Parasha Insight

Rabbi Eli Mansour

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  1. 4 HR AGO

    Commemorating the Shabuot Offering

    Numerous reasons have been given for the time-honored, cherished custom to eat dairy foods on Shabuot. One of the lesser-known explanations is that offered by the Rama (Rav Moshe Isserles, Poland, 1530-1572), in his glosses to the Shulhan Aruch (Orah Haim 494). Interestingly enough, the custom the Rama describes is to eat a dairy meal followed by a meat meal. As Halacha forbids using the same loaf of bread for a dairy meal and a meat meal, eating these two meals necessitates the use of two separate loaves. These two loaves, the Rama writes, commemorate the special Shabuot sacrifice, which, as the Torah commands in the Book of Vayikra ( 23:17), consisted of two loaves of bread, and was thus named Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem (the "two-breads sacrifice"). We might wonder why, according to the Rama, no such commemoration is made for a similar sacrifice brought on the second day of Pesach. The Korban Ha'omer was offered from the newly-harvested barley on the 16 th of Nissan, and it paralleled the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem brought on Shabuot. The Mishna (Menahot 68b) teaches that each of these two sacrifices functioned as a "Matir" – meaning, it made something permissible. The Korban Ha'omer made it permissible to eat from the newly-harvested crops, and the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem made it permissible to offer Menahot (grain offerings) in the Bet Ha'mikdash from the newly-harvested crop. Meaning, although it was permissible to eat from the new grain after the offering of the Korban Ha'omer on the 16 th of Nissan, it remained forbidden to bring a meal-offering in the Temple from the new grain until the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was brought on Shabuot. Seemingly, if – as the Rama writes – we make a commemoration on Shabuot for the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem, then we should also make a commemoration on the second day of Pesach for the Korban Ha'omer. Why don't we? The answer lies is a fundamental distinction between these two sacrifices. This distinction is expressed in a comment by the Sefat Emet (Rav Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Ger, Poland, 1847-1905) discussing a situation where, for whatever reason, the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was not brought on Shabuot. When it comes to the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach, the Sages inferred from a verse that the new grain becomes permissible for consumption after the 16 th of Nissan even if the sacrifice was not offered. Although the sacrifice is what permits the new grain, if there was no sacrifice, the grain becomes permissible after that day. One might have thought that since no such textual inference was made in regard to the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem, the new grain remains forbidden for use with Menahot if this sacrifice is not offered. (This is, indeed, the view taken by the Minhat Hinuch, Siman 307.) The Sefat Emet, however, writes that this is not so. He explains that the Torah does not actually forbid using the new grain for sacrifices before the offering of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem. Rather, it requires that the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem must be the first sacrifice brought from the new crop. This sacrifice is called a "Minha Hadasha" – "a new grain offering," because it was the first grain offering prepared with the newly-harvested wheat. This is the only reason why sacrifices may not be brought from the new crop before Shabuot – because the special Shabuot offering must be the first sacrifice brought from the new grain. Naturally, then, if – for whatever reason – this sacrifice was not brought, sacrifices may nevertheless be brought from the new crop after Shavuot. This understanding of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem points to a fundamental distinction between this sacrifice and the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach. The Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem is not actually a "Matir." Its function is not to permit wheat for use with sacrifices. It is offered as part of the celebration of Shabuot, which is called "Yom Ha'bikkurim" (Bamidbar 28:26) – the day of the new produce, when the first portion of newly-harvested wheat is brought as a sacrifice. The Korban Ha'omer, by contrast, is not inherently linked to Pesach. It happens to coincide with Pesach, but it has nothing inherently to do with this holiday. The Torah commanded offering this sacrifice on the 16 th of Nissan to permit eating the new crop, but this offering is not part of the observance of Pesach. This is seen clearly in the Rambam's rulings regarding the distribution of these sacrifices among the Kohanim. Generally speaking, the portions of a sacrifice given to the Kohanim were distributed only among the Kohanim who were "on duty" when the sacrifice was offered. However, the special Yom Tov sacrifices were distributed among any Kohen who wanted a portion, even if the Yom Tov was not during his "shift." In Hilchot Temidin U'musafin, the Rambam writes that the Korban Ha'omer was treated like a regular sacrifice – given only to the Kohanim who were "on duty" that day – but the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was distributed among all the Kohanim, as it is a Yom Tov sacrifice. This clearly shows that the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem is part of the celebration of Shabuot, whereas the Korban Ha'omer is not part of the celebration of Pesach. This easily explains why, according to the Rama, we make a commemoration of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem on Shabuot, but make no similar commemoration of the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach. Since the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was an integral part of the Yom Tob of Shabuot in the times of the Bet Ha'mikdash, it warrants a commemoration now, when we cannot offer the sacrifice. The Korban Ha'omer, by contrast, was not an integral part of the Pesach celebration, and so it does not warrant a commemoration nowadays.

