Those of you who come here regularly know that I like to talk about current events on Shabbos morning. One of the fundamental ideas that I learned from Rabbi Moshe Hauer zt”l is that the Torah is a Toras Chayim, a living Torah. Yes, it was written thousands of years ago, but it was written by G-d who transcends time. And therefore, if there is something going on in the world, the Torah, by definition, has something to say about it. The parsha of the week, in my opinion, is not the portion we read in shul; the parsha of the week is what is on people’s minds, and we turn to the Torah to give us some much-needed perspective and guidance.
There are some weeks when there’s just not a lot going on in the world, and so I struggle to come up with a topic. There are other weeks when there is so much going on that the challenge is to figure out which one of the many big issues on people’s minds I should focus on. This week falls in that second category. Continuously escalating antisemitism in the US putting us all on edge, our brothers and sisters in Israel running endlessly back and forth between their beds and safe rooms, the downfall – we hope and pray – of our greatest enemy, Iran. All of those are worthy of a full-fledged talk. And then there is the stress that so many in this room are dealing with – the pressure of an expensive and labor-intensive holiday. For some, the anxiety around a holiday that is supposed to be filled with family, love, and laughter, and instead is filled with loneliness. That also needs our attention. And then there’s the silly stuff that bounces around my head, like the fact that your rabbi’s favorite hockey team, the Montreal Canadiens, are doing really well, and being that the Safren family lived in Canada for a while, I thought it would be a great time to teach you all about the greatest sport on earth.
Despite all those being appropriate options for the parsha of the week, I will not be speaking about any of them. Instead, I want to discuss the actual parsha of the week, a parsha that is known to be the most boring, most skipped-over, most ignored, most misunderstood of all, Parshas Vayikra, the parsha that Ami just read so beautifully.
I’ll share with you a little trade secret. Rabbis love the fact that the book of Vayikra falls out in such a busy time of the year. Most of the Torah, the books of Bereishis, Shemos, Bamidbar, are filled with great stories. The book of Devarim is filled with beautiful and practical ideas. But not Vayikra. It is really difficult to share meaningful messages about Korbanos, animal sacrifices, something we barely understand and certainly don’t relate to. It is really difficult to share thoughts about Tzara’as, the overwhelming and confusing details of leprosy. And it’s downright boring to discuss the laws of purity and impurity when almost none of it is relevant to us in a world without a Bais Hamikdash. So instead, rabbis will discuss Pesach, the four paryshiyos, hockey, really anything, as long as we are not forced to talk about Vayikra. And honestly, it’s a mistake. If I could be so bold as to say, ignoring the book of Vayikra is rabbinic malpractice.
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There is an ancient custom recorded in the Yalkut Shemoni (Tzav) still practiced in many day schools that when children begin learning Chumash, they begin with the book of Vayikra. The first words of Chumash that I learned in kindergarten were, “Vayikra Hashem el Moshe.”
Why is that?
In the Warsaw Ghetto, it was forbidden for Jews to gather to pray. If Jews were caught in a minyan, they would be executed. Nonetheless, Jews being Jews did exactly that. Under the machine guns of the Nazis, there were many groups that gathered to daven and learn Torah. One such group would gather around Rav Kloynamous Kalman Shapira, known as the Aish Kodesh, every Shabbos morning. And every Shabbos morning, he would deliver a sermon, a drasha, to inspire the people that gathered around him.
I’ve often wondered to myself, what message would share in such a circumstance? Would I talk about the antisemitism of the Nazis? Would I talk about the debilitating fear they were experiencing over rumors of the crematoria? The starvation? Would I talk about the loved ones they lost?
Rav Shapira chose to talk about none of that. Yes, there were hints and allusions to what was going on around them. But his message, week in and week out, were straight Divrei Torah. He spoke about the parsha. He spoke about G-d. He spoke about what it means to be a Jew. What it means to grow spiritually.
He wasn’t being naïve or putting his head in the sand. He was a brilliant educator and leader. He understood that all day and all night, his followers were surrounded by starvation, beatings, fear, pain. And so, for a few minutes every week, he led them into a sacred space of serenity, of meaning, of G-dliness. He created a space of holiness for their tired souls in the darkest depths of hell.
Some may cynically describe this as escapism. I would describe it as the purest mikvah, giving these broken people a moment of elevation and healing.
The Yalkut says that the reason we teach young children Vayikra before any other section is because “children are pure and the topics of Vayikra are pure.”
I don’t know about you but since October 7th I go to sleep doomscrolling as I read article after article about Israel and national politics. I wake up and, after saying Modeh Ani, I immediately open Times of Israel to make sure that my loved ones are okay. It’s heavy, and it’s draining.
