Audio Shiur: The Three Oaths - Why Some People Don't Celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut - and Why They're Wrong

Audio Shiur:
The Three Oaths - Why Some People Don't Celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut - and Why They're Wrong

The three oaths appear in a very famous passage in Masechet Ketubot, and represent one of the basic texts of the anti-Zionist movement. We begin the shiur with a "hook" from Parashat Metzora

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Audio Shiur: Parshat Tazria-Metzora - Tzaraat in the Home: The Danger of Permanence

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Tazria-Metzora - Tzaraat in the Home: The Danger of Permanence

The text of the Torah seems to treat Tzaraat in the home as a "gift", especially when we compare the text to other similar texts in the Torah. Some gift. What lessons can we learn from this unusual spiritual phenomenon?

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Audio Shiur: Parshat Tazria-Metzora: There Will Be Blood

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Tazria-Metzora: There Will Be Blood

While most of the parshah deals with tzaraat in many forms and its ramifications, the double parshah both begins and ends by describing the ramifications of uterine bleeding. What is the difference between niddah and zivah? Why does a woman become impure after childbirth? And what does all this have to do with original sin?

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The Destructive Power of Lashon Hara

I read recently in the name of Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook that the weekly parshah - in Hebrew called parshat hashavua - always relates in some way to the week's events. It's not just the section that we read in the Torah; it's the story of the given week as well. This week Rav Tzvi Yehuda's idea seems especially relevant, given that the subtext of Parshat Metzora is tzara'at - and the lashon hara that causes it.

Judge Richard Goldstone has been in the news of late. Last week, in a now famous mea culpa (Yiddish for "my bad") in the Washington Post, he admitted that while his report indicated evidence of war crimes on Israel's part, now in fact it has become clear that,

"civilians were not intentionally targeted as a matter of policy."

"Oops. Sorry. Can we all go home now?"
No judge, we can't. Because while you now probably think that you've wiped your hands of this whole sordid affair, you can't undo the damage that you've caused and will cause to the State of Israel and Jews around the world.
I'm reminded of a famous parable told about a Jew who told vicious lies about the town's rav. After a time the man felt pangs of remorse for his actions, and begged the rav for forgiveness. "Of course I'll forgive you," the rabbi told him. "But before I do you must do one thing for me."
"Anything," the man promised.
"Go to the center of town with a pillow, and rip open the pillow and spread the feathers into the wind. When you're done, come back to me."
The man, puzzled, did what the rabbi asked and split open a feather pillow in the center of town. When he finished, he returned to the rabbi for his forgiveness.
"One more thing," said the rabbi. "Now go and collect all the feathers."
"That's impossible!," said the man. "I can't possibly collect all the feathers?"
Asked the rabbi, "And what about my reputation? How will you return that to me?"
 
You can't say "oops, sorry" and undo lashon hara. It doesn't work that way. People with an axe to grind against Israel will forever use his original report as fodder against Israel, and claim that his retraction had more to do with pressure from the Zionist cabal than any sense of justice or remorse.
Commenting on Parshat Metzora Rabbeinu Bechaya (on Vayikra 14:2) writes,

 ואמרו במדרש: (תנחומא ב) "מות וחיים ביד לשון" (משלי יח, כא), הכל תלוי בלשון, זכה לחיים, לא זכה למיתה, עסק אדם בתורה בלשונו זכה לחיים, והיא התורה שנקראת עץ חיים, שנאמר: (משלי ג, יח) "עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה"...עסק בלשון הרע מתחייב בנפשו למות, שקשה לשון הרע משפיכות דמים, שכל מי שהורג אינו הורג אלא נפש אחת אבל המספר לשון הרע הורג שלשה: האומרו, והמקבלו, ומי שנאמר עליו.

And [the rabbis] said in the Midrash, (Tanchuma 2) "Life and death are in the hands of the tongue." (Proverbs 18:21) Everything depends on the tongue. If one merits, he [receives] life, if he doesn't merit, he [receives] death. For if one engaged in Torah with his tongue, he merits life, for it is the Torah that is called the tree of life, as it is written, "It is a tree of life to those who grasp onto it."...If one engaged in slander [with his tongue] he obligates himself to [be punished with] death, for slander is worse than murder, for anyone who murders only murders one soul, but one who speaks slander kills three: he who spoke slander, he who accepted the slander, and the subject of the slander.

Is slander really worse than murder? Again quoting the Midrash, Rabbeinu Bechaya explains that at times it really can be worse than murder. The book of Samuel relates the tragic tale of the murder of scores of priests in the priestly city of Nob at the hands of King Saul, (see Samuel I Chapters 21-22). A slanderous report of Do'eg the Edomite set events in motion that lead to the murder of the priests, and ultimately the fall of Saul. Slander certainly can and does lead to murder.

