Good Shabbos Emails

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Shemos
Vaeiro
Bo
Beshlach
Yitro
Mishpatim

SHEMOS

AIM OF THE NAME

Every indication from the building's exterior pointed to the fact that we were looking at a hospital. Inside, it was set-up exactly like a hospital with wards, Intensive Care Units and even birthing rooms. Oddly, though, the sign on the wall said, "Photographic material and video cameras are welcome here." That should have given it away.

It didn't take us long to realize that this building was no hospital at all. It was Baby Land Hospital , "birthing" home of the "Cabbage Patch Kids" dolls in Cleveland , North Georgia . As we were driving through town on our way back to Atlanta early this week, we decided to visit this place.

Hopefully, it would not come as a surprise that dolls have never been an obsession for me at any time in my life. I do remember, though, the craze of the early '80's involving the not-so-pretty dolls and their pudgy shape and pose, topped with vinyl hair.

But aren't those crazes in the past? Do people still get into the
Cabbage Patch thing? Apparently so. The lady at the check-out counter said that "business was booming." The looks on the faces of the few young girls we saw entering this unusual place was did, indeed, portray excitement.

We were curious about this phenomenon. We were trying to discover what
the fuss was all about. Especially after reading the many signs which
read: We don't put price tags on our "babies"; it makes them nervous!"
[When we later saw the prices, it made us nervous as well.]. What is it that motivates people to spend a fortune of money on those dolls, or, as "Babyland"
likes to call them: babies?

It's quite possible that the obsession or fascination about these dolls is connected with the personalization. Namely, each doll is given a "birth certificate" carrying its individual name. Having their own, personal and unique names seems to give these dolls a "personality" which, with some creative imagination, can be developed and nurtured.

An individual's name is a method of identification. Because his name is so-and-so, and hers is this-and-that, people can be uniquely identified.

Jewish mysticism takes this point of identification even deeper. The Kabbalah teaches that a given Jewish name indicates the personality of the person carrying that name. Parents, in fact, are imparted with a measure of prophecy to
determine the name best suited to their child's personality. Not long ago, a friend and colleague introduced me to a man she eventually married. When he shared his Jewish name, Reuven, I responded that someone with the name Reuven has a special ability in the realm of "seeing," since the name means to see. The man almost did a double-take. With a dumbfounded look he asked me to repeat what I had just said. He later said that he actually was an ophthalmologist.

The second book of the Torah is referred to as "Exodus." The book does contain the story of the Exodus, but also much more. In Hebrew, the name of the book is the same as the name of this week's Torah portion, "Shemos," or “Names.”

The period in which the Jewish people became a nation is presented in the book of the Torah called “names.” From their captive state in Egypt , onto the Exodus, through the Red Sea, into the desert, whilst at the foot of Mount Sinai, through the construction of the Mishkan, the traveling Temple in the desert - all recorded in the Torah's second book - the emphasis remains the same: Shemos – Names.

In the Midrash, the sages praise the Jewish people for maintaining their identity through the hardships in Egypt . They did so, intone the sages, through respecting and glorifying their Jewish names.

I was at the passport office in Miami the other day finalizing the details on our youngest infant's application form. Her name is Peninah Yehudis, and we wrote: Peninah Y. The clerk at the window (a lovely young Jewish man by the name of Lowenthal) said: "If you have no objection, Rabbi, won't you please fill out both of her names. We prefer it that way with children." I said: "Objections?" "Do you know what the name means"? He smiled, and said: "Sure. It's the feminine
word for Jew. All the better reason to write it out rather than initial it."

How true.

A Jewish name - certainly one that means "Jew" - should be displayed and used proudly and fully. It defines us, and it actually reminds us constantly of the basic potential we all have.

I'm not sure how many people are still purchasing Cabbage Patch Kids, or dolls, or babies, or whatever. But when they do, they'll proudly fantasize about a random name given to their doll.

There's no need for us to fantasize. Our names, certainly our Jewish names, are about as real as they come. It's the name of a whole book of the Torah. It's the book we have presently begun, and the book which expresses and tells the whole story of who the Jewish people are.

