Purim Edition -- 12 Adar II, 5771 / March 18, 2011 -- Vol. 2, Issue 12
This week brings with it the most joyous holiday of the year; Purim. It is no coincidence that Purim falls out directly after Parshas Tzav, as they have much in common. Verse 8:3 of this Parsha reads, “Gather the entire assembly to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. Moshe did as Hashem commanded him; and the assembly was gathered to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.”
The question arises, how could the entire nation have fit at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting? A similar situation occurred when the Jewish people gathered in the Beis HaMikdash on Yom Kippur. They would be shoulder to shoulder with no room to move; however, when it came time to bow to Hashem there was enough room for everyone to do so.
How could everyone have room to bow to Hashem if there was barely enough room for everyone to stand side by side? Surely not everyone could have fit in to such small spaces!
Rashi states that it was a miraculous event that such a small area could hold so many people. Aside from architecture, perhaps there is something else that we can learn from this occurrence. When we deflate our own sense of self, we make room for others. If we are willing to put our own wants and needs aside, we are then able to let others into our lives.
Our mission in life is to fulfill each of our personal potentials by using our attributes and talents to learn Torah and do Mitzvahs. Intertwined within that is our duty to help our brethren. We cannot be whole in any shape or form if there are others who are lacking.
For this reason, one of the mitzvahs of Purim is to give charity and have a meal in which all are invited. The meal is supposed to be filled with immense joy, however we know that we cannot be happy if there are others whom are lacking.
This Purim, set out some extra chairs at your festive meal for unexpected guests, give some additional charity, and most of all make room for others in your life.
The question arises, how could the entire nation have fit at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting? A similar situation occurred when the Jewish people gathered in the Beis HaMikdash on Yom Kippur. They would be shoulder to shoulder with no room to move; however, when it came time to bow to Hashem there was enough room for everyone to do so.
How could everyone have room to bow to Hashem if there was barely enough room for everyone to stand side by side? Surely not everyone could have fit in to such small spaces!
Rashi states that it was a miraculous event that such a small area could hold so many people. Aside from architecture, perhaps there is something else that we can learn from this occurrence. When we deflate our own sense of self, we make room for others. If we are willing to put our own wants and needs aside, we are then able to let others into our lives.
Our mission in life is to fulfill each of our personal potentials by using our attributes and talents to learn Torah and do Mitzvahs. Intertwined within that is our duty to help our brethren. We cannot be whole in any shape or form if there are others who are lacking.
For this reason, one of the mitzvahs of Purim is to give charity and have a meal in which all are invited. The meal is supposed to be filled with immense joy, however we know that we cannot be happy if there are others whom are lacking.
This Purim, set out some extra chairs at your festive meal for unexpected guests, give some additional charity, and most of all make room for others in your life.
Purim Edition / Parshas Tetzaveh -- 15 Adar, 5773 / Feb. 22, 2013 -- Vol. 4 Issue 4
Ever have someone do a favour for you and when you thank them they say, “Don’t mention it.” Or you thank someone for being such a good friend and they respond, “Forget about it, don’t mention it.” Or when you return an item you borrowed and begin to thank them and they say, “Oh, don’t say anything, really, don’t mention it.” Why don’t they want you to mention it? Isn’t it proper to thank someone when they do something nice for you? Is it not considered an insult not to say thank you to someone?
When you’re with someone you have a special relationship with, one way of expressing your feelings, appreciation, and love to them is by saying “I love you.” For example, if Shlomo were to have a conversation with his wife Leah, he wouldn’t say “I love Leah” when speaking directly to her, unless he wants to confuse her. But we know that one’s name is such a special aspect of who we are. When we are expressing such a special and intimate feeling to our loved ones, shouldn’t we call them by name?
In this week’s parsha, Tetzaveh, why is Moshe Rabbeinu’s name not mentioned even once? When the Jews committed the sin of the golden calf, Moshe defended them and told Hashem that if He wasn’t going to forgive their sin that He should take Moshe’s name out of the Torah. The sages teach us that everything a tzaddik (righteous person) says becomes reality. Therefore, Hashem did indeed take Moshe’s name out of the Torah in this parsha. Yet there is even a deeper explanation for the absence of Moshe’s name. Speaking of names, it is interesting to note that the Megillas Esther, which we will read on Motzei Shabbos and Sunday, does not include Hashem's name, yet we know that the story of Purim would not be without His direct interventions.
