This weekly women&#39;s class was presented on Tuesday, Parshas Acharei Mos-Kedoshim, 8 Iyar, 5781, April 20, 2021, live from Rabbi YY Jacobson&#39;s home in Monsey, NY.

You Are the Captain of Your Soul: Nobody Can Tell You Where to Go, Besides Yourself

Women's Class Kedoshim/Pirkei Avos 3 

When We Judge Others, We Are Really Judging Ourselves

This women&#39;s class was presented on Tuesday Parshas Kedoshim, 2 Iyar, 5779, May 7, 2019 at the Ohr Chaim Shul, Monsey, NY

G-d Says: "You Can Be Like Me!"

Women's Kedoshim Class

The Mantra of Judaism: I Am Holy

This lecture was presented at The Florida Center for Jewish Ethics - Annual Brunch Benefit, 21 Iyar, 5778, May 6, 2018. This event was organized by the Choshen Mishpat Kolel in Miami Beach, Florida, under the auspices of Rabbi&nbsp;Yochanan M. Zweig.&nbsp;

When the Rabbi Paid for a Christmas Tree

Miami Lecture on Jewish Business Ethics

Are We Failing to Teach Honesty in Business?

No Gashes

There is a fascinating verse in this week's Torah portion, Reah:

ראה יד, א: בָּנִים אַתֶּם לַיהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם לֹא תִתְגֹּדְדוּ וְלֹא תָשִׂימוּ קָרְחָה בֵּין עֵינֵיכֶם לָמֵת:

You are children of the Lord, your G-d. You shall neither cut yourselves nor make any baldness between your eyes, for the dead. (Deut. 14:1) 

The custom of many pagans was to cut themselves in demonstration of grief over the death of a loved one. To vent their agony, they would make incisions in their flesh, pull out their hair, and flay their skin. The Torah prohibits this behavior. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn1" name="_ednref1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1');"> [1] </a> There must be limits to grief. This is the meaning of the Hebrew word "sisgodedu," to scrape off the flesh.

The Talmud, however, adds a second meaning to this commandment:

יבמות יג, ב: לא תתגודדו-לא תעשו אגודות אגודות.

The Torah is saying: Do not splinter yourself into separate groups. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn2" name="_ednref2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2');"> [2] </a> ("Sisgodedu," from the root word "agud" or "agudah," means groups.) 

This is a prohibition against the Jewish people becoming divided. Practically, this is a prohibition against one Jewish court dividing into two and guiding the community in a conflicting fashion, <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn3" name="_ednref3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3');"> [3] </a> creating division and conflict. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn4" name="_ednref4" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4');"> [4] </a>

One practical example would be this. If a synagogue has a certain tradition of how to pray, one may not come and begin praying in a different tradition without the consent of the community. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn5" name="_ednref5" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref5');"> [5] </a>

But there is something strange here, and the question was first pointed out by the 16th century Jewish sage and leader, Rabbi Yehuda Leow (1512-1607), known as the Maharal, <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn6" name="_ednref6" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref6');"> [6] </a> chief Rabbi of Prague (who one of the most influential Jewish personalities of his time, and author of major works on Jewish thought.) The Talmud and the Midrash often present various interpretations for one biblical term or verse; but nowhere do we find two interpretations that are completely disconnected. On the simple level, "sisgodedu" means scraping off your skin. Now the Talmud tells us that it also means, "don't split up into separate groups." How do these two divergent instructions come together in a single word? Why would the Torah communicate such two disparate ideas in one word-lacerating your body and dividing a community?

Or to put it more poignantly and humorously, the sages, it seems, by imposing this second meaning are "violating" the very injunction they are trying to convey. They take a simple word in the verse and they "splinter" its meaning to connote divergent interpretations that seem to lack any common streak?

In words of the Maharal: <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn7" name="_ednref7" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref7');"> [7] </a> "Every man of wisdom and understanding will be amazed at the relationship of their [the sages] words with the simple meaning of the text, at a depth that is truly awesome. Yet, the man who is a stranger to this wisdom, will wonder at their unlikely reading of the verse, their words seeming implausible to him."

One Organism 

Yet it is here that we can once again gain insight into the depth of Torah wisdom. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn8" name="_ednref8" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref8');"> [8] </a>

The truth is, that the two interpretations are not only not divergent, they are actually one and the same. They both represent the same truth-one on a concrete, physical level; the other on a deeper, spiritual level.

