By Rabbi Nissim Lagziel
A Joke to begin with:
A prominent government official had a costly horse, which he jealously guarded at every opportunity. One day, he rode to another city, and to protect it from theft, he placed the horse in the royal stables with a watchman posted at the gate.
Since he wanted to make sure that the watchman didn’t doze off, the minister suggested to him that he deeply contemplate philosophical questions.
The minister awoke in the middle of the night, went down to the stables, and found the watchman immersed in his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” the minister asked. The watchman replied: “I’m thinking about this: when you hammer a nail into a wooden board, where does the wood go that had previously been in the space where the nail is now?”
“Very good,” the minister said. “An interesting question indeed. Continue.”
A few hours later, the minister again went down to speak with the watchman. “So, what are you thinking about now?” the minister queried. The watchman said: “I was thinking to myself – when you eat a bagel, where does its hole go?”
“Excellent,” the minister replied. “Keep it up,” and he went back to sleep.
When morning came, the minister again found the watchman deeply engrossed in thought. “Well?” the minister asked. “I was thinking,” the watchman said, “where did the horse go if the stable door was bolted, and the watchman who was posted at the gate didn’t fall asleep even for a single minute throughout the whole night…”
***
This
week, we read Parshas Emor, a Torah portion dealing primarily with two subjects: those mitzvos relating to the khuna (priesthood) and those about the Jewish festivals. At the beginning of the parsha, the Torah teaches us about the laws on spiritual impurity and forbidden marital relations unique to kohanim, and the blemishes that render a kohen unfit to serve in the Beis HaMikdash. As the parsha continues, we learn about Yom Tov, the additional sacrifices we have to offer on these days, and the other special mitzvos fulfilled on the Jewish holidays.
We are currently in the middle of Sefiras HaOmer, which is also discussed in this week’s parsha. Sefiras HaOmer is the connecting link between Pesach and Shavuos, or to be more specific, between the Omer offering on the sixteenth of Nisan and the Shtei Halechem, the two loaves offering on Shavuos. These two offerings are unique in their comparison to other “meal offerings.” The Omer offering comes from barley (while other meal offerings come from wheat), and the Shtei Halechem offering is made from chametz (while other meal offerings are unleavened).
What is the meaning behind this difference? Why specifically here and now are the Jewish People expected to bring such sacrifices?
Chametz: good or bad?
Furthermore, how did chametz become a mitzvah? We only recently celebrated the holiday of Pesach, in honor of which we cleaned and scrubbed every inch of our homes to “destroy” Public Enemy No. 1 — “chametz”! We explained to our children at every available opportunity, even as we were cleaning underneath the refrigerator or above the chandelier that the inflated chametz is compared to haughtiness and arrogance, symbolizing the Yetzer Ha’ra and kelipah. Thus, even a crumb of this disgraceful thing should not be found among us. However, here we are, just seven weeks later, and it has suddenly been “transformed” into part of a mitzvah, and not just any mitzvah — it’s welcome into the Beis Hamikdash as part of a sacrifice to Hashem!
Let’s delve a little deeper into the meaning of things.
Chametz and matzah symbolize the internal struggle between reason and faith.
Faith is about bitul (“matzah”). The meaning of faith is that a person doesn’t bother to inquire and investigate matters transmitted to him from Hashem, choosing instead to believe them simply. He asks no questions and doesn’t attribute much importance to his personal views.
By contrast, intellectual reason relates to haughtiness (“chametz”). Within the basic desire to understand things, there is the feeling of “I.” I’m unwilling to accept it if I don’t understand it. I must investigate the matter with free inquiry and reach the conclusions on my own.
A human being by his very definition, bestowed by Hashem with both a drive for faith and a desire for reason, lives a paradoxical life. We all struggle with the question of “should I accept and believe, or perhaps explore matters and try to comprehend?”
The answer is… both! Man’s primary mission is to build a bridge between “chametz” and “matzah” – between faith and reason. It’s merely a question of timing and order.
To build a skyscraper, you first must start by setting firm, unshakable foundations (faith), upon which we can construct towers and high-rise buildings (intellectual reasoning built in stages).
So, at the beginning of a Jew’s spiritual journey, the animal soul exercises it’s control over him, as Iyov observed, “a man is born a wild donkey” (11:12). The inclinations and desires of man are liable to cause him to follow a corrupt path and do forbidden things. At this time, reason and intellect should be put aside. You need to “run away” from the evil by exercising bitul, faith, and kabalas ol.
Overthinking, when you need to be on guard, may lead you to discover that your horse has run away…
The holiday of Pesach marks the birth of the Jewish People, and therefore, the first step taken by the children of Israel at the Exodus from Egypt was “eating matzah,” which represents bitul and Emuna (faith). Accordingly, combating the Yetzer Hara must be done through bitul – fleeing from the evil, not by engaging with it while inquiring and probing what is right and what isn’t.
However, this faith-filled method of dealing with our evil inclination has a downside. In a relationship with Hashem based on a person fleeing from himself, from his essential nature, from the assumptions contrived within his mind and the tendencies of his heart, the person himself does not change for the better.
Thus, immediately after eating the matzah, we have the Omer offering coming from barley —animal food. This signifies the spiritual avoda that a Jew must fulfill with his intellect, to use his mind and reason to contemplate the greatness of Hashem. He thereby begins to bring about a fundamental change in his very essence, purifying and refining his emotional attributes and natural tendencies, elevating them to holiness. After the Omer offering comes Sefiras HaOmer, the spiritual process to refine a Jew’s middos, down to the very last detail.
This process reaches its culmination on the holiday of Shavuos when we complete the refinement and purification of all our individual traits (both intellect and emotion). And then, the chametz is transformed into a mitzvah, as our own existence also represents a vitally necessary means and tool to connect and bind ourselves to Alm-ghty G-d.
We can understand the difference between Pesach and Shavuos from the difference between the Redemption from Egypt and the Future Redemption. At the Exodus from Egypt, we were forced to “flee” from the evil, not deal with it ourselves.
However, regarding the Future Redemption, it is written, “For not with haste shall you go forth and not in a flurry of flight shall you go” (Yeshayahu 52:12). We won’t be fleeing, because there will remain no evil to escape from, not within ourselves and not in the world at large! As Chazal teach, that “Hashem will take the Yetzer Hara and slaughter it” (Sukkah 52b).
This “bridge” between faith and reason is especially relevant to us now:
On the one hand, we must believe in the Rebbe’s words exactly as he said them. We are living in “the days of Moshiach,” in the last generation of the exile and the first generation of the Geulah.
On the other hand, we must strive through our intellectual comprehension and the refining of our middos to understand and feel this new reality by studying about Moshiach, to the point of actually “bringing the days of Moshiach”!
To conclude with a story:
Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Horowitz, the holy Ropshitzer Rebbe, was blessed with unique intellectual capabilities. He was extremely sharp and keen-minded, and every word he uttered was a polished gem.
Once his teacher asked him: Why doesn’t it say anywhere in Torah that a Jew has to be clever, rather just “Be wholehearted with Hashem, your G-d”?
“Indeed,” Rabbi Naftali replied, “there is a great quality to wholeheartedness. But oh, how clever must you be to be wholehearted with Hashem!”
Take-a-Way:
“Don’t be too open-minded, as your brains might fall out, but always leave some place for something new to enter it.” ■
Good Shabbos!
Based on Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 1, Parshas Emor; Vol. 22, sicha for the last days of Pesach.