Heights

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

In the Torah, there are several references to mountains that are central to Yiddishkeit. The first is Har Hamoriah, which Avrohom saw from the distance as he approached it to offer his son Yitzchok as an akeidah, following the word of Hashem. Although he saw the mountain and recognized it as his destination, those who had journeyed with him did not see it. Those belonging to the am hadomeh lechamor were blind to the hallowed peak destined to play a leading role in Yahadus until this very day.

It was on this mountain that the angels appeared to Avrohom and that Yitzchok almost became an olah temimah. It was at this spot that Yaakov Avinu experienced kedusha and, ultimately, the Bais Hamikdosh was built.

The mountain of such holiness also possessed the potential for destruction and experienced its share of the latter. Though it beheld so much kedusha, during the period of churban its holiness was defiled and it became a place of tumah.

There are the mountains near Sh’chem, Har Gerizim and Har Eivol, which face each other. On one, eternal brachos were delivered, while on the other, eternal damnations rang out for those who don’t follow the path that Hashem laid out in the Torah. One mountain was covered with green growth, while the other was desolate and barren. They remain this way until today.

In Nach, we learn of the peak where Eliyohu Hanovi faced off against the nevi’ei habaal.

But there is no mountain more central to who we are than tiny Har Sinai. Though small as far as mountains are concerned, its glorious summit towers over the landscape of Jewish history. As far as we are concerned, it is the tallest and most monumental peak in the hemisphere.

On Shavuos, we are reminded of that mountain as we conjure up the image of millions of soon-to-be Jews camped around its perimeter, experiencing the tangible awe of the moment. They had journeyed for forty days, following their leader, Moshe Rabbeinu, through a hot, dusty desert. In actuality, they had been journeying since the beginning of time, a nation headed towards its destiny, a world created for yom hashishi, which Chazal explain refers to the sixth day of Sivan. Bereishis - bishvil haTorah shenikra reishis.

There was thunder and lightning. The sound of a shofar boomed out, growing increasingly louder. Smoke rose from the mountain, which sat under a heavy cloud. The Divine Voice resonated throughout the universe, shaking the earth’s foundations. The Bnei Yisroel were very fearful. They watched as their leader approached the cloud and disappeared into the fog, as he ascended the mountain.

Chassidishe seforim explain that Moshe Rabbeinu represents “daas.” The bechinah of daas understands that in order to reach Hashem, we must courageously forge ahead through darkness, represented by the fog, and not permit ourselves to be deterred by the enveloping darkness.

Wherever there is kedusha, there is tumah seeking to break through and defile it. The more we build and the larger we grow, the more the forces of tumah attempt to cut us down.

Throughout the ages, inspired people who yearned to raise and purify themselves would not be weighed down by fog, smoke and loud noises that surrounded them. Rather, they courageously pressed forward towards kedusha.

It is as true now as it was then. Like our ancestors throughout the ages, Jews are confronted by darkness and fog. Initially, we get lost and we fumble. We risk becoming cynical, negative, and fearful of the future. We become fearful of change, fearful of what we are facing beyond the fog and darkness.

There is an urge to shirk from the challenge and to fall back in retreat. But it is the Moshes, it is those with daas, who proceed forward into the arofel. They are drawn towards kedusha and taharah, towards Hashem, and are not deterred by the tishtush hamochin that affects the majority. They show the way for the rest of us. Klal Yisroel is inherently good. They hear Moshe and follow him so that there will be no “venofal mimenu rov.”

Chazal derive from the posuk of “Af chochmosi amdah li” (Koheles 2:9) that “Torah shelomadeti be’af,” Torah learned through suffering, stands the test of time. Rather than serving as a hindrance, hardship is an aid to Torah study. This phenomenon may have its roots in Moshe Rabbeinu’s ascent into darkness.

For all time since then, Jews have sought to recreate that moment, striving to climb the mountain to become closer to Hashem and more dedicated to “na’aseh venishma,” studying Torah and observing its mitzvos.

Climbing the mountain is difficult and brings with it challenges of endurance and strength, spiritual, moral and physical. With proper faith, we surmount the dark days and climb through the rough patches and rocky ridges. With Torah as our oxygen and emunah and bitachon fueling us, we march forward in our quest for the great heights we can attain on Shavuos.

Interestingly enough, this time of year is the height of the climbing season on Mount Everest, the world’s highest peak. So far, in the past two weeks, more than ten people have died making the trek. Veteran climbers spend years getting in shape, dreaming about making the great climb. It has become so popular that there isn’t enough room on the ninety square foot flat of the summit for the people who have made the climb.

Witnesses report that people push and shove up there to take selfies and do other things to get in each other’s way. Because people are spending a long time there, others who have made the climb have to wait hours in line, one person touching the next, dressed in clothes designed to withstand the extreme cold, along with life-giving oxygen canisters, as they stand on a slippery ridge that has a drop of thousands of feet.

An Arizona doctor, Ed Dohring, who made the climb told the New York Times that “it was like a zoo up there.” People can’t really think straight at that height. They leave much of their gear at a lower spot and climb the last 1,000 feet with what they hope will be enough oxygen to get up and down. However, when the line is long, when people aren’t fit, and when people run out of oxygen, they die.

“The result is a crowded, unruly scene at 29,000 feet. At that altitude, a delay of even an hour or two can mean death,” the doctor said.

