The Majesty Of The Toil Of The Torah (Bechukotay 5767)

If you walk in My statutes, observe My commandments and perform them. (VaYikra 26:3)

Apparently, the bounty of God is contingent upon our performance. Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner explains that prior to the giving of the Torah, the world existed on what he terms chessed shel vitur – God’s kindness to Mankind independent of our behaviour, whereas after our acceptance of the Torah, Divine benevolence must be earned. This is chessed shel mishpat – kindness predicated on justice. We may expect His munificence to be commensurate with our own behaviour. What precisely does the Torah require of us to merit the blessings that our Torah promises? Chazal discuss the precise meaning of our introductory verse:

If you walk in My statutes – one might have thought that this refers to observance of the Mitzvot but since the verse says: observe My commandments and perform them, the observance of the Mitzvotis mentioned. How then can one understand the phrase: if you walk in My statutes? You must toil in the Torah. (Torah Kohanim BeChukotay 1:2)

Walking in the path of God is synonymous with learning Torah. This is something separate from observing the Mitzvot which is mentioned only afterwards. Indeed, the toil inorah is considered to be the key to meaningful human existence. In Kohelet, King Solomon asks:

What benefit is there for Man in all his toil in which he engages under the sun?

At first glance, this is rather bleak, for it seems to indicate that nothing we do is of any value. Indeed, Chazal tell us that the early sages considered removing Kohelet from the Biblical canon because of the implications of this verse. However, after careful reflection, we see that the only reference in the verse is to his toil – i.e. the futility of following our own agenda. In contrast, the toil of Torah brings meaning and value to life.

It is noteworthy that no mention is made here of achievement in Torah, but rather of effort. Commitment to the holy task of Torah learning, irrespective of ultimate attainment is what is expected. To be sure, knowledge of halachah, Jewish outlook and all areas of Jewish wisdom are highly prized, yet it is our willingness to engage in the process of Torah learning, without regard to the end result, which defines the extent of our connection to the source of all truth.

The whole concept is best encapsulated by the following brief Talmudic statement, beautifully expounded by Rashi:

Said Rebbi Zeira: the reward of the chapter [of learning] is the run. (Berachot 6b)

The main reward of those people who run to hear a lecture from a sage is the reward of the exertion. Indeed, the majority of them do not understand sufficiently to retain the content or to repeat the teaching in the name of their Rav later on, in order to receive the reward of the learning. (Rashi ad. loc.)

The refinement of personality that results from the exertion of learning, even when comprehension or retention is limited, is the main reward. In fact, the famous maxim of Ben Hei Hei – that the reward is commensurate with the trouble (and not the achievement) - is encoded as a fact of halachah by the Rambam.

On this theme, we note the choice of the word halachah to refer to Jewish law. This usage strongly indicates the notion that beyond the actual legal ruling, there is a process of discovery involved that is valuable in itself. Study of Jewish law demands not just the readiness to regulate one’s behaviour by the required Divine standards, but also the willingness to embark on a journey that is of itself a prerequisite for personal growth.

It is the process of learning – the active engagement in plumbing the depths of the mind of God, rather than necessarily reaching a specific conclusion, that is crucial. As we see, it is the journey of learning that qualifies us for the afterlife. We assume that it is possible to integrate this concept so fully into one’s psyche that the toil of Torah becomes one’s natural reflex. This is demonstrated by the beautiful words of King David, expounded upon by the Midrash at the start of our Sedrah:

If you walk in My statutes. This relates to the verse: I considered my ways and I returned my feet to Your testimonies. (Tehillim 119:59). Said David: Master of the world! Every day I intend to go to a certain place or to a particular residence, but my feet take me to the Shuls and the Yeshivot. (VaYikra Rabbah 36:1)

Quite inadvertently, King David found himself propelled towards the sacred in life: his subconscious, so highly tuned to spiritual matters, guided him towards Torah opportunities. It is insufficient for us to merely observe the Torah. We must channel our energies and resources into the toil of Torah – for it is that, more than anything, which makes us fit to receive God’s cornucopia.