What about Judge Goldstone? Are his words really worse than murder? Has anyone died yet? In an age of global communication, it's impossible to know to what degree the report that bares his name emboldened international terrorists who murder civilians in the name of the Palestinian cause.
Moreover, even after Goldstone's retraction, the Israeli Defense Forces, and especially its soldiers and commanders certainly keep the report in mind, and will be forced to do so during any future action. Every soldier and commander will need to evaluate not only his or her own mission security, but how their actions will be scrutinized, and unfairly so, by international commissions of the UN Human Rights Council. How many more soldiers in the future will find themselves in greater danger because of Goldstone? How many Jewish lives will be lost (and this is not an exaggeration in any way) because of the changes in tactics mandated not so much by his report, but by the fear of another Goldstone Report?
The feathers are long gone. Slander really does kill. And, as a father whose sons will one day serve in the IDF, that gives me real reason to worry.

Audio Shiur: Parshat Metzora - Tzara'at Today, In the World and in Ourselves

Audio Shiur:
Audio Shiur: Parshat Metzora - Tzara'at Today, In the World and in Ourselves

With the revelation that Judge Richard Goldstone (oops) sadly mistakenly slandered the Jewish State, we study an essay of Rav Neventzal who asks not how lashon hara affects the slandered, but the slanderer. From there we move to last week's haftarah, an amazing vort from Rabbi Nachman of Breslav, and conclude with what might be a modern manifestation of tzara'at. 25.3 MB (26,531,641 bytes)

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Stopping Lashon Hara - A Powerful Thought from Rabbi Nachman of Breslev for Metzora (and Tazria)

This week, between Minchah and Ma'ariv at the Carlebach Minyan at Bobby Rosenberg's house, Bobby welcomed Rav Erez Moshe Doron, who has just moved into Yad Binyamin and is apparently extremely well-known across Israel as a big teacher of Rabbi Nachman's teachings. (I had no idea) Rav Erez shared a powerful thought about lashon Hara that I'd like to share with you. (By the way, if you happen to live in Yad Binyamin, Rav Doron will soon be giving a shiur on Shabbat afternoon on the teachings of Rabbi Nachman. For details contact Bobby directly.)

It's well known that tzara'at emanates from the speaking of Lashon hara - slanderous speech. Yet, with all that we know about the prohibition of slander, and the damage that it causes, we never ask the next question: why do we speak lashon hara? Why is slandering a fellow Jew so powerfully enticing? Why do we like speaking evil about others?
Rav Erez suggested that the principle begins with a famous Mishnah in Negaim. (That's the masechet that deals with tzara'at.) The Mishnah teaches,

כל הנגעים אדם רואה, חוץ מנגעי עצמו.

A man may see every ailment, other than his own.

In the context of the Mishnah, we learn from this that a Kohen can declare all incidents of tzara'at as impure, except his own. Yet, commentators have a field day with this Mishnah, and especially the unusual language of רואה, meaning, "he sees," deriving the obvious truism that, "a person sees all blemishes, other than his own." While everyone else can see my faults clear as day, for some reason I can't see them. How true it is!
Yet, Rav Doron answered our lashan hara question by reading the line only slightly differently:

כל הנגעים אדם רואה חוץ, מנגעי עצמו

Every blemish that a person sees external to him - comes from his own blemishes

Read this way, the Mishnah communicates an even more powerful truth: when I see faults in others, I'm really seeing my own faults without even realizing it. Others' failures that match our own, trigger an instinctive desire to criticize ourselves. Yet, because I refuse to at least consciously acknowledge my own faults, I can only criticize the faults I see in my neighbor.
Why can't we - or at least won't we - see our own failings? That's due to a deeper problem. Quoting Rav Nachman of Breslev, Rav Doron said that deep down, we won't look at ourselves because we really believe that we're bad. We're evil. So I don't want to look at myself, because I'm afraid of what I'll truly see.
But, said Rav Nachman, we're wrong. We're not evil. In reality, we're good - very good, and our failings stem from an unwillingness to believe in and look at ourselves. Because if we really thought that we were good, we'd have no problem seeing the "dirt" in our personalities and trying to clean it. After all, I'm generally clean. All I need to do is brush off a little "stain." But because I think that I'm really bad, I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror, so I look at others around me. I see my own failings in them. And I speak loshon hara.
What's the solution? How do I stop speaking slander about others? The first step is seeing the good in myself, and understanding that we really are good people. This, said Rav Doron, is actually a verse in Tehillim that we all know by heart.

