In reaction, the Kossover Rebbe laid his spoon down and pushed aside his plate – prompting the Rizhiner to ask, “And why is it that you are not eating? Did your guf undertake the same accord?”
“Not at all,” replied the Kossover Rebbe. “We feed the body as much as it deems necessary. However, you’ve just shed light on an item of intrigue that I could never quite make sense of. Friday night upon our return from shul we are accompanied home by two malachim whom we honor with the singing of ‘Shalom Aleichem,’ but then we dismiss them in short order by concluding our song with ‘Tzeischem l’shalom…’ (Go in peace). Why do we send them on their way? What would it hurt if we allowed them to stay through the meal? Now it has become clear: man cannot eat in the company of angels who eat nothing.”
No, we are not angels, though at Har Sinai we came close upon reaching a spiritual high following a 49-day refinement process leading up to the momentous event. Ironically, it was precisely our intrinsic capacity to eat and drink – by which Avraham Avinu performed the mitzvah of hachnassas orchim when he hosted his guests (angels disguised as human beings) – that persuaded the malachim to submit to God’s wisdom in bestowing His Torah upon Israel on earth rather than celestial beings limited in their abilities to serve Him.
The Kossover Rebbe’s nod to appeasing the body’s appetite for food brings to mind the meager ration of matzah that was to sustain us on our exodus from Egypt. Could our benevolent Creator not have arranged for more nourishing provisions for our journey? Meforshim explain that this was Hashem’s way of preparing us for receiving the Torah – for one can only hope to thrive in Torah study by being able to get by with minimal material comfort and by accepting one’s allotted destiny in life.
We are assured that he who struggles to live a life of Torah despite his distressing circumstances has a major windfall awaiting him in the hereafter and should thus be motivated to be content with his lot in the interim.
The Chofetz Chaim cites the story of a poor man who lucked out one day and won a sweepstakes drawing that would net him a hefty payout. When the pauper broke the news to his wife and kids, they began to sing for joy. Passersby and neighbors wondering at the poverty-stricken family’s lightheartedness were apprised of the good man’s fortune.
As proof, the impoverished fellow waved his winning ticket in the air and jubilantly let the curiosity-seekers know that he was now the richest man in town – to which they remarked, “True, you stand to collect a princely sum, but how can you be happy at this moment when you have not enough bread on your table to feed your family?”
“What a foolish question,” replied the indigent one, explaining, “With the winning ticket in my hand, it’s as if the money is in my pocket. All I must do is redeem it, which I plan to do tomorrow. So should I not be happy now?”
The message is indisputable: The one who adheres to God’s commandments and carves out time for daily Torah study has the winning ticket in hand, which should give one incentive to live each day b’simcha, with joy. The formula may sound simple enough but in actuality involves living and breathing Torah (as opposed to merely learning and preaching, which in and of themselves are pointless).
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