Lag BaOmer - What exactly are we celebrating?

The Talmud (Yevamos 62b) tells us that Rabbi Akiva had 12,000 pairs of disciples, all of whom passed away during the period from Pesach to Atzeres (i.e.Shavuos):

ר"ע אומר: למד תורה בילדותו, ילמוד תורה בזקנותו. היו לו תלמידים בילדותו, יהיו לו תלמידים בזקנותו. שנא', "בבקר זרע את זרעך וגו'."

אמרו: שנים עשר אלף זוגים תלמידים היו לו לרבי עקיבא, מגבת עד אנטיפרס, וכולן מתו בפרק אחד מפני שלא נהגו כבוד זה לזה, והיה העולם שמם, עד שבא ר"ע אצל רבותינו שבדרום, ושנאה להם ר"מ ור' יהודה ור' יוסי ורבי שמעון ורבי אלעזר בן שמוע, והם הם העמידו תורה אותה שעה.

תנא: כולם מתו מפסח ועד עצרת. אמר רב חמא בר אבא, ואיתימא ר' חייא בר אבין: כולם מתו מיתה רעה. מאי היא? א"ר נחמן: אסכרה.

Rabbi Akiva said: If a man studied Torah in his youth, he should also study it in his old age. If he had disciples in his youth, he should also have disciples in his old age. As it says (Ecclesiastes 11:6), "In the morning plant your seed [and and in the evening do not rest your hand; for you do not know which shall prosper, whether this or that, or whether they shall both be alike good.]"

It was said: Rabbi Akiva had twelve thousand pairs of disciples, from Gabbath to Antipatris, and they all died at the same time because they did not show proper respect towards each other, and the world was desolate until R. Akiba came to our Rabbis in the south and taught the Torah to them: Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yose, Rabbi Shimon, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua; and it was they who upheld the Torah at that time.

It was taught: All of them died from Pesach and until Atzeres. Rav Chama bar Abba, or, it might be said, Rav Chiya bar Abin said: All of them died a bad death. What was it? — Rav Nachman said: Askera (a choking disease).

It is in memory of this loss that we engage in a period of mourning during this time. According to tradition, the deaths actually ended on Lag BaOmer (the 33rd day of the Omer), fifteen days before Shavuos, and for this reason the mourning ends at this time. (ספר המנהיג, הל' פסח סי' ק"ו; מאירי יבמות ס"ב)

However, while this would explain why the mourning ends on Lag BaOmer (the 33rd day of the Omer), it does not explain how the 33rd day of the Omer has come to be a minor holiday on which, as the Rema states (O"C 493:2), “מרבים בו קצת שמחה” – “we engage in a small amount of rejoicing.” Why are we rejoicing? That the students of Rabbi Akiva stopped dying? The students of Rabbi Akiva did not experience a miraculous salvation on this day. The students of Rabbi Akiva stopped dying because there weren't any left! They were all dead. How does this become a celebration?

Perhaps the most basic explanation for what we are celebrating on Lag BaOmer is found in the Pri Chadash, a major commentary written on the Shulchan Aruch by Rabbi Chizkia di Silva (d.1698), who begins by asking the very same question we have just raised:

......יש לדקדק בשמחה זו למה. ואי משום שפסקו מלמות, מה בכך? הרי לא נשאר אחד מהם, וכולם מתו! ומה סיבה של שמחה זו? ואפשר שהשמחה היא על אותם תלמידים שהוסיף אח"כ ר"ע, שלא מתו כאלו.

We need to clarify the purpose of this rejoicing [on Lag BaOmer]. If it is because they stopped dying, what [reason for rejoicing] is there in that? Not one of them remained, they had all died! So what is the reason for this rejoicing? Possibly, the answer is that the rejoicing is over those disciples that Rabbi Akiva added on afterwards, who did not die as these did.

The Pri Chadash tells us that the reason for our celebration is because Rabbi Akiva went on to teach new students, who did not fall prey to the errors of their predecessors, thereby rebuilding the Torah world.

Based upon this Pri Chadash, we can see that there are, fundamentally, three basic themes that underlie the celebration of Lag BaOmer:

1. We celebrate the greatness of Rabbi Akiva that, even after suffering such an incredible blow, he never gave up hope. This is the main lesson taught in the Talmudic passage quoted above. Even after he lost all of his students, Rabbi Akiva did not give up but went on to teach new students.
   Rav Gedalia Schorr expands upon this theme ('אור גדליהו – מועדים, ל"ג בעומר ו):

   בל"ג בעומר הוא זמן להתחזק בתורה, שאף אם לא למד והיה לו זמנים של נפילה, בל"ג בעומר הוא זמן לחזק את עצמו. ויש לו ליקח לימוד מרע"ק, שמתו לו כ"ד אלף תלמידים, ואח"כ העמיד חמשה תלמידים, וביניהם רשב"י, שעל ידיהם היה התפשטות התורה בישראל, ולא נתייאש מזה שמתו לו כ"ד אלף תלמידים. כן כל אדם, אף שעברו לו הסתירות שונים ונפילות, יחזק עצמו בלימוד התורה.

