Blog - Torah Insights

What is the Hebrew Word for “I”?

Biblical Hebrew has far fewer words than English; the scarcity of words can be seen as a limitation to expressing precise ideas, but it also has powerful advantages. In Hebrew, many words share similar roots, which invites us to find connections between concepts and phenomena that seem unrelated, giving us a glimpse into deeper dimensions of reality. 

One interesting exception, where Hebrew is perhaps more descriptive than English, is the word “I”, where Hebrew has two ways of saying “I”: the common word in the Torah is “Ani”, yet occasionally the Torah uses the word “Anochi”; for example, the opening statement of the ten commandments, “I am the Lord your G-d” is “Anochi” for “I”. 

The word “I” written on paper is silent; it does not tell us the tone in which the word is spoken. When someone asks: “Who did this?” and the response is “I”, what is the meaning of the answer? Was it said with an apologetic tone, or an assertive one? Same word, completely different meaning. That is why the Hebrew has two words: “Ani” is the humble “I”, Anochi is the assertive one. 

Throughout the Torah, the shift between these two words reveals a progressive three-step unfolding of the Divine presence.

When the Jewish people were in Egypt, the Torah uses the word “Ani”, the humble I, because G-d “lowered” himself and expressed himself within the space of Egypt. By contrast, at Sinai, G-d revealed himself with all his glory; He therefore says, “Anochi”, asserting his full essence. [Assertiveness and self-containment, in Chasidic thought, are synonymous: the deeper the self, the less it needs to answer to anything outside it].

And then, at the bank of the Jordan River, we read the opening statement of the portion of Re’eh: “Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse”. This time, again, the word Anochi is used for “I”. Chasidism explains that the Anochi at the Jordan River represents an even greater level than the Anochi of Sinai. For at Sinai, the “Anochi” is followed by other names: “Anochi Hashem Elohecha”, “I am the Lord your G-d”, representing the essence as it is expressed and channeled through a description and limitation. At the Jordan River, we read of the unqualified “Anochi”, the true essence of G-d. 

At Sinai, which refers to the Torah, we encounter the essence of G-d as it is expressed through the ideas and teachings of the Torah. What could possibly be a greater way to connect to the unqualified essential “Anochi” than Torah - the Divine will and wisdom?  

The Talmud teaches that the ceremony of accepting the blessing and the curses on Mount Gerizim and Mount Eibal described at the beginning of our Parsha, Re’eh, is when the Jewish people entered into a collective covenant with G-d. At Sinai, G-d spoke to every Jew in the singular, and each person accepted the covenant for themselves; only once we entered the land of Israel did we accept the covenant that makes us responsible, and “guarantors”, for one another. 

The unity between the Jewish people touches the true core of who we are. Externally, there can be profound differences between us, various opinions, personalities, and perspectives. Yet, at the core essence we are one. When we look beyond our differences and recognize our core, ”Anochi”, the deepest essence of our Jewish souls, we connect to the ultimate “Anochi”, the deepest essence of G-d.  

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe, Re’eh Anochi 5765

Faith in Real Estate

Like any good real estate agent, when “selling” the land of Israel to the Jewish people, Moses highlights its virtues. He tells the people that the land of Israel is far superior to Egypt: 

For the land to which you are coming to possess is not like the land of Egypt, out of which you came, where you sowed your seed and which you watered by foot, like a vegetable garden. (Deuteronomy 11:10)

Egypt’s sustenance was dependent on the Nile River, which required the farmer to carry water to his field. As the Midrash describes: 

The land of Egypt required bringing water from the Nile by foot in order to water it; you had to rise from your sleep and toil. And only the low-lying areas were watered [i.e., were irrigated by the Nile], but not the high land, so you had to carry up water from the lower to the higher areas. 

By contrast, Israel is entirely different. As Moses continued: 

But the land, to which you pass to possess, is a land of mountains and valleys and absorbs water from the rains of heaven. (Deuteronomy 11:11) 

No need to “Shlep” the water, as the Midrash describes: “you sleep in your bed, the Holy One, blessed is He, waters both low and high areas”. 

