BAMIDBAR: The Anti-Mob

Crowd Control


Too often we make a mistake of filing "Judaism" in our minds under the very general title of "Organized Religions."  The problem is that under "Organized Religions" appear other colorful concepts that shouldn't be allowed within a 100 foot radius of Torah: e.g. oppression of the masses through the perpetuation of illiteracy and the monopolization of information, Crusades, scapegoating, etc. etc.  


Listen, everyone's got their problems, but let those not be our problems.


Perhaps the most tragic cultural misappropriation is the idea that the Torah demands from us strict uniformity and the annihilation of self, seeking to convert the greatest number of followers in order to find strength in numbers.

Of course, no one can deny the synergy of people working in concert -- "two are better than one..." (Kohelet 4:9), but speaking about human beings merely in terms of quantities is clearly a vulgarization of this concept.


This said, we open up this week the Book of Bamidbar (incidentally called "Numbers" by the Greeks and later King James), and lo and behold we find ourselves knee-deep in a census!  Of all things to start a book with!  Cold facts and numbers...what a great way to grab the reader right from the beginning!


It sounds terribly technical, no?  


It's fine that they took a census for whatever reason it may have been, but leave us out of it!  Why on earth would Hashem codify this census for eternity in the Chumash?!?  3,500 years later, who cares?!?  And then, to go into every tribe one by one...Reuven had 46,500; Shimon 59,300, and so on...


And, come to think of it, why did they take a census?  G!d Himself commission it (1st two verses).  Isn't it safe to say that G!d knew the results of the census without having to actually take the census?  