   
   

   Lag BaOmer is a time for us to strengthen ourselves in Torah study. Even if one has not learned, and has had periods of downfall, Lag BaOmer is a time to strengthen oneself. One should learn from the example of Rabbi Akiva, whose twenty-four thousand disciples died, and afterwards he raised up five students (one of whom was Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai) through whom the Torah was spread through Israel. The death of his 24,000 students did not cause him to give up. Similarly for every person, even if one endures various obstacles and downfalls, one should strengthen himself in Torah study.

2. We celebrate that the later students of Rabbi Akiva recognized the lesson in what had happened to their predecessors and took that lesson to heart. It is certain that, however we are to understand the sin of Rabbi Akiva’s 24,000 students – that “they did not show proper respect towards each other” – their sin was not an obvious one. The students of Rabbi Akiva were great men, and their death left the world “desolate” of Torah. Nevertheless, the later students of Rabbi Akiva recognized that such a major catastrophe could only come about through some significant underlying moral error, and through this recognition they were able to avoid repeating that error.
   
   
3. Finally, our mourning for the students of Rabbi Akiva, and our celebration of Rabbi Akiva’s new students, points to our recognition of the absolute centrality of a living mesorah – Torah tradition – in Judaism. While the Jewish people are often called the “People of the Book” (a phrase coined by Mohammed), the title is misleading in that the word “book” refers to a physical object. We are not the people of the “Book of the Torah”, we are the people of the Torah, in both its written and oral form. Even today, when much of the “Oral” Torah has been written down in works such as the Talmud, the core of the Torah is still oral and is transmitted from teachers to students. The existence of a living mesorah – of actual flesh and blood rabbis and disciples – is essential for the survival of the Torah and the Jewish people.

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Lashon Hara – The Prohibitions of Harmful Speech

The Torah instructs us, “Do not go around as a gossiper among your people…” (Leviticus 19:6). This is the prohibition against rechilus—gossiping, which is the most basic prohibition against harmful speech. This prohibition applies to any statement made about a fellow Jew that could bring him harm, whether the harm is social, emotional, financial, or physical. This is true even if the statement is completely true and, in fact, not even disparaging of the person.

An Example of Rechilus Let’s say you know three people, Reuvain, Shimon, and Levi. Unfortunately, Reuvain and Shimon don’t get along with each other. Recently, Shimon had some financial difficulties and Levi, who is friendly with both sides, helped Shimon out of his difficulty. Now, in truth, Levi’s deed is praiseworthy but you know that, due to his dispute with Shimon, Reuvain will bear a grudge against Levi for helping his enemy. In such a case it would be forbidden to tell Reuvain that Levi helped Shimon even though the statement would be completely true and does not denigrate Levi.

The primary application of the prohibition against rechilus is involved in telling one person something that generate ill will towards another person, however, the principle of rechilus also discourages ordinary “gossip” in which we speak about the affairs of others for no beneficial purpose. Such speech, while possibly not intended to be harmful, will inevitably result in violation of the prohibitions of harmful speech.

As stated, the prohibition against rechilus applies even when the statement does not disparage the other person. If one makes statements which disparage another person then the violation is more severe. Such speech is called lashon hara—evil speech. If the statement is false then the sin is even more severe. False statements about another Jew are called motzi shem ra—sending out a bad name—and are the worst form of harmful speech.

In addition to the prohibition against speaking rechilus and lashon hara, there is also a prohibition against listening to and believing such forms of forbidden speech. The Torah teaches us, “Do not accept a purposeless report…”^[1] (Exodus 23:1). The main point of this commandment is that a judge may not accept testimony from a witness outside of the proper procedures of the court. For example, he may not listen to one side of the story unless the other side is present, he may not listen to witnesses who are not qualified to testify, and he may not accept the testimony of a single witness when two witnesses are required. Our Sages teach us that this prohibition also applies to ordinary people in their daily life. We are not permitted to listen to, and certainly not to believe, negative reports about our fellow Jews for no productive purpose.