The Times adds, “Fatima Deryan, an experienced Lebanese mountaineer, was making her way to the summit recently when less experienced climbers started collapsing in front of her. Temperatures were dropping to -30 Celsius (-22 Fahrenheit). Oxygen tanks were running low. And roughly 150 people were packed together, clipped to the same safety line.

“A lot of people were panicking, worrying about themselves — and nobody thinks about those who are collapsing,” Deryan said.

“It is a question of ethics,” she said. “We are all on oxygen. You figure out that if you help, you are going to die.’’

She offered to help some of the sick people, she said, but then calculated that she was beginning to endanger herself and kept going to the summit, which is currently measured at 29,029 feet. On the way back down, she had to fight through the crowds again.

“It was terrible,” she said.”

Around the same time, Rizza Alee, an 18-year-old climber from Kashmir, was making his way up the mountain. He said that he was stunned by how little empathy people had for those who were struggling.

“I saw some people like they had no emotions,” he said. “I asked people for water and no one gave me any. People are really obsessed with the summit. They are ready to kill themselves for the summit.”

The Times writes, “After long, cold days, [Dohring] inched up a spiny trail to the summit and ran into crowds aggressively jostling for pictures. He was so scared, he said, that he plunked down on the snow to keep from losing his balance and had his guide take a picture of him.”

Reaching great heights is strenuous and demanding. Without the middos of Torah, we cannot fathom the peaks we aim for. Especially during these final days before Shavuos, we need to concentrate on learning Torah and following the lessons of Pirkei Avos so that we can properly accept the Torah on the day it was given to us 3,331 years ago on Har Sinai.

Rav Elozor Menachem Man Shach wrote in the introduction to his classic work on the Rambam, “How can I repay Hashem for all His mercies towards me? Beginning with the days of my youth, I went through periods when I had nothing at all...from the beginning of the First World War, when all the Jews were exiled from the Lithuanian towns and I didn’t know where my parents were, for I was alone in Slutzk and I had no contact with them. I spent several years suffering much.”

Rav Shach describes the travails, hardships and loneliness that he endured. He concludes on a somewhat nostalgic note, longing for the Torah he learned during those years. “The Torah that I learned during the period of wrath endured,” he writes.

There is a posuk that Rav Shach adopted as his mantra, reflecting the value and connection with the Torah formed through hardship. As a young couple in Vilna, the Shachs lost a beloved daughter. The famed Vilna Rov and rabbon shel kol bnei hagolah, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky, had lost his own only child. He consoled and counseled Rav Shach, citing the posuk, “Lulei Sorascha sha’ashu’ai, oz ovadeti be’onyi.”

When Rav Chaim Ozer would greet the young Rav Shach, he would say to him, “Rav Shach, gedenk, remember: lulei Sorascha sha’ashu’ai...”

The Tchebiner Rov, Rav Dov Berish Weidenfeld, lost his wife and five children during the Second World War. He arrived in Eretz Yisroel with two daughters. One night, there was joy in the Rov’s home when word came that his daughter, the wife of Rav Boruch Shimon Schneerson, had given birth to a son.

It was a burst of comfort, a bit of nechomah after horrific tragedies. The baby was the first grandson of the Rov and represented hope for a better tomorrow. Then, when the baby was but a few days old, the doctors grew concerned regarding a developing illness. After a few hours, the baby passed away.

The symbol of rebirth was gone.

Rav Boruch Shimon went to inform his father-in-law, fearing how the news would impact him. The Tchebiner Rov looked at him and asked, “How is the child?”

An expression of grief crossed the son-in-law’s face and the Rov understood.

Again, he was in mourning.

The Rov responded, “Lulei Sorascha sha’ashu’ai, az ovadeti be’onyi.”

Such has been the reaction of Jews throughout the ages. They followed the example set by Moshe Rabbeinu. Determined to scale the mountain to accept the Torah, he didn’t let the darkness impede him.

Rather than stepping away, he moved forward.

No lofty madreigah, this attitude is intrinsic to our personal kabbolas haTorah each day and each moment. We make choices in life. We have to be bocher in chaim. The Torah is eitz chaim. We have to be able to look past the arofel and dedicate ourselves to achieving life.

We can offer an explanation based upon the Ohr Hachaim, who at the beginning of this week’s parsha explains the posuk of “Im bechukosai teileichu” to mean that if you will be oseik in Torah, then “ve’es mitzvosai tishmoru,” you will be able to properly observe the mitzvos and separate yourself from aveirah.

If you will be oseik in Torah, if the Torah will be your shaashua, then you will be able to be a proper Jew and observe and follow the mitzvos and not get lost be’onyi, in the arofel, the darkness.

The posuk recounts that when Hashem appeared to the Bnei Yisroel and offered them the Torah, they responded in unison, “Na’aseh venishma.” The Gemara in Maseches Shabbos (88a) relates that Rav Simai explained that when they said those two words, angels affixed two crowns to the head of each Jew, one for na’aseh and one for nishma.

Rabi Elazar says that a bas kol rang out, stating, “Who taught my children this secret that is used by the angels?”

Many commentators question what was so extraordinary about the two words of na’aseh venishma that the Jews were so richly praised for enunciating them.

