Join us each week as we journey across the United States and gather words of Torah from rabbanim representing each of the fifty states. This week we are pleased to feature divrei Torah from Rabbi Mendel Lifshitz from Boise, Idaho.
To many, teshuvah is a scary word. It reminds us of the spiritual housecleaning we must undertake. Teshuvah underscores that our avodah is not up to par. Even if we don’t have much to rectify, we have much to improve.
The month of Elul is a time of teshuvah, as we prepare for the Yamim Noraim. It is a time when a large portion of Yidden are fearful and concerned about their relationship with the Ribbono Shel Olam.
While it’s certainly laudable to be anxious about our standing before the Almighty, I don’t believe it is ideal. The ultimate objective is not worry, but rather to be joyous about our bond with our Creator. We should not view Hakadosh Baruch Hu simply as a demanding CEO or an exacting monarch. He may indeed be the Supreme Judge of all. But He is also our Father.
You may wonder, how can we be excited and joyful at a time when His Judgment, not Fatherly Love, reigns supreme?
Rav Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the first Rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, explains the unique quality of Chodesh Elul with the following metaphor:
The king’s usual place is in the royal palace. In order to see the king, a lot of red tape must be crossed. You need connections, money, time and stature. You must travel to the palace and go through many security measures and screenings. You’ve got to be dressed to the nines and address the king with the proper etiquette.
However, there are times when the king comes to the fields outside the city. At such times, anyone can approach him; the king receives them all with a smiling face and a radiant countenance. The peasant behind his plow has access to the king in a manner unavailable to the highest-ranking minister in the royal court when the king is in the palace.
In the month of Elul, the King is in the field. As the Zohar states, it is Chodesh HaRachamim.
But how, you may wonder, can this time of rachamim uplift me when it is so demanding? The king may be greeting me in the field. But what goods have I got to show Him? Am I not embarrassed with my meager presentation?
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An insight into this week’s parsha, Shoftim, can perhaps shed some light. Amongst the laws of warfare, the Torah instructs, “Which man is afraid and faint-hearted? He shall go and return to his home so that he not demoralize his brothers like himself.” The Mishna in Sotah records a dispute as to the definition of “afraid and faint-hearted.” Rabi Yose HaGlili maintains it is one who is fearful of his sins. The Torah allows a newlywed and a new homeowner to return home in order to cover up for those who return due to fear of sin. Rabi Akiva, however, disagrees. He interprets this pasuk as referring to one who is afraid of warfare itself – a person lacking the courage to witness bloodshed.
How is it possible that Rabi Akiva, the proponent of love your fellow as yourself, who always sought to vindicate and promote the Jewish people, rejects the position of Rabi Yose HaGlili? According to Rabi Yose HaGlili, the Torah is employing the greatest compassion and concern for the sinner. Yet Rabbi Akiva does not accept this perspective!
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This week a lovely Jewish girl got married. Her journey to Yiddishkeit began in Idaho when she was a student at Northwest Nazarene University. One day she called our Chabad center looking for a dreidel. It was “show and tell” in her very non-Jewish college classroom and she remembered that her grandmother was Jewish. She figured that although her father was not Jewish and she was not raised with Yiddishkeit in her home, it would be nice to demonstrate the culture of her ancestors.