These are the basic mitzvos that prohibit saying, listening to, or believing harmful statements about our fellow Jews. There are actually a number of additional commandments that deal with these specific prohibitions. In addition, many other mitzvos can play a role in these prohibitions, such as the laws against taking revenge and bearing a grudge, hating your fellow Jew, hurting the feelings of another Jew, causing others to sin, and the commandments to love our fellow Jews and judging them favorably.

Exceptions

Despite the severity of the prohibition against harmful speech, there are situations in which one is supposed to make such statements in order to prevent harm to others. For example, if you are aware that someone is planning to hire a person whom you know to be dishonest, or that a someone is considering marrying a person whom you know to be dangerous, then you have a responsibility to warn the innocent party. There are, however, a number of important conditions to be met before you may do this:

1. You must be absolutely certain that your statement is completely true.
2. Sometimes, what at first glance might appear to be an unethical and illegal act may actually be justifiable if one knows the full situation. Before you tell others that someone has engaged in illegal or unethical activity, you must be certain that your assessment is correct.
3. You must confront the person who committed the misdeed and gently admonish him. This gives the person the opportunity to either explain his act, and, if he was in fact guilty of a misdeed, he has the opportunity to repent his deed and undo it (if possible). Only after you done this and the person has not accepted the admonishment may you then inform others. If for some reason it is impossible for you to confront the person, or if you know that he will not accept admonishment, then this step may be skipped.
4. You must have positive intent. You are not permitted to make these statements due to your dislike for the other person, even when that dislike is justified.
5. There must be no other way to solve the problem. Making a harmful statement about another person must only be done as a last resort.
6. That no harm will come to the person you are speaking about beyond what is justifiable. Even if the person was guilty of a crime, he may not deserve the repercussions that might result from your statement. If, for example, the person was guilty of theft, but the people he harmed may retaliate with violence instead of using legal methods, then you may not tell them.
7. You must not exaggerate the information.

As you can see, the conditions under which a harmful statement may be made are quite limited. For this reason it is generally advisable to consult with a knowledgeable rabbi before making such a statement.

As we mentioned earlier, in addition to the prohibition against saying lashon hara, we are also prohibited from listening to or believing it. However, in a case where someone warns you of a potential risk to you from another person, you are permitted to take reasonable precautions to protect yourself. However, you are still not permitted to accept the statement as being true.

The Severity of Lashon Hara

Our Sages teach us that the sin of lashon hara is very great. The Talmud states, “Lashon hara is equal to the sins of idolatry, sexual immorality, and murder” (Arachin 15b). This is obviously a very strong statement, especially considering a Jew is required to give up his life rather than commit one of these sins.

The Sages also teach us that one who speaks lashon hara is considered as if he denied the basic principles of Judaism (Arachin 15b). At first glance this would appear surprising, why should this particular sin be considered so important? There are a number of explanations for this statement. The basic idea is that people who speak lashon hara will frequently act as if they don’t realize that they are speaking maliciously, and they will try to avoid speaking in the presence of the person that are disparaging. This behavior demonstrates that they are afraid of the opinion of other human beings and of the anger of their victim, but that they do not fear the judgment of God.

Our Sages teach us “Four groups do not merit to see the face of the Divine Presence: the group of liars, the group of flatterers, the group of mockers, and the group of those who speak lashon hara” (Sotah 42a). This statement shows us the importance of being careful of our speech, not only regarding lashon hara, but of all forms of improper speech.

As severe as the sin of lashon hara is, the reward for avoiding lashon hara is even greater. The Vilna Gaon, Rabbi Eliyahu of Vilna, writes in the name of a midrash:

Every single moment that a person seals his mouth [from improper speech] he merits to a stored “light” beyond the comprehension of any angel or creature.

Who is the man who desires life, and loves many days, that he may see good? Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking guile. Psalms 34:13-14

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[1] Can also be translated as “Do not accept a false report” or “Do not accept a destructive report”. All point to the same basic idea, we may not accept purposeless negative reports about our fellow Jews as these are inherently destructive and must be assumed false. (See HaKesav VeHaKabala and HaEmek Davar.)

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The Jewish Conception of "Satan" - A Quick Note

The basic traditional Jewish understanding of the purpose of human existence in this world is for us (as individuals and as a group) to bring ourselves closer to perfection/God through our own efforts. This means, of course, that we must begin at some "distance" from perfection/God, and that there must be some degree of resistance towards movement in that direction.

Being that perfection/God is inherently the most desirable goal in existence, then if we were fully capable of perceiving this goal there would be no true "choice" in pursuing it. It is therefore necessary for it/Him to be "hidden" to some degree from our perception, so that we must make a choice between the goal of perfection/God and the satisfaction of other drives. This "hiddenness" must be carefully balanced so that there remains enough knowledge of perfection/God that we can (and, in fact, are morally obligated to) rationally recognize that it is the proper goal of our existence, but not so obvious that that its inherent desirability completely overwhelms our desire to satisfy our other drives.