But that leaves us wondering: is this the full story? Does this description capture the true balance of the advantages of Israel over Egypt? Or is Moses, like any good real estate agent, highlighting only what is "convenient" for his narrative? For, yes, when it rains, Israel is certainly advantageous; the problem, of course, is that rain is often scarce. 

Egypt’s natural resource, the Nile, provides a constant source of nourishment, but is also a spiritual hazard, for it allows a person to delude himself into thinking that he is self-sufficient and his destiny and success are the product of his own might. In Egypt, a person can feel invincible, with no need to turn to, and to accept the morality of, a higher power. 

In Israel, by contrast, a Jew knows that all his effort is dependent on the heavens. He can toil, sow and plant, but ultimately, must put his trust in G-d to bring the rain. The scarcity of rain is indeed what ensures that connection and relationship with G-d. As Moses continues in the very next verse: 

A land the Lord, your G-d, looks after; the eyes of L-rd your G-d are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year.

Even with the advances of Israeli ingenuity and technology, what was true then is still true today. Surviving and flourishing in the region is a miracle. Sometimes we wish that Israel would be more like other nations, whose existence seems more secure and doesn't require reliance on the extraordinary. Yet, perhaps that is one of the reasons why G-d chose that strip of land for his people. For it is a land whose very geography, topography, and climate evoke a deep connection and relationship with G-d. 

Expanding Oneness 

The most important statement in Judaism is the declaration of the Shema, which we are commanded to recite every morning and evening, proclaiming Hashem Echad, G-d is one. But what exactly does that mean? And how did our understanding of this critical statement develop over time? 

On the most basic level, G-d is one, means that the creator of all existence is one, and not a partnership between two or more entities. 

Centuries later, Maimonides articulated the meaning of oneness to include, not only that there are no other G-ds, but that G-d’s existence is pure oneness (not a composite of many parts), not susceptible to limitation and change. In the words of Maimonides: 

This God is one. He is not two or more, but one, unified in a manner which [surpasses] any unity that is found in the world; i.e., He is not one in the manner of a general category which includes many individual entities, nor one in the way that the body is divided into different portions and dimensions. Rather, He is unified, and there exists no unity similar to His in this world.

Hundreds of years after that, Chasidism reveals additional depth in the word one: not only is there only one G-d, not only is G-d himself one and not composed of two or more parts, but that there is only oneness. The multitude of spiritual worlds, galaxies and creations are included within, and an expression of, the oneness of G-d, for every creation is an expression of the Divine energy which brings it into existence. 

The Hebrew word Echad, one, is composed of three letters: Aleph, with the numerical value of one, represents the one G-d. Chet, with the numerical value of eight, represents the seven heavens and the earth. Daled, with the numerical value of four, represents the four directions. When we say Shema, we are tapping into and revealing the deeper reality of oneness, namely that all of existence, with its unfathomable detail, beauty and complexity, from the distant galaxies to the intricate veins of a leaf, from the vastness of the ocean to every heartbeat, every person and every experience, is included in the oneness. We expand the oneness by opening ourselves to the realization that all parts of creation share a deep connection. For we are all part of a greater oneness, all part of the Divine that shines through us. 

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe, Likutei Sichos vol. 11 p. 11 

How to Read a Map

Are we on the “Other Side of the Jordan” or at “the Plains of Moab”? 

The final verse of the fourth book of the Torah states explicitly that the Jewish people were at the plains of Moab: 

These are the commandments and the ordinances that the Lord commanded the children of Israel through Moses in the plains of Moab, by the Jordan at Jericho. (Numbers 36:13)

Yet, the next verse, the first verse of the fifth book of the Torah, refers to the same geographical location by the name "The other side of the Jordan":  

These are the words which Moses spoke to all Israel on that side of the Jordan in the desert (Deuteronomy 1:1)

How do you define your state of being? How do you define your “place” in the world, based on where you are, or based on where you are heading? 

The fourth book of the Torah tells of the forty-year journey through the desert, a challenging journey both physically and spiritually. The Hebrew word “plains”, Arvot, shares the same letters as the word for “Erev”, evening, representing the spiritual darkness and challenge of the journey. The conclusion of the fourth book represents the triumph over the challenges and difficulties. Finally, they crossed the desert, learning from and ultimately transforming the painful experiences. 