  2. 14 MAY

    Parashat BaMidbar- The Book of Transition

    The Midrash teaches that the five Humashim – the books that comprise the Torah – are alluded to in the opening verses of the Torah, which tell of the creation of light on the first day of the world's creation. The word "Or" (light) appears five times in these verses, and they parallel the five Humashim. It follows, then, that the fourth Humash – the Book of Bamidbar, which we begin reading this Shabbat – corresponds to the fourth instance of the word "Or" in these verses: "Va'yabdel Elokim Beh Ha'or U'ben Ha'hoshech" – "G-d separated between light and the darkness" (1:4). What might be the connection between the Book of Bamidbar and the "separation" between light and darkness? The Netziv (Rav Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin of Volozhin, 1816-1893) offers a fascinating answer, by explaining the primary theme of Sefer Bamidbar. This book, he writes, traces Beneh Yisrael's transition from a miraculous existence to a natural existence. The book begins at Mount Sinai, in the desert, where Beneh Yisrael relied on G-d's miracles in order to survive. They received the manna from the heavens, and water from a supernatural well that accompanied them as they traveled. The Ananeh Ha'kabod ("clouds of glory") protected them from the elements and from enemy attack. Beneh Yisrael journeyed for forty years in a region that was ordinarily uninhabitable, under Hashem's miraculous care and protection. At the end of Sefer Bamidbar, Beneh Yisrael find themselves on the border of the Land of Israel, nearly ready to cross into the land. There they would live a natural existence – fighting wars against enemies, growing crops, building cities, and developing an economy. Of course, this natural existence would require G-d's intervention; even when leading a natural lifestyle, nothing can succeed without Hashem's help. But once they crossed into the land, Beneh Yisrael were no longer cared for miraculously; they lived in accordance with the laws of nature. This is why at the end of the Book of Bamidbar, Beneh Yisrael take up arms and fight wars. They begin preparations for the battles to conquer the land, and for the division of the land. After living a miraculous existence for forty years, they now needed to transition to a natural mode of existence. The Netziv explains that this is why Sefer Bamidbar is associated with the "separation" between light and darkness. Light symbolizes G-d's open miracles, which make His control of the world unmistakably clear and evident. By contrast, darkness symbolizes the veil of the natural world, which conceals the Hand of Providence. When nature follows its course, we do not see Hashem, though we must firmly believe that He controls all events, random and natural as they might outwardly seem. Just as darkness makes it difficult to see that which we know exists, nature makes it difficult to see Hashem's control and governance, but we know that He is behind everything and orchestrating everything that happens. Hence, Sefer Bamidbar is associated with the distinction between light and darkness – because it signifies Beneh Yisrael's transition from a supernatural existence to a natural one. The Netziv explains on this basis why the Sages calls Sefer Bamidbar "Humash Ha'pekduim" – the "Book of Countings," which later evolved into the name, "Numbers." This name refers to two censuses of Beneh Yisrael that were taken in Sefer Bamidbar. We might wonder, why are these events viewed as the primary theme and essence of this book? So much happens in the Book of Bamidbar – why would the Sages focus on the two occasions when the people were counted when choosing a name for this book? The answer, the Netziv writes, is that the two censuses signify the transition that Beneh Yisrael underwent over the course of this Sefer. The first census was conducted for the purpose of arranging Beneh Yisrael's camp around the Mishkan in the desert, whereas the second was conducted to prepare for the apportioning of the territory of Eretz Yisrael among the tribes. The difference between these two censuses reflects the difference between the "light" and the "darkness," between the miraculous existence in the desert, and the natural existence in Eretz Yisrael. Therefore, this Sefer is indeed "Humash Ha'pekudim," a book of "countings," because the two countings demonstrate the transition that constitutes the essence of this book, the transition from the miracles of the desert to life in Eretz Yisrael, where G-d cares for and protects us not overly, but behind the veil of the laws of nature.