Perhaps we can say that the greatness of the response was that by responding in that way, they were declaring, “Na’aseh, we will follow the message of ‘im bechukosai teileichu ve’es mitzvosai tishmeru. We will act according to the dictates of the Torah and follow all its directives. And how will we do that? Venishma, through dedicating ourselves to its study. We will not act on our own and we will not shirk our responsibility. We will not get lost be’onyi and thrash about in the arofel. Rather, we will proclaim, ‘Lulei Sorascha sha’ashu’ai, oz ovadeti be’onyi.’”

Na’aseh. We are a nation of action, not just words. We are people who recognize our obligations in this world, not just a group that offers platitudes.

Na’aseh venishma. We have been reciting that pledge of allegiance to Hashem and his Torah for thousands of years. Jews, wherever they are, and whatever language they speak, and irrespective of geographical distance from Sinai, irrespective of the ravages of the exile, of golus, of churban and of pogroms, all proclaim together the same doctrine: na’aseh venishma. That is what sets us apart and that is what has kept us through the ages. We have been guarded by the Torah and our fidelity to it and what it demands of us.

All the other nations of the world from that period and throughout our history have long since petered out and are basically forgotten, but we persevere because of those two words.

Heading into the Yom Tov of Kabbolas HaTorah, it’s the two words, na’aseh venishma, that carry us. Despite everything we’ve been through, we proclaim it again and again.

At a Torah Umesorah convention, my dear uncle, the Telzer rosh yeshiva, Rav Avrohom Chaim Levin zt”l, shared a similar message. He said that we live in an age of impurity and immorality unlike any in modern history. Arofel fills our streets and we fight mightily to protect our homes, our small islands of sanctity.

Rav Levin said that there is an inclination for us to comfort ourselves by thinking that we are better than the others, shelo osonu kegoyei ha’aratzos. It is not sufficient to think that we are fulfilling our missions as Torah Jews just because we have not sunk as deeply as society has.

He recalled a time in Yeshivas Telz when an incident provoked the ire of the rosh yeshiva, Rav Elya Meir Bloch. The entire yeshiva gathered in the bais medrash, expecting a severe lecture about the depths to which some had sunk.

But that’s not what happened. The rosh yeshiva, who had built the yeshiva after suffering much tragedy during the Holocaust, entered the room he built with an enduring strength and faced his talmidim.

“We all know how low a person can fall,” he said, “but now let’s focus on how high man can soar.” He delivered a shmuess about the potential of man to grow, leaving his talmidim with the message of gadlus ha’odom. He made them realize the heights they could reach and what is expected of them.

Rav Levin concluded by telling the gathered mechanchim, “We can’t limit our focus on protecting our talmidim and ourselves from the darkness that surrounds us. We also have to inspire them to rise.”

We are a great people. We have the Torah. We have a neshomah, a cheilek Eloka mima’al. The fire of Torah has the ability to glow in our souls, incinerate the tumah that seeks to envelop us, and light our path through the darkness. We have to kindle that spark that lies within each one of us and set it aflame, so that we will have the ability to walk through the arofel, become kedoshim, and reach for the heavens.

Path of Growth

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Too often, we don’t appreciate what we have. This happens either because we are too close to it, or because since we are involved in it, we don’t value the experience. For a proper perspective to appreciate our blessings it is sometimes necessary to step back and look at what we have from a distance.

In most of our lives, there is more happiness than sadness, more gain than pain, and more to be thankful for than to be upset about.

The Yom Tov of Pesach presented us with an opportunity to appreciate our blessings. On Yom Tov, we spent eight days subsisting on matzoh, surrounded and affected by kedusha. We refrained from unnecessary work and pressure. We were happy, spending our days davening, eating delicious Yom Tov meals and learning Torah, and engaging in simple conversation with family and friends.

The euphoria lasted eight days and then it was over. After so much work getting everything together and efforts devoted toward fashioning those days into yemei cheirus, we suddenly found ourselves returned to the world of avdus and back to the regular grind.

But perhaps, while we were engrossed in the yemei kedusha, we failed to fully appreciate their beauty. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, we look back at those days and their restorative qualities. Remembering them and their experiences will help inspire and strengthen us to be able to surmount the challenges we face.

On Pesach, we had ample opportunity to appreciate the glory and splendor of what it means to be part of the am hanivchar, a nation taken from the depths of impurity by Hashem’s love.

That message should inspire us to new heights in ahavas Yisroel, the perfect introduction to the weeks of Sefiras Ha’omer, a time when we work to cleanse and purify our middos as we count the days from Pesach to Shavuos.

Sometimes, we hear words and we cry from emotion or we laugh from joy. Words can uplift and inform us, expanding our horizons. And sometimes, words can even be false, painting an inaccurate picture and leading to mistaken conclusions. We must always endeavor to be careful about what we say, for our words have ramifications and influence others.

The Chofetz Chaim was the master of pure speech, teaching generations to remain silent even when the urge to speak is powerful. Yet, the same Chofetz Chaim was the quintessential ish devorim, speaking and writing prolifically, meeting with individuals and groups, and being involved in so many communal issues.

His aversion to lashon hora wasn’t because he didn’t appreciate the role of dibbur, but davka because he did appreciate it, perceiving the power and potency of every word and phrase. Speech is a tool that must be cherished, a force that should be unleashed only in a positive fashion.

Anovah, humility, encompasses all the positive traits of a baal middos. It is the epitome of what a Torah observer and a person undergoing teshuvah aspire to. A ben Torah recognizes that all he has is from Hashem and that on his own he is nothing. One who is consumed with ga’avah, by definition negates Hashem’s role in his life.

