Archive for category Holidays

Pesach and the First Holocaust

An historical perspective on freedom and tragedy.

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Pesach and the Illusion of Freedom

What Janis Joplin might have learned about the true meaning of freedom.

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Pesach — The Freedom to Serve

Observations on the masters that enslave us each and every day.

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Pesach: Fifteen Steps to Redemption

            Fifteen steps.

            From beginning to end, from kadeish to nirtzeh, from avdus to cheirus, from galus to geulah, all of Klal Yisroel, individually and collectively, climb fifteen steps to complete the Pesach Seder.

            Just like the fifteen steps leading up to the courtyard of the Beis HaMikdash, and the fifteen Shir HaMaalos, the Songs of Ascent, composed by Dovid HaMelech in Tehillim.

            Just like the fifteen stages of miraculous redemption recited in the dayeinus toward the end of Maggid in the Haggadah, and the fifteen generations from Avrohom Avinu’s recognition of HaShem to Shlomo HaMelech’s completion of the Temple.

            Just like the fifteen days from receiving the first mitzvah in the Torah on Rosh Chodesh Nisan until the day HaShem led our forebears forth from Mitzrayim to begin their journey to Eretz Yisroel, and the fifteen words comprised by the Birkas Kohanim.

            What is the significance of the number 15, and why is it so integrally connected with Pesach and redemption?

 

            In our search for answers, let us begin at the beginning.  Each day, the Jew begins his avodas HaShem with the recitation of Pesukei D’Zimra, the first fifteen verses of which (beginning with Hodu LaShem kiru biShmoh) were recited by the Leviim in the Mishkan every morning in concert with the korban tomid,1 and the conclusion of which, Yishtebach, contains fifteen distinct expressions of praise for the Master of the World.  It was in reference to Pesukei D’Zimra that Rabbi Yossi said, “May my portion be with those who complete Hallel every day.”2 

            Yet Rabbi Yossi’s comment raises many questions.  Why does he refer to Pesukei D’Zimra as “Hallel,” especially in light of the gemara’s objection that “one who recites Hallel every day is a heretic”?3  And why does the gemara’s reference to Pesukei D’Zimra apply, according to Rambam, only to the final chapters of Tehillim beginning with Tehillah L’Dovid, the third verse of Ashrei?4

            Even the name Pesukei D’Zimra is puzzling.  According to Rav Hirsch, the word shira, usually translated as “song,” refers to a composition of words rather than music, more akin to what we would think of as lyrics or poetry.  Zemer, Rav Hirsch explains, refers to melody that accompanies the words, transforming poetry into true song.  Indeed, whereas we sing zemiros on Shabbos, where do we find music accompanying the words of Pesukei D’Zmira?  Would it not be more accurate to call the introductory section of morning davening Pesukei D’Shira?

 

            Evidently, Rabbi Yossi recognized some connection between Hallel and Pesukei D’Zimra so profound that he substituted the name of one for the other.  The term “Hallel,” explains the Sfas Emes, implies a pure and unadulterated perception of HaShem’s power and glory.  Much the way Nachum Ish Gamzu declared gam zu laTova, refusing to recognize even the most acute crisis or suffering as anything other than an expression of the Divine Will, so too is the recitation of Hallel an expression of HaShem’s absolute unity and ultimate benevolence.  This is consistent with the gemara’s explanation that the six Tehillim comprised by Hallel allude to the most foundational events in Jewish tradition:  yetzias Mitzrayim, Kriyas Yam Suf, Matan Torah, techias haMeisim, and yemos HaMoshiach.5

            If the praises of Hallel represent the Jew’s response to the revelation of the yad HaShem through open miracles, then we can begin to understand the gemara’s assertion that one who recites Hallel every day is an apikoros.  Since we live in a world of concealment where the shroud of nature belies the spiritual reality of HaShem echad, to praise HaShem daily for His open miracles by reciting Hallel amounts to a denial of the hidden miracles that define our earthly existence.

            Consequently, Rabbi Yossi comes to tell us how the spirit of Hallel may be fulfilled daily, even though Hallel itself may not be said.  Indeed, Meshech Chochmah explains that the greatest miracle of all is nature itself, the seamless fusion of all the forces of the world into a single, unvarying system.

