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Rabbi's weekly Blog

The rabbi who refused to speak for free

There once was a holy rabbi who would not agree to deliver a sermon unless he received payment.
His fee was not high, and he certainly was not a materialistic person. We are speaking about a holy Jew named Rabbi Mendel Barer, one of the disciples of Rabbi Yisrael Baal Shem Tov, whom the Baal Shem Tov himself called “the holy rabbi, a wonder of the generation, a man of G-d.” And yet, he would not preach without receiving payment in advance.

It sounds surprising when speaking about a person of such stature, but he had a fascinating explanation. He said: Who am I to rebuke another Jew? By what right should I do this? In the times of the Temple there were prophets whom G-d Himself commanded to bring His word to the people—even to say difficult things when necessary. But today, when we do not have such instruction, I am willing to speak and express my opinion about the behavior of others only if I must.

So when I am given a few coins for a sermon, I become obligated to speak. Why? Because according to the Torah I am obligated to provide for my household. My profession is that of a preacher. In other words, the tool with which I support my family is delivering sermons, and when I am paid I am not allowed to refuse. Moreover, I actually have an obligation to speak—I am fulfilling a mitzvah.

The Rebbe shared this story on the 21st of Av, 5744 (1984), together with a heartfelt plea—not to rebuke or speak harshly about another Jew unless one has been instructed by G-d to do so.

The Rebbe was essentially saying: Do not choose for yourself the doubtful honor of being the one who rebukes and reprimands, the one who points out and emphasizes another person’s shortcomings. Speak good, not bad.

For the past few months, I have removed from my phone the apps known as “social networks.” When I removed them, it was mainly to free up time that was being wasted—but as the days and weeks passed, I discovered that beyond the extra time, a great deal of clean space opened up in my mind and heart as well. It’s simple logic: when you read less negativity, sarcasm, criticism, and even hatred from every direction, you carry less and less of that poison with you.

I recommend that everyone try taking a break—their soul will thank them. 🌿

In any case, on this Shabbat of Parshat Acharei Mot–Kedoshim, when we read the verse “Love your fellow as yourself,”I would like to take this upon myself and suggest to all my dear readers that before we speak about another person, before we write to someone, before we press “send,” we pause for just one moment to make sure it aligns well with “Love your fellow as yourself.”

Shabbat Shalom

A wonderful tool for coping with life

The following text is not meant for perfect people who go through life at ease; rather, it is intended for people who are somewhat traumatized, wounded, sporting here and there a scar or some emotional pain.

How do you react when something that you wanted very much didn’t happen?

I’m talking about the small stuff.

Let’s say you planned to go on vacation, and the hotel you chose was not what it looked like in the brochure. How do you react?

You know what? Not how you react, but what and how do you feel?

And if the rented car is no good and not what you wanted, to what extent do the feelings of disappointment, failure, or having been taken advantage of, prevent you from enjoying the sense of rest that this vacation was supposed to provide you with?

Let’s say, even, that due to a mistake on your part – or not – you ended up paying much more than you had planned to. To what extent does it stop you from moving on?

And if it doesn’t really stop you practically speaking, because you do pull yourself together, how much energy is devoted to overcoming these feelings of disappointment and failure?

Personally, this is the type of thing that I cope with frequently, and it’s not easy. In recent years I have found a “tool” that helps me cope with it excellently, and not only a one-time, temporary basis, but rather as a slow and profound fixing of that part of me that gets angry or disappointed when things get stuck.

This tool is called “Tazria-Metzora”.

I once learned a talk of the Rebbe for parashat Tazria-Metzora (section 22), in which the Rebbe asks why most of the details regarding the laws of the metzora appear in parashat Tazria? And remember – right after it there is a parasha named Metzora. Why this disorder?

The talk is long, deep and fascinating, and touches on several levels in the life of a person and the nation as a whole, but I received personal illumination when I learned the Rebbe’s explanation that Tazria expresses the beginning of new life – be it plant, animal or human. All life begins with planting. The moment of planting is not yet a new life, but it is the beginning of one.

A metzora is someone who is afflicted with tzara’at (ordinarily translated as leprosy), the goal of which is really to signal to him to change his ways. Usually it’s a matter of lashon hara (harmful speech) that needs attention.

The laws of the metzora appear in parashat Tazriato tell you: Don’t see the tzara’at as an independent affliction, disconnected from the past and the future; this tzara’at can turn very quickly into the planting of a new life. If you just stop and think what this tzara’at is coming to teach you, you will see the glimmer of a new life.