The Chazon Ish would take a daily walk down his sparsely populated street in the nascent town of Bnei Brak. As more people moved to the small dusty town, the township erected a streetlight to provide illumination. As he walked on the newly brightened route, the Chazon Ish commented that the greater the distance he was from the light, the larger the size of his shadow. So it is with Torah and Hashem, he said. The further a man is from his source, the greater he thinks he is.

All middos of appropriate ethical behavior, not just anovah, are prerequisites for proper Torah observance and study. In fact, Rav Chaim Vital says that the Torah never explicitly instructs us regarding proper middos, because they are prerequisites for connecting with Torah and their observance is obvious, as all of Torah is predicated upon them. Before we can accept the yoke of Torah observance, we are expected to develop good middos. During the weeks of Sefirah that lead from Pesach to Shavuos, we endeavor to develop and cultivate good middos.

As we proceed towards Kabbolas HaTorah, ready to accept our mantle as a mamleches kohanim vegoy kadosh, we contemplate our mandate. With pure hearts and careful mouths; empowered by the mesorah; reinforced with emunah, bitachon and the koach haTorah; and infused with the middos that make us worthy links in the golden chain, we progress on our daily advance towards the Yom Tov of Shavuos.

Humility, anovah and vatronus are keys to long happy lives. People who study Torah and mussar should not need shalom bayis lessons, as the same middos that help them grow in Torah help them live with their spouses.

We are all quite familiar with the reason the students of Rabi Akiva passed away during the Sefirah period. Lo nohagu kavod zeh bozeh. They didn’t treat each other with proper respect. The talmidim of the great Rabi Akiva were the conduits through whom the transmission of Torah to the next generation would take place. These were people who were to have excelled not only in the study of Torah, but also in the 48 behavioral levels apparent in a Torah scholar.

By failing to treat their colleagues respectfully, they showed that they had not attained the proper level of behavior and middos. In addition, they demonstrated that they didn’t view the other talmidim as people who had perfected their character traits and excelled in Torah, as required for those who are trusted transmitters of Torah, and therefore weren’t deserving of their respect.

Our ambition and drive must be to excel in Torah and avodah. We have to value excellence and appreciate it in others. We should demand the best for ourselves when it comes to spiritual matters and not easily compromise when it comes to what is really important in life. We must become ameilim baTorah in a literal sense.

We are familiar with the first Rashi in this week’s parsha, as he wonders what the connection is between the mitzvah of Shmittah and Har Sinai that leads the Torah to combine the two (Vayikra 25:1).

Perhaps we can explain that just as in order for a person to undergo the observance of Shmittah, he must be strong in his faith that Hashem authored the Torah and will indeed provide for those who leave their fields fallow during the seventh year, so too, the study of Torah, which was delivered on Har Sinai, is reserved for those of perfect faith who have emunah and bitachon that Hashem reveals Himself to us to through the Torah and that there is no higher calling.

Last week, we highlighted in our front-page story the statement from Rav Don Segal that every Jewish child can develop to be a gadol. To me, it was a simple truth, one that we have encountered many times in the works of Rishonim and Acharonim. The Torah was given to all, and every person who applies himself in the study of Torah and its 48 kinyonim can attain greatness. I was astounded to receive letters from people complaining that children are under enough pressure as is. Why, they asked, are we adding to their crushing burden?

Our chinuch system must teach our children to appreciate the gift of Torah they have been given. Our children need to realize that they are the Chosen People, selected to live a life of kedusha and tahara, of simcha and sasson, and that they are not mutually exclusive. Torah breathes life into those who follow its ways. A Torah life is a blessing. Hashem created the world through Torah, and through Torah He speaks to us. The more we learn Torah, the more we grow in the purpose for which we were created and the closer we become to Hashem. People who understand that, happily engage in ameilus baTorah.

Children who appreciate the full picture of Yiddishkeit and know that ehrlichkeit and middos tovos are an integral part of their being, understand that fidelity to a value system is their birthright.

No, we cannot expect people to be interested in delving into Torah if they never gained an appreciation for it. We can’t expect people to enjoy learning if they have a problem with reading or comprehension. We can’t expect people who weren’t taught properly to be able to learn and study on their own. That is definitely not their fault.

However, children who have been shown the sweetness of Torah and painstakingly and lovingly taught by talmidei chachomim, appreciating Torah and its essence, continue along a growth path and are able to do what it takes to achieve greatness.

Despite all the temptations thrown at them by society, and no matter what pressures and inducements they face, they will remain steadfast, focused, honest and upstanding. They will bring us all much nachas.

The Torah promises that if we are ameilim baTorah, if we work according to the Torah and concentrate our main efforts on Torah study and observance, we will be blessed and successful in all we do.

The Torah is what gives us our identity and what defines us. As we stand in the Sefirah period, we commemorate that we were freed from Mitzrayim so that we could accept the Torah on Har Sinai.

We count towards Shavuos, the day that marks our receiving of the Torah, to demonstrate that we are striving and reaching upward. Each day of the count we seek to improve ourselves so that we better appreciate the gift that is the Torah.

We don’t count the way one would normally count down to an anticipated date. We count upward. We are each saying, “I am not the same person I was yesterday. I am better. I have progressed yet another day and have taken another step towards my goal. I am on the way to realizing that the most important thing I can do is accept the Torah, study it, and follow it with devotion.”