Yes, please, call me names. Jewish names, that is.

Vaeiro

SOUNDING CLEAN

To commemorate our anniversary a few years ago, Mrs. Lew and I visited the CNN studios in Atlanta . The fascinating tour includes live demonstrations of how news is written, prepared, produced, read, and recorded to be broadcast all over the world.

At the end of this impressive tour, there is an option available for tourists: a video featuring us, the tourists, reading a few bars of fake news. The “news” comes with all the “bells and whistles,” including an introduction by Larry King himself to the special “guest news anchors.”

We figured that our kids (and of course we) would get a kick out of watching this video – and have they ever! Whenever they want to see something amusing and comical, that video comes on. And there we are, completely oblivious to how silly we looked and how ridiculous we sounded. Without any experience, and with very little time to prepare for anything, the camera started rolling. There we go, presenting this “news,” with way too many pauses, unsure of how to proceed, and with very bumpy transitions.

The above story came to mind as we were making our way to the studios of “ The Voice of the Arts in Atlanta ” - AM 1160, WMLB, last week. My friend and colleague, Rabbi Efraim Silverman, Rabbi of Chabad of Cobb, together with producer Jeff Davis, were about to embark on our first ever Chabad of Georgia radio show, “Towards a meaningful life.” The inaugural show will air this coming Sunday morning at 11:00 a.m.

If you don't have any experience, you don't really know what to expect. We were like young children about to embark on something very exciting and unknown. Sure enough, as we began the taping of our first show, we were making errors, pausing for too long, fumbling for words, etc. We could have filled an entire tape of bloopers…

We were quite concerned at the obvious lack of professionalism we possessed. Like everything else in life, the rookie, the “greener,” doesn't sound or look too good. But Jeff Davis, who's been at this job for many years, wasn't worried in the least. He demonstrated for us how he could “wipe clean” a big error with the pushing of a few buttons. In no time at all, the voices flowed through with no trouble, pauses, errors or fumbles at all.

How amazing! One minute we were sitting, red-faced and embarrassed about making childish blunders, and the next minute there was no memory of it!

Imagine what would happen if, in real life, we could hire a “producer” to present our words. A person who can wipe clean our blunders, errors, offenses and words we don't mean to say. How would the world look if we could “edit” our mistakes, control our presentations and clean-up anything messy?

As things go, we have very little room for error in our verbal presentations. The good news is: We can all be in control of ourselves and over the words we say. As we were granted enough intelligence to utter words, we should demonstrate enough intelligence to use them in the right time, the right place and to the right person. In the words of the sages in the Talmud: “Wise ones! Be alert – and conscientious – with your words.”

Being filmed at CNN and taping your first radio show is a great lesson in how alarmingly scant attention is paid to how we speak and how much care and attention we ought to employ when we do.

In his plea to G-d not to be chosen as the Divine Communicator, Moses seems to pull out all stops. In this week's Torah portion, “Vaeira,” it is recorded, more than once, how Moshe “reminds” his Sender of his difficulty in speaking.

Eventually, Aharon, Moshe's older brother, is appointed as Moshe's mouthpiece, as his “producer.”

The strange thing is that there's never another reference to Aharon's speaking. We learn how Moshe and Aharon went together to Pharaoh numerous times; we discover how they talked to the Jewish people; we find Moshe talking to various members of his family dozens of times. There is, though, nary a mention anywhere else in the Torah about Aharon and his role in Moshe's verbal communication.

Perhaps it was realized that Moshe, whose mission was to communicate the word of G-d literally, didn't really need a mouthpiece after all. If Moshe's words were true and precisely those Hashem desired be delivered, it didn't make any difference how Moshe sounded; it was the message and the passion of delivery that counted.

There are people endowed with a “great speaking voice.” Some are great orators, others are witty, others passionate and others moving. When a person, however, talks from his or heart, those words enter the heart of the listener regardless of how he or she may sound.