The Hidden Things (Nitzavim & VaYelech 5766)

The first part of this week’s parashah finishes with the well-known verse:

The hidden things belong to the Lord our God, but the revealed things are for us and our children to eternity to do all the words of this Torah. (Devarim 29:28)

The precise identity of these ‘hidden’ and ‘revealed’ things has perplexed the sources from the earliest times. The Ramban offers a simple reading:

The ‘hidden’ things are the sins that are concealed from those who do them, for example unknown errors. The hidden things are only for God, as we have no sin in them, but the ‘revealed’ things, which are the deliberate sins, are always our responsibility. (Ramban, loc. cit., paraphrased)

There is an additional difficulty, in that the words ‘for us and our children’ appear in the Torah with dots over each letter. This is considered to be related to the meaning of the verse:

Why are there dots over ‘for us and our children’ and the ayin of ‘ad’? To teach that they were not punished for the hidden things until the Jews had crossed the Jordan – the words of Rebbi Yehudah. Rebbi Nechemiah said to him: is one ever punished for the hidden things? Doesn’t it say: to eternity? Rather, just as one is not punished for the hidden things, so they were not punished for the revealed things until the Jews had crossed the Jordan. (Sanhedrin 43b)

This source is perplexing. It appears to read ‘hidden’ and ‘revealed’ as the hidden or revealed sins of others, thus understanding the passage to refer to the sins of others. One of the great themes of the end of Devarim is ‘arvut’ – mutual responsibility between all Jews. This didn’t begin to apply until the unifying force of the Land of Israel bound the Jews together – hence the reference to the crossing of the Jordan. Rashi’s comment on the verse is instructive here:

Isn't a man ignorant of his fellow's secrets?' I will not punish you for the inscrutable, which is the Lord our God's--- He will punish that individual. However, what is exposed is for us and our posterity, to eradicate evil from our midst. If we fail to implement justice against them, then the community will be punished. There are dots over ours and our children's to teach that, even with regard to what is exposed, the community was not punished until they had crossed the Yarden, when they obligated themselves with the oath at Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival, and became accountable for one another. (Rashi loc. cit.)

Rashi (which is at least partially based on the above quote from the Talmud) understands that the verse addresses the responsibility of the community for the religious performance of the individual. The verses are taken in their context, for the earlier passage refers to individuals who stray towards idolatry:

Perhaps there is among you a man or a woman or a family or a tribe whose thoughts stray today from [being] with the Lord, our God, to go serve the gods of those nations; lest there is within you a root producing gall and bitter fruit. The Lord will be unwilling to forgive him, because then the Lords’ nostrils will fume and His vengeful fury enflame against that man, and there will cling to him the entire oath-curse written in this book; and the Lord will eliminate his name from beneath the sky. (17 & 19)

The surprising thing about this text (which remains very difficult) is the assumption that at some level we are all accountable for each other and that dire consequences await those who abrogate this responsibility. While there are numerous other explanations of this passage, this one, based on Rashi and the Talmud appears to be the most common.

Gazing The Right Way (Ki Tavo 5766)

The Sedrah includes what is known as the ‘viduy ma’aserot’ – the declaration made by a Jewish farmer that he has tithed his produce correctly and met all other halachic requirements. The list of requirements is quite extensive:

When you finish tithing all the tithes of your crops in the third year, the year of tithes, you shall give it to the Levi, to the orphan and to the widow and they shall eat in you gates and be satisfied. You shall say before the Lord your God: I have removed the holy things from the house and I have also given of it to the Levi, to the orphan and to the orphan in accordance with Your commandment that you have instructed me; I have not passed over any of Your commandments nor forgotten anything. I have not eaten of it when I am in mourning, nor removed from myself in a state of impurity, nor have I given of it to the dead; I have listened to the voice of the Lord my God in accordance with everything He has commanded me. (Devarim 26:12-14)

Having assured God that he has performed all his duties correctly, the farmer offers an unusual prayer:

Gaze down from Your holy habitation from heaven and bless your people Yisrael and the land that You gave to us as You swore to our ancestors, a land flowing with milk and honey. (26:15)

The word השקיפה – gaze down – is unusual and requires examination. The Mishnah remarks:

Gaze down from Your holy habitation from heaven – we have done what You decreed upon us. Now You do what You have promised us. Gaze down from Your holy habitation from heaven and bless your people Yisrael – with sons and daughters. And the land that You gave to us – with dew, rain and animal young. As You swore to our ancestors, a land flowing with milk and honey – so that the fruits will be flavoursome. (Mishnah Ma’aser Sheni 5:13)

But we need to look into the Yerushalmi (there is Talmud Yerushalmi, but not Bavli, on the agricultural parts of the Mishnah) to get some insight into the meaning of the word itself:

Rebbi Huna bar Acha said in the name of Rebbi Alexandra: come and see how great is the power of those who perform a Mitzvah, for every time the word השקיפה is mentioned in the Torah, it refers to a curse, but here is refers to a blessing. (Yerushalmi Ma’aser Sheni 32b-33a)

In here lies the significance of the word השקיפה, which appears in other contexts as a negative concept – criticism and negativity. The blessing bestowed instead of the usual curse is instigated by the Mitzvah of tzedakah that precedes the prayer. As the Tanchuma says:

Said Rebbi Alexandri: great is the power of those who give tithes, for they turn the curse into blessing, for wherever the Torah mentions השקיפה is refers to distress, as in: He gazed upon the face of Sedom (BeReishit 19)…. All others are interpreted as referring to distress except for this … not just this, but it turns the curse into a blessing. (Midrash Tanchuma Ki Tissa 14)

So meeting one’s obligations to people in need literally changes the world. A great thought as Yom Tov approaches.

Nine By Four Or Ten by Five? (Devarim 5766)

Deuteronomy, playing now at a synagogue near you, contains a curious mixture of encouragement, historical review, law, poetry, admonition and blessing. It is, in effect, a long speech, delivered by Moshe to the Jewish people in the weeks before his death. One of its most perplexing references is to Og, of whom we learn in this week’s reading:

Behold his bedstead was a bedstead of iron, is it not in Rabat Beney Amon, nine cubits by four cubits…. (Devarim 3:11)

This obscure verse was treated in an even stranger way by one mediaeval source, which seems to have suggested that it was added into the Torah later on. This is hard to square with the normative position that the entire Torah is the unmitigated word of God. Let us look at another way of understanding this.

Og was a king who had died in a battle with the Jews described in the book of Numbers. Og was distinguished by the fact that Moshe was afraid of him until God informed him that he need not be afraid. Why was Moshe scared of Og, when he seemed unafraid of the other foes encountered on route to the Land?

Our tradition contains many profound concepts couched in a unique literary form called Midrash; without it we would struggle to unravel this story. We must go back to Avraham and his servant Eliezer. To our surprise, we discover that Og is identified with Eliezer, who informed Avraham that his nephew Lot had been captured by warring chieftains. This enabled Avraham to rescue Lot and bring the war to an end. Conveying this message involved Eliezer/Og in great personal danger, for which he was rewarded with extreme longevity. When Moshe encountered Og centuries later, he was worried that he would not be able to overpower him; God assured him that Og’s time had come as the blessing of long life had expired.

Og’s trouble was that he spent his life cruising – relying on the merit that he had accrued in the distant past and on good fortune beyond his control. He may indeed have been circumcised by Avraham himself, helped to save Lot and embarked on a successful mission to find a wife for Yitzhak, but these were a very long time before. More recently, he had been sitting back drawing on his past, without much to show for the last few hundred years. Actually, the name Og means ‘circle’, indicating a man who was trapped in a closed, progress-free existence.

Back to the bed – do we really care that it was nine by four? The Ishbitzer Rebbe answered in the affirmative – the bed is the measure of the man; his spiritual, as well as his physical dimensions. Inspired people are measured by their spiritual achievements, by the extent to which they use every moment of existence to meet God and holiness face on. Their ‘beds’ – the lives they make for themselves – are dedicated to the pursuit of God – yah (yod = ten and heh = five). Og in comparison, and despite appearances to the contrary, was an also-ran, whose life can be circumscribed by the numbers nine and four.