The entire parsha of Tetzaveh revolves around an important discussion between Hashem and Moshe and many extremely holy tasks Moshe was entrusted with. The conversation was on such an intimate level that Moshe’s name wasn’t needed. Hashem was talking with Moshe on the level of “you, and only you.” Mentioning Moshe’s name wasn’t necessary because how could it be any other way. When your friend says, “Don’t mention it,” it’s because from their point of view, how could you expect anything different from them. Helping you is an intrinsic part of who they are, so it is not necessary to mention it.
We should strive to create a relationship with Hashem in which we do mitzvahs for the sake of the mitzvah, and tell G-d that with regards to our reward well, “Don’t mention it!”
When you’re with someone you have a special relationship with, one way of expressing your feelings, appreciation, and love to them is by saying “I love you.” For example, if Shlomo were to have a conversation with his wife Leah, he wouldn’t say “I love Leah” when speaking directly to her, unless he wants to confuse her. But we know that one’s name is such a special aspect of who we are. When we are expressing such a special and intimate feeling to our loved ones, shouldn’t we call them by name?
In this week’s parsha, Tetzaveh, why is Moshe Rabbeinu’s name not mentioned even once? When the Jews committed the sin of the golden calf, Moshe defended them and told Hashem that if He wasn’t going to forgive their sin that He should take Moshe’s name out of the Torah. The sages teach us that everything a tzaddik (righteous person) says becomes reality. Therefore, Hashem did indeed take Moshe’s name out of the Torah in this parsha. Yet there is even a deeper explanation for the absence of Moshe’s name. Speaking of names, it is interesting to note that the Megillas Esther, which we will read on Motzei Shabbos and Sunday, does not include Hashem's name, yet we know that the story of Purim would not be without His direct interventions.
The entire parsha of Tetzaveh revolves around an important discussion between Hashem and Moshe and many extremely holy tasks Moshe was entrusted with. The conversation was on such an intimate level that Moshe’s name wasn’t needed. Hashem was talking with Moshe on the level of “you, and only you.” Mentioning Moshe’s name wasn’t necessary because how could it be any other way. When your friend says, “Don’t mention it,” it’s because from their point of view, how could you expect anything different from them. Helping you is an intrinsic part of who they are, so it is not necessary to mention it.
We should strive to create a relationship with Hashem in which we do mitzvahs for the sake of the mitzvah, and tell G-d that with regards to our reward well, “Don’t mention it!”
Purim: I Change, You Change, We Oil Change
I woke up early Monday morning to go to the local Big O Tires for the first appointment of the day. As I left the house, I thought that I was only going in for a routine oil change; but both my car and I were in for more than we expected.
Sitting in the shop’s waiting room, I noticed a newspaper on the side table. In big flashy letters, the front page headline revealed who had won the much sought after Oscar Awards. Imagine, winning an international award for acting, or rather pretending to be someone else! How about winning an award for being yourself, and not only your everyday self, but your true inner self? That sounds like an accomplishment to me.
I don’t know about you, but I think being someone else can only be so difficult. In fact, it would be kind of refreshing. It would certainly take some pressure off being who I think I’m supposed to be. Just think about it, no pressure to live up to your potential, no need to worry about being true to yourself, sounds pretty good, no?
I decided right there and then that from now on I was going to play the role of being myself as if I were competing for an award; let’s call it the “You Award.” The one way to earn one; access your unique qualities and let them shine, while at the same time endeavoring to change your shortcomings.
Hmm, that sounds a little harder than I originally thought. Who chose me to play myself anyway? Maybe there’s an understudy that could step in for me when times get tough or when I feel overburdened. Alas, it seems that the Director thought only I could play my character, so it’s up to me to provide the serious analysis and introspection needed to fulfill my role.
I was awoken from my thoughts by the jovial mechanic who informed me that while the oil change was complete, it was more than just a top up of fluids which my car needed. A rear brakes replacement was necessary if I wanted to continue driving; or rather stopping. With 3 hours on my hands, I pondered the idea of playing the role of myself and what that truly entailed. Maximization of self involves the willingness to recognize the need for change, and uncovering the hidden parts of oneself is no small task. How was I to go about such an endeavour?
With Purim around the corner, I started thinking about the different mitzvahs involved in celebrating this wonderful holiday. One mitzvah is to say l'chaim (drink alcohol) more than one usually would. What place does drinking have in Judaism, and how is this related to initiating self-growth and inner change?
Additionally, a popular Purim custom is to dress up in costumes. This symbolizes that throughout the Megillah, Hashem’s name is not mentioned even once. If a person looks into the Megillah, they can see that Hashem was present throughout the entire ordeal, yet He disguised His role within the laws of nature. Similarly, inside of us lies many great talents and positive attributes, but they are often hidden under the surface of our everyday nature.