Unless we're going to be taping a radio show, we are all our own mouthpieces. We have the responsibility – and the ability – to say the right thing, and to sound appropriate and inspiring. If we mean what we say, and say it from the heart, it will sound precisely that way.

And hopefully, we'll all sound G-dly as well.

A LIGHT BABY

Although Mrs. Lew hails from Brazil , I haven't had the opportunity to visit the country too often. Recently, I was glad to join the Lew entourage to Brazil to attend the wedding of one of our nieces.

In the quest to discover what to do during our week in the city of S. Paulo , we surfed the Internet for clues. The list is not impressive. Food, art museums and shopping were the top three choices everywhere we looked. Food, well that's good anywhere and it was pretty good there, too. Art is not one of our favorite pastimes. That leaves us with shopping. Hmm, shopping. A choice between ogling paintings and shopping is, to me at least, pretty easy: Visiting paintings is much less expensive. Alas, it didn't take long to get outvoted on this one…

Mrs. Lew promised that this shopping experience would be different. And was it ever different. In fact, I cannot remember seeing anything quite like this anywhere else in the world. We visited “Vinte-Cinco De Março” street, to where, we were told, all the merchants from around Brazil come for their supplies. It did, indeed, seem like the whole country was on this street. The throng of humanity on every part of this dirty and very loud street and its adjacent tributaries was overwhelming. The blackened buildings, stained by years of pollution and sooty emissions, seemed to match perfectly with the refuse generated by the crowds. Cars were dodging people and people were doing their best to dodge the cars, motorcycles, trucks and each other.

And this was all happening on a Tuesday afternoon! I shudder to think of the crowds on a Sunday.

The hordes of people were mobbing the streets for everything under the sun available here. They darkened the streets. Their faces, as well, displayed a serious, focused and a “darkened” intensity. This is no place for the weak and faint of heart

And it was no place for an infant, especially one in a stroller – which is exactly what we brought. Upon seeing the jammed mass of people, we were wondering how to maneuver ourselves with our precious cargo.

But here was the most amazing part. The convergence of people would not allow the stroller into the narrow-aisled stores, so I elected to remain outside the stores with the baby while the ladies were only too happy to realize their shopping dream. Standing outside, many hundreds of people passed us. Most were rushing to and fro, eyes scouring and scanning for bargains, deals and sales. Yet, when their eyes fell on the baby, they – men, women and children – reacted. Some smiled, others called something out, a few even reached-out to pat the baby's head – a common Brazilian practice.

It was so interesting to behold the change that came over the people who saw that baby. From intensity to smiles. From seriousness to excitement. From darkness to light. The baby and her stroller was no problem; she was a welcomed respite by all.

In some corner of the loud, dirty, crammed and maddeningly busy streets, the somber mood changed to joy. It seemed that because of the rumpus tumult and turmoil, the baby's face and presence shined ever so brightly. For light seems to shine brightest when it is the darkest.

Darkness doesn't introduce change. It's a cover. Everything “under the cover” of darkness remains the same. It's just quite difficult to see in it without light. On the other hand, the thicker the darkness, the sweeter and brighter it is when light bursts through and drives away the darkness.

When the Torah introduces the story of Ten Plagues which were delivered to the Egyptians, it introduces them with an interesting division: The first seven are in one portion. The final three are in the next portion, “Bo,” which is this week's portion. The portion of Bo deals, basically, with the redemption from Egypt . Why, then, would the Torah not present the description of the final three plagues together with the other seven? Why doesn't the Torah want this week's portion to deal exclusively with the redemption?

Perhaps the Torah is allowing us a glimpse into the make-up of our own “exiles” and “redemptions.”

The element of “darkness” is featured prominently through the final three plagues. Regarding the eighth plague, locusts, the Torah states: “And they covered the entire land, darkening it.” While other plagues, such as lice, also featured the “covering of the land,” the term “darkness” doesn't appear until the eighth plague. The ninth plague was actually the plague of “darkness.” The tenth plague, slaying of the firstborns, is introduced as: “And it was in the precise middle [=most intense part] of the night when Hashem slew all the firstborns.” The next verse states: “Pharaoh arose in the night .” The following verse records: “Pharaoh called to Moshe and Aharon in the night .”

