8 minute read
Temporary Tranquility by Rav Moshe Weinberger
Parshas Vayeishev Temporary Tranquility
By Rav Moshe Weinberger Adapted for publication by Binyomin Wolf
Much has been written about the name of the parsha, “Vayeishev,” which means to dwell peacefully. After many years of trouble and anguish, Rashi explains (commenting on Bereishis 37:2) that “Yaakov sought to enjoy some serenity, but the troubles of Yosef sprang upon him. Tzaddikim seek to dwell in tranquility, but Hashem says, ‘Is that which is prepared for the tzaddikim in the World to Come not enough for them? Must they also seek to dwell peacefully in this world as well?’” Yaakov did not seek physical tranquility. Rather, he sought a respite from all of the worries, stress, and danger with which he had been plagued for most of his life. He sought spiritual and emotional rest.
Yaakov’s experience is reflected in the Mishna (Avos 4:15), which says, “We cannot understand the tranquility of the wicked or the suffering of the righteous.” We may not understand why, but we see from Rashi’s commentary above and the Mishna in Avos that, for whatever reason, it is the portion of the tzaddikim that they do not enjoy tranquility in this world. In addition, according to the Gemara (Brachos 64a), “Torah scholars have no rest either in this world or the next world, as it says (Tehilim 84:8), ‘They go from strength to strength.’” The lot of tzaddikim is that they have much reward but little rest. As the Gemara also says (Sanhedrin 72a), “Sleep and wine are good for the wicked and good for the world, but for tzaddikim, they are bad for them and bad for the world.”
Rav Adin Even-Yisrael (Steinsaltz), z”l, explains that the world is filled with confusion now more than ever. Everyone seems to be desperately in need of some peace and tranquility. Many women enjoy a few days in a special home for postpartum recovery called a “recovery home.” It is difficult to go home to the “joys” of a lively home after such peace and quiet. People naturally want to leave the world of stress and enter into a place of serenity. Indeed, some people seek out religiosity because they believe it will bring them peace, safety, and tranquility, a break from the non-stop pressures of this world. There is some truth to this. One can only truly take a break from work, phone calls, emails, the Internet, and the like on Shabbos because it is simply forbidden to use these things. Without the framework of religion, today’s modern gadgetry will pursue a person at all hours of the day and night, seven days a week, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. Many people have told me that they became religious after spending Shabbos in a religious home and experiencing the peace of Shabbos. It is difficult for religious people to understand, as we watch our children bouncing off the walls on Shabbos, but our life contains tremendous peace and security relative to the outside world.
The world of halacha frees a person from many of the desires of this world. For example, even those who are addicted to smoking are able to abstain from their habit for the twenty-five hours of Shabbos without any problem whatsoever. As the Ibn Ezra explained with respect to the prohibition of lo sachmod, not to covet one’s neighbor’s wife, house, or the like, just like one does not covet a king’s wife because marrying her is completely outside of the world of possibility, so too, with the Torah’s prohibition against adultery, one will not even desire to marry another man’s wife in his heart (or any other prohibition for that matter), because the Torah’s prohibition puts such a possibility completely outside the realm of the reality of his life. The rules of religion therefore do create a certain type of peace by reducing the struggle from certain areas of life.
On a deeper level, though, Jews who live with faith “ain la’hem menucha, have no rest.” The struggle of (Gittin 43a) “one can only understand the words of Torah if one stumbles in them” is ongoing. Growth involves ups and downs, successes and failures.
The larger the number of words for a concept in a given language reflects the importance and nuance of that concept in that culture. The more a people’s life revolves around a concept, the more subtle distinctions that culture will discern within that concept. Jews therefore have numerous words for “question”: kushiya, l’maei nafka minah, itamer, teima, maei ikah l’meimar, and many others. Our people are connoisseurs of good questions. Questions mean seeing a problem and struggling with it, trying to reach the truth. Many of us nevertheless have a tendency to seek the “peace” of living without questions, to avoid the struggle for the truth. One time, someone called from my daughter’s seminary, suggesting that perhaps she should ask fewer questions lest it affect her chances of “getting a good shidduch,” finding a good match. Despite the fact that the tendency to ask a lot of questions defines our nation, there is a desire to slide into the apathy of a life without questions, without struggle.