The Torah prohibits us from cutting our skin as a sign of bereavement. Our bodies are sacred; our organism is integrated, precious and holy; we must never harm it. We must not separate even a bit of skin from our flesh. Even difficult moments of grief don't allow us to give up on our life and on the sacredness and beauty <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn9" name="_ednref9" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref9');"> [9] </a> of our bodies. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn10" name="_ednref10" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref10');"> [10] </a>

But that is exactly what we are doing when we allow our people to become splintered. The entire Jewish nation is essentially one single organism. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn11" name="_ednref11" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref11');"> [11] </a> We may number 15 million people, and come from different walks of life, profess extremely different opinions, and behave in opposite ways, but we are essentially like one "super organism." When I cut off a certain Jew from my life, when I cut myself off from a certain Jewish community, I am in truth cutting off part of my own flesh.

When I cut my skin, I am lacerating my body. When I cut you off from me, I am lacerating my soul. Because our souls are one.

Only G-d

I once read the following powerful story.

In the late 18th century, in Eastern Europe, there was a terrible conflict between the Chassidim and their opponents, the Misnagdim, who suspected the Chassidim in heresy and blasphemy. The chief opponent was the Vilna Gaon, the famed Rabbi Elijah (1720-1797), from the Lithuanian city Vilnius, who issued a ban (cherem) against Chassidim. He excommunicated them from the Jewish community. It was a terrible division which continued for decades.

The Misnagdim came to one of the greatest students of the Vilna Gaon, Rabbi Refael Hakohen Katz, the Rabbi of Hamburg and author of Toras Yekusiel (1722-1803), and asked him to sign the ban. He refused. They said: "But your own Rebbe, the Vilna Gaon, signed it, and your Rebbe is like an angel of G-d!" <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn12" name="_ednref12" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref12');"> [12] </a>

This was his response:

There is a famous question on the story of the Akeida, the binding of Isaac, in Genesis. G-d instructs Abraham to bring up his son Isaac as an offering. Abraham complies. At the last moment, as he is about to slaughter Isaac, The Torah states: "And a heavenly angel of G-d called out to him, and said: Abraham! Abraham!... And he said: 'Do not stretch out your hand against the lad, nor do anything to him." At the last moment, Isaac is saved.

There is something strange about this story. The instruction to bring Isaac as an offering came directly from G-d. <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn13" name="_ednref13" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref13');"> [13] </a> G-d Himself told Abraham to offer his son to Him. Why did the reverse stop-order come from an angel and not from G-d?

The answer, said Reb Refael, is this. If G-d wants to tell you not to touch a Jewish child, sending an angel will suffice. But if He wants you to "slaughter" another Jew, an angel can't suffice! G-d Himself needs to come and tell you to do it. If you are going to "slaughter" another Jew, make sure you hear it from G-d Himself.

To let Isaac live, the instruction could be communicated via an angel. To let Isaac die, G-d needed to show up Himself.

"My Rebbe is an angel of G-d," Reb Refael said. "But I will not sign a ban against another Jew," even when an angel tells me to do so. To "slaughter" a Jew I need to hear it from G-d Himself.

[The source of the above story is Toras Yechiel by Rabbi Schlezinger Parshas Vayeira. Chut Hameshulah, a biographey of the Chasam Sofer, page 27. In the latter the name of the student of the Vilna Gain is given as Reb Zalman of Valazhin, who was one of the most beloved students of the Vilna Gaon. There he also adds that when the Vilna Gaon heard this response, he himself abstained from any further action against the Chassidim!

It is also interesting to note, that according to many sources, the famed Chafetz Chaim, Rabbi Yisroel Meir&nbsp;Kagan, who dedicated his life to increasing Jewish unity, and his works spread among all Jews, was a grandson of Reb Refael of Hamburg.]

Be Careful

Sometimes we get in to fights with people over idealistic reasons. We "slaughter" people-with our words or actions-and we feel that we are acting on behalf of an angel. We feel angelic about our actions.

Be wary, says the Torah! If you are going to cut someone off from your life, you want to hear it from G-d Himself. If not, let it go.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref1" name="_edn1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1');">[1] </a> What is the connection between the opening of the verse about our being the children of G-d and the prohibition of gouging ourselves over the death of a loved one?