So much darkness; so much “night” surrounds these three plagues. And it's not just the plagues. Although the Torah records how the Jewish people left Egypt in the middle of the day, it still describes the night as “the night of ‘watching' (“Leil Shimurim”) to G-d for bringing them out of the land of Egypt; this same night is a night of watching unto to G-d for all the Jewish people throughout their generations.” The Seder, during which most of Passover's commandments are fulfilled (such as eating Matzah, telling the story and, during Temple times, partaking of the Paschal lamb), is exclusively performed at night . If the night of Passover is missed, the Mitzvos are missed as well.

The festival of Passover is designed to help us re-experience redemption from exile. Being in exile is not just a geographic problem. Anything that confines a person is, in a sense, an exile and a state of darkness. The Torah seems to emphasize that in order to escape and to leave behind dark elements of our lives, it's important to confront the darkness head-on. By introducing light and elements of luminescence specifically into the sometimes gloomy and drab nebulousness of our lives, we can truly brighten the darkness itself, turning it into the “night” of G-d.

When introducing the exodus from Egypt and the yearly redemption experience, the Torah combines the darkness with light and exile with redemption to help us remember light can burst through the depth of difficulty and darkness. And then the redemption, even its night, is a radiant and a blazing glow.

And what a shining and glowing revelation it can be. Just ask anyone who passed us by on that dark and cheerless street…

BESHALACH

FAITHFUL SOLUTIONS

There are times in life when we must have patience to see something through. There are also times in life where we have to wait to learn a lesson from an incident that has occurred with us. And then there are the times when the issue or problem seems just to melt away, yet leaves behind a powerful and important lesson.

Such an incident occurred late last week, as we were preparing to leave S. Paulo, Brazil . After packing all our bags, we checked to ensure the passports and travel documents were in their correct places. We then loaded ourselves and the luggage onto the van, and set off for the airport.

We arrived at the airport about an hour and twenty minutes before the flight. We knew that this flight was rather empty, and would arrive after the majority of the passengers had already been checked in. Thus, we basically had the check-in area, and all its attendants, to ourselves.

I opened the zipper of our bag to retrieve the large envelope containing the passports. There was nothing there. We rushed to open the other bags. Still nothing. We searched, frantically, in all the places we could imagine. Nothing. It seems that one of the kids got to this cherished envelope between our packing the cases and transporting them to the van.

“Don't lose your cool,” I kept on thinking. We really needed to use intelligence here. We needed to determine: a) where these passports were; b) how to get them to the airport immediately; c) how to stall the very non-busy workers from closing the check-in for the flight.

I spent precious minutes purchasing the required phone calling card at the airport, finally calling our hosts and hearing that, yes, the envelope was found on the floor at their house.

I then called our brother-in-law, who graciously provided us the ride to the airport. “How close are you to the house?” I asked. “Still too far,” he said. “What do you need?” “Our passports,” I said. He replied, “Forget about leaving tonight.” I felt panic creeping-in. “Can't we send the envelope with a taxi, or something,” I said, naively. He said, “We can't do things like that in Brazil ; you'll never see them again.” “Please,” he said, “you guys will stay over for a couple of more days.” That panic was coming a little faster. “Listen,” I said, “Let's think of what we can do to make this happen, not about how we can't make it happen.”

“Oh wait!” he answered, “I know the perfect person: Mendy.” Our nephew, Mendy likes two things: A good challenge, and doing a favor for someone. He was going to call Mendy, and if anyone could pull this thing off, it would be him.

In the meantime, I approached the check-in counter. I explained our predicament and was shown the manager. She asked us from which neighborhood the passports were arriving. She gave a “knowing” smile when we told her. “We close the gate in a few minutes,” she said, pointing to the clock, which showed just over an hour to the flight. After some discussion and after reassuring her that Mendy said the passports would be here by 12:15 , 50 minutes prior to the flight, she agreed to keep the plane open till then.