These other drives, which include all the natural desires of human existence, ranging from basic animal urges (e.g. food, sexual pleasure) to "higher" human drives (e.g. intellectual curiosity, aesthetic pleasure, creativity, even the desire for spirituallity), are the essence of what we refer to when we speak of the yetzer hara (Evil Inclination) or the Satan.

Nevertheless, while these other drives do serve to provide alternate desires/goals that can distract us from our primary purpose (moving towards perfection/God), this does not mean that this is the only reason, or even the primary reason, for their existence. Every natural urge and desire has an important primary function in of itself, independent of its secondary function as a spiritual impediment/distraction. The Jewish ideal is not to eliminate these drives, but to control and channel them in spiritually productive ways. No human drive is inherently evil; the evil is only in seeing the satisfaction of these drives as an end in itself instead of a means towards the true goal of moving closer to perfection/God.

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The Moral Consequences of Atheism

As a general rule, modern "atheists" are more accurately termed "materialists", in that they deny not just the existence of "god" but of anything outside of or independent of physical reality. (There are atheists who do not believe this and there are also religions, such as Buddhism, that, while "atheistic" in the sense of denying the existence of an all-powerful Creator, certainly recognize the existence of non-physical realms, entities, and phenomena. Some ancient pagan religions may have also fallen into this category. The manner in which the issues raised in the following discussion would apply to these intermediate cases is unclear, and would probably have to be resolved on a case-by-case basis.)

One of the inevitable logical conclusions of such a denial is that it means that there can be no purpose for the existence of the universe. A materialist universe does not exist for any purpose, it just exists. And the same is true for everything that exists within that universe. In the materialist universe, life, like everything else, is the result of various physical phenomena operating without purpose. A human being is simply a temporary arrangement of matter and energy, of no more inherent significance than any other arrangement.

This is a conclusion that is often unrecognized, or even denied, by many atheists, for the simple reason that human beings are "designed" (whether by God or Natural Selection) to see purpose and meaning in the world around them and to feel a need for purpose and meaning in their own lives. The fact that many atheists do not recognize that the denial of "god" inevitably means a denial of any kind of inherent meaning and purpose in existence is the result of human psychology, not logical reasoning.

Of course, many serious atheists do recognize this fact. They argue that the fact that humans are predisposed towards perceiving and desiring purpose and meaning does not prove that such purpose and meaning actually exist in any objective sense. For these more rigorous atheist thinkers, the honest atheist must simply accept that his existence, like the existence of the universe as a whole, has no objective meaning or purpose, and that the only way one can satisfy the human desire for meaning and purpose is to create one’s own subjective meaning and purpose.

One of the problems that these thinkers run into, however, is that the concepts of purpose and meaning are inextricably tied up with the concepts of morality and ethics. Every moral and ethical system is based upon a system of values, and "value", as a concept, is basically synonymous with purpose. (Thus, certain things are said to have "intrinsic value", i.e. they are valuable "for their own sake" - meaning they are purposes in themselves, whereas other things have only "extrinsic value", i.e. they are valuable only as means towards other purposes.) If we eliminate the possibility of objective purpose from the universe, we are also eliminating objective value. Nothing can have value without purpose and if the only purpose we can give something is subjective, then the only value it can have is subjective as well. This is true for all values, including the value of human life itself. If the only purpose for my own existence is that which I choose to give it, then the only value my life has is that which I choose to give it. This also means that the only value/purpose that the life of another person has is that which I choose to give it. (The fact that the other person chooses to give a different value to his own life is irrelevant. In order for that other person's judgment to matter to anyone other than himself, there would need to be some objective moral authority that obligates me to respect that person's opinion. Of course, I could choose to respect that other person's values, but that would be purely my choice, and would have no more moral significance than my choice of salad dressing.)

No matter how elegantly crafted it may be, no ethical system can have more inherent meaning than that of human beings themselves. If there is no inherent value to human life, then even the most sophisticated ethical system has no more authority than the rules for a board game. Even worse, for board games exist within a broader ethical system that discourages cheating, whereas an ethical system that denies the existence of objective purpose/value exists only in the mind of the human being who imagined it. Breaking the rules of one's own self-created moral system would be akin to cheating at solitaire or using "God mode" in a video game, in that the only downside is that I lose the personal sense of satisfaction that I would get from following the rules that I made up to satisfy values that I made up because they happened to please me at the time.