The fifth book of the Torah presents a completely different model of how to live in this world. We are not in the “plains of darkness”, but on the other side of the Jordan. Our existence is defined in relation to the holiness and land of Israel, which we are working toward. Our perception while facing the darkness is not confusion and melancholy, but rather the clarity and optimism that comes from being on the precipice of a bright future, when we will cross the river and enter the holy land. 

When you look at your life, when you look into the figurative map to locate the “you are here”, remember that it's up to you to define your position. Are you at the plains of Moab, or at the other side of the Jordan?

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe, Shabbat Devarim 5788 

Is Materialism Antithetical to Spirituality? 

After forty years of living a sheltered life in the desert, a life devoted to spirituality and Torah study, the Jewish people emerged from the desert and came face to face with civilization. The meeting was a colossal failure. The Jewish people were tempted by the sounds and sights of what they encountered, strayed after the pagan women of Moab, and adopted their idols. 

Against that background, the Torah, toward the conclusion of the Book of Numbers,  introduces the laws of vows, whereby a person can prohibit something upon themselves, giving it the force of a biblical prohibition. While the goal of Judaism is not asceticism but rather the sanctification of the material,  a person does have the ability to create boundaries for themselves, to say no before they can say yes. Before a person can sanctify pleasure, wealth, or success, he must first possess the discipline to use the material in a way that is productive and healthy and not let it take over, thus leading to a self-destructive outcome.

The Torah offers a path to "undo" the vows. That represents the ability to grow from a place where materialism was a threat to a holy lifestyle, to a place where the material can be incorporated within holiness and ultimately lead to greater spiritual growth. 

But what is the process, and what are the necessary spiritual tools to be able to “undo the vow” and defuse the potential destructive lure of the material? 

The answer is alluded to in the phrase Moses employs when introducing the concept of vows and their nullification. Moses says, “Zeh Hadavar”, this is the matter. “Zeh”, this, referring to a Divine communication, is very unusual. In general, prophets use the term “Koh”, which means “so”, as in “So says the Lord”. Moses is the only prophet who prophesied with the word “Zeh”, this. Chasidic philosophy explains that “koh”, so, refers to an approximation; the prophecy is not vivid and clear. Whereas “zeh”, this, represents something one can point at, not abstractions, but a concrete reality.

So long as spirituality and G-d remain an interesting but abstract idea, materialism will remain a spiritual threat and a challenge to our ethics and values. But, in this week’s Torah portion, Moses empowers us to experience a reality, not of “koh” but of “zeh”, not of “so” but of “this”. Moses invites us to deepen our perception of reality, broaden our awareness, and recognize G-d as the true reality. This will allow us to discover the true essence of the material, not a substance that conceals the Divine creative energy that is within it, but rather as an expression of the Divine creative power. As King Solomon states in the book of Proverbs: “in all your ways know Him”, realize that every material possession you have is a means to know and grow closer to the creator.   

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe, Matos Masei 5721 

The True Point of the Holiday 

Where do you find inspiration? When do you experience joy?

In life, there are ordinary days and holidays, times for work and times for leisure, moments of inspiration and moments of adversity. 

By nature, we are inspired by the novelty of a holiday, by an extraordinary event, by a chance to break our routine and spend time with the people we love.  

But the true secret of life, and the true purpose of the holidays, is that once we experience a change of pace, we are able to reexamine and experience the blessings of our everyday life. The ultimate purpose of a “getaway” is to fall in love with our daily existence. 

Indeed, in this week's Torah portion, G-d tells Moses about the commandment to offer unique offerings on the holidays, beginning with the most exceptional holiday, the holiday of Passover, which celebrates G-d’s direct intervention to save His people Israel. Passover reminds us of the miraculous power of G-d to perform miracles, defy the laws of probabilities, and bring salvation. Yet, the list of unique offerings for each of the holidays begins with the commandment about the daily offerings offered year round:  

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Command the children of Israel and say to them: My offering, My food for My fire offerings, a spirit of satisfaction for Me, you shall take care to offer to Me at its appointed time. And you shall say to them: This is the fire offering which you shall offer to the Lord: two unblemished lambs in their first year each day as a continual burnt offering. (28:1-3)

The reason the Torah mentions the daily offerings in the list of holiday offerings is to remind us that G-d’s greatness can be felt not only by experiencing incredible miracles but also by observing the predictable laws of nature. Once we experience a miracle, once we experience G-d’s revelation in the remarkable moments of history and in the inspired moments of our life, we reach a deeper realization. We realize that the ordinary is a miracle. We realize the blessing of the “mundane”, the inspiration and joy that can be found in every moment of life; in every sunrise, every sweet breeze, in the curiosity of a child and the beauty of a flower.