And just to strengthen the question: this is the 4th census in 13 months (see Rashi on the first verse who is keeping score for us)!  Us Jews can be a tad neurotic, but this is Hashem asking for these countings -- what is going on here?  This is absurd!

~~~~~

Names & Numbers

Last week, we began to speak about the idea of counting.  Counting brings things together.  

If one were to say, "there are 1 billion people in China," he means to say that those billion people have something in common in order that it makes sense to count them together, namely, of all the billions of people in the world, he wants to refer to, and therefore conceptually unite, the one billion people in China.  This is straightforward.  

But let's say he said, "there are 225,000 lychees and screwdrivers in the State of Delaware," he better have a good explanation for grouping Delawarian lychees and screwdrivers in that number.  

A number has the capacity to unite.  Interesting.  Obvious perhaps, but on the other hand, we probably never stopped to think about it.

Now, there are certain things one would never count individually.  Sand, for example -- even if you value sand very much -- let's say you're in the playground business -- you would not keep an inventory of grains of sand purchased and sold.  You simply wouldn't -- ever.  You would probably measure your sand in terms of metric tons, or cubic meters, but certainly not grains of sand.

In contrast to numbers are names.  Names identify unique individuals.  This is what names do -- they single one out from the crowd.  "David K. Harris."  "Jessica Sara Kahan."  "Jonathan Rosenberg-Glickstein."  And as surely as I wouldn't count my grains of sand, I wouldn't name my slices of bread.

Immediately, something unique pops out at us from the beginning of the Book of Bamidbar:

  שְׂאוּ אֶת רֹאשׁ כָּל עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָם לְבֵית אֲבֹתָם בְּמִסְפַּר שֵׁמוֹת וגו

"[Hashem said to Moshe,] Count the heads of the entire Eida of the Children of Israel according to their families and the houses of their fathers with number-names..." (1:2).

This sounds like a nice idea trying to consolidate unity (numbers) and individuality (names), but don't they contradict eachother?

The reason that our initial reaction to the juxtaposition of these two concepts is that they clash is likely because our gut definitions for "unity" and "individuality" are slightly off.  

"Unity" we often confuse with "uniformity."  

And "individuality" we tend to define in terms of the interests, abilities, personality quirks, style, etc. of a person.  (What comes to mind almost immediately are those high school years in which one so desperately is trying to forge his individuality through hair-cuts, clothing styles, so-called "alternative" music, and even flame decals on the sides of his car.)  

These definitions are not totally off -- "unity" certainly implies some aspect of uniformity, and "individuality" is related to the unique bundle of the aforementioned attributes a person possesses.

The key to begin to understand how these two concepts can co-exist is to rethink of individuality as most essentially founded in mission.  Of course, every person has a unique set of כחות strengths and שאיפות interests, but these only find their context and purpose in terms of the mission.  

The best metaphor for this is the army.  No two people in the army can have the same mission -- by definition.  Joey is in charge of gathering information at point A. Billy is covering him from point B, and Joey from point C.  Simultaneously, Jimmy is relaying this information to George who is infiltrating the compound through the air conditioning duct, and so on and so forth.  Every person is indispensable to accomplish the meta-mission.  As such, every person's micro-mission is unique to him, and was given to him after much thought by the General based on his strengths and interests.  

Does an army need a lot of people?  Yes.  But, only because there are so many missions that must be accomplished to accomplish the ultimate goal.

Is there a uniformity among the soldiers?  Of course.  They are all wearing more or less the same uniform, they have the same basic training, they all have to abide by a basic level of physical fitness, they all have to speak the same language and lingo -- all of this is correct, but the purpose is not so that they become some large, indistinguishable, uniform blob.  The goal of uniformity is entirely in order to facilitate all of these individual soldiers with their individual strengths and missions to work together towards a common goal.

There are different words in the Hebrew language that relate to the different aspects of the concept of "mission."  One of them is תפקיד.  It's fascinating to now see how the passuk lights up, when we see that the word used for "counting" is not the normal word לספור, but לפקוד.  And why the Torah in counting the Jewish people specifically relates to those of age to serve in the army:

מִבֶּן עֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה וָמַעְלָה כָּל יֹצֵא צָבָא בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל תִּפְקְדוּ אֹתָם לְצִבְאֹתָם אַתָּה וְאַהֲרֹן

"From 20 years of age and above, all those who [would] go out [to serve] in the army in Israel, count them (תִּפְקְדוּ) according to their army ranks, you and Aaron." (1:3) 

The Torah then proceeds to count the Jewish people according to each one's family, and tribe -- each tribe with its own flag and symbol, and unique spiritual gifts (see the end of the Book of Bereishit and the end of the Book of Devarim).    


Why were we counted so many times in the desert?  And moreover, why record it for eternity in the Torah?  

Rashi explains: 

...מתוך חבתן לפניו מונה אותם כל שעה  

"Because of the love for [the Jewish people] before [Hashem], He counts them all the time..."

Every person is precious.  


No one can possibly know this more than Hashem who created us and gives us everyday the tools and learning experiences to bring out our potential.  The Jewish people is not a mob nor a rally on the White House lawn nor a football crowd.  The unity of individuals in the Jewish people comprise a magnificent mosaic -- a poem -- a symphony.  It's therefore not sufficient to estimate more-or-less how many Jews there were in the desert.  The census was not for technical reasons.  Certainly not the 4th census in a little over a year.  It was a show of love and appreciation of every individual who by definition cannot be replaced by anyone else.  This is a message that shines throughout the Book of Bamidbar (see the intro to the sefer in the Emek Davar), and throughout the Chumash.  


The fact that the census was included in the Torah, with such a shocking amount of space dedicated to it, is a testament to Hashem's love for us.  It is one thing for HKBH to love us, but what is even greater is that He wants us to know it.     

THE OMER: Making It Count

The Other Side of Being Human

We almost always hear the words "being human" with a connotation of fallibility, weakness, normalcy -- "human error," "he's only human," "he succumbed to his natural, human urges," and so on.  All of this is certainly true, and without a doubt we must be conscious to maintain our idealism in perspective, keeping our feet on the ground.  However, I would like to suggest, and think you will agree, that there is another dimension to being human that although diametrically opposed to the first, is a more essential expression of our humanity.

~~~~~

The soul of man seeks endless expanses -- pines to touch the infinite -- thirsts to taste eternity.  

Without exception, every human being is compelled, whether he knows it or not, towards Greatness.  From the free-faller diving from an airplane to the entrepreneur hoping to go global -- from the violinist who demands perfection from every bow-stroke to the mathematician poring over an unsolved proof -- from the bride and groom lost in eachother's eyes to the parents quietly taking in the sight of their newborn child -- from the Israeli backpacker in a Tibetan monastery to the college students waxing philosophical in the wee hours of the night, to the pair of chavrusas probing the Talmud's secrets...all of them are looking for the Ineffable, for that cusp of Reality that glows white hot -- Life's cutting edge -- where the finite approaches the Infinite asymptotically, hoping to find what they are so desperately looking for albeit unaware.