The Ohr Hachaim explains that the Torah is teaching us that death has another dimension to it. It can be compared to a person who sent his son to a faraway land in order to start a business there. The son settled in that place and over time became very close to many fine people there. After many years, the father summoned the son to return home and the son acceded to his wishes. The son is not lost. Those who had grown to know and love him are no longer able to see him, but the son is not lost. On the contrary, the son is returning home to his father. The thought of those friends going ahead and gouging themselves over the agony of the son's departure is unjust. Sadness and a melancholy feeling are in order. Gouging is definitely out. Because "Banim a'tem laHashem Elokaichem," You are children of Hashem your G-d." At death, the person is returning to the Father. The duration of that person's visit to this transient world has come to a close. The time has come to return home. Therefore, "Lo tisgo'd'du," do not gouge yourselves over a death. Reacting in such a way really contradicts our beliefs.

The Chizkuni explains that the basis for the command not to gouge ourselves is that we are the children of Hashem--we are mere children. Do we have an understanding of why we live and why we die? Can we fathom the Divine decisions which determine these occurrences? Do we appreciate the meaning of life? Do we comprehend why a person is born or why they die? A child does not comprehend the decisions that a mature father makes-and we too are children. Thus, "Lo tisgo'd'du {do not gouge yourselves}." Cf. Ibn Ezra, Ramban, Daas Zekenim, Sefurno and Klei Yakar for their explanations in the juxtaposition.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref2" name="_edn2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2');">[2] </a> Yevamos 13b

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref3" name="_edn3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3');">[3]</a>&nbsp;רמב"ם הלכות עבודה זרה יב, יג-יד: גדידה ושריטה, אחת היא... על המת, בין שרט בידו בין שרט בכלי, לוקה... ובכלל אזהרה זו, שלא יהו שני בתי דינין בעיר אחת, זה נוהג במנהג, וזה נוהג במנהג אחר, שדבר זה גורם למחלוקת גדולה, וכתוב לא תתגודדו, לא תיעשו אגודות אגודות.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref4" name="_edn4" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4');">[4] </a> The Talmud in Yevamos 13b and 14a discusses the nature of this prohibition. Abayei maintains that Lo Sisgodedu applies when two different batei dinim (courts) in one city issue conflicting rulings. This makes the one Torah that was received at Sinai appear as "two Torahs" (Rashi ibid.) and causes confusion and discord (Rambam). Rava, however, does not object to different batei denim, even in the same city, issuing contradictory rulings, since it is within the very nature of the Torah that different rulings will be rendered by different schools of thought, as Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel did for many years. In Rava's opinion, the prohibition of Lo Sisgodedu is meant to discourage one beis din from rendering a split decision.

See Kesef Mishnah to Rambam ibid who amends the text so that the Rambam agrees with Rava not Abaya, as is usually the standard in Halacha,

It is interesting to note, that Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef maintains that regarding any halachic issue about which it is well known that there is a difference of opinion, there is no problem of "lo sisgodedu." However, many halachik authorities disagree. A case in point: Everyone knows that many Jews wear tefillin on Chol ha-Moed and many do not. Nevertheless, the Mishnah Berurah quotes from the Artsos HaChaim that you should not allow these two groups to pray together in the same shul; they should pray in different rooms. Otherwise, he notes, it looks like there are "shtei Toros" (two Torahs).

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref5" name="_edn5" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn5');">[5] </a> See here for the entire discussion: <a href="http://olamot.net/sites/default/files/pdf/68.pdf"> http://olamot.net/sites/default/files/pdf/68.pdf </a>

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref6" name="_edn6" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn6');">[6] </a> In his commentary of Gur Aryeh to this verse Deut. 14:1

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref7" name="_edn7" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn7');">[7] </a> Beer HaGolah p. 44

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref8" name="_edn8" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn8');">[8] </a> I heard this insight from Rabbi Yosef Cheser (Montreal), who heard it from Rabbi Schneur Kotler, the famed dean of the Lakewood Yeshiva, when he once visited Montreal. It was during a Friday night gathering and on the table was the question if Ashkenazic Jews should support a struggling Sephardic school in Montreal.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref9" name="_edn9" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn9');">[9] </a> That is how Rashi explains the reason for the prohibition. Rashi Deut. 14:1

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref10" name="_edn10" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn10');">[10] </a> Symbolically, perhaps, scraping of the skin demonstrates a lack of sensitivity that our flesh is part of "us," it is part of our soul. We may not separate the body from its internal soul. When we realize the body is part of the soul, and that the soul never dies, it altars our perception of death. When we gash our bodies after death, it demonstrates a lack of this awareness.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref11" name="_edn11" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn11');">[11] </a> See Talmud Yerushalmi Nedarim 9:4. Cf. Tanya chapter 32. Derech Mitzvosecha Mitzvas Ahavas Yisroel and references noted there.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref12" name="_edn12" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn12');">[12] </a> See Talmud Chagigah 13b that a real Rebbe is like an angel.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref13" name="_edn13" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn13');">[13] </a> Genesis 22:2.