If we want to excel in our lives as Torah Jews, we have to understand what successful people realize. The key to success, both spiritual and material, is to devote ourselves to the task with all our strength and talent. We have to study Torah as if we wish to become gedolim, doing our best to comprehend as much as we can and establishing a connection with the Borei Olam.

We have to be noheig kavod zeh bozeh, view others and ourselves with respect, and take ourselves and our responsibilities seriously. We have to take pride in what we do, so that we can succeed in being good Jews and good people. It won’t happen with a haphazard, lackadaisical approach, or by going through the motions perfunctorily. It demands a lifetime of ameilus coupled with discipline and determination.

Wisdom

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Torah Jews pledge allegiance to our mission statement and national raison d’être. Three times a day, we proclaim our intention “lesakein olam b’malchus Shakai,” to rectify and purify the world with Hashem’s dominion. We endeavor to bring Hashem’s light and presence into this olam, a place of “hei’aleim,” concealment and darkness.

The words of an anonymous wise man are often repeated: “When I was young, I was determined to change the world. As I grew older and more realistic, I thought that I could change my town. Now, as an old man with a white beard, I am desperately attempting to change myself.”

That is our approach to tikkun olam.

Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach would say that he had never met a genuine talmid chochom who wasn’t in control of his middos. In fact, Rav Shach said, the greater a talmid chochom a person is, the more he has worked on his middos.

Now, during the days of Sefirah, as we stake out a path to kabbolas haTorah, we must work to refine our character. Rav Chaim Vital teaches in Shaarei Kedusha that the reason the mandate to work on middos doesn’t appear in the Torah is because the Torah was given to a nation of refined character. Hence the assumption that one who is embarking on Torah study is already a baal middos. Middos tovos are the foundation of the Jew, upon which we can add Torah and good deeds. However, without middos, we have no foundation and everything crumbles.

Rav Chaim Volozhiner, in Ruach Chaim, his peirush on Pirkei Avos, explains the Mishnah (2:15) that quotes Rabi Eliezer, who said, “Yehi chevod chavercha choviv alecha kesheloch.” Simply translated, this means that your friend’s honor should be as precious to you as your own.

Rav Chaim explains the Mishnah with a twist: When you honor someone else by offering him even the smallest amount of respect, to you it feels as if you heaped upon him much more honor than he deserves, but when someone else honors you, no matter how respectful he is towards you, it never seems that he did enough.

Rabi Eliezer thus speaks to us and teaches us that the honorific fashion in which we treat others should be as important to us as the way we want to be treated.

Chazal admonish us not only to focus inward, but also to study the attributes of others and respect them. The talmidim of Rabi Akiva were punished al shelo nohagu kavod zeh bozeh. We rectify this by showing respect for our friends, neighbors and acquaintances.

Keep your eyes open and look around you. Sometimes, witnessing a simple act of mentchlichkeit can restore your faith in humanity. An unexpected kindness, a genuine mazel tov wish or a heartfelt apology has the potential to move us, perhaps because such offerings are too rare.

All too often, we are disappointed. We don’t see the nobility, integrity and strength of character we long to behold in others, as well as in ourselves. Sometimes, we look on in shock as people engage in self-destructive behavior or commit actions that are hurtful to others. We wish we could stop them but are unable to. They refuse to listen to us and remain ensconced in their own cocoon.

When people foment machlokes over pettiness, when people fight publicly, we stand on the sidelines and wish there was something we could do to break it up and end it. All too often, we end up frustrated, as egos and intransigence combine to cause people to be myopic and trivial.

People speak irresponsibly, hurting others and bringing harm and shame to their community. The more responsible and intelligent are powerless to get them to focus rationally; to act properly and in a way that will bring benefit and blessing to all.

There is much imperfection inside of us and all around. Where, then, is the path to tikkun? Where do we start? If Chazal want us to arrive at Shavuos ready, why don’t they map out the way?

The answer is that they do.

They gave us a potent tool, a small book comprised of but six chapters that illuminates the path, exposes the pitfalls, and offers the path to self-perfection.

It is filled with good, old-fashioned advice on serving Hashem, confronting ourselves and dealing with other people. If you read this book, you learn how to value yourself, how to respect others and how to interact with them.

It defines honor, wisdom, wealth, and much more. In addition, it teaches how to acquire these gifts that people spend a lifetime chasing after.

No, it’s not one of those little self-help books written by a wannabe celebrity with a good press agent. It’s not written by a self-anointed paragon of virtue who tomorrow will be splashed all over the paper for living a life that is antithetical to the advice he made a living dispensing.

When a person isn’t sure how to conduct himself in a given situation, he turns to his parents. A child looks to his father for direction and wisdom to steer him around stumbling blocks and through dangerous minefields. But it’s more than that.

A father knows his child from day one, so he understands him. He knows what motivates each child, what to say and how to say it to each child.

This book contains fatherly wisdom, perception and insight. Hence its name, Pirkei Avos.

Written by the spiritual fathers of our people, it contains the most vital lessons a father could pass on to his children. Its ideas jump off the page right into your heart. You know you are reading the quintessential truth. You know that if you would just take a few extra minutes to digest the astute insights in this book, you’d be so much better off.

Pirkei Avos is not some foreign book that is off limits to our understanding until it is translated. For generations, Jews studied it all through the spring and summer months. They knew that it contains the answers to the most frequently asked questions, as well as the keys to personal happiness.