None of these admittedly unnatural human behaviors should come to us as a surprise seeing as a "the soul is nothing other than a fragment of G!d Above, with its only desire to return and connect to its source" (Ramchal Daat Tevunot I:24).  People are not wholly natural creatures.  That boundless place inside every person of thoughts and emotions, creativity and ethical strength has its root in the Infinite.     

You don't see many cows bungee-jumping on their own volition -- nor partaking of any other extreme sports or grandiose artistic, intellectual or ethical endeavors (I know I haven't watched TV in a while, but I am confident that this is still true).  It's not sufficient to chalk this up to their lack of intelligence because: 1) it's not clear that the people who choose to bungee jump on a regular basis are quantifiable smarter, and 2) even given the resources they (cows) have at their disposal, there is nothing they do which even remotely can be described as a "striving for transcendence" -- no behavioral outlier beyond the pale of food, shelter, survival, and reproduction.   

Not so the human being.  It is a disservice to our species to only refer to our humanity in the context of what is normal and natural, for in the heart of every one of us is an unquenchable desire to have contact with that which we can hardly put words to.  Extreme sports is perhaps not the best use of the infinite longings of the human spirit, but at least it can serve for us as a vibrant image of how super-natural of a species that we are. 

The "Insurmountable" Chasm

As surely as the desire for Greatness burns inside of us, we precariously stand at risk of losing hope of ever reaching it.  

It's a catch-22.  Surely, a person with no- or low-expectations will not get very far -- this is clear.  But, on the flip side, a person with high expectations, can get crushed under their weight.  The young man with dreams of "making it big" in the business world can very easily throw in the towel after one or two failed start-ups.  The athlete that defines success by competing in the Olympics will not only have a bitter career, he will almost certainly never make it to the Olympics.  If he does not value any of the smaller but significant success along the way, how will he ever cross the gap to Greatness?

All of this is true in the world of "natural" endeavors.  How much more so is it true in our pursuit for Torah, Hashem's Wisdom Itself.

A relative of mine told me recently that she had been convinced that she would never understand any idea in Torah.  She had accepted this as fact and had grown comfortable with it.  Divrei Torah always seemed to her "too high," she said, with "too many foreign concepts," and logically "too complex."  What a tragedy -- her perception of Torah's Greatness was the very thing that kept her away from it.  

The real tragedy is that this is true on some level for all of us.  All of us give up to some degree at some point in looking up the mountain.  

"Me?!?  I will never be able to understand what those people are talking about..."  

  "That stuff is for rabbis...people in yeshiva..."  

     "I'm going to understand Rabbi Akiva Eiger's kasha?!?"

        "What's a 'kasha?'"

            "The Maharal?  No, no -- that stuff's too deep for me -- I'm a simple Jew."

Right now is the period of preparation between leaving Egypt (celebrated through the holiday of Pesach) and the receiving of the Torah 50 days later (the holiday of Shavuot [June 7-9 this year]).  Let's take a look at how the Torah prescribes to remedy this uniquely  human predicament of being stuck on earth with aspirations towards the stars.

Counting the Omer

It's often worthwhile to think of how you would have written the Torah to appreciate how Hashem chose to write it.  Personally, I would have thought of a more grand series of mitzvahs leading up to our receiving the Torah at Shavuot.  I don't know...regimented Torah study everyday, go through the entire Chumash...something!  The last thing that would have occurred to me is a mitzvah to count every day from Pesach to Shavuot.  Indeed, that is what the Jewish people are doing right now -- counting the Omer.  Every night, we make a bracha for that night's count and say, "Today is ___ days of the Omer."  

Why is this the way to prepare for receiving the Torah?  It is really a quite unimpressive mitzvah.  It doesn't get more simple than...counting.  