How are we doing? Are we ten-by-fives or nine-by-fours? It’s worth some thought.

A version of this article first appeared in the Jewish News.

The Clarity Of Moshe (Mattot & Masse 5766)

This week's Torah reading commences with the laws of vows. The Torah takes oaths and vows very seriously - indeed, when one makes a vow, then the responsibility to fulfil one's promise takes on a Torah character. For example, a person might vow not to drink whisky for a month, or he might vow to eat a bowl of cholent every Thursday morning. One assumes that the motivation for so doing is to help control some kind of undesirable behaviour or encourage a positive way of acting.

If pronounced in the correct way, these acts now become Biblical responsibility. He may not drink whisky for a month, and is prohibited to him as surely as if it were written in the Torah itself. Similarly, he must eat his bowl of cholent at the prescribed time, and if he does not, then he has failed in his religious duty. The late Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan observed that something very exciting lies within this obscure law. It is clear that while the Torah regulates many things in life, most things remain optional. It is our choice whether or not to eat certain foods, go to certain places - i.e. how to use most of our time and our resources. The Torah gives us a tool - the oath or vow - which enables us to bring any object or action within the ambit of the Torah system. Most actions or objects which the Torah does not demand we use within the Kedushah / holiness sphere, but we can choose to use them to fulfil Torah laws in this way. Of course, this can be dangerous, as by making more rules, we may fall more easily into wrong doing, but the principle is clear. The laws of vows are very complex and occupy a whole tractate of the Talmud (Nedarim) and a large section of the Talmud.

It is interesting to note that in the introductory verse to the section dealing with vows, we see an unusual phrase:

Moshe spoke to the tribal heads of the Jewish people saying - this is the thing which God has commanded. (BeMidbar 30:2)

The phrase this is the thing is uncommon - a more usual usage is thus says God. Rashi, noting this strange usage, observes that only Moshe communicated his prophecy using this is the thing. This is intended to convey the exceptional quality of Moshe's prophecy. The Maharal of Prague, commenting on this Rashi, notes that the phrase thus says God really means ‘an approximation’ - as though the prophet says 'this is pretty much what God said.' This is expressed through the ‘kaf hadimion’ – the comparative letter ‘kaf’ at the beginning of the word ‘koh’ – thus. In contrast, this is the thing means that the message is an exact communication of the Divine will. The sources tell us that prophecy must, perforce, come through the personality of the prophet. He may fall asleep or go into a trance, which means that his physical drives or distractions are limited during the prophetic experience. Nonetheless, the prophecy is filtered through his / her personality and therefore must be expressed in those terms. Hence, while the message repeated by the prophet contains the essence of the Divine communication, it is only a thus says type of prophecy. Not so Moshe, who was able to so limit the influence of his personality on the prophecy that he was communicating the exact word of God - this is the thing. At a deeper level, Moshe's physical reality and drives were so in tune with the will of the Divine that they did not interfere with or warp the prophecy at all.

The Talmud (Tractate Yevamot) expresses this idea quite succinctly - all the prophets saw through a clouded lens, but Moshe saw through a clear lens. Mind you, he was still viewing God's message through a lens, but that is another story....

This helps us to understand the context in which the quality of Moshe’s prophecy would be noted. Vows demand a level of clarity in speech and thought which is perhaps unmatched in any other area of Torah law. It thus makes sense that it was here that the Torah recorded the special nature and clarity of Moshe's prophecy.

Bilam And The Avot (Balak 5766)

The second of our Sedrot this week, Balak, deals with the well-known episode of the gentile prophet Bilam. The sages note some interesting similarities between his behaviour and that of the forefathers:

Bilam arose in the morning and he saddled his donkey. He went with the princes of Moav. (BeMidbar 22:21)

We would not expect a man of Bilam’s standing to saddle his own donkey:

From which we learn that hatred corrupts the natural order, for he saddled it himself. God said: you wicked man, Avraham their father preceded you, as the verse says: Avraham arose early in the morning and saddled his donkey. (Rashi loc. cit.)