Unfortunately, for some reason, we, as a community, have relegated the learning of Pirkei Avos to children. In some shuls, it has become something to be davened-up after Mincha on Shabbos afternoon. Others don’t even bother doing that.

That certainly wasn’t the attitude of Rav Yehuda Hanosi, the mesader of the Mishnah. It is a far cry from the perspective he offers in the chain of mesorah that he cites from Moshe Rabbeinu to Yehoshua, then to the Zekeinim, the Nevi’im, and the Anshei Knesses Hagedolah, right down to the giants of his own era.

Rabi Yehuda, Rabi Yosi, Rabi Meir, Rabi Shimon - all our sages from Bava Metzia, Kiddushin and Arachin - are here. The greatest fathers and teachers of the generations are guiding us on how to be productive and content, how to live life with a smile on our faces and a sense of serenity in our hearts.

And, printed right alongside those Mishnayos is the Rambam, bringing the words of the Mishnah home in a way that is so real and immediate, you’d think his explanations were written today. Rabbeinu Yonah is here, too, with insights that are remarkably contemporary, joined of course by Rashi and many others, as well.

There are hundreds of other commentaries, and each one has a new angle, adding flavor and subtlety to the endless stream of wisdom of how to live life to its fullest.

They tell us so much, if we would only listen.

They teach us how to respond when a fellow Jew falls on hard times, why communities suffer, why sword comes to the land, why there is exile, and why there is economic depression. These issues are as relevant and pressing today as they were 2,000 years ago. Look for the answers here and they will send a shiver up your spine.

The Avos speak directly to their children. Take their answers to heart.

We must learn to translate their message in the context of our own reality. Our instinct must always be to turn to this masechta, for it is the legacy of our Avos.

Some make the mistake of relating to Pirkei Avos as light and easy material. It isn’t. It is as profound as the human psyche. But despite our depth and complexity, we, too, often get tripped up in the most shallow and simple areas. Without being aware of it, we become upset about trivialities, trample on others’ sensitivities, and are heedless of their vulnerabilities.

My rebbi, Rav Mendel Kaplan zt”l, would say that he knew a lot of children “with long white beards.” These were people who went through life never shedding their immaturities. People who remained children all their lives, never developing seichel, insight or a sense of responsibility.

The effort we must invest in learning these Mishnayos is to go farther than studying their practical meaning. Our task is to inculcate the middos to the point where they become second nature.

When we are no longer afraid to admit a mistake, when we learn how to see into a fellow Jew’s heart, when our own hearts have stretched in size so that they can accommodate more than our own egos, we will know that Pirkei Avos is doing its job on us.

When we begin to rid ourselves of our anger and jealousy, when we have developed a proper relationship with Hashem, when we are no longer bothered by nonsense, by havlei havalim, we will know that the lessons of our fathers are penetrating the hearts of the sons.

When we see the refinement and spiritual nobility of talmidei chachomim, we realize from where those middos come. Pirkei Avos and other such works can raise people like us to such lofty plateaus.

Rav Reuven Grozovsky suffered a debilitating stroke and his talmidim set up a rotation to assist him throughout the day. The bochur charged with attending to the rosh yeshiva each morning would help him wash negel vasser, then wrap tefillin on his arm and head and hold the siddur.

The rosh yeshiva’s hands would occasionally shake, making the task difficult.

One day, a nervous bochur had the zechus of being meshameish the rosh yeshiva. As Rav Reuven’s hand shook, the anxious boy nervously poured out the contents of the negel vasser cup, missing the rosh yeshiva’s hand completely. Humiliated, the boy tried again. He was already so frantic, and this time the water ended up on Rav Reuven’s bed and clothing.

He stopped and calmed himself before trying a third time. This time, he properly washed Rav Reuven’s hands. He helped Rav Reuven say brachos and then put the rosh yeshiva’s tefillin on for him. He was ready to leave, when Rav Reuven called him over and thanked him, chatting with him for several moments.

Feeling calm and happy, the bochur left.

He later learned that the rosh yeshiva was known to never speak, even one word, while wearing tefillin. It was obvious that Rav Reuven had noticed the bochur’s embarrassment and instinctively forfeited his own kabbolah to put the young man at ease.

Rav Reuven was sick. He couldn’t say shiur like he once had, he couldn’t write the penetrating chiddushim of his younger years, but the middos tovos were baked into his essence. They were part of who he was.

A talmid once went to learn with Rav Avrohom Genechovsky, the Tchebiner rosh yeshiva, on a Shabbos afternoon. Engrossed in his thoughts, the young man absentmindedly rang the doorbell. Horrified, he stood there for a long while, wishing he could disappear, before he was able to knock again. Rav Avrohom didn’t answer, which was surprising, since he didn’t sleep on Shabbos afternoon and was usually waiting for his chavrusah.

Eventually, a sleepy-looking Rav Avrohom came to the door - in his pajamas. He apologized for the delay and explained that he had been unusually tired, so he took a rest and did not hear the knocking.

When the young man figured out what really happened, he was overwhelmed. Of course, his rosh yeshiva had heard the ringing doorbell, but rather than open the door and humiliate the talmid, he quickly put on his pajamas and waited several minutes, pretending that he had not heard the bell ring.

To a talmid chochom, it is instinctive to act in a way that preserves another person’s dignity.

The personality molded by Torah is soft, flexible and kind. He is also strong and unbending. And it is not a stirah.