At 12:14 we were standing outside the airport waiting for Mendy. The manager, also outside, looked at her watch as 12:19 turned to 12:20 . She went to her walkie-talkie, and the voice on the other end said: 12:25 was the absolute very latest.

I began to really panic. My feet could hardly remain in one place. I felt sweaty, not just because of the hot summer night. It wasn't a good feeling. I then said to myself: “Why are you panicking and worrying? If the Almighty wants you on that plane, you're going to fly tonight, whether you panic or not. If He doesn't want you on the plane, then panicking won't change a thing.” I resolved that, come-what-might, I would not allow panic to rule and control me.

Just as I made that resolution, Mendy arrived, screeching to a stop right in front of us, envelope with passports in hand, massive smile on his sweat-filled face. Handing me the precious documents, he called out, “Have a safe flight.”

And we did.

Can we blame the Jewish people for panicking, with the Red Sea before them and the Egyptians behind them, as the Torah relates in this week's portion, “Beshalach”? They said some nasty words to Moshe as they complained and panicked.

Later in the portion, in a second water episode, all they had was bitter, undrinkable water. And they panicked once again, complaining and “carrying-on.”

In yet another water episode, when there was no water at all, the nation panicked further, arguing, fighting, creating a scene and sharing some more sinister words. It got so bad that Moshe, the great leader and shepherd of his people, felt threatened. For good measure, amongst the water stories, the Torah further records the nation's complaints and panicked reaction to the lack of food.

The people of Israel had very good reason to panic. Going hungry and thirsty in a dry, barren desert is no fun. Not to mention, observing their children and cattle in need and perhaps even suffering.

In the end, the people received manna from heaven and water from the rock. They were well taken care of. Was the Almighty unable to provide without their nagging and worry? If He can split the sea, He can do anything!

Of course, it was all a test of faith. Would they realize that instead of losing their cool, they could simply have asked of G-d nicely? That without panicking, they'd still be helped-out, while maintaining their honor, good character and Divine connection? That they would certainly be provided for, but they would have been so much better remembered for their dignity and self-control, had they reacted with more faith and belief?

It's easy to panic. It may even be justified in certain, extreme conditions. But in solving the problem we may face and dealing with life's pitfalls, controlling our natural emotions and putting ourselves in the hands of Hashem leaves us with self-respect and virtue.

Worry and panic don't help the cause and don't provide the solution. If it is decided that we are to be helped, we will most definitely be helped.

Who knows, Mendy may be just around the corner…

Yitro
OF SPARS AND STARS
This past week I became a star.
Well, sort of.
Two of my dear students at the Greenfield Hebrew Academy approached me the
other day with a flattering proposal. They asked of me to star in their Power
Point presentation for a project in one of their Judaic studies class. I was
to play the role of the Talmudical sage, “Hillel.” My job was to pose for
the camera looking frustrated, due to yet another argument Hillel was purported
to have. I was later to pose in victory, while directed to use various
expressions of elation and excitement.