The purpose of a holiday, then, is not to escape the everyday, but rather to help us realize that every day can be meaningful, spiritually rich with connection to our soul, to G-d, and to the people we love.

Philosophy, Leadership, and the Soul of a Community

In the heat of Korach’s rebellion against Moses, Moses turned to G-d and requested that He not turn to the offerings of the rebels: 

Moses was exceedingly distressed, and he said to the Lord, "Do not accept their offering. (Numbers 16:15)

But what offering was Moses referring to? 

Rashi, in his second interpretation, says that it is referring to the daily communal offerings, to which each Jew would donate a half coin annually, and the money was used to purchase the communal offerings: 

According to its Midrashic interpretation, he said: “I know that they have a portion in the daily communal offerings. Let their portions not be accepted favorably before You. Let the fire leave it and not consume it.” 

What seems like a straightforward interpretation, “I know that they have a portion in the daily communal offerings”, is in fact quite controversial, and related to a teaching of the Rogotchover, the 20th-century brilliant rabbi, who always sought the underlying “unifying theory” behind many seemingly unrelated disputes. Rogotchover argued that many disagreements between sages of the Mishnah and Talmud actually boil down to an essential philosophical debate related to a controversy between Plato and Aristotle. 

In his theory of forms, Plato posits that every physical phenomenon on earth is a mere reflection of the true phenomenon in the spiritual, perfect, and abstract realm. A chair, for example, is a physical manifestation of the “perfect” spiritual chair, and all chairs on earth are an attempt to capture some imperfect aspect of the “perfect” chair. Aristotle rejects that philosophy outright; to him, there is no “perfect” abstract form. There is no abstract chair that is the source of all chairs. The "essence" and “form” of the chair are not separate from the chair itself. 

Applying this disagreement to the concept of "community", some sages and scholars view “community” in the Platonic sense: an abstract concept, greater than the sum of the individuals that actually make up the community. They therefore believe that an individual cannot claim to have a specific ownership stake in communal property, as the community is a distinct abstract concept. Others share the Aristotelian view, namely, a community is a collection of individuals. Applied to our discussion, an individual can certainly lay claim to personal ownership over communal assets, since he or she is a member of that community.

When the Rebbe taught this Rashi, he explained both sides of the argument and then turned to a subtle word in Rashi that captures the essence of what a true leader is. 

The Rebbe explained that, although in matters of practical law, Jewish law generally takes the view that "community" is an abstract concept greater than the individuals that comprise it, nevertheless, Moses presented the other perspective. Moses said, “I know that they have a portion in the daily communal offerings”. The key phrase is “I know”. Moses was the leader of the community, but unlike many leaders who worry about the “collective”, Moses saw the individual within the collective. To Moses, a community is a place where an individual can transcend and tap into the energy of the collective, while at the same time maintaining his own unique, personal identity. “I know”, said Moses, that a leader must be concerned not only with the collective but with each and every person individually.

Yesterday, the third of Tammuz, was the Rebbe’s thirty-second Yahrtzeit. The Rebbe lived and exemplified the model of Moses, caring about “Klal Yisrael”, the collective Jewish people, while at the same time expressing complete dedication to each individual. May we continue to be inspired by the Rebbe’s teachings and example, and recognize that every individual person, and every individual action, is critical to the Divine purpose of creation. 

The Advantage of Touring

Touring. A word that evokes feelings of exploration, beauty, and new horizons. 

The Hebrew word for touring, “Latur”, sounds strikingly similar to the English word, tour.  This word, which appears in our Torah portion regarding the scouts sent to spy, or “tour” the land of Israel, has an additional meaning as well: it is related to the Hebrew word for “Yitaron”, advantage. 

We all heard the story. 