            Science itself testifies thus:  the principle of entropy, founded in Newton’s second law of thermodynamics, describes the natural state of the universe as tending always toward disorder.  If so, the original ordering of the natural world that produced the immutable regularity of nature’s laws cannot be accounted for by the laws of nature themselves.6  What greater testimony to HaShem’s involvement in every aspect of the workings of creation?

 

            Of all the practices that might define the tzaddikim with whom Rabbi Yossi would choose to share his lot, he singles out those who recite Pesukei D’Zimra every day.  His choice resonates with the gemara that identifies anyone who recites Ashrei three times a day as a ben Olam HaBah.7  It requires little from us to recognize and acknowledge the Ribono Shel Olam when His presence is clearly revealed.  To recognize and acknowledge Him when He conceals His face demands a much higher level of emunah.

            Pesukei D’Zimra, therefore, with Ashrei as its focal point, is the daily equivalent of Hallel.  With its verses arranged sequentially according to aleph-beis, Ashrei asserts the natural order of creation.  Just as no thinking person can deny the seder, or order, of the physical world, so too one cannot rationally deny the existence of the Supreme Orderer.  Through the verses of Ashrei, Dovid HaMelech declares that nature itself testifies to the Me’sadder, the One who put the world in order, the One who perpetually opens His hand and satisfies every living thing.

            With this understanding, Rav Hirsch’s definition of zemer now provides an extraordinary insight into the essence of Pesukei D’Zmira.  Whereas shira refers only to the words, zemer refers to the accompanying melody that produces harmony, transforming mere lyrics and a simple tune into transcendent music.  To Rav Hirsch’s understanding, zemer is “the audible soaring of the spirit to the heights of rapture, and the mature outcome of thoughts that were working in the soul.  This loftiest work of the human spirit in which his noblest energy unfolds itself is, when inspired by the thoughts of G-d, itself a work of G-d.”8

            By reciting Pesukei D’Zmira, we celebrate the divine harmony of creation, praising the Conductor who arranges the orchestration of all the inhabitants of the world so that every one of them sings His praises every moment of every day.

 

            If we had to choose whether the Pesach seder fits in better with the supernatural theme of Hallel or the natural theme of Ashrei, our intuitive answer would almost certainly be the former.  On this night and no other night do we recite Hallel, many of us in shul and all of us after bentching.  And what is Maggid itself but a litany of miracles, one after another after another?  All the fundamental themes of Hallel are present, from the exodus to Moshiach, and everything in between.

            Yet Chazal chose to call the evening’s ritual the Seder.  Why?

            We can find the answer in the fifteen steps.  It is no coincidence that the Jewish people reclaimed their freedom in Nisan, the month of renewal, when the entire earth undergoes techias haMeisim as the resurrection of spring reawakens the world from the deathlike slumber of winter.  Neither is it coincidence that Pesach, arriving as it does on the fifteenth of the month, coincides with the day that the moon shines full.

            Chazal compare the moon both to the sh’chinah and to B’nei Yisroel.9  Just as the moon reflects the light of the sun, so too are the Jewish people commanded to reflect the light of HaShem as an Ohr LaGoyim.  Just as the moon changes its appearance over the course of its monthly cycle, so too does HaShem’s presence in the world seem to wax and wane proportionally with the fortunes of the Jews, who travel the circular highway of history rising and falling, prospering and declining, with success ever giving way to failure and with hope ever rising from the ashes of despair.

            It is on the fifteenth of the month that the moon is brightest, lighting our way, as it were, toward the fulfillment of our destiny.  So too, the fifteen steps of the Pesach seder direct us along the path that leads from galus to Moshiach, showing us the way we are now free to follow on our journey toward spiritual perfection and universal harmony.

 

            But this explanation is still not enough.  Why, we might ask, did HaShem design the world thus?  Why did the Master of Creation decree that fifteen days would define the circuit of the moon from invisibility to total revelation?

            The number fifteen is the gematria of Yud-Hey, the first two letters of HaShem’s name.  This is the name that describes the partial revelation of HaShem in our world, where we must seek HaShem’s hidden presence and reveal Him through our own spiritual investigation.

            Rav Zev Leff points out that, at the end of the third chapter of Hallel, we say, “HaMeisim lo hallelu Yo-h — the dead do not praise HaShem by the name Yud-Hey.”  Why don’t they?  Because they have moved on to Olam HoEmes, the world of absolute truth in which HaShem is revealed in all the glory of His four-letter name.  Only in this world do we have the opportunity to praise HaShem where He is not fully revealed, by virtue of our own free will.