The Maharal raises a fascinating question on this week&#39;s portion, Reah. One verse, &quot;lo sisgodedu,&quot; is explained to include two commandments: Don&#39;t scratch off your skin in grief; and do not splinter the Jewish community. Now, the Talmud and the Midrash often present various interpretations for one biblical term; but nowhere do we find two interpretations that are completely disjointed.

Yet it is here that we can once again gain insight into the depth of Torah wisdom. For the truth is, that the two interpretations are not only not divergent; they are actually one and the same. They both represent the same truth-one on a concrete, physical level; the other on a deeper, spiritual level.

In the late 18th century, in Eastern Europe, there was a terrible conflict between the Chassidim and their opponents. The opponents came to one of the greatest students of the Vilna Gaon, and asked him to sign the ban against the Chassidim. He refused. His explanation was remarkable.

A Strange Talmudic Insight into a Biblical Verse Captures the Sense of Jewish Unity

Essay Vayeira/Re'eh

Do You Ever "Slaughter" Another Jew?

<span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;">&ldquo;And a man who takes his sister&hellip; and he sees her nakedness&hellip; it is a chesed, kind act, and they shall be cut off&hellip;&rdquo; the Torah states in Kedoshim, in Leviticus 20. This is beyond strange. Incest is a kind act?!&nbsp;

Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760), the founder of Chassidus, revealed the &ldquo;unconscious&rdquo; dimension of Judaism, conferring upon it a new depth and sophistication. One of his most fundamental teachings was that G-d was not a force above the world controlling it, but rather G-d is the very truth and essence of Reality. Therefore, in every thought there was meaning, in every experience&mdash;joy, in every encounter&mdash;Divine energy. You can find G-d in all.

This class takes us on a journey into one of the Baal Shem Tov&rsquo;s teachings on how to deal with alien and destructive thoughts that inundate us during prayer and meditation. 150 years before the birth of psychoanalysis, the Baal Shem Tov taught us how the external manifestation of a thought may eclipse its inner meaning, how the egg may contain live chick. Every thought needs healing and sublimation. Yet there are exceptions. To be able to perceive in the spirituality in your addiction, you must be free from its toxic entanglement.

A Two-Rung Approach to Addictive, Dysfunctional, and Distracting Thoughts

Class Kedoshim

Freud & The Baal Shem Tov: The Holiness in Addiction

In a text based class regarding the laws of Kilayim we explore the differences between breeding two animals and plants vs joining two fabrics of wool and linen together. We also add the laws of mixing milk and meat together.

Obliterating the Self, Or Uniting for a Common Purpose?

