Rabbi Levin's Blog

 I am writing this on the flight back from New York where we celebrated the engagement of our daughter Menucha to Mendy Klyne.  We are deeply grateful to Hashem for bringing us to this milestone, helping Menucha move on to the next stage in her life, especially appropriate for this week's Parsha, "Shelach," which means "send."  Earlier in the week we celebrate another kind of "sending" to the next stage in life, at our daughter Esti's graduation from high school in Chicago.

At the graduation, Esti delivered the D'var Torah, and I would like to write a synopsis of what she said. This thought is important to all of us, but especially to those embarking on life's journey, taking on the responsibilities of making a living and running a household.

Toward the end of the Parsha we learn the Mitzvah of Challah. The literal translation of Challah is a loaf, and in this context the Mitzvah is that every time we bake bread, we should give the first part of it to the Kohanim. ("Kohanim" is loosely translated as priests, referring to the descendants of Aaron who performed the service in the Temple). This is a requirement that applies at all times and in all locations.  When the Holy Temple stood, every individual was required to give a loaf the size of 1/24th of the dough, and a commercial baker would give 1/48th. This loaf or loaves had a level of sanctity that required them to be kept "Tahor" - ritually pure, as well as other restrictions. Today we don't have the conditions required for the loaf to be eaten by the Kohanim, so we observe the Mitzvah as it is prescribed to be done in these conditions. We take a small piece of dough, while reciting a blessing for the Mitzvah, and burn it.  We may not eat any baked goods, assuming they meet the criteria for the Challah requirements, unless the piece of Challah has been separated. This Mitzvah applies to all, men and women, but it is one of the three Mitzvot for which Hashem gave priority to women, and it is their prerogative to do it. (The other two are lighting Shabbat candles and marital Mikvah.)

The Talmud says regarding the importance of the Mitzvah of Challah, that not observing it is tantamount to worshipping idols. This seems to be a pretty extreme statement. How can giving a piece of bread to a Kohen rise to this level of importance, to be compared to one of the three cardinal Mitzvot (idolatry, adultery or incest, and murder)?  The answer is that on some level, the non-observance of this Mitzvah shows a lack of acceptance of Divine Providence in every aspect of nature.

There are many things that people do to create that piece of dough. A farmer ploughs the field and sows seeds, with all the many labors that are involved in growing wheat.  The the wheat is ground and sifted, and then mixed with water and kneaded, until the dough is ready for baking. It is natural for a person to feel satisfaction that his or her work has lead to this point and has created the means with which to receive nourishment.  It is at this moment that we must stop and reflect that what appears to us to be the natural way of the world is actually the Hand of Hashem, making the seeds germinate and grow, bringing the rain, and giving us the strength and knowhow to do all the work.  This is the role of a human being on earth, to acknowledge and reveal that nature is, in fact, run by Divine Providence, and that what appears to us to be the natural order of things is really a constant miracle. We express this idea by sanctifying and giving the first part of our labor to the Kohen.  In absence of this Mitzvah, we may consider Nature to be its own force, and attribute the growth of the food to our own abilities and "the natural order of things," in a way worshipping the world as something separate and "other than" Hashem. This is why this Mitzvah, which affects our bread, the very foundation of our nutrition, rises to such importance in the Jewish worldview.

One of the many subjects in this week’s Parsha, Beha’alotcha, is the journeys of the Jewish people through the desert, specifically the order of the tribes, who went first and who went last.  The Torah tells us that Dan travelled in the back, and describes them as “Me’asef Lechol Hamachanot” – the collectors for all the camps.  As the ones who travelled last, they picked up anything that the others had dropped or left behind and returned them.  I guess you could say that the managed the “lost and found.”  This is very interesting, but does it really merit a prominent spot in the written Torah?  There are many historical stories and details of stories that are told in the Talmud and midrash that are not mentioned in the written Torah.  Everything in the written Torah is an eternal lesson in our daily lives.  The word “Torah” means lesson or teaching.  So there must be a lesson to us today from Dan’s role as returner of lost items.

What does it mean to be last?  The Torah teaches us that the Jewish nation is like a single body, and this concept is expressed in many ways.  For example, it emphasizes the love we should have for one another, just as we care about every limb in our body.  The head is the seat of the brain, the part of us that thinks and understands and leads the actions of the body.  The feet do not have any understanding, but they do our bidding and move without question (as long as they are healthy).  These are also two expressions of our devotion to Hashem.  There is the intellectual part of our service, study, philosophical and spiritual pursuits, and the attempt to understand the reasons behind the Mitzvot and to feel their inspiration.  This is important for us, since it helps us sustain our excitement in Torah and helps us feel closer to Hashem.  But then there are the times when we don’t feel particularly inspired, the Mitzvot that we don’t understand, or practices that we don’t feel bring us to spiritual heights.  When we observe those Mitzvot, we are doing it because we accept Hashem’s will.  In Hebrew that is called Kabbalat Ol -acceptance of the “yoke” of Heaven. 

The first type of observance is like the head, and the second is like the feet.  While the first is more inspired and brings us spiritual satisfaction, it can be all about us.  I am feeling great by doing these things that make sense to me and uplift me and bring me closer to Hashem.  The second type of practice can be devoid of feeling, but it is not about us, it is all about Hashem.  So while we feel distant, we are actually connecting more to Hashem, because we are fulfilling His will for His sake.  This is the role of Dan.  By traveling last, they were farther away from the Holy Ark and the Tablets than the rest of the people.  But they knew that Hashem wants us to help a fellow, so they were prepared to accept the distance in order to fulfill Hashem’s will.  Sometimes it is necessary for us to forgo our own personal spiritual growth in order to help another.  By doing so, rather than lowering ourselves, we bond with Hashem on a higher, more essential level.