The Tanchuma, from where Rashi appears to have drawn his comment, is noting the similarity of phraseology. If we are troubled by Bilam’s actions, then we must also be bothered by Avraham’s. Of course, while Bilam’s intentions are assumed to be wicked, Avraham’s are assumed to be positive. Here is the original source:

Bilam arose in the morning and he saddled his donkey. Did he not have a servant or maidservant? Rather because of the great hatred with which he despised Yisrael, he arose with alacrity and did it himself…. (Tanchuma Balak 8)

Another similar source amplifies the idea:

Bilam arose in the morning and saddled his donkey. It was taught in the name of Rebbi Shimon ben Eliezer: one knows that love overturns the order of grandeur (the natural order, in which important people have servants to do menial tasks for them) from Avraham. One knows that hatred also overturns the order of grandeur. (Sanhedrin 105b)

The sages see in this detail and others that follow it an attempt by Bilam to undermine the Jewish people by usurping the foundational role of the forefathers. Another example:

God called to Bilam, who said to him: I have arranged the seven altars and I have brought up a cow and a ram upon the altar. (BeMidbar 23:4)

The text doesn’t say ‘seven altars’, rather ‘the seven altars’ (with a definite article). He said before God: their ancestors built seven altars before You and I have arranged (my altars) corresponding to them all. Avraham built four…. Yitzhak built one… Yaakov built two. (Rashi loc. cit.)

Bilam said to Balak: build with this for me seven altars. Why seven? To correspond to the seven altars that seven righteous men built from Adam to Moshe, which were accepted. They were Adam, Hevel, Noach, Avraham, Yitzhak, Yaakov and Moshe. Bilam said before God: why did you accept these? Isn’t it because of the idolatry that they performed (and brought offerings as a rectification)…. Wouldn’t it be preferable to be worshipped by the seventy nations than by just one people? (Tanchuma Balak 11)

These sources enable us to understand the thrust of Bilam’s true intent. He, in common with so many of our enemies throughout history, questions the nature of the unique relationship between God and the Jewish people. By various devious means, he attempts to ‘persuade’ God that the world would be a better place without the Jews, or at least without the special relationship that He established with them at Sinai. Regrettably, we sometimes doubt the truth of this essential concept ourselves. This parashah should inspire us to remember just how central to Judaism it really is.

Korach's Name (Korach 5766)

The Sedrah begins with a brief introduction to episode of Korach and his followers. Note the way in which Korach is named:

And Korach, son of Yitzhar, son of Kehat, son of Levi, took and Datan and Aviram, the sons of Eliav and On, son of Pelet, sons of Reuven. And they arose before Moshe and two hundered and fifty men from Beney Yisrael, princes of the community, called to the assembly, men of fame. They congregated over Moshe and Aharon and said to them - it is too much for you, for all of the community are holy and God is amidst them - so why do you lord it over the community of God? (BeMidbar 16:1-3)

The genealogy of Korach is unnecessary – we already know all this information from previous verses. The Talmud, recognising that the names are not needed for the narrative, assumes that rather than telling us from whom Korach was descended, they tell us about his character. However, why supply a four stage genealogy? Why not trace Korach’s ancestry still further, perhaps to Yaakov, or even beyond:

So let it also consider, ‘son of Yaakov’…. Said Rav Shmuel bar Rav Yitzhak - Yaakov requested mercy for himself, as the verse says, ‘Let my soul not come into their secret and with their gathering, let my honour not be unified.’ ‘Let my soul not come into their secret’ - these are the spies. ‘And with their gathering, let my honour not be unified’ - this is the gathering of Korach. (Sanhedrin 109b)

The reference is to the vision that Yaakov had on his deathbed, as recorded at the end of BeReishit. When speaking of the tribe of Levi, he saw that a descendant of his (Korach) would start a rebellion. He prayed that his name not be associated with the rebel; hence the genealogy of Korach stops at Levi, just short of Yaakov.