What we are discussing here are the philosophical consequences of atheism/materialism, not its validity. The fact that, by definition, atheism denies the possibility of any kind of objective meaning and purpose in life does not mean, in of itself, that atheism is wrong.

Moreover, while this may be the unavoidable philosophical consequence of atheism, it doesn't mean that atheists are automatically self-serving nihilists. As any sincerely religious person can testify, the fact that one intellectually recognizes a "truth" does not mean that one will automatically fall into line with all of the necessary implications of that truth. The mere recognition of a "truth" does not free us from the bonds of human psychology. Human beings are "hardwired" for good traits (e.g. love, compassion, loyalty), as much as they are for bad traits (e.g. self-centeredness, greed, pleasure seeking). Religious people are constantly struggling with the conflict between what they believe and what they desire. While the situation is different for an atheist (in that atheism does not obligate one to do or not do anything), it is not at all surprising that the vast majority of atheists generally conform to the moral norms of the society in which they live.

The bigger question is what the long term effect of such a worldview can have on the society as a whole. (I believe that, in of itself, the long term influence of atheism on society is certainly negative. Nevertheless, the world is a complicated place, and in relation to other societal factors, atheism may actually serve a positive role in some ways. Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook argued along these lines, saying that, among other things, atheism served as a corrective for overemphasis on the negative aspects of religion (e.g. fear of punishment).)

At this point, many atheists will counter by arguing that, even if what we’ve said is true, theism doesn’t really solve the problem either. While it is true that, in a theistic universe, the universe exists for a reason, nevertheless, that reason is the Creator's, not ours. Is there any fundamental reason why we should accept His purpose in creating us as our own purpose for living? 

For most religious people, the first response to this question would be that the fact that we owe our very existence (and the existence of everything we value) to God creates an obligation of gratitude towards Him that requires us to conform to His will and obey His commands. However, gratitude alone doesn't fully answer the question. There are limits to the obligation of gratitude. Gratitude cannot obligate us to do that which would render the benefit we have received from the benefactor meaningless. Our gratitude to our Creator for our existence can only extend to that which would not fundamentally undermine the value that we attach to that existence. To the degree that obedience to God's will would diminish the value we attach to our existence, our debt of gratitude to God would be diminished as well. If proper obedience to God is perceived, as it often is (even, tragically, by some religious people), as a slavish, mindless abandonment of all human dignity, then it is difficult, if not impossible, to argue that any degree of gratitude could impose such an obligation.

The key to this question is in our understanding of the nature of God. If we perceive God as a being with needs, wants, and desires (even if those needs are far beyond human comprehension), then we have to entertain the possibility that God created us for some self-serving purpose and that the laws He has imposed upon us are intended to direct us towards serving that purpose. If this were true, then the concerns discussed above about the limits of gratitude would come into play and the case could certainly be made that the demands made by most religions significantly exceed the moral obligation imposed by gratitude.

The traditional perception of God in Judaism, however, is completely different. Seeing God as the source of all existence, God is perceived as being entirely independent of creation, needing nothing whatsoever. From this it follows that the purpose of Creation cannot be self-serving, as God has no needs to serve. The purpose of Creation can only be understood as being purely for the benefit of the created beings. The same would also apply to the laws revealed by God. These laws do not direct us to serve God (in the sense of serving to satisfy some kind of Divine need or desire), rather they direct us towards achieving the ultimate good for which He created us. From this perspective, to reject God's purpose in our creation would be fundamentally irrational as, by definition, it means that you are turning away from the ultimate good (for both yourself and for the world as a whole) in favor of some far lesser, and arguably detrimental, purpose.

It is at this point that gratitude comes into play. Once we recognize that God brought us into existence and gave us His laws for our own benefit (even if we do not understand what that benefit is), then obedience to God's will is not demeaning at all but the result of rational assessment of our own best interests. In such a case, to refuse to obey God's will is not only irrational and self-destructive, but also ungrateful.

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From the Lowliest of Beginnings...

Why does the Hagada begin the narrative of יציאת מצרים (the Exodus from Egypt) with the shameful statement that “in the beginning our ancestors were idolaters”?

The Koznitzer Maggid (d.1814) explains that this teaches us that no matter how far we may have strayed from the proper path, we should never give up hope of coming close to God. For our ancestors were worshipers of idols, the lowest spiritual level possible, yet, nevertheless, in the end "קרבנו המקום לעבדתו" – "God brought us close to His service." No matter how low we may fallen spiritually, there is no point at which we cannot return to God.