At the moment that I experience disappointment and failure or any other similar feeling, I attempt to stop the flow of feelings building up inside me (and it’s not at all easy at that moment) and say to myself: “Tazria Metzora” – what is this event coming to teach me? What lesson is there in it for me? It must be that I need some further cleansing, because this story is more one of Tazria than of Metzora.

And there is another thing that the Rebbe brings there from Likutei Torah ofBa’al Hatanya – no less profound. It says in the Torah “Adam - a person – who has in the skin of his flesh” – remember that when you have tzara’at you are still an adam – a person, which is your highest definition. And the tzara’at is only “in the skin of the flesh” – not inside. Inside, you are clean, pure and healthy. Your blemish is external, in the skin. True, sometimes it seems that it’s internal, but that is not the truth. Really, you are clean, pure, good and worthy.

Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh Tov,

 

Rabbi Zalmen Wishedski

It was a dramatic event

It was a dramatic event – one of the most dramatic and suspenseful ones that we have ever experienced as a nation. Millions of people standing in the desert, waiting for a special moment, a sign from Heaven that will show recognition and tell them: “It’s O.K., I’ve forgiven you. We are together once again.” But nothing was happening…

It all started with the Sin of the Golden Calf, forty days after the giving of the Torah, when the people made a golden calf to worship. Many months had gone by since then, during which Moshe Rabbeinu (our teacher) succeeded, with much determination and loving devotion to his flock, to obtain the sought-for forgiveness from Hashem. That happened on Yom Kippur, and on the very next day the order was given: “They will make Me a Mikdash (temple) and I will dwell amongst them.” A communal sigh of relief followed, together with inner joy: Not only does Hashem forgive, but he is interested in renewing His relationship with us.

The people grabbed the opportunity with both hands, donating everything they had quickly and enthusiastically, in order to build the Mishkan (Tabernacle) for Hashem as fast as possible, to make the promise “And I will dwell amongst them” come true, thus sealing the embarrassing saga of the calf…

Everything was ready. For seven days, from the 23rd of Adar until Rosh Chodesh Nissan, they build the Mishkan and dismantled it every day, brought offerings – all so that the fire would come down and accept those offerings, accept their service, dedicate the Mishkan they had built with their own hands and make it into a House of G-d. But it didn’t happen! For seven successive days they did everything – and there was no response from Heaven. It is impossible to describe the feeling – the magnitude of the pain and the disappointment. An entire nation was waiting, really and truly, for the Divine Presence to show itself, that the nation’s deeds should be accepted, and so far – nothing…

And then the eighth day arrived. “On the eighth day, Moshe called to Aharon and his sons and the elders of Israel. And he said to Aharon: take a calf… and sacrifice it before Hashem.” Specifically a calf – “to announce that Hashem atones, by way of this calf, for the incident with the calf.” Aharon felt uncomfortable, and somewhat embarrassed. “This is beyond me,” he said. But Moshe did not give in and said, “Why are you embarrassed? This is what you were chosen to do!” “Come near to the altar… and provide atonement for yourself and for the people.” Aharon approached the altar, and did everything he had been told to do, exactly according to the instructions. But – nothing! Nada! No Divine Presence, no fire from Heaven. He left the Mishkan, looked at the millions – men, women and children – their eyes on him, expressing hope and longing. It is as if they were asking him, “Nu? Did you succeed?” And Aharon was upset and said to himself: “I know that Hashem is angry at me, and it is due to me that the Divine Presence has not come down!”

Aharon then turned to Moshe: “Moshe, my brother, this is what you did to me, that I entered and was embarrassed?!” Immediately, Moshe entered with him and they prayed for mercy for the people, and then they came out and blessed the people with the best blessing in the world: “May it be that the Divine Presence will rest upon your endeavors.”

And then it happened: “A fire went forth from before Hashem and consumed upon the Altar.” Fire came down and accepted the offering, thus accepting back the people completely, and also accepting and dedicating the Mishkan to be a House of G-d.

“The people saw and sang glad song and fell upon their faces.” It is impossible to describe the powerful outburst of joy and song, which translated immediately into awe combined with deep-felt gratitude: “They fell upon their faces.” I get goose-pimples every year on Parashat Shemini, when I imagine the scene.

There is a message here that I take with me – for my life: to pray and to ask! Even if I’ve done everything right, and everything should work, I stop a moment by the side of the road, and as Moshe and Aharon did on the eighth day, I say a chapter of Tehillim and carry a prayer in my heart: “May the Divine Presence rest upon my endeavors.”

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Zalman Wishedski

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