Likkutei Sichos Ki Seitzei/Kedoshim/Mishpatim

The Psychology of Shatnez

Judge Favorably&nbsp;
This week's Torah portion, Kedoshim, contains a commandment, which we often do not think about as such:<a id="_edn1" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')">[1]</a> “With Justice you shall judge your fellow man.”
The Talmud gives two different interpretations for this verse.<a id="_edn2" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')">[2]</a> According to one opinion, this verse is giving direction to Judges. When a person comes to a Judgment in a civil case according to Torah law the judge must treat the litigants equally. He is not allowed to have one litigant stand and the other one sit, one speak at length and the other urged to speak briefly, and so forth. However, according to a second interpretation in the Talmud, the injunction in this verse is directed at every Jew. Its intent is that we must “judge our fellow with justice,” as the Talmud puts it, “Judge your fellow man to the side of merit.”
A similar expression we find in the Ethics of the Fathers:<a id="_edn3" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')">[3]</a> “You should judge every person to the side of merit.”
But what does this mean?
Changing the Instinct to Condemn 
On the most basic level, it cautions us to give people the benefit of the doubt. If we see a person doing something that apparently seems to be an act that he or she should not be doing, there is a full-fledged Biblical command to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Upon observing another person doing or saying something we perceive as undesirable or destructive, many of us instinctively assume that negative motives are compelling these acts and words. We naturally believe that the person is aware of the damage he is creating, and despite this he is doing it for his own benefit or some agenda. This attitude has plagued us for millennia and has caused untold harm and divisiveness in communities. Learn to judge people favorably, to attribute positive, or at least neutral, motives to people’s acts and words. Say to yourself, "His (or her) behavior might appear wrong; but in his own mind and heart he really thinks he is doing the right thing."
This approach of condemning the behavior, but not the person is counterintuitive, but it is tremendously beneficial for two reasons:
A) When you are able to alter your attitude, you will not become resentful. When you attribute evil motives to a person performing a negative act, your brain instinctively swells with negative energy. On the other hand, if you train yourself to view the person, unlike his behavior, in a positive light, you save your heart from being consumed by ire.
B) You will be in a much better position to communicate your feelings to this person without compelling him to construct defense mechanisms and reciprocate your rebuke with stubbornness and anger. When he feels that inside your heart you don't view him as a "bad guy" who craves destruction, only as a "good guy" who made an error, your criticism will most likely be more effective.
Think about yourself. If someone approaches you and criticizes your behavior, when is he more likely to be successful? When he attributes negative motives to you, or positive ones to you? The answer is more than obvious. This means that if you are truly bothered by what this person did, the best way to eliminate such behavior in the future is to judge him or her favorably.
The Blind Chazzan
The composer and story-teller Reb Shlomeleh Carlebach told a story of a Shabbat spent in a community in post-war Europe.&nbsp; When he came to shul on Shabbat, he was disappointed with the cantor. The man was skipping words, had a feeble, timorous voice. Worse still, his pronunciation of the Hebrew text was dreadful.&nbsp; Carlebach thought to himself that the horrible cantor must have paid off the synagogue to let him pray… he was so disgusted, he decided to go to a side room and pray alone. He would only come to the main shul to listen to the Torah reading.
When he returned for the Torah reading, he noticed that the cantor holding the Torah and leading it to the bimah was being supported by two people. As he looked closer, he realized that the chazzan was blind.
Shlomoleh asked the person near him who this chazzan was. The man explained: Before the war, he was the chief cantor of the grand Jewish community of Lemberg (Levuv), in Poland. When he conducted services there, his voice was as powerful as a lion's roar: it shook the very pillars of the synagogue and penetrated the heart of every worshiper. From all over Europe Jews came to listen to his heart-stirring prayers.
Then the Nazis came. The chazzan was sent to Auschwitz, where he&nbsp;endured unspeakable torture. He became blind. He survived the death camp, but has lost his vision, his voice and his diction.
“We always beg him to pray for us,” the man continues the story, “but he always refuses. “Today he agreed.”
Shlomeleh wanted to bury himself from inner shame. “Overwhelmed by my sense of guilt and shame, I waited for the old chazzan to approach. When he did, holding the Torah scroll, I kissed his saintly hands…
“He asked, who just kissed my hands. They told him: Shlomeleh Carlebach. He said: Shlomo, I love your niggunim (melodies.) He gave me back my soul.”
On the Subway
In his “Seven Habits” Steven Covey tells the story of him traveling one Sunday morning on a subway in New York.
People were sitting quietly—some reading newspapers, some lost in thought, some resting with their eyes closed. It was a calm, peaceful scene.
Then, suddenly, a man and his children entered the subway car. The children were so loud and rambunctious that instantly the whole climate changed. The man sat down next to me and closed his eyes, apparently oblivious to the situation. The children were yelling back and forth, throwing things, even grabbing people's papers. It was very disturbing. And yet, the man sitting next to me did nothing.
It was difficult not to feel irritated. I could not believe that he could be so insensitive as to let his children run wild like that and do nothing about it, taking no responsibility at all. (It was easy to see that everyone on the subway felt irritated, too.) So, finally, with what I felt was unusual patience and restraint, I turned to him and said, "Sir, your children are really disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you couldn't control them a little more?"