And why is it called the "Omer?"  Of course, the simple answer is because of the Korban Omer, the barely offering that marks the beginning of the counting.  But this begs the question: why is the whole count defined by that offering?  Why do we mention it every day, היום _ ימים לעומר "Today is the __ day of the Omer?"  This is most bizarre because the word "omer" is just the name of a measurement (a tenth of an eifa)...this is like calling this month-and-a-half mitzvah "the counting of the kilogram!"  It just doesn't have that nice ring to it that we would like to see for the mitzvah that leads us to Shavuot, the celebration of the Giving of Torah...

~~~~~~~

To open up this mystery, we must know a little bit about the Korban Omer.  

Until the Korban Omer is offered, eating from the new harvest is not permitted.  This means that this barley is essentially the first of the harvest.  The question is: what are we expressing by giving the first of our national harvest?

It's very "in" today to speak about where our food comes from.  Usually, this means explaining all of the chemical, social, political and economic human factors that went into a particular food product.  But what about the pre-human factors?  You need the right amount of rain, rain acidity, alkaline level in the soil, sunlight without excessive heat, insects to keep the soil fertile but not too many to ruin the crop...this is just a basic list, which we could probably continue to expand and break down into thousands and thousands of independent factors.  All of those factors must intersect in the perfect proportions to produce this crop.  

We have a choice.  Either we look at all of these coming together as happenstance, every natural element on its own -- and they all happened to end up in the same motel i.e. my barley crop, OR we see the one-ness of their harmony, orchestrated by Hashem who took interest in us that we should have a harvest this year.

This is the unique human process of bundling, taking disparate elements and binding them together.  In Hebrew, the word for this is לעמר leAmer, which is actually one of the 39 creative processes forbidden on Shabbat, and of course, the exact same word as עומר Omer.  

We have a choice to look at the world as "fortunate coincidences" or expressions of Hashem's Love for us.  When we offer up the Korban haOmer, we are saying, "Thank You -- we realized that all of this came from You." 

It is this very human act of bundling is what kicks off the Counting of the Omer.  It serves as our paradigm for the whole time period.  As we mentioned, "Omer" is a measurement.  More specifically, it is the measurement of food a person needs in a single day.  In the desert, every person received exactly an omer of manna (Shemot 16:16).  This is the path the Torah helps us chart to reach the Infinite.  We have to look at everyday as a portion.  

The way infinity works is that you can come into contact with infinity by touching any part of it.  Divide infinity by any number and you will come to infinity.    

Everyday we try to look at we have in front of us and try to find the local unity.  We have to turn our day into a bundle that is worth bundling all on its own.  Everyday, we can מעמר-bundle the different pieces together of that day -- we can find oneness where we are.  

...Very often, another individual can look to us like a disparate package of quirks, thoughts and interests, but there is a one-ness there to uncover...  

...We may not be able to bring the world together, nor the entire Jewish people, but we can start with the people we come into contact with on any given day -- our classmates, co-workers, family members -- it's very good to think global, but without acting local, we will turn into cynics...  

There is no such thing as jumping to grab onto the infinite -- to all-at-once, see the One-ness of the Big Picture that those college students, up late at night, think they are so close to uncovering.  BUT, every day of our lives we have the opportunity to find Hashem in that day -- the things we will learn about life, the people we will help, the new insights into what makes us tick.  Everyday has its one-ness to uncover.  As the picture unfolds, we will see how today's one-ness is really part of the higher perspective of one-ness we will have tomorrow.

A person who learns Torah regularly knows this well.  Everyday, you open up your gemara and find a page of Talmud that makes no sense whatsoever.  There are arguments about arguments, contradictions and paradoxes -- it's a mess.  Part of you wants to close the book, and the other part is flipping to the end of the tractate to see how many pages you have left to finish, and then the rest of Shas (the whole Talmud is called "the Shas").  Again, stuck between despair and high expectations.  

The mission is to realize that the Torah is One, every part of it is Infinite.  If you cannot enjoy learning this daf of gemara, what makes you think you will have enjoyed finishing the Shas?  A person has to look at this daf of gemara as his mission.  Find the unity that resolves the problems at hand.  Reveal the beauty here.  This is the way is to appreciate our daily portion -- to put our whole being into it.

For the person who doesn't learn Torah regularly, this principle can change his life.  As soon as he realizes that the Torah is One -- that every single concept he gets clear can be applied all over the place and throughout his life, the panorama of Torah will open up for him.  

Moreover, often, we get blocked from seeing the trees because of the forest.  We're hung up on enormous questions about the nature of G!d and the Torah at large.  The omer teaches us a mind-blowing idea: in Torah, if we keep our eyes open, we will discover the forest in the trees! 

We must learn to appreciate the micro to get to the macro.  This is why everyday we make a bracha on that day's count -- on the underlying beauty and unity we will discover on that day.  It's not just one bracha at the beginning of the count and another at the end of 49 days.

We must also appreciate that everyday is connected to the next.  This is essentially what counting is.  When I say the "5 books of Moshe," or the "3 forefathers," I am indicating an underlying unity among those 5 books and among those 3 forefathers.  This is the depth of what counting is (לספור to count is of course connected to ספר book, a sequential narrative of otherwise disparate events/information).     

If we do this, Hashem takes care of giving us the Big Picture, that Ineffable and Infinite Expanses our soul so intensely longs for.

It's like learning a language.  You learn one word, two words, start constructing sentences, etc.  For a long time, even if you're having conversations, it's still disparate parts that you are mechanically putting into place.  Until one day, after you've immersed yourself in that foreign culture...you're fluent!  You are no longer translating as you go.  You can just speak!

This is the aspect of "50" in Torah -- the Ineffable that we don't even count in the Omer because it's really not in our hands to count.  It's a gift.  Even if you have all the pieces together, you may still not have the "all."  The absolute one-ness.  This, the Torah calls "כל" which means "all," and "happens" to appear in the unbounded middle of the aleph-bet, and also "happens" to have a numerical value of 50 (כ=20, ל=30).  

It is for this reason that the holiday on the 50th day of this count, after 7 weeks, is simply called by the same name as the sum of its parts that were spent preparing for it, שבועות "Shavuot," which literally means..."Weeks."

