The Torah describes the arrival of the Jewish people at Har Sinai in Shemos (19:2): “Vayisu mRefidim vayavou Midbar Sinai vayachanu bamidbar vayichon shom Yisroel neged hahar –
They journeyed from Rephidim and arrived at the Wilderness of Sinai and encamped in the Wilderness; and Israel encamped there opposite the mountain.”
Rashi is bothered by the use of the singular verb form at the end of the verse – “Israel encamped” – which is in direct contrast to the plural verb forms used at the beginning of the same verse: “they journeyed” and “(they) arrived” and “(they) encamped.” He famously explains that the singular form is used because the Jewish people at that moment were “like one person with one heart.” In so doing, Rashi is teaching us a fundamental precept associated with Kabbalas HaTorah: that for the Jewish people to receive the Torah, they must be a unified entity. For there to be Torah, there must be ahavas Yisroel, love of fellow Jews. We must be brothers and sisters.
In Parshas Breishis, Chazal explain that the world was created bishvil Torah, for the sake of Torah, which is called reishis darcho, the beginning of His way, and bishvil Yisroel, for the sake of Israel, called reishis tevuaso, the beginning of His crops. This tells us that Torah and Israel are transcendent of and exist in a higher spiritual world than creation itself. In this world, Yisroel, v’Oryaso, v’Kudsha Brich Hu – Israel, the Torah, and the Holy One Blessed be He, are one just as the collective soul of the Jewish people are one. It follows therefore, that in this world, for us to be one with the Torah, we must be like “one person with one heart.”
I would like to share with you a story that occurred a few weeks ago. While shopping in the local mall one afternoon, I had an encounter with a young sales woman who, by secular standards, was dressed quite fashionably. She shared with me that she was Jewish and that she grew up in Williamsburg, the daughter of Satmar chassidim. Sadly she was estranged from her family because she rejected their values. The good news was that she had begun keeping Shabbos and was slowly reconnecting to her Jewish roots. We exchanged phone numbers and discussed the possibility of her spending a Shabbos with my family.
I was relating this episode to members of my congregation when an out-of-town guest shouted: “Satmar are not Jews”! He then proceeded to relate to me the very unfortunate incident wherein a member of Nachal Chareidi, wearing his IDF uniform, was physically attacked while visiting family members in Meah Shaarim. I asked him if he knew for a fact that the people who attacked this soldier were Satmar – which, of course, he did not. I pointed out that we could not bring a korban this past Pesach because the Beis HaMikdash, the Holy Temple, still lay in ruins, a victim of unabated sinas chinum. This is evidenced by people in Meah Shaarim who throw rocks at a religious IDF soldier and scream “shagitz” while at the same time there are people, like himself, who proclaim, “Satmars are not Jews.” Heaven forbid that the Ribbono Shel Olam listen to all these accusations and conclude that there is no need to rebuild the Beis HaMikdash since there are no Jews left!
Rabbi Pesach Krohn in the book In The Splendor of the Maggid tells the following story. “Several years ago, my bother Rabbi Kolman Krohn was in a taxi in Yerushalayim. The driver was not wearing a yarmulke and he seemed angry and bitter. He barely grunted hello to my brother who was obviously an observant Jew. … My brother broke the silence and said in Hebrew, “Anachnu achim – we are brothers.” The incensed driver responded angrily, “Anachnu lo achim. Atah dati v’ani lo dati – we are not brothers, you are religious and I am not religious.” My brother turned to the driver and said softly, “My rebbi taught me that those who are dati and those who are not dati are brothers.” The driver looked sideways at my brother and asked disdainfully, “Who was your rebbi?” My brother replied delicately “Adolf Hitler.”