The man lifted his gaze as if to come to consciousness of the situation for the first time and said softly, "Oh, you're right. I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago. I don't know what to think, and I guess they don't know how to handle it either…"
“Can you imagine what I felt at that moment?” Covey concludes his story.
This is the truth of life: We know nothing of the trials, sorrows and temptations of those around us, of pillows wet with sobs, of the life-tragedy that may be hidden behind a smile, of the secret cares, struggles, and worries that shorten life and leave their mark in hair prematurely whitened, and a character changed and almost recreated in a few days. Let us not dare to add to the burden of another the pain of our judgment, the Torah is telling us. Think before you speak. You never know the “whole story” of that other person’s life.
Penniless Employer?
The Talmud relates this story:<a id="_edn4" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4')">[4]</a>
Once a man went from the Upper Galilee (in northern Israel) to work for an employer in the south for three years.
On the eve of Yom Kippur of the third year, he said to his employer, "Give me my wages, and I will go home and support my wife and my children."
The employer said to him, "I do not have any money to pay you."
"Give me fruit instead," said the worker.
"I have no fruit," answered the employer.
"Give me land," said the worker.
"I do not have any land," answered the employer.
"Give me animals," said the worker.
"I do not have any animals," answered the employer.
"Give me quilts and pillows," said the worker.
"I do not have any quilts and pillows," answered the employer.
The worker packed his bags and went home, disappointed.
After the holiday, the employer traveled to the worker's home with the man's wages and with three donkeys. One was laden with food, the second with drinks, and the third with delicacies.
When he arrived, after they had eaten and drunk together, the employer gave the worker his wages and all the other gifts, and said to him, "When you asked me for your wages, and I told you that I did not have any money, did you think that was the truth?"
"I thought," answered the worker, "that you had obtained merchandise at a bargain price, and had spent all your money."
The employer said to him, "When you asked me for animals, and I told you that I did not have any animals, what did you think was the truth?"
"I thought," answered the worker, "that they were rented out to others."
The employer said to him, "When you asked me for land, and I told you that I did not have any land, what did you think was the truth?"
"I thought, “answered the worker, "that the land also was rented out to others."
The employer said to him, "When you asked me for fruit, and I told you that I did not have any fruit, what did you think was the truth?"
"I thought," answered the worker, "that the fruit had not yet been tithed."
The employer said to him, "And after you asked me for quilts and Pillows, and I told you that I did not have any, what did you think was the truth?"
"I thought," answered the worker, "that you had given away all Your Possessions to the Beis Hamikdash (Holy Temple) by making a vow of hekdesh [pledge to the Temple]."
The employer said, "I swear to you that that is exactly what happened. I had promised away all of my possessions to the Holy Temple because of Hurkanos, my son, who did not wish to learn Torah [and I did not want him to be my heir]. And when I came to my friends in the south, they annulled my vows.
“Just as You Judged me favorably, so may G-d judge you favorably."<a id="_edn5" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref5')">[5]</a>
In Summation
So this, in summation, is the conventional understanding of this Torah injunction to “judge every human being meritoriously.” It consists of three points:
A) If you hear your fellow say something or you see him do something, and you can interpret it as a being moral or immoral, give him or her the benefit of the doubt. As in the Talmudic story above, where the employee did not immediately assume that his employer was lying. Or as in the stories of Shlomo Carlebach and Steven Covey where their perceptions clouded the true story.
B) Even if you know for sure that the person did or said something wrong, attribute to him positive motives. He may think he is doing the right thing.
C) Even if he knows he is doing the wrong thing, be careful before judging him. “Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place,” warns another of the Ethics’ sayings, and his place is one place where you will never be. You have no way of truly appreciating the manner in which his inborn nature, his background and/or the circumstances that hold sway over his life have influenced his character and behavior. His struggles are not mine. Perhaps if I would have the same struggles, I would behave just as bad, or worse. Yes, you may be an addict and I am not. But if I would have had the same sensitivities as you, if I would have endured the same abuse as you, am I so sure I would have not sold my soul to addiction?
This message, too, is implied in the words of our sages in Ethics chapter 1: "Hevei dan et kol ha'adam lechaf zechut" – judge every person favorably. The word kol ha'adam (every person) can be translated as “the whole person.”<a id="_edn6" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref6')">[6]</a> Before you judge someone, you first have to know “the whole person”—everything about this person, from their background, to the workings of their inner psyche, to the challenges they are facing today.
Learn to live this way and you will live a happier life, besides being far more effective.
<a id="_ednref1" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')">[1]</a> Leviticus 19:15
<a id="_ednref2" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')">[2]</a> Shavuos 30a
<a id="_ednref3" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')">[3]</a> 1:6
<a id="_ednref4" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4')">[4]</a>Shabbos 127b.
<a id="_ednref5" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn5')">[5]</a> Indeed, Rabbi Achai Gaon quotes in his book Sheltos a tradition that this employee was none other than Rabbi Akiva.
<a id="_ednref6" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn6')">[6]</a> See Sefas Emes.