In another example that nothing is arbitrary, the parsha that we study during the days of Sefirah, Kedoshim, teaches us how to attain holiness. It’s a parsha laden with mitzvos bein odom lachaveiro. We are taught how to treat workers and borrowers, the blind, the deaf and the poor.

Through absorbing these mitzvos and their lessons, we become worthy of the Torah itself. The maxims that fill Maseches Avos become truisms. They are the only way to live. The baal middos sees the middos in those around him as well, changing the atmosphere.

We have been given the tools, and now is the time to put them to use lesakein olam.

The Sefas Emes was once given a large sum of money for safekeeping by a visiting chossid. The rebbe placed the money in a secure place, but the next morning, it was gone. The rebbe entered the bais medrash and announced that davening would not begin until the money was returned to its rightful owner.

No one came forward. Time passed, but the mystery wasn’t solved. Finally, the rebbe went into his house, called over one of the attendants, and said, “Give back the money you took.”

The attendant broke down and admitted his misdeed.

“If the rebbe knew who had taken the money,” the gabbai asked, “why did we have to wait so long to confront him?”

One of the chassidim explained that the rebbe knew who the culprit was. The challenge for the rebbe was being able to look another Jew in the face and accuse him of being a thief. It took the rebbe hours to get to that point, after he had exhausted all opportunities for the man to save face.

Hurting another person should be very difficult for us, while being thoughtful, kind and generous should be intuitive.

There are six perokim in Pirkei Avos, one for each week of Sefirah. As we study them and become better rachmonim, bayshonim and gomlei chassodim, we will be prepared to receive His Torah.

Becoming Better People

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

With Pesach behind us and Shavuos in the future, we are presently in the Sefirah period. Every evening we count how many days have passed since Pesach, and by way of inference how many days remain until Shavuos.

The Ramban in Vayikra (23:16) refers to this period as a sort of Chol Hamoed. The explanation is that this period connects the Yom Tov on which we celebrate the physical redemption of the Jews from Egyptian bondage and the day on which we received the Torah, which in essence redeemed the Jewish soul and freed it, allowing a spiritual, exalted life.

More famously, though, we regard the Sefirah period as a time of mourning and sadness. The Gemara in Yevamos (62a) tells us that, until this day, we mourn the 24,000 students of Rabi Akiva who died during this auspicious period. The Gemara explains that they died because they did not treat each other with the proper honor due to them.

Meforshim are perplexed as to why this would doom them to death. There is no mitzvah in the Torah to treat people with respect. Why would someone who is disrespectful deserve to die?

Even if you were to say that the obligation to treat your fellow respectfully is derived from the mitzvah in this week’s parsha of Kedoshim (19:18) of “ve’ohavta lerei’acha komacha,” to love other people as much as you love yourself, still, it is not a cardinal mitzvah. Nowhere does the Torah say that someone who doesn’t love his friend as much as he loves himself deserves to die for that offense.

We are all familiar with the story of the would-be convert who asked Hillel to summarize the Torah in one sentence. Hillel responded to him by stating, “Mah d’aloch soni lechavroch lo sa’avid - What you do not want done unto you, do not do unto your friend.”

Apparently, Hillel was translating the words “ve’ohavta lerei’acha kamocha” and telling the man that this mitzvah is the foundation of the Torah. To treat other people the way you want to be treated is not just a nice thing to do. It is not just another mitzvah of the 613 mitzvos. Rather, it is the underpinning of the entire Torah. In fact, Rashi reminds us that it was Rabi Akiva who stated that “ve’ohavta lerei’acha kamocha” is one of the major pillars of the Torah.

Thus, one who is not considerate of other people’s feelings is lacking in his knowledge of Torah. The Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (3:17) goes further and states, “Im ein derech eretz, ein Torah - Without proper conduct, there can be no Torah.” One who is unable to conduct himself properly cannot be a student of Torah.

Rabbeinu Yonah, in his commentary on Pirkei Avos, explains that the Torah cannot fit into a person who does not have proper middos. Rav Chaim Vital explains it further in Shaarei Kedusha (1:2), where he states that proper middos are the seat and foundation for the nefesh hasichlis, and without them, the nefesh cannot carry out its obligation to observe the mitzvos. He explains that this is the reason there is no commandment in the Torah for a person to behave properly, for the obligation to be a mentch precedes the mitzvos, and without it, we cannot observe any of the 613 mitzvos.

With this, we can understand the Mishnah in the third perek of Pirkei Avos that states, “One who finds favor in the eyes of man finds favor in the eyes of Hashem.” The Mishnah does not mean to say that we should engage in activities that win us short-term plaudits from superficial and power-hungry people who appreciate chanifah. Rather, the intention of the Mishnah is to teach us that whatever we say or do as we interact with others must be in consonance with the laws of derech eretz and middos tovos.

We must deal with everyone with respect and decency. Even when we find it necessary to admonish, it must be done in a way that does not cause people to view the Torah as anything other than a Toras Chesed.

This may be an explanation of the Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (3:11), which states that someone who publicly embarrasses another person has no share in the World to Come, even if he has Torah and maasim tovim to his credit. Perhaps we can understand the Mishnah allegorically to be saying that because someone who lacks the ability to treat people properly is lacking in the knowledge of Torah, a person like this will come to make mistakes in halacha and in Torah. He will thus deviate from the path of Torah and eventually end up losing his share in the World to Come.