Vayikra is a reminder of a pristine reality. It reminds me that the world is not divided between Republicans and Democrats; it is divided between tahara and tumah, light and darkness. It reminds me that the most important building in the world is not in Washington; it is a Temple that we yearn for; the Western Wall, not the East Wing. It reminds me that behind the smoke of cluster bombs, there is a cloud of glory; that there is a G-d and He runs this world.
Yes, the Torah is a Toras Chayim, it has what to say about everything happening in the world, it can help us navigate these difficult times. But it also has the ability to lift us beyond this world, to remind us of a pure and spiritual reality untainted by current events. The book of Vayikra is a pure Mikvah in a very dirty world.
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That’s very nice and poetic, you may say. But what about the fact that the laws of Vayikra are so impractical? What if I study these parshiyos and I just don’t get anything out of it?
A little while ago, Yedidia Safren shared with me something profound. Yedidia, Ami’s father, is part of our Amud Yomi chabura. We were listening Meseches Eruvin at the time, and there are some very difficult gemaras. Yedidia admitted to me that he doesn’t always understand sections of the Gemara we’re learning. So why bother, I asked him. Why do you spend the time every day to learn a page of Gemara that you don’t understand? And he explained that it’s the experience of learning Torah that he was after, not the content. What a precious idea.
Too often, we get stuck in a myopic view of Judaism. We focus on the details of Halacha, which are all critically important. However, sometimes those details prevent us from seeing the big picture. Why are we doing these Mitzvos? Who stands behind these Halachos? Because of G-d. Because we are trying to connect to Hashem. That is the big picture.
We may be cleaning for Pesach, and it’s stressful so we get upset at a child, at a spouse, at a friend. Why? Because they’re getting in the way of our Pesach cleaning. Is that really what G-d wants from us? Of course not.
This is not to say the details of Halacha are unimportant; they are critical. It’s that we cannot let them get in the way of the bigger picture. This is why the Rema begins his glosses to the Shulchan Aruch with the words, Shvisi Hashem l’negdi samid. “I place G-d before me always.” He is begging us to not lose sight of that.
And that’s what Yedidia was telling me. It is precisely when we do not connect to the narrative or do not apply the law that we can transcend the text of the Gemara and connect to its Author. In other words, when he listens to the shiur, he’s not listening to me teach, he is not learning the laws of an Eruv, he is sitting together with G-d.
I just celebrated my 18th wedding anniversary. When we were first married, Hindy and I decided to carve out time every evening to study Torah together. Being that I was young and foolish, I chose an impossibly difficult text to study – the Vilna Gaon’s commentary on Megillas Esther. Highly not recommended. To make matters worse, I approached our study session like a regular study session with one of my chavrusas. Hindy would say something and I’d argue and tell her how she completely misunderstood the text. It’s a miracle we made it through that first year… I was young and dumb, and I completely missed the point that those study sessions were a unique opportunity to connect with one another.
We are also celebrating the Aufruf of Chanan Oshry and his upcoming marriage with Chana Herzog. Mazel Tov! This message is for you and all of us who are blessed to be married. In a loving relationship, it’s not about the ideas you share with one another, the places you visit, or your accomplishments. It’s the fact that your loved one was at your side. That you were together.
The book of Vayikra, this highly technical, mostly foreign book, begins with the words, Vayikra Hashem el Moshe. Rashi comments that the word Vayikra is a lashon chiba, a term of endearment. Those words are meant to give context to the entire book. As so as we sit through these next weeks of texts we don’t necessarily understand, instead of saying who cares? We can remind ourselves that I am sitting with G-d. G-d is calling out, not only to Moshe, but to each of us, and saying, “I see you. I care about you. I want you.”
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Ami, you are a very bright individual. You won the pie competition in OCA (as in 3.14, not apple pie), you are a finalist for the Chidon HaTanach, you are a Rubik’s cube wiz, and in the high track for Gemara – those skills will get you far in life. Thank G-d, you have incredible role models, your parents, Malka Bracha and Yedidia who are sincere, growth-oriented, family-centered, and have worked on themselves continuously to not be caught up in external trappings. They’ve taught you to be sincere and authentic.
Ami, you are becoming a full-fledged member of the Jewish People at a very precarious time. It’s hard to envision what the future has in store for you and for all of us. No matter what happens, I hope and pray that you never forget the message of your parsha – that there is purity, goodness, in the world even when it seems to be caving in, and that if you listen closely you can hear your own personal Vayikra, the voice of Hashem calling you – you, and each and every one of us by name, because He loves us and wants us to spend some precious time together. That is what it’s really all about.