            Just as the moon most fully reflects the sun on the fifteenth of the month, the fifteen steps of the seder remind us that the natural world we live in reflects the supernatural world that is the realm of absolute truth.  When we observe the physical world through the lens of Torah, the consistency of nature need not conceal the spiritual reality of the Creator.  Instead, the natural order of the world testifies to the One who created nature and can transcend nature at His will.

            Unlike the those who have passed on to the world where HaShem is fully revealed, we who still live must strive to penetrate the curtain of nature and recognize the spiritual reality behind the veil.  Indeed, we conclude Ashrei with the summation of all that Dovid HaMelech  has said and of the aleph-beis ordering that echoes the ordered work of the Master of All, by adding on the final verse of the third chapter of Hallel:  Va’anachnu nevoreich Yo-h, meiAtah v’ad olam, Hallelu-yah — And we will bless HaShem by the name Yud-Hey, from now until forever, Praise G-d!”

            The freedom we celebrate on Pesach imposes an awesome responsibility.  It defines the mission of the Jew to navigate through a world of light and darkness, of good and evil, a world in which HaShem’s oneness is simultaneously concealed and revealed.  The fifteen steps of the seder direct us in our avodah toward resolving the contradictions and revealing that which is hidden, pointing us forward, and promising us success as long as we persevere.

            Now we are free.  Let the avodah begin.

 

Notes

 

1.  Seder Olam

2.  Shabbos 118b

3.  Ibid.

4.  Hilchos Tefillah 7:12; contrast with Rashi on the gemara loc cit.

5.  Pesachim 118a

6.  Bob Berman, Astronomy Magazine, June, 2000

7.  Brachos 4b

8.  Commentary on Shmos 15:2

9.  Sanhedrin 42a; Shmos Rabbah 15

 

Originally published in the Jewish Observer

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Purim and the Limits of Imagination

John Lennon meets Haman, with great flights of fancy and the futility of impossible dreams.

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Parshas Zachor — The Dangers of Deism

Understanding the philosophy of Amolek, and why there is no compromise with evil.

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Purim and the Response to Terror

The Torah approach to terrorism.

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Purim and the Ultimate Question

Reflections on the mask of the world, brought into focus looking down the wrong end of a gun.

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The Arba Parshios – Four Stages of Renewal

Adapted from a shiur by HaRav Nachman Bulman zt”l.1

 

Now we are slaves; next year we will be free.  This is cheirus, freedom, the overarching theme of Pesach, the idea that defines the first of the three festivals. 

 

But there is another theme, perhaps even more fundamental to appreciating the significance of the season:  geirus – conversion.  The exodus from Egypt marks not only our emancipation from slavery but also our inception as a people.  Although the 600,000 who went out from Mitzrayim were all descendants of Avrohom, Yitzchok, and Yaakov, it was on that first Passover that we became an am haKodesh – a holy people.

 

But it is not enough to simply remember the exodus:  In each generation, every person is obligated to see himself as if he personally went out from Egypt.  It’s a tall order, to not only reenact but recreate the experience of yetzias Mitzrayim.  Indeed, it is virtually impossible without preparation, and that preparation begins six weeks before Pesach with the Arba Parshios, the four special Torah portions that usher us into the season of redemption:  Shekalim, Zachor, Parah, and Chodesh.

 

These four weeks are neither separate nor disconnected.  Together they constitute a progression that, if observed correctly, enables us to derive the greatest possible benefit from the Festival of Freedom.

 

SHEKALIM – Facilitating Yaakov’s Fulfillment

 

            It was HaShem’s original intention, explains the Ramchal, to create a universe in which the spiritual and the physical coexist without the slightest tension or disharmony. 2  According to this design, the flow of spirituality into the material world requires a physical vessel able to receive and hold the infusion of kedusha.  Ostensibly, the altar of the mishkan or the mikdash served this function.  Ideally, the Jew himself becomes the altar of HaShem.

 

An altar must be constructed and maintained physically before it can function spiritually.  As the mishna says:  Ain kemach, ain Torah; if there is no flour, there is no Torah. 3  The spiritual survival of the Jewish nation requires, most fundamentally, the provision and maintenance of material resources.