Last week, in Parshas Acharei Mos (18:5), we read the posuk which states, “Vochai bohem… And you shall live if you will follow the precepts of the Torah.” Rashi, in his commentary, explains that this refers to life in the World to Come.

If you follow the chukim and mishpotim, you will merit Olam Haba. One who doesn’t behave properly demonstrates with his actions that he is lacking in his kinyonim of Torah. Therefore, he will lose his share in Olam Haba, which is promised to those who follow the mitzvos.

The Torah is referred to as a Tree of Life. One who grasps onto it merits a full life in this world and the next. But in order to develop the ability to grab onto Torah and internalize it, we must study and inculcate the 48 methods of acquiring Torah. Most of those 48 steps of attainment relate to the way we deal with each other. In order to behave properly bein adam laMakom, we have to first succeed in the way we interact bein adam lachaveiro.

Since the talmidim of Rabi Akiva demonstrated through their personal conduct bein adam lachaveiro that they were lacking in the 48 kinyonim of Torah, they cut themselves off from the life-giving abilities of Torah and didn’t merit to fulfill their shlichus in this world as talmidim of Rabi Akiva, who taught that “ve’ohavta lerei’acha kamocha” is a klal gadol baTorah.

Since the greatest obligation of our lives is to study and follow the Torah, we commemorate until this very day the tragedy that befell the holy students of Rabi Akiva, because a certain aspect of their behavior was found lacking. The obligation to be people of impeccable integrity and behavior is a lesson we must all take to heart as we pass through the yemei haSefirah and attempt to make ourselves worthy of being given the gift of Sinai.

Furthermore, seforim say that when a body part becomes diseased, it is because the portion of the nefesh that sustains it has become damaged by sin and is unable to satisfactorily maintain it. Thus, teshuvah heals, because when the person repents, he removes the p’gam caused by sin, which has damaged his nefesh, and then the nefesh and the body part it gives strength to can be revived.

Since the talmidei Rabi Akiva were lacking in the middos that Rav Chaim Vital says the nefesh depends upon as a precondition to host Torah, their nefashos were unable to sustain their bodies and they therefore passed away.

Additionally, these days of Sefirah are, in essence, a journey from the exile to complete redemption. In order to attain that freedom and to arrive at the state we all so strongly desire, we must be prepared at times to undertake heroic actions. Sometimes we may be forced to make that trip alone, fueled only by our inner core values. The 48 steps of acquiring Torah are what give our lives their meaning and guarantee that we will reach our goal successfully.

He who achieves his migration via climbing the 48 steps will be free of superficiality and the inherent insecurity that accompanies it. He will be blessed with the brachos reserved for those who uphold the Torah and will find lasting favor in the eyes of man and Hashem.

Vochai bohem. Such a person earns for himself chaim, life, in this world and the next. We live at a time when the world is undergoing the convulsions that will lead to the final redemption of the guf and nefesh, brought about by Moshiach. We know that this time is characterized by chutzpah yasgeh, the propagation of brazenness and audacity. How much more must we work to purify our middos during these days of Sefirah, so that we will be worthy of the geulah ruchnis of Shavuos and the coming of Moshiach tzidkeinu.

The Sefirah period has been filled throughout the ages with tragedies, and this year it has been that way again. On the last day of Pesach, Klal Yisroel suffered a tragic anti-Semitic shooting in California. This past Shabbos saw the start of an attack of a barrage of hundreds of rockets from the Gaza area upon our Israeli brethren, leading to loss of life and limb.

Meanwhile as this is going on, a Democrat Congressman introduced legislation opposing Israel’s “state-sponsored child abuse designed to intimidate and terrorize Palestinian children and their families.”

Last week, Congressman Betty McCollum introduced the Promoting Human Rights for Palestinian Children Living Under Israeli Military Occupation Act, H.R. 2407 — amending a provision of the Foreign Assistance Act known as the “Leahy Law” to prohibit funding for the military detention of children in any country, including Israel, according to a press release posted on her website.

“The bill establishes the “Human Rights Monitoring and Palestinian Child Victims of Israeli Military Detention Fund,” authorizing $19 million annually for non-governmental organization (NGO) monitoring of human rights abuses associated with Israel’s military detention of children.

“The Fund also authorizes qualified NGOs to provide physical, psychological, and emotional treatment and support for Palestinian child victims of Israeli military detention, abuse, and torture.”

While it is inconceivable to imagine that a rational person would attack Israel for defending itself against decades of Arab terror, the congressman says that, “Israel’s system of military juvenile detention is state-sponsored child abuse designed to intimidate and terrorize Palestinian children and their families.”

Calling for an end to American military support of the only democracy in the Middle East and grossly misstating the situation there, she said “It is outrageous that U.S. tax dollars in the form of military aid to Israel are permitted to sustain what is clearly a gross human rights violation against children.”

It is scandalous that a representative of a mainstream party twists the facts, presenting anti-Semitic lies to congress with impunity.

As Jews are increasingly targeted, in Israel, Europe and the United States, American Jews must revisit their historic support for the Democrat party, which has become a home for Jew haters, socialists and communists. The target of their ire, President Trump has proven himself to be the greatest friend the Jewish people have had in the White House, a man who continuously proves himself most deserving of our appreciation and support.

Let us all resolve to really stamp out strife, improve our conduct and do what we know we must to make the world a better place, for ourselves and for our redemption.