One of the most powerful attributes a person is equipped with is the use of logic and reason. These skills help us examine situations from a more objective perspective, establish facts, look for patterns, investigate alternatives, and seek out improvements. While reason can serve us well throughout the majority of the year, there are times such as Purim in which we are compelled to throw reason aside by saying l’chaim. Letting go of reason allows us to embrace Hashem and accept His commandments wholeheartedly, even though there is much that we don’t understand. Purim is a time to focus on our hearts rather than our minds.
Let us examine one of the most fear-provoking reptiles that exist. A snake regularly sheds its skin to allow for further growth. It does so not by staying still and placid, but rather rubbing itself against rocks until the skin is slowly pulled off. In other words, the snake can’t shed its skin completely on its own; it needs help from an outside source.
Saying l’chaim allows for a similar process; to slowly but surely remove the layers which conceal our inner self. When we are in our normal state of consciousness, it is nearly impossible to ‘shed’ our outer inhibitions. When we say l’chaim, we give ourselves a chance to embrace parts of us which otherwise remain inaccessible. Once revealed, we can utilize them for growth throughout the year.
Say a l’chaim, shed your outer layers, embrace change, and reveal your inner you. After all, I hope to see you at next year’s “You Awards”!
Sitting in the shop’s waiting room, I noticed a newspaper on the side table. In big flashy letters, the front page headline revealed who had won the much sought after Oscar Awards. Imagine, winning an international award for acting, or rather pretending to be someone else! How about winning an award for being yourself, and not only your everyday self, but your true inner self? That sounds like an accomplishment to me.
I don’t know about you, but I think being someone else can only be so difficult. In fact, it would be kind of refreshing. It would certainly take some pressure off being who I think I’m supposed to be. Just think about it, no pressure to live up to your potential, no need to worry about being true to yourself, sounds pretty good, no?
I decided right there and then that from now on I was going to play the role of being myself as if I were competing for an award; let’s call it the “You Award.” The one way to earn one; access your unique qualities and let them shine, while at the same time endeavoring to change your shortcomings.
Hmm, that sounds a little harder than I originally thought. Who chose me to play myself anyway? Maybe there’s an understudy that could step in for me when times get tough or when I feel overburdened. Alas, it seems that the Director thought only I could play my character, so it’s up to me to provide the serious analysis and introspection needed to fulfill my role.
I was awoken from my thoughts by the jovial mechanic who informed me that while the oil change was complete, it was more than just a top up of fluids which my car needed. A rear brakes replacement was necessary if I wanted to continue driving; or rather stopping. With 3 hours on my hands, I pondered the idea of playing the role of myself and what that truly entailed. Maximization of self involves the willingness to recognize the need for change, and uncovering the hidden parts of oneself is no small task. How was I to go about such an endeavour?
With Purim around the corner, I started thinking about the different mitzvahs involved in celebrating this wonderful holiday. One mitzvah is to say l'chaim (drink alcohol) more than one usually would. What place does drinking have in Judaism, and how is this related to initiating self-growth and inner change?
Additionally, a popular Purim custom is to dress up in costumes. This symbolizes that throughout the Megillah, Hashem’s name is not mentioned even once. If a person looks into the Megillah, they can see that Hashem was present throughout the entire ordeal, yet He disguised His role within the laws of nature. Similarly, inside of us lies many great talents and positive attributes, but they are often hidden under the surface of our everyday nature.
One of the most powerful attributes a person is equipped with is the use of logic and reason. These skills help us examine situations from a more objective perspective, establish facts, look for patterns, investigate alternatives, and seek out improvements. While reason can serve us well throughout the majority of the year, there are times such as Purim in which we are compelled to throw reason aside by saying l’chaim. Letting go of reason allows us to embrace Hashem and accept His commandments wholeheartedly, even though there is much that we don’t understand. Purim is a time to focus on our hearts rather than our minds.
Let us examine one of the most fear-provoking reptiles that exist. A snake regularly sheds its skin to allow for further growth. It does so not by staying still and placid, but rather rubbing itself against rocks until the skin is slowly pulled off. In other words, the snake can’t shed its skin completely on its own; it needs help from an outside source.
Saying l’chaim allows for a similar process; to slowly but surely remove the layers which conceal our inner self. When we are in our normal state of consciousness, it is nearly impossible to ‘shed’ our outer inhibitions. When we say l’chaim, we give ourselves a chance to embrace parts of us which otherwise remain inaccessible. Once revealed, we can utilize them for growth throughout the year.
Say a l’chaim, shed your outer layers, embrace change, and reveal your inner you. After all, I hope to see you at next year’s “You Awards”!