Obliging to their request was no trouble at all, but on one condition. I
insisted on seeing the finished product. The condition was fulfilled a couple of
days later. There was my character, jubilant, exuberant, worried, and
finally content and smug. The character of “Shamai,” Hillel’s “sparring” partner
was also shown; in other slides we saw a character of the “refereeing” team;
in different slides, other participants in these contentious brawls and
conflicts were featured.
It was cute, but oh so inaccurate. Fights and conflicts were never part of
Torah study.
You may be thinking: Hold on just a second. The rivalries and tussles
presented by the Talmud and other Torah sources are legendary. It seems like the
adage, “two Jews – three opinions” must have started at least as far back as
then, over twenty centuries ago.
A short while ago a class at the school was seeking additional information
regarding a certain Talmudical argument. After discussing the issue, I felt
a need to clarify the circumstances and occurrences of arguments in the
process of expounding on the Torah.
Contrary to popular belief, there is no doubt that the sages went to great
lengths to stress and emphasize how the Torah is peaceful. The Midrash states:
“The holy Torah was given to mankind in order to establish peace.” The book
of Mishlei (Proverbs) states regarding the Torah, “Its ways are pleasant
ways, and all its paths are peace.” “Torah scholars,” says the Talmud more than
once, “increase peace in the world.”
And even more than the above: When the Jewish people arrived at Mount Sinai
to receive the Torah directly from its Divine Author, it is recorded in this
week’s Torah portion, “Yisro,” that “they came to Sinai and HE camped there.
” The discrepancy between the plural and singular use, intone the sages, is
because the nation was like one person with one heart. [Jewish unity is so
cherished that one of the “Dayeinu” lines at the Passover Seder states: “If we
would have been brought to Sinai and not received the Torah, ‘Dayeinu’ –
this would also be sufficient.” Imagine: The unity at Sinai would have been a
sufficient experience even without receiving the Torah!].
So what’s with all the arguing? If the Torah possesses so much peace and
unity, can it leave room for arguments and disagreements?
Actually, Hillel and Shamai, the ones from whom most arguments are recorded,
were really friends and colleagues. There was much respect and recognition
between the two. They had divergent perspectives and saw things differently,
coming, at times, to opposite conclusions. But that was all in the process to
discover the true direction of how to perform a certain Mitzvah or how to
behave in countless situations. There can only be one final verdict, however.
The actual “Halachah,” the decisive and conclusive decision of law, was
respected by all parties, by all Rabbis, despite any prior disagreements.
In other words, all the discussions and bantering between the sages had
nothing to do with winning an argument, while the weak fall by the wayside. There
was no fighting, no animosity, no bragging about victories and no crying and
agonizing about defeats. There was an earnest and focused attempt to get to
the bottom of the issues, and to that end there was, at times, some strong
presentation of opinions. When the Torah law was arrived at, though, there were
no winners and losers. There was now Torah.
What emerges from all these so-called arguments, therefore, is an even
stronger unity than before. It is precisely after exposing differences between the
leaders, presenting ideas both this way and that way, that true unity is
achieved. For once a chance was given to everyone to be heard, Halachah was then
decided. From this point, all opinions would not just follow the decided
law, but would incorporate the law to themselves, follow it faithfully as their
own, realizing that it’s the right way to go and this is the will of G-d.
Hey, it’s nice to be asked to be a star. The real star, however, is the one
who shines especially when it’s dark outside. When even through arguments,
disagreements and differences one can still be focused enough on the bigger
picture, we have a bright sky, twinkling with beautiful stars.