           

From the very beginning, the Jewish people understood this principle implicitly.  Zevulun worked to support the Torah study of Yissachar, just as the whole nation donated the priestly tithes to support the spiritual service of the Kohanim and Leviim. 4  And even earlier, Yaakov and Eisav were to have had a similar relationship, with Eisav, the man of the field, supporting the spiritual pursuits of Yaakov, the one who dwells in the tents of Torah study. 5

           

But Eisav’s rejection of that partnership necessitated a change of plan.  Yaakov would have to shoulder both burdens – the material support and the spiritual service. 6  That dual mission would pose such enormous challenges to the descendants of Yaakov that, by virtue of the natural limitations of the physical world, they could not possibly succeed.  Only supernatural effort and merit could keep the Torah alive.

           

This is the significance of the battle between Yaakov and the malach, identified by the sages as the guardian angel of Eisav. 7  Although Yaakov ultimately prevailed over the malach, the contest left him wounded him in the hollow of his thigh.  This injury of the lower extremities, the more physical part of the body adjacent to the organs of reproduction, alludes to a future conflict regarding the role that was originally intended for Eisav.

           

And so, the sages describe Yaakov’s injury with the expression nogah b’tamchin d’oraissa – a defect in the support of Torah.  They foresaw that the day would come when those Jews possessing the material means of supporting Torah institutions would no longer recognize their responsibility to do so, when their respect for Torah scholars would diminish to such an extent that they no longer consider themselves partners in Torah survival. 8

           

In such a generation, Yaakov Avinu limps.  And yet, although he limped away from his confrontation with Eisav’s malach, Yaakov returned sholeim – intact – from his encounter with Eisav himself.  If so, what must we do to enable Yaakov’s recovery in our generation?

 

HARMONY OF THE MATERIAL AND THE SPIRITUAL     

 

Rambam offers a solution.  In the generations since the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, the tribe of Levi has redefined its role from ministering as priests to becoming serving as scholars and teachers of the Jewish people.  And it is not only those Jews born into the Levitical tribe who have donned this mantle, but all who devote themselves exclusively to Torah study that have the responsibility to teach their brethren through words and through example. 9

           

When a Torah scholar conducts himself lifnim mishuras hadin, by upholding the spirit as well as the letter of the law, when he speaks pleasantly with all people, when he shows concern for them and greets them cordially no matter what their station, when he offers no insult and conducts himself impeccably in business, when he performs his mitzvos meticulously and carries himself with dignity – then, promises Rambam, his fellow Jews cannot help but be drawn to him and to the Torah that is the guiding influence in every aspect of his life. 10

           

And if we find that those of our fellow Jews who are not immersed in Torah and mitzvos are not inspired to be partners in the support of Torah, then the community of scholars must accept much of the responsibility upon itself, and must rededicate itself to the task of kiddush HaShem.

 

           

Herein lies an understanding of the first step in rebuilding the altar of HaShem, the foundation of which is secured only through the contribution of material resources – shekalim.  In contributing to the literal and figurative foundations of the mishkan, every Jew was equal to every other Jew.  Only in this way, through the harmonious combination of the material and the spiritual, can the service and the sanctification of the Jewish people become complete.

 

We find this very ideal expressed in the yotzros, the liturgical poems added by many congregations to the service of Parshas Shekalim:

 

Who can surmise the numbers of those “counted ones,”

Who are not countable through any kind of lottery?

HaShem struck a covenant with them from then, from the time of that census,

That there should never be lacking from their number a basic blend…

                       

Whether through war or plague or pogrom, HaShem has promised that there will never be fewer than the number of Jews who left Mitzrayim.  Yet this number comprises not the total count of the Jewish population, but the number of “counted ones,” those marked by the commitment to Torah, the basic blend of Zevuluns and Yissachars who serve as partners to ensure the material and spiritual survival of the Jewish nation.  Within the context of this partnership, money becomes as kadosh as Torah itself.

 

And if from those counted ones there will be left only a few

Their number would never fall below 600,000 marked ones.

And even in times of vulnerability to epidemic or violence from above

These counted ones can be redeemed through the atonement of silver.

 

For the achievement of true atonement, however, both Zevulun and Yissachar must be worthy.  Who can count the millions wasted in the name of Jewish philanthropy to build so many balloon-like institutions?  And who bears responsibility for the money donated for scholars who fail to conduct themselves as genuine Yissachars?

