Summer for the Soul
Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
After
parshiyos that discussed the tragic accounts of the meraglim and
Korach, this week’s parsha begins with an elevated vision of life
steeped in Torah. “Zos chukas haTorah, adam ki yomus ba’ohel.”
This is the way of Torah: spiritual living demands sacrifice. Those who
seek to bind themselves to Torah shed the layers of material life, dedicating
themselves to growth, meaning, and eternity. Their lives revolve around Torah,
and they steer away from pursuits that distract from their spiritual ascent.
Rashi, quoting the Medrash Tanchuma,
tells us that the Soton and the nations of the world mock this mitzvah.
They ask: What sense is there in the Parah Adumah? What logic can
justify it? The Torah anticipates this, so it emphasizes that this command is a
chok, a Divine decree beyond human understanding. We follow it because
it comes from Hashem.
We
are not expected to explain the Torah to those who mock it. We do not owe the
world rationales for our practices. We follow the chok, the word of
Hashem, with humility and resolve, and through that, we survive and flourish in
a world saturated with falsehood.
A
story is told of a lion that encountered a chicken and began to choke it. “Why
are you doing this to me?” the chicken cried. “I never harmed you.”
The
lion answered plainly, “Because I can.”
For
much of our history, that was the attitude of the world toward the Jewish
people. For centuries, we were tormented without reason, our loyalty and
intelligence questioned, our very existence scorned. The Torah teaches us not
to justify ourselves to those who wish only to ridicule. Engaging with them is
fruitless. Their questions are not sincere. Their aim is not clarity, but
derision.
Torah,
the ultimate wisdom, does not conform to conventional logic. Its truths are not
confined to what the human mind can grasp. We accept the chukim
alongside the mishpotim, with the understanding that our bond to Hashem
transcends reason. Torah living is not a matter of intellect alone. It is a
covenant rooted in submission, in faith, in eternity.
Greatness
in Torah is not achieved through brilliance, but through purity, diligence, and
humility. Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach would often recount the story of Rashi,
who, before writing his timeless commentary, traveled extensively to ensure
that no greater peirush already existed. Only after his search proved
fruitless did he begin his monumental work. As he wrote, he fasted hundreds of
times, begging that his words would reflect Divine truth and help propel people
to the truth.
Rav
Shach would become emotional as he retold this story. To him, it represented
the essence of Torah greatness: not ego or intellectual conquest, but deep
humility, responsibility, and fidelity to mesorah.
Rav
Aharon Kotler, in Mishnas Rav Aharon on Parshas Korach, explores
the unique role of shevet Levi, the shevet set apart from all the
rest to serve in the Mishkon and rule on matters of halacha. They
were not given a portion in the land, which would have encumbered them with
caring for it, planting and harvesting for their sustenance. Instead, they
relied on terumos and maaseros from the rest of the nation.
Rav
Aharon asks: If their service was so vital, why were they left financially
dependent on others? Wouldn’t this create instability and pressure, especially
when considering that the reason for the terumos and maaseros -
and them not owning property - was so that they would not be worried about
earning a livelihood?
His
answer is profound: Precisely because they were spiritual leaders, they needed
to be protected from arrogance. Had they been self-sufficient and financially
secure, they might have grown proud and disconnected from the people. But Torah
leadership demands humility. Financial dependency served as a safeguard against
conceit. For without humility, a person cannot merit siyata diShmaya,
Divine assistance. Hashem detests arrogance, as the posuk says, “Toavas
Hashem kol gevah lev.” Someone who is conceited cannot properly
understand Torah and arrive at the proper p’sak halacha. Someone
who is conceited will be lacking the siyata diShmaya necessary to
pasken correctly.
To
grow in Torah, intelligence alone is not enough. Torah is unlike any other form
of knowledge. It is a Divine gift, granted to those who approach it with
reverence and self-effacement. This principle holds true for communal
leadership as well.
A
group of askonim devised a solution to a communal issue. Before
implementing it, they consulted with a senior communal leader, who told them
that he favored their approach but must first consult with Rav Shach before
signing off on it. When the plan was presented to Rav Shach, he rejected it
outright, saying that he saw from the Chofetz Chaim that their approach
is wrong.
The
group was convinced that they had thoroughly analyzed the issue and arrived at
a perfect solution. Convinced that Rav Shach rejected it because the plan
wasn’t properly explained to him, they went themselves to meet Rav Shach to
discuss with him their solution to the pressing communal crisis.
Rav
Shach told them, “I will not debate your arguments, and for all I know, your
thoughts might be correct. But Klal Yisroel is not led by conclusions
and thoughts of smart people. Klal Yisroel is led by mesorah,
tradition. If the mesorah from the Chofetz Chaim is that we don’t
engage in something like that, then we don’t do it, no matter how smart it
seems, for following our mesorah is the proper course of action.”
This
is a vital truth in every generation. Too often, people believe that they know
better than the Torah. They view themselves as visionaries, convinced that
their solutions are superior to those passed down through generations. But such
confidence often stems from arrogance, not insight. And without humility and mesorah,
even the most well-intentioned leader can lead others astray.
We
see people who are consumed by a problem and believe that they have the perfect
solution. They fail to properly consider it, as they are convinced of their
intelligence and leadership abilities, but due to their conceit, they lack the siyata
diShmaya required to arrive at proper decisions.
They
think that their reasoning is impeccable, but they fail to consider the mesorah—namely,
how gedolim who came before them thought and acted.
No
one, as smart as he thinks he is and as pressing as the problem he faces is,
has a right to present plans that differ from our mesorah. Doing so
causes mayhem and fails to solve problems. The logic may be compelling, but it
is still wrong.