  3. 7 MAY

    Parashat Behar-Behukotai- Learning & Toiling

    In the opening verses of Parashat Behukotai, the Torah promises great reward "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" – "If you follow My statutes." Rashi, in one of the more famous passages in his Torah commentary, writes that this phrase does not actually refer to Misva observance. After all, the very next words of the verse are "Ve'et Misvotai Tishmeru" – "and you observe My commands." Necessarily, then, the phrase "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" must denote something other than the performance of Misvot. Rashi therefore explains that it means "She'tiheyu Amelim Ba'Torah" – "that you are toiling in Torah." Many have noted that Rashi speaks here not of the study of Torah, but rather of "Amelut" – toil, hard work and exertion, investing a great deal of effort to learn. The importance of "Amelut" can be seen already in the events surrounding Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah at Sinai, which we will soon commemorate on the festival of Shabuot. The Gemara (Shabbat 88a) teaches that "Kafa Alehem Har Ke'gigit" – G-d lifted Mount Sinai and suspended it over Beneh Yisrael, threatening to annihilate them if they did not accept the Torah. They were not given a choice; they were coerced into accepting G-d's will. Many have raised the question of how to reconcile the Gemara's teaching with the Torah's account of Matan Torah, which tells that Beneh Yisrael willingly and excitedly accepted the Torah even before being informed of what it entails, enthusiastically pronouncing, "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – "We will do and we will hear" (Shemot 24:7). If they happily announced their commitment to the Torah, then why did G-d need to threaten them and force the Torah upon them? A number of commentators answered that Beneh Yisrael committed willingly to the Torah She'bi'chtab – the written Torah, but not to the Torah She'be'al Peh – the oral law, which was eventually written into what we know as the Mishna. Coercion was necessary to force them to accept even the Torah She'be'al Peh. Why would Beneh Yisrael agree to the written Torah, but not to the oral halachic tradition? We might draw a comparison to a person who wants to stay fit and keep healthy without having to exercise. Instead of working out in the gym, he just wants a pill that he could take that would keep him thin and in shape no matter what or how much he eats, or how little he moves... Similarly, Beneh Yisrael were excited about accepting the Torah – but they didn't want to have to work for it. They wanted to be given a simple, straightforward, easy-to-read text that explained to them very clearly and succinctly what they needed to do. They wanted the instructions spoon-fed to them, presented to them in a lucid, organized fashion. But this is not how the Torah is meant to be learned. The Gemara (Kiddushin 30b) teaches that Torah study is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination). We overcome our negative tendencies and sinful impulses by immersing ourselves in Torah, by intensively applying ourselves and exerting effort to learn. If the Torah would be spoon-fed, it would not have this effect of empowering us against the Yeser Ha'ra. This requires "Amelut" – hard work and struggle. In fact, even when Rabbi Yehuda Ha'nasi wrote down the Oral Law, seeing that this was necessary to ensure its survival, he intentionally made the text ambiguous and difficult to understand. He maintained the delicate balance between making the material accessible and necessitating effort to comprehend it. "Amelut" is crucial to the process of Torah learning, as it is only through hard work that we achieve the spiritual benefits of Torah study, the strength to defeat the Yeser Ha'ra in its various forms. As we saw, Rashi explains the phrase "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" as a reference to exertion in Torah study. He perhaps read the word "Be'hukotai" ("My statutes") as alluding to the rules of interpreting the Torah text, the thirteen "Middot She'ha'Torah Nidreshet Bahem" – methods by which the Sages extracted Halachot from the written Torah, as listed by Rabbi Yishmael, and as we recite in our prayers each morning. These thirteen rules of interpretation represent the difference between a clear, lucid body of text, and a difficult text that can be understood only with rigorous study and analysis. We are promised reward not for simply learning Torah – but for investing the effort to learn "Be'hukotai," to study the Sages' intricate, complex discussions of the Torah text and their derivation of Halacha from its words. As we prepare for the celebration of Shabuot, let us commit to not only learn Torah – but to toil in Torah, to invest effort, so we can reap all the precious spiritual benefits that it offers us.