 

Both givers and receivers must accept responsibility.  When money is given and received with purity of purpose as the foundation of authentic Torah institutions, it elevates the giver, the receiver, and the money itself to the highest level of kedusha, tilting the scales of divine judgment and hastening the completion of the third and final Beis HaMikdash.

 

Always positioned at the outset of Adar, the month in which we celebrate the holiday of Purim, Parshas Shekalim prepares the way for our proper appreciation of the national redemption we commemorate in that month.  It is no coincidence, therefore, that our reenactment of the contribution of shekalim in the desert falls out in this season.  Indeed, it was those very shekalim, donated by the Jews toward the construction of the mishkan, that generated the merit that saved the Jewish people from the silver offered by Haman to destroy them. 11

 

ZACHOR – The Battle for Moral Clarity

 

But material resources provide only the first step.  Without Torah guidance, a Jew cannot differentiate between right and wrong, between good and evil.  This is the battleground of Eisav’s grandson Amoleik, the nation that risked annihilation for sole purpose of sewing doubt among the nations of the world and in the minds of the Jewish people.  As with modern day terrorists (who learned their tactics from Amoleik’s suicide attack upon the Jews in the desert), there can be no peace with any ideology that would rather die than bow before malchus Shomayim.

 

But today we don’t know how to identify Amoleik, since the Assyrian king Sancheriv scattered the nations and confused their ethnic origins. 12  How then to carry on the battle against Amoleik?

 

Our world today contains no shortage of nations eager to carry on Amoleik’s military campaign against the Jewish people.  And just as there could be no compromise with those intent upon our annihilation then, similarly is compromise with those determined to annihilate us now an irrational dream.  We must be prepared to fight for our survival, to take up arms to defend ourselves and our land, to recognize the enemies that threaten our existence and not be seduced by false promises of peace.

 

But it is the irrationality of the dream that poses the greater threat.  It is the cultural attack from the more subtle descendants of Eisav who, instead of striving to bite us to death, feign brotherhood in hope that they may kiss us to death. 13  It is the cultural assault from the culture of secularism that seeps into every facet of society, from literature and music, from movies and what today passes for art.  True, Chazal tell us there is wisdom among the nations. 14  But we must be ever watchful for the insidious messages of modern society that seek to infiltrate and confuse the clear thinking of the Torah mind.  The self-hating Jews, the apologists, the moral equivocators, and the halachic revisionists are among those who, no matter how sincere, have been won over by the seductive cultural terrorism of Amoleik.

 

Zachor – remember Amoleik, for what they did and for what their philosophy of ambivalence continues to try to do.  As zealous as we must be in our war against external enemies, we must devote even greater passion to the battle for moral clarity and integrity.

 

PARAH – Facing the Enemy Within

 

Even after recognizing the enemy without and preparing ourselves for the battle of ideas, we dare not consider ourselves secure.  There is an enemy inside as well, one far more dangerous than the one outside.  Against external enemies we can accept the reality of standoffs or partial victories, but against the influence of tumah, the forces of spiritual impurity, we can settle for nothing short of absolute triumph.  There are no half measures in the milchamas haYeitzer, the war for spiritual purity; taharah must be 100% or it remains tumah.  We must recognize and acknowledge our own shortcomings, then labor feverishly to correct them all.

           

But the battle seems pitched against us.  With so much impurity in the world, how can we keep ourselves pure without withdrawing, like monastic monks, and hiding ourselves from the outside world?

           

This was the question of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Kavsvi when he contemplated the mitzvah of Para Adumah. 15  The Torah’s description of the process, whereby one who is tahor sprinkles the ashes of the red cow to purify one who is tomei, seems to imply a one-to-one equation:  one tahor is necessary to purify one tomei.  If that would be so, the impurity of the outside world would seem unconquerable.

           

So thought Rabbi Yehoshua until he discovered the ancient records of Yavneh, wherein he learned that even if all the members of the Jewish nation would render themselves defiled, a single tahor could come and purify them all.

           

Rav Meir Shapiro explains that Rabbi Yehoshua had originally believed that only when the power of the spiritual exceeds the power of the physical can it prevail.  Yavneh, not only through its writings but through its very existence, disproved this assumption.