~~~~~

Leaving Egypt is relatively easy.  What did we have to lose?  Plus, we were shown a flash of the Infinite.  Razzled and Dazzled by miracles, it's not so impressive that we left.  On a certain level, a herd of cows would have done the same.  That is what was necessary for our nation in its childhood.  However, what is quintessentially human and adult, is to have the soul's desire for the infinite, yet realistically direct it to every day's unique mission.  To find the infinite within the finite, and to appreciate that this is the path to Hashem.  

Day 26...here we go...

-----

This post was based heavily on a shiur by Rav Immanuel Bernstein shlit"a, and a Shabbat drasha by Rav Beryl Gershenfeld shlit"a that was explicating the approach of the Arizal to the Omer.

EMOR: Carrying Two Tablets

The Epic Balancing Act

As we speak, we are zooming day by day from leaving Egypt towards the holiday of Shavuot, the receiving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, where over 2 million of our great great great great grandparents awaited with trepidation for Moshe's descent from the mountain with the 10 Commandments in hand...

...when Moshe finally came down, he was carrying two tablets...

Now, this may be just too obvious a question for your taste, but we'll go ahead and ask it anyways:

Would it have been too difficult to fit all 10 commandments on one tablet???  Maybe it would have been too heavy...  Maybe G!d could have written smaller!  There were plenty of other options -- why 2 tablets!?!