The spies were reluctant to enter the land of Israel because, as Chasidic philosophy explained, they were afraid of the spiritual challenges that come along with the abandonment of desert life. Additionally, they were apprehensive about the necessity of  engaging in the materialistic economy of the land of Israel. “It is a land that consumes its inhabitants” is what they reported back to the Jewish people, alluding to the fear that the “earth”, the materialism of the land, would consume, swallow, and corrupt the spiritual life of the Israelites. 

We can understand the sentiment. Being challenged is not comfortable. But the Hebrew language reminds us that the challenge of “touring”, expanding vistas and entering a new way of life, is precisely what leads to a Yitaron, an advantage, which will lead us to the greatest heights. 

There is a moving Talmudic story that illustrates this point. The great Talmudic sage Rav Yochanan was in profound mourning after his study partner passed away. The sages tried to set him up with another study partner, but that did not work, specifically because Rav Yochanan preferred someone who would challenge him rather than a study partner who would agree with him. As the Talmud relates:  

Reish Lakish died. Rabbi Yoḥanan was sorely pained over losing him. The Rabbis said: Who will go to calm Rabbi Yoḥanan’s mind and comfort him over his loss? They said: Let Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat go, as his statements are sharp, i.e., he is clever and will be able to serve as a substitute for Reish Lakish.

Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat went and sat before Rabbi Yoḥanan. With regard to every matter that Rabbi Yoḥanan would say, Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat would say to him: There is a ruling which is taught in a baraita that supports your opinion. Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him: Are you comparable to the son of Lakish? In my discussions with the son of Lakish, when I would state a matter, he would raise twenty-four difficulties against me in an attempt to disprove my claim, and I would answer him with twenty-four answers, and the halakha by itself would become broadened and clarified. And yet you say to me: There is a ruling which is taught in a baraita that supports your opinion. Do I not know that what I say is good? Being rebutted by Reish Lakish served a purpose; your bringing proof to my statements does not.

Rabbi Yoḥanan went around, rending his clothing, weeping and saying: Where are you, son of Lakish? Where are you, son of Lakish? Talmud, Baba Metzia, 84a

Rav Yochanan understood that a challenge contains within it a "yitaron," an advantage. He understood that the very difficulties we seek to avoid may be the source of our greatest growth.

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe, Shelach Leacha 5731

The Indestructible Light

Aaron envied the tribal leaders. G-d's response revealed a deeper truth about where holiness resides. 

The opening statement of this week's portion is the commandment to light the Menorah, a commandment that was already stated twice earlier in the Torah. Rashi quotes the Midrash, which explains that the reason the portion of the Menorah was repeated is a direct response to Aaron’s concern. In last week’s portion, we read at great length how the leaders of the tribes each offered offerings for the inauguration of the altar. Aaron was distressed that neither he nor his tribe participated in the inauguration. G-d therefore reiterated the commandment that Aaron should kindle the Menorah, implying, as the Midrash states, that “yours” (the menorah) is greater than “theirs” (the offerings of the leaders). As Rashi says: 

Why is the portion dealing with the menorah juxtaposed to the portion dealing with the chieftains? For when Aaron saw the dedication [offerings] of the chieftains, he felt distressed over not joining them in this dedication, neither he nor his tribe. So God said to him, “By your life, yours is greater than theirs, for you will light and prepare the lamps.” (Rashi, Numbers 8:2) 

But why is the lighting of the Menorah “greater” than the offerings? The Midrash does not explain. 

Nachmanides offers an innovative interpretation. When the Midrash says Aaron lighting the Menorah is greater, the Midrash is referring not to the Menorah in the temple, but rather to the Chanukah menorah, which was established to commemorate the rededication of the temple by the Maccabees, Aaron’s descendants. The Chanukah menorah is “greater” than the offerings, because the offerings can no longer be offered now that there is no temple, whereas the Chanukah Menorah is eternal, and will never cease. 

In the words of Nachmanides: 

Therefore, we must say that the Sages of the Midrash were alluding to the lights of the Dedication of the Hasmoneans, which apply [on the festival of Chanukah] even after the destruction of the Sanctuary, in our exile.

This teaching turns the seeming hierarchy of holiness on its head.  