People
in our day are led astray by those who claim to understand the reasoning for
different halachos and temper them to mesh with the times.
History
has shown us the dangers of this path. The Conservative and Reform movements
arose from attempts to modernize halacha—to “rationalize” it, to make it
more palatable. The result was a tragedy of assimilation and spiritual
confusion, as they caused many to deviate from halacha and mesorah,
leading millions of Jews astray.
To
us, it sounds ridiculous that they maintain institutions that they refer to as
“yeshivos” and have halachic decisors who write so-called teshuvos,
as if they are following the Torah. Through the implementation of what they
refer to as logic, they have so dramatically twisted halacha as to make
it meaningless for their millions of followers.
Once
mitzvos are rationalized and twisted to conform to someone’s human
understanding of them and their concepts, the halachos become
compromised and eventually are totally lost.
Those
who study Torah while lacking yiras Shomayim, respect for mesorah
and humility ultimately destroy instead of build, obscure instead of reveal,
and cause others to repel the Torah instead of drawing closer to it.
When
they first began, we regularly reported on the actions and teachings of those
in the Open Orthodoxy movement, who follow in the path of the founders of the
Conservative movement. Their hypocrisy, true intentions and the sad path they
have followed have become obvious to all. We should never cease to remind all
that the leaders and clergy of this group are not Orthodox in thought,
practice, attitude or approach.
Their
teshuvos and drashos mock tradition and halacha, and are
fanciful attempts to have the Torah conform with current progressive thought,
bearing little relation to the reality of Torah thought and interpretation.
Though they claim to uphold the Torah, their reinterpretations and institutions
consistently erode its foundations.
Rav
Elchonon Wasserman explained the posuk of “Tzidkoscha tzedek le’olam”
(Tehillim 119:142) to mean that man cannot fathom the depths of Hashem’s
justice, for society and its concepts are ever changing. What is considered
just in one generation is viewed as unjust in the next. But “veSorascha emes,”
the truth of Torah is everlasting. It neither changes for the times nor
conforms to them.
Zos
chukas haTorah. Torah
is a chok. Torah is neither about impressive dissertations nor social
welfare and contracting with a good marketing firm. It is about following the
will of the Creator as expressed in Torah Shebiksav and Torah
Shebaal Peh.
Chazal say (Taanis 30, et al), “Kol
hamisabel al Yerushalayim zocheh veroeh besimchosah.” In order to merit
enjoying the rebuilding of Yerushalayim, one must mourn its destruction.
When
justice is man-made, there is always going to be inequality, mistakes, and
feelings of division, for the system is inherently only as good as the mortals
who formulate the laws and enforce and adjudicate them.
What
society considers just is ever-changing. But the truth of Torah is eternal.
So
when the parsha begins with the words “Zos
chukas haTorah,” it is telling us that Torah is not a philosophy,
nor is it a social framework or a platform for pontification. Torah represents
the Divine truth through which the world was created and which we must follow
to exist successfully in the world that was created through it and for it.
The
lesson for us is that we cause the flame of Torah to burn brightly within us as
a steady blaze that warms everything in its path. Let mitzvos be more
than obligations. Let them be the song of our lives. Let us dance to the rhythm
of halacha, not out of habit or pressure, but out of deep joy and
knowledge that this is the correct way to live our lives.
Let
us endeavor for our tefillah to carry the urgency of someone who knows
he is speaking to the One who created heaven, earth and us. Let our learning
feel like a reunion with eternity. When we sit down to learn, no matter the
time of day or night, let the pages of the Gemara pulse in our hands,
like living breath, providing us the very oxygen we need to survive.
Let
us ensure that our homes and shuls shine with sincerity, the glowing
warmth of love and authenticity. Let us raise our children so they see Torah as
the heartbeat of life. Let our neighbors feel kindness radiating from us. Let
us uplift people and not put people down. Let us be warm and not cold, friendly
and not distant.
We
are students of Torah, its bearers, its heirs. We are the link in a chain that
stretches back to Har Sinai, a chain forged by brilliance and by fire—the fire
of bitachon, sacrifice, and unwavering loyalty to Torah, halacha
and mesorah.
The
fire of Torah that brings life to everything.
The
summer sun stretches long across our days, casting a softer light and a slower
rhythm upon our lives. With the burdens of routine temporarily lifted, we
instinctively breathe a little deeper, hoping to recharge, physically,
emotionally, and spiritually.
But
the Torah doesn’t go on vacation. The weekly parshiyos continue to echo
through our lives, each one a reminder of who we are and what we’re here for.
As
we review Israel’s miraculous military triumphs that defied logic and revealed
the Hand of Hashem, we are reminded that Jewish survival is never natural. It
is always supernatural. At the same time, we begin to approach the somber days
of Tammuz, entering the shadowed corridor of the Three Weeks, when we
mourn not only the loss of the physical Bais Hamikdosh, but also the
resulting spiritual distance that has become part of our lives.
And
so, this calm season offers more than leisure. It offers clarity. It is a time
to pause and ask ourselves the questions we so often silence during the year’s
noise: Where am I really headed? Am I living deliberately, or drifting gently
in the current? What can I be doing better and how can I accomplish that?
We
sit on porches and benches, feeling the stillness, while inside something
stirs. A whisper. A nudge. A subtle call to return. To reflect. To realign.
Because even as the world seems to slow, the neshomah does not rest. It
seeks direction, meaning, and connection. It seeks the fire of purpose, even in
the warmth of summer.
This
is the time to look inward, to look upward, and to let the sunlight not only
warm our skin, but also awaken our hearts and help us prepare for the great day
when the new light will shine with the coming of Moshiach very soon.