Indeed, the Rambam sought to create absolute clarity by removing all questions from the Gemara and writing the Mishna Torah, which contains only the answers. Yet no book since the Talmud has engendered more debate than the Mishna Torah. To paraphrase Rashi’s commentary on Yaakov quoted above, “The Rambam sought to dwell in peace, but the troubles
of the Ra’avad (author of a commentary questioning the Rambam’s conclusions) sprang upon him.” As we say in the Chanukah song Maoz Tzur, “V’gam sham lo sha’katti, Neither did I find rest there.”
It must be that the reality of the constant changes and turbulence experienced by tzaddikim, those of us who are trying to grow, is not b’dieved, a lessthan-ideal situation. Rather, that reality is l’chatchila, the way it is supposed to be. Only people who aren’t growing have no questions, no challenges, and no turbulence. In truth, Hashem did not give us Torah and mitzvos to give us peace and rest. Just the opposite! If someone isn’t working, isn’t rising from level to level, isn’t facing challenges, it is a sign that he is not growing or moving forward and he is not a complete Jew. A peaceful life is more pleasant, but it is not a better life. A true Jewish life is a life of challenges and overcoming troubles.
Tzaddikim constantly go mei’chayil el chayil, from level to level, facing new questions and new challenges, attaining new levels of greatness at each stage. Overcoming obstacles to attain greatness is what Chanukah is about. The Jews found that one jar of oil “sealed with the seal of the Kohen Gadol,” the great kohen. The Torah describes the Jewish nation as (Devarim 4:7) “goy gadol, a great nation,” and the miracle of Chanukah is called a “great miracle,” as it is written on the dreidel, “nes gadol hayah sham, a great miracle happened there.” Also, in the Al Hanisim prayer we say on Chanukah, we say, “And for Your sake, You made a great and holy name in Your world.”
When we are not satisfied with the smallness of remaining at rest, we can access the greatness within Chanukah. The Hebrew word for miracle, nes, also means to be lifted up, l’hitnoses, because the miracle was meant to spur us on to challenge ourselves to grow bigger and bigger.
The Bobover Rebbe, Rav Bentziyon, was once playing dreidel with his grandson, Naftul’che, a short time before the war. Rav Bentziyon would not survive, though Naftul’che would go on to survive the war and become a future rebbe of Bobov. As they were playing dreidel, Naftul’che rolled a “gimmel” and took all the gelt. After replenishing the “pot,” Naftul’che rolled again and got a “hei” and took half the pot. Feeling good about how
the game was going, he rolled again, but this time, his grandfather, Rav Bentziyon, put his hand over the dreidel before Naftul’che could see what the dreidel landed on. A very dark look came over the Rebbe’s face, and he said to his grandson, “We don’t always need to know what the dreidel lands on. The main thing is for a Jew to just keep on going.”
Being a Jew means that we have ques-
tions, and we don’t always have the answers. The main thing is to keep moving forward and going to the next level, to never stop spinning and moving in our service of Hashem.
We know thatChanukah, stands for “chanu chaf-hey, they rested on the twenty-fifth” of the Hebrew month of Kislev. Chanukah marks the date of the end of the war to drive the Syrian Greeks out of our land, when the Chashmonayim hoped to finally rest from the battle. But that date also marked the beginning of their efforts to purify the Beis Hamikdash from the Greek impurity and begin ascending the levels of holiness. So rather than being a time of “rest,” Chanukah means not remaining complacent but continuing to fight for higher levels of holiness. That is the meaning of Chanukah and what it means to be a Jew.
May we merit to go mei’chayil el chayil, from strength to strength, continually growing and never resting in one place for too long.
Rav Moshe Weinberger, shlita, is the founding Morah d’Asrah of Congregation Aish Kodesh in Woodmere, NY, and serves as leader of the new mechina Emek HaMelech.
