Our Parasha begins by ordering us to install a Beth Din in every city, as it is trivial for a Jewish community to thrive: “You shall appoint magistrates and officials for your tribes, in all the settlements that Hashem your God is giving you, and they shall govern the people with due justice.” [Devarim 16:18]. The Torah will stress the importance of justice several times over, as it is the foundation of a prosperous society. The Midrash Tanchuma [Mishpatim] adds a different dimension: “if justice is delivered down below, then Hashem does not interfere. However, if justice is not provided down below, then it is incumbent to the Celestial Court to deliver justice.” In other words, justice will always be delivered, but the cost is different. Human justice is not a harsh as Hashem’s justice. Thus, the Torah concludes the subject of “justice” with a seemingly unrelated Mitzva: “You shall not erect a stone pillar as Hashem your God hates it.” What connection does this commandment has with the obligation to provide justice in every settlement? Rashi explains that at the time the Torah was given, it was common for idol worshippers to use a Matzeivah [a stone pillar] in their idol worship, whereas at the time of the Patriarchs, it was not idolater’s common practice. In other words, since idols worshippers have been using it as an altar we can no longer use it. Is that the way the Torah operates? laws are changed according to idolater’s behavior? Is the Torah not a Celestial body that is immutable as it is the profound truth and the foundation of all lives? Either a Matzeivah is permitted by the Torah, or it is forbidden, but the reasoning behind the stated interdiction is challenging. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch begins by elucidating the differences between a Matzeivah and a Mizbeiach. A Matzeivah is one stone in its natural form which is a symbol of Hashem’s control over nature. In contrast, a Mizbeiach is comprised of several stones assembled by men into an orderly structure. This symbolizes the idea that man’s purpose is not to only recognize Hashem through nature, but that man should subjugate himself to Hashem through his actions. Rabbi Hirsch elaborates upon this, that in the time of the Patriarchs, before the Torah was given, there was no requirement for action as there was no Mitzvos. Man’s task was to recognize Hashem’s control of the world through nature. The Matzeivah was then emblematic of the oneness of Hashem, and that’s all they were required to accomplish. Once this was established and the Torah was given, the many elements that compose one’s life must be used as stepstones to elevate oneself to greatness, so the nations of the world will recognize tour Godliness upon ourselves. This is what the Mizbeiach represents, stones that individually have limited importance are assembled in the specific formation ordered by Hashem, to become the optimal means with which to serve Hashem. In our daily lives we are confronted to many insignificant situations, but in truth they are the stones Hashem is handing to us with which to build our own altar. Nothing is ever an occurrence in this world, Hashem micromanages every aspect of every life at every moment, so nothing happens unless it was decided by Hashem. Everything is an opportunity to elevate our lives a step closer to Hashem. Man should have a mindset that many situations will cross his daily path, some simple and other more complicated, and their only purpose is to enable the person to build a true altar that Hashem loves. A person that believes in Divine Providence fulfils two of the three “foundations of belief” outlined by the Sefer Haikarim. Thus, the third is that Hashem gave us the Torah can only be fulfilled with the performance of the Mitzvos. That’s the way to declare that one believes the Torah is Godly and was given by Hashem. One would not sail with a ship that is only two thirds completed, then one cannot tackle life with only two pillars “of belief”. One who satisfies himself with only two pillars is fundamentally flawed as it shows that he accepts only what suits him or benefits him. The third pillar is proving that our service of Hashem is exclusively in recognition of His Divine Providence and to live according to the instructions outlined in the Torah. We can, with this, explain the Mishnah [Avos 3:9] that states; “Someone learning Torah, while walking, who stops to admire a tree or a ploughed field, endangers his life.” Some commentators ask, since one is marveling about Hashem’s creation and is obviously recognizing Hashem’s greatness through nature, why is he liable to harsh punishment? The prohibition to interrupt the learning of the Torah was already taught in a prior Mishna [3:5], so what is our Mishna innovating? Behold, the Rambam [Yesodei Hatorah 2:2] prescribes that one can fulfil the Mitzvos of Ahavas Hashem [love of God] and Yiras Hashem [fear of God] by admiring Hashem’s wonders in the nature. The answer is that recognizing Hashem through nature amounts to building a stone pillar, while contemplating Hashem through learning Torah sums to building an altar. Hence, diminishing the level of recognition of Hashem amounts to a crime of lese majesty, which carries a harsh sentence. Once, one is involved in contemplating Hashem’s greatness through the “three pillars of belief”, it is a dishonor to reverting to “two pillars of belief”. Similarly, during the month of Elul, Hashem comes out