It is for this very purpose that our synagogues are halachically commanded to remain shuttered during the COVID-19 pandemic.  If we Jews choose to refrain from gathering as a congregation now, it is so we can remain alive to come together for many more Shabbats to come.  As we work up the ladder of holiness, we must recognize the inherent sacredness of life itself.

This is followed by a strange, perhaps even disturbing passage prohibiting all manners of incestuous or taboo sexual relationships, spelled out one-by-one.  (These are preceded by the prohibition of acting like the inhabitants of Egypt or Canaan, who presumedly violated such taboos.) We are required to acknowledge that some acts are so perverse, that they fall in the realm of “yehareg v’al ya’avor” – better that we should die than violate such extremes.  Surprisingly, this passage is traditionally one of the Torah readings recited on Yom Kippur!  The connection between taboos and atonement may correspond to the very ladder we have outlined.  Atonement includes recognition that our ultimate purpose is not merely to survive for the sake of survival, or at the disregard of everyone or anything around us.  To lay the groundwork for sacredness, one must acknowledge that there are matters more important than our very lives.
 
It is at this point, in the double parsha, where we begin the section of Kedoshim.  Kedoshim means holy (in the plural form), and G-d commands the entire people of Israel, “You shall be holy, for I, the LORD your God, am holy” (Vayikra/Leviticus 19:2).  The parsha of Kedoshim outlines a wide variety of fundamental ethical tenets and laws, including:

• respecting parents and honouring the Shabbat;
• willingly committing to serving and offering up to G-d;
• leaving harvest gleanings and vineyard grapes to be culled by the needy;
• respecting the needs of the disabled, and showing deference to the elderly;
• providing feedback to correct others and help improve themselves;
• prohibiting idolatry, lewdness and adultery;
• loving the stranger;
• chukim, i.e., selected laws with no evident rationale except to obey G-d.

Each of these various laws and tenets are manners in which we make sacredness manifest in our selves and our world.

Yet, our double parsha reminds us that there are core elements which must lay the foundation.   The choice to live with purpose, the recognition of the living soul in all creatures, the preservation of life, the acknowledgement that there are matters greater than survival itself – are necessary precursors to the potential for holiness.  Through these crucial perspectives, we can indeed become “Am Kadosh”, a sacred and beloved nation in G-d’s eyes.
 
Let’s all do our best to make this a very, very, very special Shabbat!

Shabbat shalom!

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