  4. 30 APR

    Parashat Emor- Two Guilty Parties

    Parashat Emor concludes with the disturbing story of the "Megadef," the individual who publicly blasphemed G-d. The man was brought before Moshe, and Hashem informed Moshe that blasphemy is a capital crime, and this individual must therefore be put to death. Rashi (24:10) brings different explanations for what drove the "Megadef" to blaspheme G-d. One approach is that he had found himself on the losing side of an unfortunate legal dispute. The background to this dispute dates back to Beneh Yisrael's period of slavery in Egypt, when this man's mother was desired by an Egyptian man, and he schemed to have an illicit relationship with her. The "Megadef" was the product of this forbidden union. As such, he did not legally belong to his mother's tribe, the tribe of Dan. When he tried pitching his tent in Dan's territory, he was taken to court, and he lost the case. Since his father was an Egyptian, he did not have legal rights to territory among the people of Dan. This background to the story perhaps explains a subtle nuance in Hashem's instructions to Moshe. After commanding that the "Megadef" must be given capital punishment, G-d told Moshe that this is the law for all blasphemers. He said: "Ish Ish Ki Yekalel Elokav Ve'nasa Het'o" – "Any person who blasphemes his G-d shall bear his sin" (24:15). Curiously, G-d here repeats the word "Ish" ("person"), perhaps suggesting that He refers to two different people. The explanation might be that Hashem was alluding to the two guilty parties in this tragic story. True, the "Megadef" himself committed a grievous offense for which he needed to be severely punished, but the other party, the person who fought against him, also shared a not-insignificant share of the guilt. Certainly, his insensitivity and decision to pursue legal action in no way justified the blasphemy spoken by the "Megadef," because even when we endure hardship and suffer hostility, we are expected to maintain our composure and our faith in Hashem. Nevertheless, the other party to this dispute cannot be excused for angering the "Megadef" and leading him to this grave sin. Hashem thus told Moshe, "Ish Ish Ki Yekalel Elokav Ve'nasa Het'o" – both parties bear a degree of guilt in the case of blasphemy, because provoking a person and turning a resolvable situation into a fight – even if this does not justify the other party's extreme reaction – is wrong. Not every fight that can be fought should be fought. In fact, in the vast majority of situations, fights should not be fought. Being right does not make fighting the right decision. And so very often, both parties are guilty, because even the party that is technically correct was wrong for pursuing the matter and fighting about it.