The offerings were offered by the priests, the holiest members of the Jewish community, in the holiest place, the temple in Jerusalem. They represent a person’s ability to experience the intense awareness of the presence of G-d, available in the temple. Yet, the Midrash, viewed through the lens of Nachmanides, teaches that even more profound than that is the ability to light the Chanukah Menorah, where, not just the priests, but every individual Jew brings light to his or her part of the world. The offerings represent the ability to reach the pinnacle of holiness, yet the Chanukah Menorah is far greater because it empowers each person to be an ambassador of light, to turn their home into a miniature temple. The Chanukah Menorah may not be as glamorous as the temple, but it is indestructible, and it can be applied to every time and every place. It represents the ultimate mission of the Jew, to spread transformative light to every part of the world. 

Does G-d Show Favoritism?

Does G-d show favoritism? The Torah says G-d does not. But the Priestly Blessing implies that He does, as the verse states: “May the Lord show favor to you and give you peace”. 

How can both be true?

 The Talmud explains that G-d shows favoritism to the Jewish people because they show it to Him. Although He commands them to recite the grace after meals only when they are fully satisfied, the Jewish people go beyond the letter of the law and recite the blessing even after eating a mere olive-sized piece of bread:

Rav Avira taught, sometimes he said it in the name of Rabbi Ami, and sometimes he said it in the name of Rabbi Asi: The ministering angels said before the Holy One, Blessed be He: Master of the Universe, in Your Torah it is written: “The great, mighty and awesome God who favors no one and takes no bribe” (Deuteronomy 10:17), yet You, nevertheless, show favor to Israel, as it is written: “The Lord shall show favor to you and give you peace” (Numbers 6:26). He replied to them: And how can I not show favor to Israel, as I wrote for them in the Torah: “And you shall eat and be satisfied, and bless the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 8:10), meaning that there is no obligation to bless the Lord until one is satiated; yet they are exacting with themselves to recite Grace after Meals even if they have eaten as much as an olive-bulk or an egg-bulk. Since they go beyond the requirements of the law, they are worthy of favor. (Tamud, Berachot 20b)

There are two ways to think of a relationship and covenant. The first is as a contract of mutual obligation. But then, there is a deeper form of connection, one which is a commitment not bound by the benefit each party receives in return for what they invest. Rather, it is a relationship of devotion and commitment, where each party invests themselves beyond what is merely their duty. The second relationship is characterized not by a social contract but by the commitment of love. Love emerges from a mutual dedication, where each party “shows favoritism”, giving beyond what is “deserving”

to the other, bestowing more than the requirement of calculated benefit. 

If Sinai was the contractual marriage between the people and G-d, where the people received the Torah, the marriage contract, then the building of the tabernacle represents the building of the home where the relationship plays out. Creating a home is only possible by “showing favoritism” and expressing devotional love. 

The language used in the blessing the priests recite before fulfilling the commandment to bless the people is, “who commanded us to bless his nation Israel with love”. Indeed, the Zohar, the primary work of Jewish mysticism, says that if a priest does not genuinely love the people, he should not recite the priestly blessing. Perhaps the reason is that love and devotion are at the heart of the blessing. The priest blessing the people must experience the unconditional love G-d has for the people in order to be a conduit for this extraordinary blessing. For without love, the priestly blessing is impossible.

Why Are We “Obsessed” with Details? 

We all have dreams. 

We all have aspirations. 

People dream about investing in their relationships, improving their health, expanding their knowledge, exploring ideas, and touring the world. 

The problem, of course, is that dreams and aspirations are not enough. Growth requires specific, concrete action. 

In Jewish life and Jewish law, there is a strong emphasis on specifics. Almost every one of the six hundred and thirteen commandments comes along with dozens, if not hundreds, of specifications which instruct on the precise time and manner in which the commandment is to be performed. For many, the “obsession” with detail is hard to relate to. True, the big ideas are important, true, the underlying values are inspiring, but why is the emphasis on detail so critical?  

To understand the focus on detail, we need to explore and define the core purpose and objective of Judaism. Judaism is not a religion in the conventional sense. Most spiritual disciplines hope to teach a person how to become spiritual, how to escape the lure of material life and connect to the eternal by transcending the physical. The Purpose of Judaism is the opposite: it is to draw the transcendent, infinite presence of G-d, into a specific time and place in this physical world.