But how did this help Yaakov? Every child knows that Levi’s father was Yaakov; his absence from Korach ancestry hardly excludes his association from the rebellion. We already know that Korach’s great-great grandfather was Yaakov. The Maharal considers this question:

If you will ask - is it not a disgrace that such wicked descendants should emerge from the righteous one - for even though it is not written explicitly, do we not know that Korach was descended from Yaakov? We see that a righteous man may certainly spawn a wicked one - for there is some impurity in the righteous which manifests itself in the wicked one. There is no righteous man without some impurity, from which emerges the wicked one. But Yaakov prayed that he should have no portion in the wicked one, meaning that…. the impurity of that wicked one should not be rooted in Yaakov, rather in Levi. Therefore, it does not write, ‘ben Yaakov’, for Yaakov had no part in their dispute.... (Gur Aryeh BeMidbar 16:1)

The Maharal understands Yaakov’s prayer in a new way. Yaakov was concerned when he visualised Korach that he (Yaakov) might be responsible in some way for the rebel’s behaviour. Yaakov thought that Korach’s rebellion might be a manifestation of some flaw in himself, magnified through the generations into a full-scale attack on Moshe’s leadership. When God (as it were) consented to record Korach’s ancestry just to Levi, Yaakov was assured that the defect did not find its root in him, but could only be traced as far as Levi.

There is, however, a niggling difficulty. Assuming that Levi was the ‘root’ of the Korach problem, since Levi was Yaakov’s son he was therefore somewhat responsible for him. As such, the purpose of only tracing Korach’s family to Levi is unclear. The Shem MiShmuel suggests that while indeed the trait exhibited by Korach was traceable to Yaakov, its negative manifestation came from Levi. The pure trait of steadfastness in the face of adversity came from Yaakov, but was first misused by Levi (in the episode with Dina); this misuse reached its nadir with Korach, who stood brazenly in defiance of Moshe and his people. While in principle, steadfastness is a neutral trait, it may be used for good of bad. Yaakov was assured that while the essential trait came from him, any misuse started further down the line.

Speaking Ill Of The Land (Shelach 5766)

The majority of the Sedrah deals with the story of the spies, who brought a negative report of the Land of Israel to the Jewish people. Although the people who believed them were allowed to live (although they would now die in the desert), the spies themselves died a gruesome death:

And the men, whom Moshe sent to spy out the land, and who, when they returned, made all the congregation to murmur against him, by bringing up an evil report against the land, even those men that did bring up an evil report of the land, died by the plague before the Lord. But Yehoshua the son of Nun, and Caleb the son of Yephuneh, remained alive of those men that went to spy out the land. (BeMidbar 14)

The nature of the plague is not specified by the text, although the Talmud has a tradition as to its nature:

The spies had no share in the world to come, as it says: the men who spoke evil of the land died in a plague. They died - in this world, in a plague - in the world to come. (Sanhedrin 109b)

The men died who spoke evil of the land in a plague - said Rebbi Shimon ben Lakish: they died an odd death. Said Rebbi Chanina bar Popa: Rebi Shilo from the town of Tamrata expounded: to teach that their tongues extended and fell on their navels and worms emerged from their tongues and entered their navels and from their navels they entered their tongues. Rav Nachman bar Yitzhok said: they died from croup. (Sotah 35a)

In the plague - from the fact that it doesn’t says: in a plague, it implies that it was special, and they deserved it measure for measure. (Rashi)

Following Rashi’s lead, many of the commentators attempt to link their wrongdoing with their grisly deaths:

The prophet Ezekiel describes the Land of Israel as the ‘navel of the earth’ (38), since it is the focal point of the physical world. The fact that the spies spoke (with their tongues) against the Land (the navel) is clearly related to their punishment:

This absolutely measure for measure, as they spoke evil with their tongues about Eretz Yisrael, which is in the navel of the world, as it says in Yechezkel - upon the navel of the earth. The Radak explains there that Eretz Yisrael is called the navel of the world because it is in the centre of the world, like the navel is in the centre of the body. Therefore they were punished in this manner. Also the reason of Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak who explained that they died of croup, for this illness begins in the mouth and finishes in the intestines, which is the navel at the top of the intestines. (Iyun Ya’akov to Sotah 35)

Rashi, in his Talmud commentary, makes a similar observation. The Kli Yakar offers a slightly different explanation:

It writes: The wicked are estranged from the womb; the speakers of lies go astray as soon as they are born. When the child is inside its mother, then the navel takes the place of the mouth, for its mouth is closed and its navel is open. Since even in the womb the speakers of lies go astray, it is as though even in the womb their mouths are open to speak lies and falsehood, where the navel is in the place of the mouth. Therefore their tongues extended to their navels for with each mouth they consumed and destroyed the land with their falsehood, so the punishment was in both these places, which is the place of the sin. (Kli Yakar loc. cit.)

Knowing How To Teach (Beha'alotecha 5766)

And God spoke to Moshe saying. Speak to Aharon and say to him: when you cause the lamps to rise, the seven lamps shall illuminate the face of the Menorah. (BeMidbar 8:1-2)

While the concept seems simple, - God gives the Mitzvah of lighting the Menorah to Aharon and his family - there is a textual oddity which requires our attention. We would have expected the text to say when you light the lamps - why then is Aharon to cause the lamps to rise? Rashi comments as follows:

The lighting is described in terms of rising, because the flame ascends - for one needs to light until the flame rises on its own. The Rabbis further explain that we can learn from here that there was a step in front of the Menorah, upon which the Kohen stood when he lit and prepared the lights. (Rashi, loc. cit.)

So Rashi understands the odd word beha'alotecha - the name of our reading - to mean either that the Kohen himself must ascend a step to light the Menorah from above, rather than stretching up to it, or that he must ensure that the flame rises on its own before removing the match from the wick. This is the usual manner of lighting a lamp – if one withdraws the taper before the new flame rises, it probably hasn’t caught and will need relighting. It is inconceivable that Rashi would write two such different explanations without him seeing them as two facets of the same idea. Let us try to link them together.

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, one of the greatest Halachic authorities of the 20th century, sees these two explanations as a guide to educational methodology. It is common to perceive the Menorah as representative of the wisdom of the Torah, which is intended to illuminate the world and permeate it with meaning. As such, the way in which we light the Menorah indicates the manner in which we inspire ourselves and others with whom we come in contact.

Rabbi Feinstein suggests that when we educate others, our goal should be to make them self-sufficient in the area of knowledge imparted. We should not aim to create dependency, but to develop mature students, independent of us - thinking on their own and, when the time is right, able to impart this information to others. This is the meaning of the first part of Rashi - when we are lighting the Menorah - i.e. inspiring others, be they students, friends, children - we must stay with them long enough so that they rise by themselves. When we walk away, they will still be burning brightly without our help. And as with a flame, there is no loss of quality - for this flame can go on and light many others.

This leads us directly to the other explanation offered by Rashi. The only way in which we will be able to achieve this noble educational goal is by having a very broad and thorough understanding of the material at hand. When we are comfortable with the material which we are imparting, only then can we succeed in imparting our inspiration in this way. We have all been taught by tutors who are not enthusiastic about their subject or just one page ahead of the students in the text book! Such poor methods never succeed in igniting the interest and enthusiasm of their charges. That is why the Kohen must stand on a step to light the Menorah from above. Before he can light, he must have the broad view which the height of the step affords him; he must light the lamps from above, peering down upon them. Translated into our situation, this means that when we are top of our material, we can impart it successfully.

Thus the two explanations of Rashi work in harmony with each others, together defining an appropriate educational methodology. This should have a significant impact on the way we act as teachers, parents and indeed, communicators of any sort. It is a remarkable lesson, for it shows us that the Torah can provide us with an entire educational methodology merely by using one word. Let us use it wisely and inspire ourselves and our children.