           

Faced by the inevitable destruction of Yerushalayim, Rabban Yochanon ben Zakkai won the favor of the Emperor Vespasian, whom he asked to grant the yeshiva of Yavneh and its sages immunity from Roman interference.  Imagine Vespasian’s astonishment when, after having offered Rabban Yochanon anything he desired, the rabbi asked for an insignificant academy in an obscure village. 16  How Vespasian must have laughed up his sleeve when he consented to Rabban Yochanon’s request.

           

Four centuries later, the Roman Empire had crumbled, while the Babylonian Talmud was on the brink of producing an explosion of Torah scholarship throughout the Jewish Diaspora.  The little yeshiva of Yavneh had secured the future of Torah survival, and the immeasurable might of Rome had vanished.

           

Similarly, the internal purity of conduct and conviction of a single Jew will inexorably bring a hundred Jews closer to the Torah heritage of which they have been dispossessed.

 

CHODESH – The Gift of Renewal

 

Human beings are not static.  We are constantly in flux, moving forward and slipping back.

           

Jews are no exception.  Having laid the material foundations for spiritual growth, having identified and taken action against our external enemies, whether physical or philosophical, and having labored to refine and perfect our inner character, we dare not believe that we have finished the job.  With each new victory, with each new achievement in spiritual growth, we face new challenges and new obstacles.

           

Reality is a cruel reminder.  Rabbeinu Tam describes the human condition of the y’mei ahava and the y’mei sina, the natural human cycle of optimism and pessimism, of idealism and cynicism, of enthusiasm and emotional paralysis. 17  And when we fall into the dark side of the cycle, we forget that the wheel will turn and that we will eventually find our way back into the light.

           

Where the nations of the world are compared to the sun, shining brightly for their brief moment before disappearing forever, the Jewish people are compared to the moon, subtly changing, growing bright, diminishing, seeming to have disappeared completely before reappearing once again. 18  Every month, every chodesh, is a season of hischadshus, or renewal.  The new moon reminds us not only that there is always more for us to accomplish, but that the darkness of the spirit will inevitably pass. 19

           

HaChodesh haZeh lochem – this month is for you, says the Torah. 20   It is not the Torah that needs renewal but we ourselves:  a new heart, a new outlook, a new hope that we will overcome the difficulties of the future as we have overcome the difficulties of the past.  With this sense of inner renewal, we are finally ready for Pesach; we are ready to accept the yoke of Torah and the challenges of freedom once again.

 

The Torah makes us a promise:  if we make the effort, we can find such resources of internal power that when we face the obstacles of the soul, we will muster the strength to rebuild ourselves, to become fresh, to be fresh, to count ourselves among the counted ones of Yisroel, for whom HaShem redeemed His nation 33 centuries ago, and for whom He will redeem us again.

 

And so the piyut of the yotzros concludes:

 

            How precious to me are those counted ones,

            Those who are counted and who allow themselves to be counted.

            Guard those who are counted, whether consciously or unconsciousl;

            Keep watch over and mark those who would be marked and leave their mark,

            That they should all bow to You.

 

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Footnotes

  1. 25 Adar 1, 5746, Yeshivas Ohr Yaakov, Zichron Yaakov
  2. Derech HaShem 1:3:4
  3. Avos 3:21
  4. Rashi on Bereishis 49:13 from Tanchuma 11; BaMidbar 18:21-24
  5. Bereishis 25:27 (and Rashi ad loc); Sforno on Bereishis 27:29-28:4
  6. Sforno loc cit
  7. Rashi on 32:25 from Bereishis Rabbah 77:3
  8. See Zohar Bereishis 171a
  9. Rambam, Hilchos Shemittah V’yovel 13:13
  10. Rambam, Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah 5:11
  11. Megillah 13b
  12. Brochos 28a
  13. See Rashi on Bereishis 33:4
  14. Eicha Rabbah 2
  15. Yerushalmi Damai 15b
  16. Gittin 56
  17. HaRav Shlomo Wolbe zt”l in Alei Shor, from Sefer HaYashar
  18. Sh’mos Rabbah 15
  19. Sfas Emes on Parshas Bo
  20. Sh’mos 12:1

Originally published in the Jewish Observer

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Tu B’Shvat

Today, when we observe the “birthday of the trees,” here’s a look back on what the sages had to say about roots and branches as the symbols of wisdom and good deeds.

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