מִי-הָאִישׁ, הֶחָפֵץ חַיִּים;  אֹהֵב יָמִים, לִרְאוֹת טוֹב. 

נְצֹר לְשׁוֹנְךָ מֵרָע;  וּשְׂפָתֶיךָ, מִדַּבֵּר מִרְמָה.  

Who is the man that desires life, and loves days, that he may see good therein?
Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile.

Again Rav Doron reread the first verse:

מִי-הָאִישׁ, הֶחָפֵץ חַיִּים, אֹהֵב יָמִים - לִרְאוֹת טוֹב

Who is the man that desires life and loves days - let him see the good!

If we want to keep our tongues from evil and stop saying lashon hara we must first fulfill the previous verse: לראות טוב - to see the good within ourselves. Once we understand just how good we are, we can aspire to imagine how much better we can truly be.

Violence in our Culture: An Old Drashah, Still Relevant

On my commute, I enjoy listening to podcasts. (I love my iPod. It's an amazing invention. One day soon I'll post about my Nike+Ipod. Amazing.)
Among a number of different podcasts I subscribe too, I really enjoy two Slate podcasts: the Political Gabfest, and the Culture Gabfest. I recommend both.
This week's Culturefest contained a segment about a newly released movie, whose title I'm not even comfortable writing in full on this blog, called Kick-***. You've might have heard of it, as it was the top grossing film in the United States last weekend.
What's got people talking about the film apparently, is a supporting character called Hit Girl. In the film, Hit Girl is exactly that: an eleven-year-old, foul-mouthed (apparently really foul), martial-arts assassin. She literally kills dozens of people in the movie.
Now, I like a good Jackie Chan movie as much as anyone. In his (really negative) review of the movie Roger Ebert wrote,

Shall I have feelings, or should I pretend to be cool? Will I seem hopelessly square if I find “Kick-Ass” morally reprehensible and will I appear to have missed the point? Let's say you're a big fan of the original comic book, and you think the movie does it justice. You know what? You inhabit a world I am so very not interested in. A movie camera makes a record of whatever is placed in front of it, and in this case, it shows deadly carnage dished out by an 11-year-old girl, after which an adult man brutally hammers her to within an inch of her life. Blood everywhere. Now tell me all about the context.

Many people really do feel that a line has been crossed. But I often wonder: where do you draw the line? What violence is truly innocuous, and what's harmless. Where's the point beyond which we say: you know what? At some point some child is going to start trying to be like Hit Girl in the real world?
All of this got me thinking about a drashah that I gave at YIOP three years ago. Following the shocking deadly rampage at the University of West Virginia, I gave a drashah about our society's addiction to violence, connecting the theme to the topic of Tzaraat.
Reading it again this week, following the release of Kick_***, the drashah seems as relevant as ever. Maybe more so.
Click here to download the drashah.

Audio Shiur: Parshat Tazria-Metzora: Ear, Thumb, Big Toe and the Jewish Community

Audio Shiur:
Parshat Tazria-Metzora: Ear, Thumb, Big Toe and the Jewish Community

One of the primary challenges in reading about tzara'at is finding relevance in a "disease" we've never seen and cannot relate to. By analyzing both the sacrificial process that purifies the Metzora, and the causes of tzara'at listed in the Midrash, we find that tzara'at speaks not only to our actions and behavior today, but tells us a great deal about how we must behave to build the idea Jewish community

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The Gift of Tzara'at, on Yom Ha'atzmaut

By Rabbi Reuven Spolter, Director of Recruiting and Special Projects
What's the worst gift that you've ever received? When I got married, my wife and I received a plastic platter in the shape of a fish. We found it both strange and rather ugly. So we kept it. Each of us has a gift like that. I'm sure we've all gotten pretty bad gifts. But in each case, at least someone tried to give you something nice – even though it turned out to be a miserable failure. But what if your neighbor "gave" you the flu – on purpose? Would you consider it a "gift"?
Parshat Metzora relates the very unusual appearance of nigei batim, blemishes that appear on the walls of one's home. The Torah describes the procedure requiring the removal of the tzara'at in order to purify the home. Yet, the language describing this particular tzara'at raises an important question. In other cases of tzara'at, the Torah describes the affliction in neutral language: אדם כי יהיה בעור בשרו שאת – "if a person has in his skin a blemish…" The Torah doesn’t make any judgments about the wound. It's there. How should he act? But when describing tzara'at of the home the Torah says,

כי תבאו אל ארץ כנען אשר אני נותן לכם אחזה, ונתתי נגע צרעת בבית ארץ אחזתכם

When you come into the land of Canaan, which I give to you for a possession, and I put the plague of leprosy in a house of the land of your possession.