This theme is expressed in the beginning of the fourth book of the Torah, where the Torah not only introduces the commandment to take a census, but also describes the precise time of the commandment:   

The Lord spoke to Moses in the Sinai Desert, in the Tent of Meeting on the first day of the second month, in the second year after the exodus from the land of Egypt, saying.

The Chassidic master, the Sfas Emes, explains why these time references  matter so much:

“And therefore time is written in the Torah in terms of month and year. Although the Torah is above time, nevertheless, this is the primary service of the Children of Israel: to draw the light of the Torah and holiness into time and nature.”

When Sinai Meets the Soil

In English, when you want to express that a point is irrelevant to the conversation, you might say: “What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?” In modern Hebrew, it would be very common to say: “What is the connection between the Sabbatical and Mount Sinai?” 

“What is the connection between the Sabbatical and Mount Sinai?” is the resounding question the Midrash asks about the opening statement of our Torah portion, where the Torah introduces the Sabbatical year, the commandment to let the land of Israel lie fallow and rest every seventh year. In the introduction to this commandment, the Torah states that this commandment was given at Mount Sinai:   

And the Lord spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai, saying,

Speak to the children of Israel and you shall say to them: When you come to the land that I am giving you, the land shall rest a Sabbath to the Lord. (Leviticus 25:1-2)

At first glance, Sinai and the land of Israel seem to be polar opposites. At Sinai, the Jewish people were completely separated from civilization, sheltered from the pressure to earn a living and survive in the natural order. In the land of Israel, by contrast, the Jewish people would dedicate most of their time to farming and agriculture, exposed to the pressures to maximize profit, to the extent that the Torah must remind a Jew to stop and take a break. To refrain from taking advantage of the poor, and to ensure that ultimately, every person would return to their land in the Jubilee year. So while Sinai evokes spiritual serenity, the land of Israel represents the challenges of daily life. 

So yes, indeed, the question is sound: “What is the connection between the Sabbatical and Mount Sinai?” 

The answer, of course, is that precisely because they are so different, they are tied together. The entire purpose of Sinai, of spiritual connection to G-d, is not to escape physical reality, but rather to sanctify it. Not to transcend to heaven but rather to bring holiness to earth. The entire purpose of Sinai, then, is expressed by the Sabbatical  year, that the earth itself is sanctified: “The land shall rest a Sabbath to the Lord”. 

Adapted from the Sfas Emes

Holidays - Holy Geometry 

Sometimes when we read the Torah, we wonder, what is the organizing principle of the Parsha? Why are seemingly unrelated laws and events grouped together? 

Toward the end of the weekly Torah portion, we read about the Menorah in the temple and about the table with the showbread. We wonder, why are we discussing these specific aspects of the temple service right here? Why is the lighting of the Menorah reiterated here for the third time in the Torah, and why do we read about the showbread here and not earlier in the narrative when the Torah discusses the laws of the temple service? 

The Ohr Hachaim explains that the holidays, discussed in detail in our Parsha, are organized based on the number seven, and often, differentiating between the number six and seven. Shabbat is the seventh day, following the six days of the week. There are six days of holiday in Israel (first and last days of Pesach, one day of Shavuot, one day of Rosh Hashanah, first day of Sukot and Shmini Atzeret), when most labor is prohibited, and a seventh (Yom Kippur) when all labor, as well as eating and drinking, is prohibited. 

That leads naturally to the Menorah that has seven candles, also divided into six branches and a seventh stem; as well as the table, which had two stacks of six loaves, with the Table itself acting as the unifying seventh element. 

The Maharal of Prague explains that the number six represents physical creation, which is three-dimensional. Three dimensions create six general directions (east, west, north, south, up, and down). The number seven represents holiness, for it is the central point of those six dimensions, building them and allowing them to create a cohesive creation. 

Six represents the physical dimension of a physical object, and seven represents its core purpose and meaning. During the days of the week, we are primarily invested in the physical side of life, seeking to achieve success and effect change and transformation in the world. Shabbat and the holidays are when we return to the essence of life, the number seven, and reconnect with holiness, our purpose, and inner soul.