This week's second Torah portion, Kedoshim, contains a commandment, which we often do not think about as such:[1] &ldquo;With Justice you shall judge your fellow man.&rdquo; What does it mean to judge another man? Do I have the right to Judge him or her?

Challenging Our Instinct to Condemn

Stop Judging Me

The Baal Shem Tov Encounters a Spiritual Ascetic

Stay in Kolel Or Go Out to the World?

When the Baal Shem Tov Encountered a Spiritual Ascetic

Four Mitzvos and a Slice of Fish

In a small town in Eastern Europe, a poor beggar once approached the home of an extremely wealthy but very stingy man. "Sir, I haven't had a morsel of food in more than two days," he said. "Can you please spare something to eat?"

"My home was not made for losers like yourself," the miser replied. "Why don't you go to the synagogue? There they will surely feed you!"

But the poor man pleaded. "Please, I beg you, I have no strength left. If I don't eat something now, I will die. Please, give me any food you have in the home."

The rich man took from the garbage an old, rotten and smelly piece of fish and gave it to the beggar, who consumed it within a few seconds. As the poor man thanked his host and left the home, he collapsed in the street. They rushed him to the local hospital.

That evening, after returning home from the evening services in the synagogue, the wealthy man informed his wife that he would be leaving and return later at night. "The poor man who ate in our home suddenly fell ill, and he was taken to the hospital. I must go visit him and fulfill the great mitzvah of visiting the sick."

The following morning, after returning home from the synagogue's morning service, the man told his wife: "I have a busy day today. In the synagogue they announced that the poor beggar died early this morning, and that his funeral would take place at 2 p.m. I must attend the funeral of this man and perform the extraordinary mitzvah of escorting the dead on their final journey."

That evening, after returning home from synagogue, the wealthy man informed his wife once again that he would be out late. "At the funeral they announced that the deceased beggar was survived by a son. I must go pay him a shivah call and perform the great mitzvah of comforting a person who is in mourning."

When the wealthy man returned that night from the shivah call, his face was beaming with joy. His entire countenance radiated with happiness. The man was simply kvelling.

"What are you so happy about?" his wife asked him. "What was so exciting about visiting an orphan sitting shivah?"

To which the wealthy miser replied: "How could I not be overjoyed when I think of how many tremendous mitzvos I performed with merely one small stinky piece of fish!

"Think about it. With one decayed slice of fish, I achieved four of the most extraordinary mitzvos: hospitality to the poor, visiting the sick, escorting the dead and comforting the mourning. Ah! How happy I feel."

An Ego Trip

This satirical episode depicts, of course, the profile of a man who may consider himself to be very religious, but who totally doesn't get it; an individual who may technically follow the laws, but who is absolutely alienated from G-d’s truth and from the very definition of holiness; a person for whom religion is merely a self-centered obnoxious ego trip, rather than a challenge to transcend the superficial, base and depraved aspects of the human personality and touch the divine within himself and his fellow human beings.

It is against this type of "religious” person that the Bible warns us in the beginning of the second Torah portion of this week, Kedoshim<a id="_edn1" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')">[1]</a>.

"Speak to the entire assembly of the Children of Israel," G-d tells Moses, "and say to them: You shall be holy, for holy am I, your G-d."

What is the meaning of this commandment to "be holy"? What does it mean to be holy? How does one become holy?

One of the greatest biblical commentators, the 13th century Spanish sage, Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, known as Nachmanides or Ramban<a id="_edn2" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')">[2]</a>, maintains that the injunction to by holy is not to observe any particular commandment. Rather, it is an instruction that relates to the entire weltanschauung of the Jew, to the core of his lifestyle, to his very perception of self.

In Nachmanides' own words<a id="_edn3" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')">[3]</a>:

"The meaning of this ("be holy") is that since the Torah has cautioned (in the previous Torah portion) against forbidden promiscuous relations and against forbidden foods, while permitting intimacy in a marriage and eating meat and wine, the gluttonous person can find a place to wallow in fornication with his wife or wives and become one of the guzzlers of wine and the gluttons of meat. He may converse at will about all types of licentious things, since no prohibition against this is specified in the Torah. He can be a degenerate with the permission of the Torah. Therefore, after enumerating the things which it forbids entirely, the Torah declares, 'Be holy.' Constrain yourself also in that which is permitted<a id="_edn4" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4')">[4]</a>."

