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1) A New Way of Looking at Yom Kippur, and Ourselves
The Torah insists that the two se'irim of Yom Kippur be identical: equal in appearance, height, and value, purchased together (Yoma 62a). And yet no two offerings in the entire avodah end further apart. One is slaughtered by the Kohen Gadol at the height of his sanctity, its blood sprinkled in the Kodesh HaKodashim between the poles of the Aron; the other is hurled off a cliff in the wilderness, smashed limb from limb, a fate we’d honestly never think to inflict on anything sacred.
In Be'er Yosef, R. Yosef Salant actually sees in this difference a piercing portrait of Yom Kippur itself. Two people can stand in the same (identical) spiritual position – they can carry the same sins, share the same history. Then comes Yom Kippur, the moment: one seizes it, does teshuvah with all his heart, and is drawn into the presence of the Shechinah, like the sa'ir whose blood enters lifnai v'lifnim. The other lets the day pass without stirring, and he drifts further away.
The goral, the lot, is what designates each goat. So too with people standing before Hashem: from the outside, you cannot tell which is which. Only Hashem, the Knower of thoughts, sees who has truly returned. The identical beginning makes the vastly different destinations all the more sobering, and all the more urgent. Which one do we choose to be?
2) How to Give Tochacha
The mitzvah of tochachah is both one of the hardest in the Torah to get right and one of the easiest to get wrong. Chazal themselves acknowledged the difficulty: R. Tarfon doubted whether anyone in his generation could give rebuke properly, and R. Elazar ben Azaryah doubted whether anyone could receive it (Arachin 16b). But I want to share this story of the Chofetz Chaim, who once demonstrated what it looks like when it's done exactly right.
Traveling to sell his sefarim, the Chofetz Chaim stopped at an inn in Vilna and watched a coarse-looking Jew devour food without a berachah, washing it down with strong drink. He moved to rebuke the man, but the innkeeper stopped him. "This Jew was snatched as a child of seven, sent to Siberia, raised among gentiles, and then served twenty-five years in the Czar's army. There's no one in there to talk to!"
The Chofetz Chaim approached anyway – but not with rebuke. He extended his hand warmly and said: "I heard what you endured, how they tried to force you to abandon your faith, to eat neveilos and treifos, and you remained a Jew. You didn't convert! I would consider myself fortunate to have zechuyos like yours. Your mesirus nefesh is greater than that of Chananyah, Mishael, and Azaryah!"
The old soldier's eyes filled with tears. And when the Chofetz Chaim gently added: "A person like you, counted among the holiest, if you would accept upon yourself to live as a proper Jew from now on, there would be no one as fortunate as you" – the man broke down weeping. He evidently never left the Chofetz Chaim's side, and became a genuine baal teshuvah.
The pasuk says hochei'ach tochi'ach, you shall surely rebuke. But the very next words are v'lo sisa alav cheit, do not bear sin on his account. The Chofetz Chaim understood that true tochachah doesn't begin with what a person is doing wrong. It begins with seeing what he's doing right.
3) Another Story: V'ahavta L'Reiacha Kamocha - even if he is not exactly Kamocha
I’ve shared this before, but it bears repeating: a powerful story from R. Paysach Krohn on what it means to love someone “as your fellow”, when he seems anything but.
On September 11, 2001, Avreimel Zelmanowitz was working on the 27th floor of the North Tower. When everyone in his office fled, Avreimel chose to remain behind with his colleague Ed Beyea, who was wheelchair bound and unable to escape. Avreimel refused to leave his helpless friend despite the imminent danger.
Three days before the tragedy, during a Shabbos Tanya, Avreimel had unexpectedly spoken up about self-sacrifice, challenging the notion that only great tzaddikim could truly perform kiddush Hashem. Less than 72 hours later, he would tragically demonstrate this through his own heroic actions.
President George W. Bush later recognized Avreimel's sacrifice in a national address, noting that "inside the World Trade Center, one man who could have saved himself stayed until the end at the side of his quadriplegic friend."
4) Too Comfortable?
Whatever the sin of Nadav and Avihu, it likely stemmed from a sense of comfort with their surroundings. Coming from the family of Moshe and Aharon and their exposure - albeit brief - with the Mishkan and its construction served as a blessing - and a curse that would lead to their deaths.
Are we too comfortable in our houses of worship? With our extended Jewish family? DO we sometimes take liberties that put our spiritual futures at risk? See this excerpt from R. Adin Steinsaltz’s sefer on the parshiyos.
5) See last year's Chomer Here.
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