We have to really think about this.  The Alm!ghty clearly wanted us to see Moshe coming down from the mountain with two separate tablets in hand!  This was the first impression Hashem wanted leave on us.  Why!?!

~~~~~

It's well known, and we've actually discussed it before, the two tablets are divided in two to separate between the mitzvot between man and Hashem (on the right), and the mitzvot between man and his fellow man (on the left).  A superficial reading of this idea will just look at it as a convenient method of organization, but let's try to digest it properly...

The midrash in Shemot Rabba helps us see the following passuk with infrared vision:

וַיִּתֵּן אֶל מֹשֶׁה כְּכַלֹּתוֹ לְדַבֵּר אִתּוֹ בְּהַר סִינַי שְׁנֵי לֻחֹת הָעֵדֻת לֻחֹת אֶבֶן 

כְּתֻבִים בְּאֶצְבַּע אֱלֹקים

[Hashem] gave to Moshe when He finished speaking to him on Har Sinai the two tablets of the testimony -- stone tablet(s) written by the finger of G!d (Shemot 31:18).

Our Sages draw our attention to the way "tablets" is written in Hebrew "לוחת" as if it were referring to a single tablet, "לוחת אחת."  The midrash explains that the Torah here is communicating that the two tablets are inseparably unified and equivalent, with neither greater or lesser than the other (Shemot Rabba 41:8).  

While we may have previously thought that with this, the rabbis wanted to share with us some inane piece of stone masonry trivia, we can now see that that they are expressing the key to answering our original question.

Contrary to popular belief, the mitzvot between man & G!d and those between man & man are equally important.  

I will just repeat this last line for effect: the mitzvot between man & G!d and those between man & man are equally important (Pachad Yitzhak, Shavuot 41).  

Some people could think they are being "frum" due to the fervor of their service to G!d, yet step on G!d's creatures in the process.  Other people may think of themselves as "humanists," but in leaving G!d out of the picture, they're entirely missing the immense proportions of what being human is all about.

Thus, we find ourselves in the middle of quite a complex map.  We have to relate to Hashem.  We have to relate to other people.  And we cannot forget about ourselves!  Just like there are three dimensions in space, there are three dimensions of relationship (man-G!d, man-man, man-himself).  

Life is not as simple as we'd often like to make it seem.  As it says in Pirkei Avot:

Shimon haTsaddik was from the remaining members of the Great Assembly.  He would [always] say, 

"The world stands on three things: 

      on the Torah (our relationship to ourselves), 

          on the [Divine] Service (our relationship with Hashem),

              and on Acts of Kindness (our relationships with people)."   
                                                                         [Avot 2:1, see Derech Chayim of the Maharal]

Our tendency is to make life stand on one thing -- depending on whatever "party" or "-ism" we belong to...  With this in mind, the Alm!ghty, sent Moshe down from the mountain carrying two heavy tablets, with him in the middle (the aspect of Torah) to strike the balance between them.     

The little extremist inside of us

Life is about balance.  Every thinking adult can sense this.  I say "adult" because the average teenager will say the opposite, "life is about passion, intensity, living on the edge, etc."  They're not totally wrong, but they're clearly missing that key aspect of judgement that comes with maturity -- weighing both sides of everything.  

Humility is the gateway to receiving Torah, but as a person as a person learns more Torah, he runs the risk of becoming arrogant. 

As a person spends more time speaking to people and helping them with their problems, he will have less time to enrich himself and become a better source of advice.   

As a person amasses wealth, he will be able to give more charity, but simultaneously, he will tend to increase his own needs for luxuries.  

On the other hand, a person who does not have sufficient funds will probably be constantly anxious about where his next paycheck will come from, and possibly require receiving charity, which although will pay his bills, will lower his self-esteem, and over time, make him callous to his own sense of entitlement...

Take any one thing in life to the extreme, and you'll certainly end up with problems elsewhere.  

This is the stuff of life!  Every facet of life is interconnected with every other one.  Nothing stands in a vaccum.  There are no isolated laboratories here.     

In any given setting, there is of course a line we will intuitively draw at some point and say, "that's too far."  But can we look from a birds-eye view and determine the proper balance of all the pieces?  

How can we properly juggle all of the elements of our lives without knowing what the big picture should look like in harmony?

Imagine a waiter carrying a huge tray with 613 different-sized plates and cups on it.  If any one of them gets moved, he will have to adjust the other ones to keep the tray from toppling over.  And this metaphor is a simplification!

The world of Torah is the teaching of balance, תפארת which also means "beauty."  The 613 mitzvot correspond to the 613 moving parts of life (Ohel Yehoshua, Rav Yehoshua Heller).  Learning Torah is the business of how they interact.  At any given point in your day, there are any number of mitzvot you can do...  Which one comes first?  What if they openly contradict eachother?  ...Welcome to learning gemara!  