  5. 23 APR

    Parashat Ahare Mot- Loving Without Seeing

    In one of the most famous – and most misquoted – verses in the Torah, we are commanded in Parashat Kedoshim (19:18), "Ve'ahabta Le're'acha Kamocha' – "You shall love your fellow as yourself." I say "misquoted" because the command does not conclude with the word "Kamocha" ("as yourself"). The verse continues, "Ani Hashem" – "I am G-d." It stands to reason that the pronouncement "Ani Hashem" constitutes part of the definition of this command, and informs us about the kind of love that we are to feel toward our fellow. The Meshech Hochma (Rav Meir Simcha Ha'kohen of Dvinsk, 1843-1926) offers several explanations of this command, and for why the Torah adds, "Ani Hashem." One approach he suggests is that we are to love our fellow in the same manner that we are commanded to love Hashem. It goes without saying that we cannot see G-d, and we cannot perceive Him directly with any of our senses. Nevertheless, we are to strive to love Hashem, knowing that He is infinitely great, compassionate, kind and merciful. We are to long for a relationship with Him and to understand Him even though we cannot see Him with our eyes. This is true also of the love we are to feel and show to our fellow Jews. This love must not be dependent upon our experiences with them, or upon what we know about them. Just as we believe in Hashem's greatness even though we cannot see Him directly, similarly, we are to firmly believe in the greatness of Am Yisrael, in the precious value of our fellow Jew, even if we cannot see it. The Torah therefore adds, "Ani Hashem" – indicating that we must love our fellow Jews the way we love Hashem. This requires us, first and foremost, to feel love and concern even for Jews whom we've never met, and whom we know nothing about. When we hear that a Jew is in need in a different part of the world, then we must do what we can to help, and pray for that person, even though we know nothing about him or her. But additionally, this means that we are to love our fellow Jews whom we know but are not particularly impressed with, or don't particularly like. Just as we must love Hashem even though He occasionally does things which appear harsh and to our detriment, firmly believing in His goodness, we must similarly believe in the goodness of all our fellow Jews, even if we cannot see it. We are to recognize that although all people are flawed, every person has a precious soul and is worthy of our genuine love and respect. The Misva of "Ve'ahabta Le're'acha Kamocha," then, requires us to believe in the greatness of each of our fellow Jews irrespective of our experiences with them, and to thereby arouse our feelings of love toward them.

  6. 16 APR

    Parashat Tazria-Metzora - The Psychology of Lashon Ha’ra

    Much of Parashiyot Tazria-Mesora is devoted to the topic of Sara'at – the affliction that would befall a person on account of certain misdeeds, primarily, the grievous sin of Lashon Ha'ra, negative speech about other people. King David, in a famous verse in Tehillim (34:14), instructs us, "Nesor Leshoncha Me'ra" – "Guard your tongue from evil," urging us to refrain from Lashon Ha'ra. Curiously, this verse continues, "U'sfatecha Mi'daber Mirma" – "and your lips from speaking deceit." At first glance, this means that we are to refrain from both negative speech about other people, and also from misleading others through dishonesty. We must wonder, however, why the verse combines these two admonitions. Seemingly, these are two completely distinct ills – Lashon Ha'ra, and deceit. Why would David combine them into a single warning, urging us to restrain our mouths from both negative talk about people and from dishonesty? We might perhaps arrive at a new understanding of this verse by exploring the psychological underpinnings of the desire to speak Lashon Ha'ra, why we are so often and so naturally inclined to hear and share negative information about other people, and why we find it so difficult to refrain from such speech. The most common reason people enjoy speaking Lashon Ha'ra, I think, is to feel good about themselves. We are all human, and human beings, by definition, are flawed and imperfect. A person's flaws and imperfections make him uncomfortable, bringing feelings of shame, inadequacy and insecurity. Speaking of other people's failings works like a drug to alleviate this discomfort. Focusing one's attention on another person's inadequacies brings a sense of superiority, thereby allowing him to feel good about himself. This is the lure of Lashon Ha'ra, and why nearly every person feels tempted to speak negatively about others. Since every person has faults which make him uncomfortable, every person feels a natural impulse to alleviate this discomfort the easy way – by looking down on other people, by talking about what they do wrong. However, like with all "drugs," this is the wrong way to handle uncomfortable feelings. When the fleeting rush of excitement fades, the person is still left with his deficiencies, and thus with his feelings of insecurity. Looking down on other people temporarily blinds a person to his own faults, but those faults remain, and will continue to make him feel uneasy and insecure. This might be the meaning of the verse in Tehillim cited earlier. "Guard your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit." The "deceit" mentioned in this verse perhaps refers to the self-deception of Lashon Ha'ra. When one speaks Lashon Ha'ra, he deceives himself, pretending that he is more impressive and accomplished than he really is. Lashon Ha'ra is all about fooling oneself into thinking that he is great by pointing out the failings of other people. What, then, is the proper way to deal with our feelings of insecurity? How, as imperfect people, can we feel good about ourselves and our lives? The answer is found in the very next verse in Tehillim: "Sur Me'ra Va'aseh Tob" – "Turn away from evil, and do goodness." Quite simply, the way to feel good about ourselves is by trying to be better. Rather than deceiving ourselves, we should instead honestly acknowledge our faults, admit to ourselves that we – like all people – are imperfect and are meant to be imperfect, and try to be better. If we want to live in peace with ourselves, we need to stop fooling ourselves and to instead work hard to address our faults and improve. No, this will not bring the same excitement as hearing or sharing "juicy," unflattering gossip about the people around us. But it will have the long-term effect of making us feel good about ourselves, of bringing us peace of mind and real fulfillment, as we know that we are genuinely making an effort to live our best lives and be the best version of ourselves.