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Tzav - The Korban Todah and Pesach: Giving Thanks to God for Salvation

In Parshas Tzav we read about the korban todah, the thanksgiving offering. The commentaries (Rashi, Rashbam) explain that this offering was brought by someone who had been saved from danger, especially referring to the four cases enumerated by the Talmud (Brachos 54b), based upon Psalms 107, in which a person "needs to give thanks." These are: one who has traveled by sea, one who traveled through a desert, one who was released from prison, and one who has recovered from illness. (Although the Talmud is speaking there of birkas hagomel, i.e. publicly reciting the blessing of thanksgiving, Rashi understands these categories to apply to the korban torah as well, citing the verse in Psalm 107, "and they shall slaughter thanksgiving offerings." Rashi presumably holds like the Tosafos HaRosh (Brachos 54b) that birkas hagomel is itself based upon the korban todah.)

Anytime we give thanks to God for saving us from a difficulty or a danger, we face an obvious question. Our thanks to God is based upon the premise that God is almighty, and that He controls all that happens in our lives and in the world as a whole. However, if God is indeed the one who controls all that happens in our lives, then it was He who put us into the bad situation in the first place! If so, why are giving thanks to God for saving us from troubles that He caused?

If any holiday embodies this paradox, it is Pesach! Pesach is a holiday devoted to giving thanks to God for freeing us from the slavery and oppression we experienced in Egypt. The theme of gratitude is basic to the entire seder night; ”לפיכך אנחנו חיבים להודות וכו” - "Therefore, [we conclude the narrative of the Exodus,] we are obligated to give thanks...”. Yet, from the very beginning of Jewish history, God told Abraham that his descendants would be oppressed in a foreign land, and God went to great efforts to force the family of Jacob to move down to Egypt. The slavery in Egypt was God’s plan from the beginning, and all the suffering that the Jewish people endured there can be placed at His feet. Why then are we giving thanks to God for saving us from Egypt, when He is the one who put us there in the first place?

This question is asked by the Dubna Maggid (Rabbi Yakov Kranz, d.1804) early on in his commentary on the Hagada. He illustrates the question with an analogy. If a person falls ill, or is injured, and a doctor treats his illness and cures him, then it is obvious that the patient must express gratitude towards the doctor. But if the doctor was the one who injured him in the first place, then there is little gratitude due to him. The patient would have been better off if the doctor had left alone to begin with!

In the end, therefore, the Dubno Maggid explains that we have to recognize that when we give thanks to God for our salvation, we are not only thanking Him for saving us from our troubles, we are also thanking Him for the troubles themselves. For we must understand that everything that God brings upon us is ultimately for our benefit, and we must give thanks to Him for the bad as well as the good, as the Talmud (Brachos 54a) states, “A person is obligated to bless God for the bad, just as he blesses God for the good.”

The suffering we endured in Egypt was necessary to prepare us to be the “kingdom of priests and holy nation” that would receive the Torah. The lessons we learned in the “iron furnace”, as the Jeremiah (11:4) called Egypt, were what made us into the Jewish people, and it would be these lessons that God would continually remind us of, in His Torah.

The Sefas Emes (R’ Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Ger, d.1905), in his commentary on the Hagada, points out that this is the lesson of the korech that we eat at the Seder, in which eat the matzoh and maror together. The primary symbolism of the matzah is redemption and freedom, the symbolism of maror is suffering. By eating them together, we indicate that, at the most basic level, they are not separable. The achievement of true redemption and freedom can only come about through the spiritual crucible of suffering. As the Dubno Maggid quotes from Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (Brachos 5a):

שלש מתנות טובות נתן הקב”ה לישראל, וכולן לא נתנן אלא על ידי יסורין. אלו הן: תורה וארץ ישראל והעולם הבא

God gave three good gifts to the Jewish people, and all of them were only given through suffering. These are: The Torah, the land of Israel, and the World-to-Come.

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"Go and Learn" - The Hidden Miracles

צא ולמד מה בקש לבן הארמי לעשות ליעקב אבינו. שפרעה לא גזר אלא על הזכרים, ולבן בקש לעקור את הכל

"Go and learn what Laban the Aramean sought to do to our father, Jacob. For Pharaoh only decreed [the annihilation] of the males, but Laban sought to uproot everything."

The Hagada tells us that Lavan wanted to totally destroy Jacob and his family. Yet, a simple reading of the text in Genesis gives no real indication of this. Laban did not appear to want to harm Jacob and, if the Sages had not told us so, we would never have known on our own.