to fetch us from our daily routines and begs us to repent before the days of Judgement, so we could deserve a year full of blessings. The “three pillars of belief” are handed out to us, it is an opportunity that cannot be missed, otherwise the consequences could be felt through the coming year. Hereafter a beautiful story that illustrates the point. Zelig was a simple, unlearned Jew, who lived in a small isolated village, who earned his livelihood by running an inn. Now and then, he would travel to the righteous Rabbi Mordechai of Neshchiz, one of the leading Chassidic rebbes in Volhynia. Zelig chanced on a good business deal one day, which yielded a hefty profit. With this profit, he invested in other ventures, each of which was quickly successful. Within a few months, the humble innkeeper was on his way to becoming a magnate. As Zelig was now far busier, the trips to his rebbe became less frequent, and then stopped entirely. His once-warm heart began to cool, and he became disconnected from Torah study and mitzvah observance. In the deep recesses of his heart, he was still drawn to his old way of life, but he acted like the gentile nobility with whom he now rubbed shoulders. Dissatisfied with having one foot in each world, he decided to renounce his Judaism and convert. Before acting on impulse, he decided to visit his rebbe, whose reaction would determine his next move. “If the Rebbe rejects and scorns me, I will know exactly how to proceed,” he thought. “But if he accepts me despite my shortcomings, I will change course and remain a Jew.” One morning, the Rebbe summoned his beloved and devoted student, Reb Naftali Tzvi of Ropshitz, who spent time studying under the guidance of his master and instructed him to pack his bags and to go back home. Reb Naphtali began to cry. “What did I do wrong? Why are you sending me away?” “Do as you are instructed!” the Rebbe replied. Distraught, Reb Naftali Tzvi approached Reb Mordechai’s wife and begged her to intercede on his behalf. She asked her husband for an explanation for the sudden expulsion of his beloved student. “Not everything is revealed to me; I myself do not know why,” Reb Mordechai responded. “But I remain firm in my wish that he go home.” The Rebbetzin continued pleading until Reb Mordechai gave in. “I see Naftali is heartbroken, and you are advocating for him. I will retract my instructions and he may stay at the condition that he talks to no one until instructed that he could.” Zelig arrived a few days later, his wagon loaded with gifts of choice produce and delicacies for his Rebbe. When Zelig entered, the Rebbe was not in his house but at the adjacent synagogue. Reb Naftali Tzvi greeted Zelig, and, sensing his spiritual decline, immediately began to rebuke the newcomer: “How dare you show your face here in the holy court of our Rebbe when you are sullied in sin? Have you no shame?! Repent, and only once you have cleansed yourself, should you return to this sacred place!” Suffering through Reb Naftali Tzvi’s “welcome” was more than enough. Zelig made an about-face, climbed back onto his wagon, and headed out of town in a cloud of dust. “That’s it, there is nothing left for me among the Jewish people,” he thought. With the wagon still in sight, Reb Mordechai exited the synagogue looking pale-faced and stricken. “Who was the person who just left?” he asked. “Zelig the innkeeper,” replied Reb Naftali Tzvi. “What did you do?!” cried Reb Mordechai in shock. “Run after him with all your strength and tell him that I long to see him, longing with all my heart.” Setting aside his churning thoughts, Reb Naphtali Tzvi sprinted after the wagon that was quickly receding into the horizon. “Zelig! Come back. The Rebbe is calling you.” Reb Naphtali Tzvi bellowed with his remaining strength. “The Rebbe longs to see you! With his whole heart, he is longing for you.” Zelig heard the cry and stopped his wagon, turned around and rumbled back into Neshchiz. Reb Mordechai himself stood at the door and greeted Zelig with open arms and a radiant face. “Shalom Aleichem, my dear Zelig!” he beamed as he ushered him into his office. A long time passed before Zelig exited the Rebbe’s office, his face was aflame, and his eyes wet with tears. After Zelig departed, Reb Mordechai called in Reb Naftali Tzvi and said, “I see my hunch to send you home was correct.” Naftali did not dare raise his eyes. “Do not take it the wrong way,” continued Reb Mordechai. “I love you like a son. But today you almost expelled a Jew from the Jewish nation with your words.” Reb Mordechai became pensive and explained. “The Jewish nation is like a tree with many branches. All the branches receive their life from the trunk, which in turn draws its life from the ground. Sometimes there may be an obstruction, a distant branch stops receiving nourishment and slowly withers up and can break off from the tree. “Zelig recently began disconnecting with his life source. The Jewish vitality in his soul had dried up, and he was about to crack off the tree. If I had not showered him with an enormous amount of love, Zelig would have converted. By miracle, his soul was saved, and he is now firmly reattached to the Jewish family tree. Especially during the month of Elul that Hashem comes out to welcome us, the repentance need not to be as demanding as during the rest of the year.

Rabbi Fridmann

By Rabbi Fridmann * [email protected] * 305.985.3461

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