By Rabbi Yisroel Shusterman
This week’s Parsha
Perspective is dedicated in memory of Elka
bas Zisel OBM
Dedicated in memory
of Leah bas Rochel OBM
Have you ever heard
of Reb Mendel? He smuggled Jews out of the Soviet Union at the end of
World War II. The Communists gave him fifteen years in the Siberian gulags.
Ever heard of Mumeh
Sorah? She did the same, but they never bothered sending her away. For decades
her family never knew her yahrtzeit; they still don’t know where, if
anywhere, the Communists buried her.
Heard of the mother
who backed out of the driveway and pinned her toddler under the rear
wheel? She lifted the car by herself and saved her son.
When we ask heroes
from where they had the strength to do incredible things, they give weak
answers. Inevitably, their answer is “I had to do it,” or to put it
differently, they couldn’t not do it. It’s not just modesty that makes
them squirm when looking for answers; it is the almost-awkward simplicity. For,
regardless of their level of articulation, they cannot come up with any good
reason for why they did what they did.
Reasons are powerful
motives for doing things. Logic is compelling. But logic is in the head, not
the guts. So logic compels our minds to move. A mother’s love is not in the
head; therefore all of her moves, even parts of her she never knew she had,
move her to free her baby from danger. She can’t put it into words, because
there are no words in the gut. There is a place so profound that it cannot be
made shallow with talk.
And there, right
there where the deepest (no, you can’t really even subjugate them to the word)
emotions reside, there the Jew has nothing but a visceral connection to G‑d.
Not a staid, progressive, links-in-a-chain connection, but a reflexive,
instinctive, magnet-to-metal connection. You can’t feel it, and you could live
a life without ever knowing it was inside of you. Because like heroes, it
doesn’t look to present itself. But if the moment calls for it, the response is
automatic and Jewish. (Think of sworn (Jewish) atheists who, when it came down
to it, gave their lives rather than surrender their identity, or the
Jew-in-name-only who, when things were counting on him, came through.) Why? I
just couldn’t do anything else.
There are mitzvot
which are socially compelling, e.g. not to steal or murder, property laws,
torts, etc. which are referred to as Mishpatim. And then we
have mitzvahs that we like, including commemorative mitzvot,
called Eidus. Family Seders with favorite
recipes; Chanukah songs and latkes; Purim plays
and Sukkah parties. A melody that lifts you to your feet, a Talmudic
insight that dazzles in its elegant simplicity, a Chassidic story that soothes
with its empathy. They each relate to a different aspect of our personality and
strengthen it Jewishly. But all these precious experiences, for all the growth
they give us, do not touch our kishkes and guts.
Only the aspect of
a Mitzvah which is beyond our intellectual grasp and not within our
emotional embrace, can resonate so deeply. These mitzvahs are called chukim,
and it is with these mitzvahs that this week’s Torah portion, Chukas,
(Bamidbor [Numbers] 19:1-22:1) begins.
(Excerpts
from Chabad.org - by Rabbi Shimon Posner)
May you
have a meaningful and uplifting Shabbos
If you would like to
dedicate the weekly Parsha Perspective in honor or memory of a person
or occasion, please contact Rabbi
Shusterman at yshusterman@chedermonsey.org
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