The word ונתתי doesn't really mean "and I put." It means "and I give," which leads us to wonder, what type of gift is tzara'at on one's home? I can think of many things I'd rather have instead of having to knock down parts of my home. Why then does the Torah use the verb לתת – "to give" when describing tzara'at of the home?
Rashi gives the famous answer that the Emorites hid money in the walls of their homes before the Jews conquered the land. So, when Jews moved into their homes, the homes broke out with hives, so that when the people knocked down the walls they found the money.
But the Yalkut Meam Loez (Vayikra page 153) answers the question in a way that can give us new appreciation for the trials and tribulations that we have experienced this past year in the Land of Israel.
When they originally built their homes, the Emorites dedicated their construction to their idol of choice, thus infusing these homes and buildings with a רוח טומאה – a spirit of impurity which would defile anything that dwelled in those homes. Because Hashem wished to give us the Land and that His presence should dwell in it, He did not wish for his Shechinah to dwell in a place of Tum'ah. For this reason, he sent blemishes in the walls of the homes containing the defilement, so that the people could remove them and purify their new homes, themselves, and their new Land.
Meam Loez asks us to see trials and tribulations from a new perspective. Although difficult to appreciate, sometimes destruction is actually constructive. If we succeed in removing the spirit of Tum'ah, and replace it with a sprit of purity, then the tzara'at was indeed a gift, even if it didn't seem so at first.
This week we'll celebrate the 61st anniversary of the great gift from Hashem that is the State of Israel. Like tzara'at habayit, sometimes we might feel tempted to look at the difficulties and struggles that Israel must deal with and think, "Some gift. Who needs all these troubles?" Why did we have to add more names to the list of the fallen during the past year? Why must we keep fighting wars to defend our right to live in our God-given Land?
But when we place these struggles in context and see the tremendous growth, bounty and blessing that is the State to not only the Jewish people, but to the world, we realize that we have a lot to be grateful for.
And one day we will also realizes that even the blemishes – which we commemorate on Yom Hazikaron before we celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut – were a necessary part of the process that brings about the needed purification of Eretz Yisrael.

Personal Parshah for Tazria Metzora - Understanding Tzara'at

Understanding Tzara'at
Tzara'at is difficult for us to understand and appreciate. We'll look at the deeper message of tzara'at, and a critical lesson it has to teach us especially today.

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Table Talk for Parshat Metzora 5768

Words -- especially in Hebrew, have the power to convey deep and thoughtful ideas. We find this principle evident in this week's parshah.
When describing the affliction known as tzara'as, the Torah uses the word נגע -- (pronounced nega) meaning affliction. When someone "comes down with" tzara'as the Torah describes it as a נגע צרעת -- "a touch of tzara'as". (Isn't it interesting that in American vernacular illness is coincidental, whereas from the Torah's perspective, it's the touch of God.)
I saw in a book called Orot Zion written by Rabbi Yadger that the word נגע shares the same letters as the word ענג, (pronounced oneg) meaning "pleasure". In fact, Judaism often describes the day of Shabbos as ענג -- a type of spiritual pleasure and nirvana that one gets from basking in the glory of God.
One who guards and keeps the Shabbos takes the inert nature of the world and transforms that material into immeasurable spiritual pleasure. Conversely, the leper -- by speaking slanderously about his fellow man -- takes that very same potential pleasure in the world and tragically transformed into sickness and darkness. The world - and the way we interact with it -- returns back to us whatever we give it. It can return to us either ענג or נגע -- pleasure or affliction.
It all depends on how we use it.

Table Talk -- Tazria Metzora 5767

תזריע מצורע תשס"ז

When the Cohen declares the metzora­ – a person afflicted with tzara’as – to be healed, before the metzora can return to the Jewish camp and mainstream society he must undergo a process of atonement. The Torah teaches us that during this ritual he must use two birds, a branch of cedar wood, a branch from a hyssop bush and a red string. Why must he take these particular elements?

The Midrash explains that because tzara’as afflicts an individual due to spiritual failings, each element in the atonement process carries an important message to him. Our rabbis identity lashon hara – slander and evil talk – as a primary cause of tzara’as. Thus, he must bring birds, animals known for their propensity to chirp and chatter, to remind him of what initiated his ailment. Furthermore, the cedar – a tall and strong tree – remind him of the haughtiness and self-importance that allowed him to speak ill of another and put himself in his precarious predicament. Finally, the hyssop bush, a low-growing shrub, reminds the sinner that only because he lowered himself did God heal him from his ailment.

What’s the red string for? That’s a good question to discuss around the table, but I’ll give you a hint: think Yom Kippur.