"A degenerate with the permission of the Torah!" What a dramatic and moving expression coming from the quill of a 13th-century sage occupied most of his time with defending his Spanish brethren from Christian Jew-haters. Nachmanides is crying out against religious smugness and egocentricity, against Torah-sanctioned vulgarity. He views this verse as a divine protest against the individual who may technically perform all the laws and rituals, but still remains coarse and vulgar. He may have learned Torah, but the Torah has taught him nothing. His inner beastliness and selfishness have never been refined; his bias and crudeness never challenged. G-d, for this individual, is an object of his own making, not an invitation to infinity, mystery and transcendence.

Religion, we all know, can be a crutch allowing us to remain stuck in our bubble, secure in the consistency of ritual, yet unready to challenge our core narcissism and listen deeply to another human being. Dogmatic ritual can give us the sense that we are good and holy, while we remain crude, crass and delusional, never asking the ultimate G-dly question, "What have I given up for someone else?" Even our kindness can become superficial, false and self-serving. We engage in kindness, or "chesed," so that we can tell ourselves we are good and that we will merit a seat in "the world to come."

Perhaps we will. But that place in the "world to come" will smell as bad as that piece of fish...

"Be Holy" is the eternal call to challenge the status quo of our nature, to remember that religion may have little to do with G-d and to recall that serving G-d is not merely a ticket to paradise. It is the daily battle for transcendence; a daily battle to go beyond the superficiality of mundane existence, and the confines of the insecure ego; a daily battle to find the unifying light within.

To be sure, self-deception is not the exclusive purview of religious people. All of us, regardless of our level of outer religiosity, find it much easier to engage in a huge amount of self-deception to maintain our self image as “good people” than to actually challenge our baser, more selfish instincts. “Religious people” are not the only ones who sometimes don’t get it; all of us are in danger of becoming stuck in the quagmire of our psyche’s comfort zones, too lazy or scared to confront the hard questions. Yet, for those of us who call ourselves religious, the injunction “be holy” reminds us that G-d must always be synonymous with truth, integrity and inner refinement. Vulgarity in the name of religion is a sin all its own.

Careful we must be not to use religion as a tool to eclipse our insecurities and selfishness. The first and foremost definition of G-d is that He has no definition and thus must inculcate us with an endless sense of humility and wonder.

<a id="_ednref1" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')">[1]</a> Leviticus 19:1.

<a id="_ednref2" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')">[2]</a> Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, known as the Ramban, was the leader of Spanish Jewry in the turbulent 13th century. His great Torah scholarship, heroic personal life and incisive analysis of Jewish history and destiny remain a beacon of light through the centuries. The Ramban was born in Girona, Catalonia, Spain in 1194, and was the crown of that country's golden age of Jewish scholarship. Toward the end of his life, he was forced to relocate from Spain. He moved to Jerusalem, where he passed away around 1272.

<a id="_ednref3" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')">[3]</a> Leviticus ibid.&nbsp;

<a id="_ednref4" href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4')">[4]</a> The Ramban quotes the Talmudic dictum (Yevamos 20a): "Sanctify yourself also regarding that which is permissible to you." Or as a Chassid once remarked: The first dictum we heard from the Rebbe (Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi) was, "What is forbidden, one must not; what is permitted, one need not."

Religious But Vulgar - A Degenerate Sanctioned by Torah

A Degenerate Sanctioned by Torah

Essay Parshas Kedoshim

Religious But Vulgar

This women's class was presented on Tuesday Parshas Acharei-Kedoshim, 6 Iyar 5777, May 2, 2017, in Monsey, NY.
How do you maintaining your identity during stressful times? What an agricultural Talmudic law about fruit teaches us about psychological serenity and historical endurance.&nbsp;

What an Agricultural Law Teaches us about Psychological Serenity and Historical Endurance

Always Show Up To Your Life with Your Core-Self

<span style="color: rgb(47, 76, 90); font-family: Signika; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-color: initial; display: inline !important; float: none;">This class was presented on Tuesday, Parshas Kedoshim, 29 Nissan, 5784, May 7, 2024, at Bais Medrash Ohr Chaim in Monsey, NY.

Self Care Is Not a Crime; It's a Mitzvah

The Great Talmudic Debate: Two People Stuck in a Desert with One Canteen, Who Gets the Water?

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