  7. 10 APR

    Parashat Shemini- A Lesson in Humility

    The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells the tragic story of Nadab and Abihu – two of Aharon's sons, who perished on the very first day they began serving as Kohanim in the Mishkan. After a special series of sacrifices were offered, with Aharon's sons performing the service for the first time, a fire descended from the heavens onto the altar and consumed the sacrifices, signalling the arrival of the Shechina (divine presence) into the Mishkan. Thereafter, Nadab and Abihu brought an incense offering, whereupon a fire came and consumed them. Rashi (10:2) brings different opinions as to the precise sin committed by Aharon's sons. One view – which appears in the Gemara (Erubin 63a) – is that of Rabbi Eliezer, who explains that "Horu Halacha Bi'fneh Moshe Rabban" – Nadab and Abihu were guilty of determining the Halacha without consulting with their Rabbi, Moshe. They reasoned that although a supernatural fire came down onto the altar from the heavens, there was nevertheless a requirement for the Kohanim to kindle a fire of their own on the altar, and this is the reason why they brought their offering. In truth, this conclusion was correct; there was, in fact, such a requirement. Nevertheless, Nadab and Abihu committed a grave offense by acting independently on their line of reasoning without first receiving guidance from Moshe. In Moshe's presence, they did not have the authority to establish Halachic norms on their own. Therefore, although their reasoning was entirely correct, they were guilty of a grievous sin in that they did not submit to Moshe Rabbenu's authority. The Lebush Ha'ora (Rav Mordechai Yoffe, c. 1530-1612) noted that Rabbi Eliezer's understanding of this episode is rooted in a careful reading of the text. In telling of Nadab and Abihu's offering, the Torah writes that they offered an "Esh Zara Asher Lo Siva Otam" – "a foreign fire which He did not command them." If the problem with the Nadab and Abihu's act was the offering itself, then the Torah should have simply stated that they brought an "Esh Zara" – an offering that was foreign, that was unwarranted and hence forbidden. But the Torah added "Asher Lo Siva Otam" – that Nadab and Abihu did not receive the command to bring this offering, suggesting that this was the essence of their sin. Hashem had taught Moshe the rule that the Kohanim were to produce their own fire on the altar, but this information had not yet been communicated to Aharon's sons. Moshe had been commanded to place fire on the altar – but Nadab and Abihu's hadn't. And thus the Torah emphasizes that this was an offering about which Moshe was commanded, but they weren't – and they were therefore punished for acting independently. This tragedy presents us with a crucial lesson in humility. Namely, even when we are confident that we are correct, we must still consult with those wiser and more knowledgeable than us. We must have the humility to recognize our limits, to realize that even things which seem obvious and intuitive to us might not necessarily be correct. We need to acknowledge that there are people with greater knowledge and wisdom whose advice is valuable and even indispensable. We should never feel too confident to ask, to seek guidance, to double check, to consult, to request advice. Even when we are certain, we must humbly question our conclusion and receive instruction and insight from those who know more than we do.

