Tag: commandments

Birthday musings on mitzvot

It’s almost Israel’s 77th birthday! And a birthday is a good opportunity to reflect on things.

When my kids attended Chabad preschool, they celebrated their birthdays at school. The teachers encouraged them to think about a mitzvah (commandment) to take on to mark the occasion. Listening to preschoolers discuss what they’ve chosen and why is such a celebration of Jewish life! I’d invite you to try this out at the next available opportunity. You can ask any Jewish person what mitzvah they’d take on, it’s amazing to hear. Israel isn’t a person and can’t take on a mitzvah, but maybe we can help with that to celebrate its birthday.

One thread in our tradition follows certain steps: we improve the world and our behaviour, and that brings about the Messiah, or the Messianic Age, the next world and a better place. Ideas differ on how we do that and why, and even on what the Messianic Age will be like. We don’t agree on the specifics – and that’s fine. However, a recent page of Talmud that I studied in the tractate Sanhedrin, on page 98, really highlighted this concept. It’s a story, of course.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi asks Elijah the Prophet when the Messiah will come. Elijah says, “Go and ask him.” Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says, “Well, where is he?”

Elijah describes him as sitting at the entrance of Rome, far away from where they are in the Galilee, at Mount Meron. The rabbi asks how he’ll recognize the Messiah. Elijah explains that the Messiah is sitting with all the other poor, sick people, but that the Messiah doesn’t untie all his bandages at once to replace them. Instead, he unties and reties them one at a time, so he’ll always be ready to bring about the redemption.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi goes all the way to Rome, identifies the Messiah, and asks him “When will the Master come?”  The Messiah says, “Today.”

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi travels all the way back to the Galilee to see Elijah. Elijah asks him what the Messiah said and the rabbi tells him, “Well, he lied. He said the Messiah was coming today, and it didn’t happen.” Elijah says no, this is what he really said: he said he will come “today, if you listen to his voice.” (Psalms 95:7) 

Sue Parker Gerson, who wrote the introductory essay for this page of Talmud on My Jewish Learning, points out several things. First, that the traditional commentators inferred that we must do more mitzvot to bring about the Messiah. Additionally, she steps in with something that is a bit deeper: Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi visits all these sick people with bandages, talks to one person, and then leaves. He didn’t stay to help any of the people. Perhaps, Gerson suggests, we need to put the “do the mitzvah” message into practice, to help people in need and fix wrongs we see in the world. Elijah saw that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi failed the test, so to speak, not helping when he should have.

Then, I read a Jewish advice column online. A parent is organizing a bat mitzvah and asks, “Should I invite relatives with whom I disagree politically? They also won’t like the liberal way we practise Judaism, but, if I invite them, they’ll likely come.”

The columnist suggests that, since COVID, it has been OK to make smaller guest lists and exclude people. Also, if the kid doesn’t want to invite these relatives, you don’t have to invite them. The columnist says briefly at the end, well, families usually invite everyone, and that’s what families do, but if you don’t want your happy occasion to include these people, that’s OK, too.

My gut reaction was that this answer failed the test. The columnist fails to behave Jewishly and recommend including everyone in a lifecycle celebration. The choice to exclude could cause bad feelings for years.

But, instead of a “failure” lesson, I have been considering what I might embrace about taking on mitzvot instead. I think a lot about turning negatives into positives lately. I’m the mom-chauffeur of junior high-age twins. I hear lots of negativity from the backseat! 

To begin: be the energy you want to see. If Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi wanted the Messiah to come today, he had to do more to fix the world, including caring for the sick. Visiting the sick is a positive commandment. We should take care of one another, and it’s often not enough to just visit.

Also, don’t leave people out. If we want our lives, including our Jewish lives, to be inclusive, we can’t just ditch people. Even if a Jewish person, aka a family member, has different viewpoints, votes or behaves differently, within reason, we should invite them in, rather than leave them out. Offering unity and a “big tent” approach is the kind thing to do.

I just read Amir Tibon’s The Gates of Gaza, and its anecdotes echoed this. When Tibon’s family was trapped in their safe room in Kibbutz Nahal Oz on Oct. 7, 2023, his parents raced south with only a pistol to save them. His father, a retired, secular Israeli general, spent a harrowing day attempting to save Israelis, both soldiers and civilians, on the way to Nahal Oz. After exchanging deadly fire with the enemy, he ends up with a soldier’s weapon and his helmet, but he still wore civilian clothing, which confused soldiers under pressure. A religious soldier nearby helped. The soldier took off his army issue tallit katan (an undershirt with tzitzit, ritual fringes, on it) and handed it to him. Tibon, clothed in borrowed tzitzit and a helmet, weapon in hand, was ready for battle. The soldier’s inclusivity and flexibility saved lives. Saving a life, a huge mitzvah in Jewish tradition, outweighs everything else.