All of this is to educate that passionate, impetuous teenager inside of us that "just wants to go for it."  Learning Torah strengthens the aspect of Moshe inside of us, the aspect that balances those two tablets that we constantly must weigh against eachother in all of our decisions.


The teenager sees balance as something boring, bland, and beige.  Our job is to get him excited about balance -- that it is more epic than a tight wire juggling act, hundreds of feet above the ground.  It's not beige; it's a the kaleidoscopic harmony of all of life's colors.

Be Big!

We can even witness this balancing in the verses of the Torah themselves.  Last week, in parshat Kedoshim, we saw how in one breath, the Torah told us to honor our father and mother, but not to the point to which we violate the Shabbat (Vayikra 19:3).  Or, also in one breath, to reproach our fellow, but to be wary of not doing it in a way that will embarrass him (ibid 17).  If you look out for this, you will see how the Torah consistently is balancing us by showing us both sides of our obligations.

One of these places is in this weeks parsha, Emor.  

"...these are my holidays," says Hashem (ibid 23:2), and begins to list the holidays of the Jewish calendar: Shabbat, Pesach, the counting of the Omer, Shavuot... and blindsided, out of left field, we're hit with the mitzvah of Peah, leaving the corners of our fields unharvested for the poor to collect, and the mitzvah of Leket, similarly, leaving fallen bushels for the poor (ibid 22).  And then, the the Torah continues with the Jewish calendar as if nothing happened: Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur...  

...WHAT?!?  What does this have to do with the price of tea in China?  Plus, we already learned these mitzvot in last week's parsha (19:9)!

Says the Ohr haChayim haKadosh (Rav Chayim Ben-Atar) on the spot:

"Perhaps [the Torah] is coming to obligate the field from which the Omer [sacrifice is reaped] -- it too is obligated in Leket and Peah!   

A person may have thought, 'since the field was initially harvested for sacrificial purposes, it is exempt [from the mitzvot of charity...]' 

The Torah comes to teach us to the contrary!"

This is Torah pushing us to stretch in both directions!  Reaching towards Hashem, and reaching towards other people!

When we want to pray and meditate alone with G!d, the Halacha tells us to pray with a minyan (at least 10 Jewish men).

When we want to socialize in shul, the Halacha tells us to focus on our personal tefila. 

When we want to just sit and learn Torah by ourselves, the Torah tells us to learn with a chavrusa (friend)... 

A person once asked Rav Yisrael Salanter, "What kavana (mental orientation) should I have when I put on my tallit?"  


He was obviously expecting a Kabbalistic meditation involving permutations of Hashem's Name, but Rav Yisrael, the father of the modern Mussar movement, curtly answered, "Your kavana should be to make sure you don't slap anyone in the face behind you as you swing the tallis strings over your shoulder."
   

This captures it.  So often we get wrapped up in our own spirituality that we forget the people around us.  Similarly, we can get so caught up in the world of people, that we lose sight of our own relationship with Hashem.


In the Jewish consciousness, we speak about the ideal of becoming a "gadol" "a big person."  What does this mean?  It's not just a person who is a genius, or one who knows the deep secrets of reality.  That would not be a "big" person; that would be a person who is "high up," floating in the clouds.  A big person, the person we're striving to become, is a person who stretches from the heavens to the earth -- deeply rooted in closeness to the Alm!ghty, but sensitive to the needs and lacks of human beings and his environment (margala bepumya deRav Beryl Gershenfeld).


I remember the first time I saw "Gadlus" "Greatness."  I was in my junior of college when I was taken to hear Rav Shmuel Kaminetsky speak in the suburbs of Philadelphia.  Much to my embarrassment, I still don't remember what he spoke to us about at 10:30 pm in a classroom in the Yeshiva of Philadelphia.  Mind you, this was after a day of learning Torah himself, running a yeshiva of hundreds of students, and answering major Halachic questions from all over the world -- this is also a man who was around 80 years old at the time (he should live and be well).  I was asked me to ride in the car with Rav Shmuel to drive him home at close to midnight.  


The memory is etched crystal clear in my mind: the car pulled up, Rav Shmuel, one of the leaders of American Jewry, gently bid us "goodnight," he got out of the car, opened the door for me to get out of the car (!?!), said "Thank you" and "goodnight" once more.  He turned on a dime and darted/sprinted across his lawn to his front door.  He stopped.  Looked at his reflection in the glass pane in front of the door.  Brushed off his jacket.  Combed the hair under his hat, and tidied his beard.  He knocked, and walked in his home to greet his wife properly after a long day.


That's "Gadlus."  


From the life-and-death Halachic questions of the morning to the dust on his jacket, this man was serving Hashem.  


This is a vignette of the Greatness the Alm!ghty asks us of us, of what He knows we can become.
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This piece was heavily based upon the approach of one of my rebbeim, Rav Immanuel Bernstein shlita in his book Davar Mikra.  He currently has a few online venues for his shiurim:

 http://www.ishiur.com/Speakers/P1/Bernstein-Immanuel-35.html & http://web.me.com/jjbernstein/Rabbi_Immanuel_Bernstein/Welcome.html,
                        with a more centralized website in the works.