Mishpatim

SMOKIN’ MATTISYAHU
The decade of the “sixties” is famous for quite a few developments,
positive ones as well. It was also the decade into which I was introduced to the
world, yet I cannot classify myself as a typical “product” of “the sixties”.
My parents did all they could to shade us Lew children from all the rubbish
and mess of those whacky and rolling years. Thank G-d, they were successful in
keeping us aware of the right path in our Jewish and moral life.
As a result, attending a concert by the general popular bands and singers –
something the sixties were good at promoting – has never been in my
repertoire. I have only attended live performances by various Jewish singers,
presenting their version of Jewish music.
That is, until last week.
My dear good friend, Jimmy Baron, a famous radio host in Atlanta, invited me
last week to a private concert taking place at his radio station by the
newest Jewish star singer, “Mattisyahu.” Despite his Jewish appearance, I
wouldn't classify his music as “Jewish.” His style of reggae and hip-hop music is
certainly not quite the type of rhythms to which we would dance to or sing
around our Shabbos table… Truth be told, although this was about to be my first
concert experience of the “different” music style, I was the one who
resembled the singer more than any of the other seventy-five people or so who
filled the small studio.
It didn’t take long for the place to get going. There was music, too. The
audience, some of who weren’t nearly dressed like the singer or me, especially
those with wild and loud tattoos all over them, were all swaying and moving
to the beats.
“Beats,” I say, and the beat was about the only thing I could really
discern, for the lyrics were impossible for me to follow and recognize. But the
beat went on, and with it, many of the audience, some with their eyes closed,
heads bobbing and bodies shaking. It was impressive to observe Mattisyahu’s
oversized Tziztis strings flying throughout his presentation. The strings of the
instruments were physically overwhelming for me. They were so loud that I
actually felt them reverberating through my body.
And then I caught some of the words. Mattisyahu was using phrases like, “One
G-d,” “Bang your fists on the table and demand the redemption,” “We want
Moshiach now,” “Rebuild the Temple.”
There were a total of four numbers (I think I know why these things are
called “numbers,” not “songs”). In his final bit, which I understand to be a
more recent composition, Mattisyahu was a little clearer in his lyrics. He was
singing about the Holocaust and the land of Israel. He referenced the enemies
of the Jews who continue to hate and to promote chasing them away, including
from our Holy Land.
I looked around me. To my right and left there were people more into this
final song than the others before it. Some of the audience with the tattoos had
their eyes tight shut, and seemed really into it. Many had their hands
swaying as well. The place seemed to be elevating.
I must admit that, despite my similarity to the singer, this type of
presentation was not quite the place for me. I was pleased, though, to witness
something as extraordinary as this: People with no exposure to anything Judaism
has to say about the rest of the world and its people, being touched by this
message. I seriously doubt if any of the people in the audience would, on their
own, be inquiring about these issues.
After all, it is expected of the Jewish people to be a guiding “light onto
the nations.” It is required that a positive and morally correct message,
based on the instructions of Hashem through the Torah, be imparted to all the
dwellers on earth, as long as, of course, the message is consistent with the
Torah and its parameters.
This expectation of the Jewish people was communicated to them from the time
of Mount Sinai. It is also emphasized at the end of this week’s Torah
portion, “Mishpatim,” in the description of Moses ascending the Mountain,
beginning his forty consecutive days and nights there.
The top of the Mountain was occupied with the glory of G-d. The Torah, at
the very end of the portion, describes this appearance like a “Cloud.” It also
describes it “like a consuming fire.” Moses entered “the cloud” as well as
the “Cloud of smoke (from the fire),” in order to climb to the top of the
Mountain.
There is not much to burn on a mountaintop. The smoke of the fire thereon
must have therefore been comprised of the G-dly fire consuming rocks and earth.
In other words, Mount Sinai was occupied with two Divine representatives to
include two extremes: A cloud, signifying heavenly and the spiritual, and
the fire producing smoke from burning rocks, signifying the lowest denominator,
lifeless rocks and earth. It is into this atmosphere that Moses was
entering, in order to spend time studying the Torah with its Divine Author.
The message from the description of the top of the mountain resonates very
clear. The Torah is G-d’s word. It contains the eternal word of the Supreme
King to all His subjects. It is the glorious “cloud” of spirituality and
sanctity.
The message of this Torah, the supreme message from the Supreme Being, must
be shared and brought to all, even if they may appear to be as lifeless and
listless, uncaring and apathetic, as rocks on a mountain top.
And not just the words of the Torah, but as they are like “a consuming fire.”
The energy, the enthusiasm and the spirit must be delivered as well.
Remember, when it comes to teaching and spreading the Torah, even the rocks were
burning!
Another point: The message and lessons of the Torah are not just for the
synagogue or other spiritual settings, but for everywhere, even in our mundane
and commonplace routines. In whichever situation a person may be found, the
Torah, and its message of sanctified life, should always be blazing and smoking
a trail of goodness, holiness and G-diness.
I’m sure that Mattisyahu will continue to carry the torch to ignite the fire
of even those who are into his style of music, not just the kind of music
sung at his own Shabbos table. Perhaps they’ll catch the wonderful words he’s
saying, for the music is just a vessel in which to carry the real message in
his words.
After attending his concert, though, I’m not sure that everyone is expecting
their message through this particular medium. It’s up to the rest of us,
then, to reach everyone with Torah’s Divine message, so that we may ultimately
turn this world into the spiritual and G-dly haven it was intended to be.