The Vilna Gaon (Rabbi Elijah of Vilna, d.1797) explains that this teaches us that God is always acting to save us from dangers, even though, most of the time we are completely unaware of these miracles. As the Talmud states (נדה לא.), אפילו בעל הנס אינו מכיר בנסו – “even the one who experiences the miracle does not perceive the miracle.” Hashem does constant miracles for us in a hidden manner. This is the meaning of the verse in Psalms (72:18), “עושה נפלאות לבדו” – “He does wonders alone.” “Alone” meaning, He alone knows about the miracle, but those who benefit from the miracle don’t even know that a miracle has occurred. Therefore, even when life seems to be going along in a perfectly normal and natural manner, we must give thanks to God for the many hidden miracles He is performing for us.

(פירוש הגר"א)

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The Parameters of Sippur Yetzias Mitzraim

There is a daily mitzvah of זכירת יציאת מצרים – “mentioning the exodus from Egypt” – which requires us to remember, orally, the exodus from Egypt. (We fulfill this mitzvah through the recitation of the third paragraph of the Shema.) Rav Chaim Soloveitchik asks, what is the difference between the daily mitzvah of זכירה – “remembering” – and the special mitzvah of סיפור – “recounting” – that we have on Pesach night?

He explains that there are three distinctions between the mitzvot of זכירה and סיפור:

1. To fulfill the mitzvah of זכירה one only needs to mention יציאת מצרים to himself. The mitzvah of סיפור יציאת מצרים requires that you tell the story over to another person in the form of a question and answer discussion.
2. The narrative of the סיפור must follow the pattern of מתחיל בגנות ומסים בשבח – “begin with shame and conclude with praise” – whereas זכירה does not require any narrative at all.
3. The mitzvah of סיפור יציאת מצרים also includes discussing the טעמי המצוות (“reasons for the mitzvot”) that we perform at the Seder, as we read in the Hagada from Rabban Gamliel.

The Brisker Rav, Rav Yitzchak Zev Soloveitchik, points out that we can see this last point in the question and answer of the “Wise Son”, which makes no mention of the story of the Exodus, but only about the laws of the Pesach offering.

The Brisker Rav expands further on this idea, noting that at the beginning of Maggid (which is basically an introduction to the mitzvah of sippur, in which we describe how important the mitzvah is and recount how even the greatest sages invested great effort into it) we include a passage about a debate between Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya and the Sages regarding the daily mitzvah of זכירת יציאת מצרים.

The Brisker Rav explains that, as we see from the Rambam, this debate was part of the discussion that took place at the seder in Bnei Brak described in the previous paragraph, and the fact that the Sages discussed this topic at their seder demonstrates that any discussion of any mitzvah or halacha connected to Pesach or the Exodus from Egypt, is included in the mitzvah of סיפור יציאת מצרים. It was precisely to teach us this rule that this paragraph was included in the Hagada.

(הגדה מבית לוי)

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VaYikra - The Function of the Korbanos

The main topic of the book of VaYikra (Leviticus) is the korbanos (sacrificial service). This is a topic that is generally poorly understood and one that is often surrounded by misconceptions. There are several reasons why misconceptions are so common in this area. Perhaps the most basic difficulty is that the Jewish people have not been able to perform the sacrificial service for close to two thousand years. As such, we have no real way of relating to what that service was actually like. This problem, which is a big enough problem in its own right, is exacerbated by another problem, which is all too common even in areas of Jewish life that are still part of daily practice. This is the tendency to interpret Jewish practices and concepts in non-Jewish terms. Living as we do, and in varying degrees have been since the destruction of the First Temple, in an environment dominated by non-Jewish cultures, it is difficult, even when aware of the problem, to avoid this tendency. And if it is difficult for us to avoid interpreting basic, commonplace Jewish concepts (such as prayer, spirituality, faith, or even the basic concept of religion) in purely Jewish terms, then it certainly is not surprising that we have difficulty with concepts that have not seen concrete expression for thousands of years. Often, even the very terminology is a problem, in that there are no English (more specifically, non-Hebrew) words that properly convey the intent of these concepts in Judaism.

R' Samson Raphael Hirsch

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch addresses this issue in connection to the korbanos early on in his commentary on VaYikra (1:2):

It is most regrettable that we have no word that really expresses the idea that lies in the word קרבן. The unfortunate use of the term “sacrifice” implies the idea of giving up something that is of value to oneself for the benefit of another, or of having to do without something of value, ideas which are not only entirely absent from the nature and idea of a קרבן but are diametrically opposed to it.

Also the underlying idea of “offering” makes it by no means an adequate expression for קרבן. The idea of an offering presupposes a wish, a desire, a requirement for what is brought, on the part of the one to whom it is brought, which is satisfied by the “offering.” One can not get away from the idea of a gift, a present.