Helping each other and skipping negativity contribute to our people’s unity. We may disagree with one another and vote differently. Just this week, I’ve signed two petitions and written several letters to voice disagreement; in Israel, protests are part of life. Also, this week, a cousin of ours was inducted into the Israel Defence Forces. When it counts, we’re there for one another. Regarding issues of life and death, we protect one another.

Finally, sometimes restraint is the better part of valour. Occasionally, the first word out of our mouths is no, or a defensive or harsh response. Holding back, listening and considering the situation may help us make thoughtful choices that better reflect the people we wish to be. Israel’s birthday is a chance for all of us to celebrate, listen and include. Like everyone and every nation, Israel has flaws, but embracing positive steps may change lives, or even save them, in the years to come. 

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Finite and infinite light

How can we explain the mitzvah of the Chanukah light? What about two of its features? One, the lights are to be placed by the door of one’s house that is next to the street or public domain, and they must be placed on the left-hand side of the door. These features have deep symbolism: our tradition tells us that the “left hand side” and the “public domain” both stand for the realm of the profane; by placing the lights there, we are bringing the Divine light into the area of existence that is most resistant to it.

The mitzvah of the Chanukah lights is similar in two respects to that of the mezuzah: both have to be placed by the side of the door of a house or courtyard, and both must be set on the “outside.” However, there are also two differences between them. A mezuzah must be fixed on the right-hand side of the door, while Chanukah lights are to be set on the left. Though both are placed outside, in the case of the mezuzah, this is only to mark the entrance. Chanukah lights, however, are intended to illuminate the outside, the public domain. The mezuzah points inward, while the menorah shines outward.

These points of difference may, in fact, be connected. We learn that the public domain, rishut ha’rabim, literally the domain of the many, suggests the idea of multiplicity or a lack of unity; the left-hand side is the name for the source of life in which there is a separation and disunity. Public domain and left-hand side, therefore, are related, both symbols for the dimension of division and alienation from G-d.

Interestingly, the precept of mezuzah is said to be equal in importance to all the other mitzvot together; it is said to include all other mitzvot within itself. Indeed, almost all mitzvot share the two features that characterize the mezuzah: the idea of the right hand, and of being directed inward.

Most mitzvot are to be performed with the right hand. For example, burnt offerings were vitiated if they were not offered with the right hand. Certain commandments must be performed indoors, and it remains evident that those that may be done outside have no integral connection with the idea of the public domain, since they may also be performed indoors. In short, they have no connection with place at all.

The Chanukah light – occupying the left-hand side and intended for the outside – has a different character to almost all other precepts in Judaism. The difference between the mezuzah (and all other mitzvot) and the Chanukah light is analogous to that of positive and negative commandments. The positive are those that can only be performed with objects that belong to the domain of the permitted; the negative covers the (non-performance of the) forbidden.

Every performance of a mitzvah brings spiritual light to the world, in the form of Divine light. The light that is drawn down by the fulfilment of a positive mitzvah is of the kind that can be internalized in the act itself, clothed or contained within it. The act “clothes” the light in the same way as the body “clothes” the soul. A Divine light that can be contained in such a way is finite; it takes on the character of that which contains it, and cannot descend to the realm of the impure or forbidden.

The light that is released by the fulfilment of a negative command, however, is infinite. It cannot be contained by the forbidden (or indeed by any) act, nor does it share its character, so it can be released only by refraining. Only an infinite light can reach that far, into impurity, in order to be undimmed where it shines. The Chanukah light is of this infinite kind; it brings light to the left-hand side and the public domain, both symbols of impurity and alienation from G-d. However, Chanukah light goes even beyond the negative commandment. Recall that it is, in fact, a positive command. Chanukah lights illuminate and purify, rather than negate, the world of outside, just as a positive command purifies the world of inside.

This is the connection between the Chanukah lights and the Torah, which is also called “a light.” The Torah also specifies acts that are forbidden and things that are impure. Through studying the Torah, the sparks of holiness embedded in the realm of the forbidden are released and elevated.

The miracle of Chanukah is apparent not only in the fact that “for your people, Israel, You worked a great deliverance and redemption as at this day” – a deliverance from a people who were “impure,” “wicked” and “arrogant,” and despite their being “strong” and “many”; but also in the result that “afterwards, Your children came into Your most holy house, cleansed Your Temple, purified Your sanctuary, and kindled lights in Your holy courtyards.”

May each and every one of us recognize the beauty in the mitzvah of lighting Chanukah candles, and may we be blessed with a fun, delicious and wonderful eight-day festival.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, counselor and writer. This article is based on the talks of the Lubavitch Rebbe, OBM.