  8. 31 MAR

    Pesah- The Haggadah & the Process of Teshuba

    Toward the end of the Maggid section, we read the famous teaching of Rabban Gamliel: "Whoever did not say the following three things on Pesach has not fulfilled his obligation: Pesach, Masa, and Marror." Rabban Gamliel then proceeds to explain the meaning and significance of these three Misvot. The Pesach sacrifice was offered in the times of the Bet Ha'mikdash to commemorate the miracle of the plague of the firstborn, when Hashem "skipped" ("Pasach") over Beneh Yisrael's homes on the night of the Exodus, protecting them from the plague. The Masa commemorates the fact that Beneh Yisrael left Egypt hastily, without having had time to prepare and to allow their dough to rise. And the Marror symbolizes the "bitterness" of slavery from which our ancestors were saved. At the Seder, we are obligated to discuss the meaning of these three Misvot. Many commentators noted that this passage is stated out of chronological sequence. The "bitterness" of slavery, quite obviously, preceded the plague of the firstborn and Beneh Yisrael's frantic departure from Egypt. Yet, surprisingly, Rabban Gamliel first discusses the Pesach sacrifice and Masa – which commemorate the events of the Exodus – and only then mentions the Marror, which represents the slavery that our ancestors endured prior to their redemption. Why is the Marror mentioned last? Numerous answers have been given to this question, one of which emerges from a deeper understanding of Rabban Gamliel's teaching. Many years ago, as a young Rabbi, I was approached by a group of young men in the community who asked me to deliver a weekly class, which they would host on a rotational basis. These fellows were not particularly observant, and I was very pleased that they expressed interest in a weekly Shiur (Torah class). But when I showed up for the first class, I was aghast. The table was set up for a card game, with chips, cigarettes and beer bottles. I felt very uncomfortable, and I asked the host what this was all about. He explained that this group meets every week for a card game, so they figured they would begin the evening with a Torah class. After that first class, I consulted with a certain great Rabbi to receive guidance. I did not think it was appropriate for me to give a Shiur to these people under these conditions. I'll never forget what the Rabbi told me. "What they do after the Shiur is none of your business," he said. "Your job is to teach them Torah. And the light of Torah will change them." I accepted the advice, and he proved correct. Gradually, all these young men discontinued their improper behavior. It did not happen immediately, but it happened. On another occasion, I was asked to deliver a weekly Torah class to a group of men on Shabbat. Every week, the man who hosted the Shiur in his home would get up and leave in the middle. I later found out that he left for work. Once again, I consulted with a great Rabbi in the community, asking if it was appropriate for me to continue teaching a Torah class in the home of a Shabbat desecrator who gets up to leave in the middle to go to work. "Are you going to wait for him to stop working on Shabbat before teaching him Torah?" the Rabbi told me. Now this man is fully observant, learns Torah for two hours every day, and gives large amounts of money to Sedaka. Three times every weekday, in the Amida prayer, we ask Hashem to help us repent. We ask, "Hashibenu Abinu Le'Toratecha Ve'korbenu Malkenu La'abodatecha" – "Bring us back, our Father, to Your Torah, and draw us close, our King, to Your service." We ask that we be returned to Torah even before our service is complete. We do not wait until our behavior is perfect, until we have fully performed Teshuba, before learning Torah and trying to draw close to Hashem. To the contrary – we are to take the first steps even in our state of imperfection, as these steps will help us improve. This might be the deeper meaning of Rabban Gamliel's teaching about "Pesach, Masa, U'marror." The word "Pesach" means to skip. Rabban Gamliel is teaching us to "skip" right to the "Masa." In a different context, the Sages commented that the word "Masa" is associated with the word "Misva," for we must observe Misvot with zeal and alacrity just as the dough must be handled quickly and rigorously to avoid becoming Hametz. We are to skip to the stage of "Masa," of Misva observance, even before addressing the "Marror" – the "bitterness" of sin and religious failings. Theoretically, we should first cleanse ourselves of wrongdoing before coming to serve G-d. In practice, however, this does not work. If we refrain from Misvot until we fully repent from our misdeeds, we will likely never feel ready to begin our service of Hashem. Rabban Gamliel therefore urges us to skip the stage of "Marror," to begin performing Misvot even if our behavior is far from perfect – as the light of Misvot will help us improve. We begin the Seder with the words "Kadesh U'rhatz" – referring to Kiddush and hand-washing. The message here is that we should strive for "Kadesh" – for holiness, even before we have "washed" ourselves, before we are fully "cleansed" of wrongdoing. Hashem wants us to begin learning Torah and performing Misvot even if we are currently far from perfect, and to trust that the good habits we develop, and the spiritual power of Torah and Misva observance, will impact our souls and our behavior, and lead us to greater purity.

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