But the idea of a קרבן is far away from all this. It is never used for a present or gift; it is used exclusively with reference to Man’s relation to God, and can only be understood from the meaning that lies in its root קרב. קרב means to approach, to come near, and so to get into close relationship with somebody. …The object and purpose of הקרבה (making a קרבן) [is] the attainment of a higher sphere of life. … The מקריב (the person making the קרבן) desires that something of himself should come into closer relationship to God, that it what קרבן is…. It is קרבת אלקים, nearness to God, which is striven for by a קרבן.

The function of the korbanos, then, was to bring us closer to God. This itself may seems odd to many of us. The korbanos, after all, mainly involved the highly ritualized slaughter and cooking of animals. It was, if you will, a "holy barbecue", the very phrasing of which expresses the incongruity that the korbanos present to the modern mind, for, while most of us enjoy barbecues, we tend not to associate them with holiness. This perceived incongruity really epitomizes the disconnect that we often have from a genuinely Jewish perspective. One of the most basic lessons of Judaism is that there is no fundamental divide between the physical and the spiritual. On the contrary, our task in this world is to sanctify every aspect of our "mundane", material lives; to find holiness, closeness with God, in every thing we do, even the most ordinary.

In Judaism, ordinary activities like waking up in the morning and getting dressed, eating a meal or snack, and even going to the bathroom are transformed into religious activities, each with its own associated rituals and prayers. The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 34:3) tells us that Hillel the Elder saw bathing as a form of Divine service. Maimonides (Shemoneh Perakim 5) describes, at some length, how everything we do, including the acquisition of secular knowledge and the enjoyment of aesthetic pleasure (such as listening to music or taking a walk in the park), can and should be directed towards the goal of coming to know and love God.

While there are certainly many deep and profound lessons in the korbanos, a topic that is discussed at great length in many of the commentaries, I believe that it is this very point that may well be the most basic lesson that the korbanos are intended to teach us. As the Talmud (Brachos 63a) states, איזוהי פרשה קטנה שכל גופי תורה תלוין בה? בכל דרכיך דעהו - "What is a small verse upon which all the basics of Torah depend? 'Know Him in all your ways'" (Proverbs 3:6). The Sages teach us that a true understanding of the entire Torah, i.e. of the purpose of our existence and of the creation of the universe, is based on the recognition that every aspect of human life can and should be used to bring us closer to God. The korbanos teach us that even the most mundane of activities - and there are few more superficially "unspiritual" places than a slaughterhouse - can be transformed into the highest form of Divine service. This apparently simple idea has the ability to entirely transform our lives, changing even the most "boring" and "ordinary" daily activities into the equivalent of the priestly service in the Holy Temple.

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The Structure of Shoshanas Yaakov

It is customary to sing Shoshanas Yaakov after the reading of the Megillas Esther, both at night and by day.

While we tend to think of it as a song in its own right, Shoshanas Yaakov is actually just the conclusion of the poem Asher Heini (which, in most congregations, is recited in full after the megillah reading on Purim night). Asher Heini is a very ancient poem. R' Seligmann Baer (d.1897), in his Siddur Avodas Yisrael, describes Asher Heini as "אחד מן הפיוטים קדמוני הקדמונים" - "one of the earliest of the early (liturgical) poems." The Machzor Vitry (p.214) ascribes the poem to the Anshei Knesses HaGedolah, at the beginning of the Second Temple period. The poem is written in alphabetical order; the first sentence begins with the letter “aleph”, and each following sentence begins with the next letter in the Hebrew alphabet. The first two sentences of Shoshanas Yaakov (“Shoshanas Yaakov…” and “T’shuasam hayisa…”) complete the alphabet. 

In the version of the poem found in Machzor Vitry (an important liturgical work compiled by Rabbi Simcha of Vitry, d.1105) there are two verses that follow after the completion of the alphabet. The first is a slightly different version of the familiar verse “L’hodia sh’kol…”. The second is a verse that is omitted from all modern versions (that I am aware of), "כי אתה מגן לצדיקים ומושיע לעמו ישראל בעת צרה" - "For You are the shield of the righteous and the savior of His people Israel in times of oppression."

The next section of Shoshanas Yaakov, "Arur Haman asher bikeish...", is based upon Chazal’s injunction (מס' סופרים יד:ו, ירושלמי מגילה סוף פרק ג' ועוד) that, upon concluding the reading of the megilla, we should bless the righteous and curse the wicked. This section is not included in the version of the poem found in Machzor Vitri, but is found a bit later (p.217) as part of a different liturgical poem that, to my knowledge, is no longer in use in any community.

It seems, therefore, that the version of Shoshanas Yaakov that we use today is a synthesis of the original poem of Asher Heini and another poem, otherwise almost entirely forgotten, devoted to the topic of “Arur Haman” and “Baruch Mordechai.”

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