Short summary Of Likkutei Torah Parshas Devarim Daf 1 w/ Rabbi Baruch Epstein

Short Daf Summaries - Project Likkutei Torah

🏆 Today’s learning is partially dedicated by Rabbi Baruch Epstein לרפו''ש עבור דוד שמעון בן אידל. Learn more about Rabbi Epstein’s work at chabadillinois.com and baismenachemchicago.org

לע"נ פיגא בת בצלאל הכהן בסמן ע"ה

🚀 Project launched by Rabbi Meir and Shaindy Gutnick

❤️ ProjectLikkuteiTorah.com/Partner

THE HOLIDAY of Tisha B’Av, on which we mourn the tragic destruction of both Holy Temples and the resultant Jewish exile that has lasted unto the present day (may G-d in His mercy end it immediately!), is the culmination of the period known as “the Three Weeks,” also focused on the above theme. However, this mourning does not imply despair, for we are ever mindful of the fact that G-d does nothing that is not for the good: even such a national calamity as the destruction of the Holy Temple is merely, at its deepest root, a veil hiding an essential good which is so supreme as to elude our limited mortal perception. Furthermore, with the imminent arrival of the Moshiach (Messiah), we will be able to perceive the underlying good of G-d’s actions. That is why – in addition to the obvious fact that the holiday which once marked the destruction of the Temples and the beginning of exile will then assume a joyous aspect in that the Temples will have been rebuilt and the exile ended – our sages teach that with Moshiach’s arrival, Tisha B’Av will be transformed into a day of indescribable joy: its true nature will then be apparent, and we will celebrate the great good that G-d had bestowed upon us all along.

In keeping with the above, the “Three Weeks” is a time of hope and anticipation, as we look forward expectantly to G-d’s transforming our very suffering itself into joy. This is hastened by our doing what G-d expects of us: study of Torah and performance of mitzvos, especially the mitzvah of tz’dakah, charity, which is considered equivalent to all the mitzvos. By our having compassion on others, may G-d have compassion upon us and rebuild the Holy Temple immediately.

This idea is expressed by the verse (Isaiah 1:27), “Zion will be redeemed with justice, and her returnees with charity.” As this week’s Torah portion, D’varim, is always read on the Shabbos before Tisha B’Av, it is fitting to reflect on the above verse and explore some of its inner significance.

The verse (Deuteronomy 6:6), “and these words [i.e., the Torah], which I command you this day [shall be upon your heart],” means that a person should consider the words of Torah ever fresh and relevant to him or her, as though he or she received the Torah anew each and every day – as our sages teach (Sifri on the above verse, 33; quoted by the classic commentator Rashi in his explanation of Deuteronomy 26:16), “Every day, they should be new in your eyes.” To understand how a person can surpass mere platitude and achieve this feeling genuinely, we need to realize why it was necessary for the soul to descend into this physical world: after all, was not the soul, which originated in the loftiest heights (even higher than angels) perfectly well off as it was? What does it gain by being born into a body, even if it does live a life of Torah and mitzvos?

The answer is hinted at in the wording of the prayer Elokai Neshama, which we recite upon awakening every morning. It reads as follows: “My G-d, the soul that You have placed into me is pure. You created it; You formed it; You breathed it into me; and You preserve it within me .… As long as the soul is within me, I give thanks before you, O G-d …. Blessed are You, G-d, Who restores souls to dead bodies.”

The reference to the soul as “pure” alludes to its origin in the supernal purity (“tahiru ila’ah,” see Zohar I, 15a) of heaven. The expression, “You created it” is a reference to G-d having brought the soul as we now know it into being out of nothingness. This is the first of many spiritual steps allowing for the possibility of actual investiture of the soul within a physical body: “You breathed it into me.” But even this last is not all there is to it; the soul’s character remains spiritual and its natural tendency is to leave the body and return to G-d. Accordingly, it is necessary for G-d to exert some “supervision” over the soul, watching over it and preserving it in its bodily form. This is what is meant by “You preserve it within me.”

The above corresponds to G-d’s relation to the world as immanent within creation, responsible for the individual nature and details of every thing; and also as transcendent, exerting influence from above, as it were, without investing Himself within the specifics of the universe.

The prayer goes on to express thanks to G-d, and concludes with the traditional form of blessing, “Blessed are You, etc.”

In Talmudic times, this prayer was the very first thing uttered upon awakening from sleep (see B’rachos 60b); it was thus the beginning and foundation of our worship for the entire day.

In the Elokai Neshama prayer, the expression, “I give thanks to You” is modeh ani l’fanecha. The Hebrew language does not have a word that is precisely equivalent to the English “thanks”; the concept of “thanks” is expressed by the word hoda’ah (of which modeh is a form), which literally denotes “concession” or “admission.” That is, one who has received something “concedes” his or her indebtedness to the benefactor. Yet the word hoda’ah carries (as do its English equivalents) an implication of prior dispute; one side is now conceding to the other, as in, e.g., the Talmudic expression, “the Sages concede (modim) to Rabbi Meir.” This being the case, and in light of the fact that the Hebrew language is the “Holy Tongue,” whose every nuance is meaningful, we must ask how the expression hoda’ah is appropriate as applied to G-d. What possible “difference of opinion,” as it were, could exist between G-d and us insignificant mortals, that we should “concede” to Him upon awakening from sleep?

The answer, however, is not really that difficult, for indeed, one may identify two conflicting perspectives on the universe. It appears to us (albeit due to our own inadequate perception) that our earthly existence is “reality” and anything we cannot see or touch is only “ideal,” “imagination,” or some such term. Thus, even with the best of intentions, we speak of having been created by G-d yesh me’ayin, “something out of nothing” – as though we are the “something” and G-d is the “nothing.” But, of course, that is a fundamental mistake. G-d’s perspective is exactly the opposite: it is He Who is the true existence, the true “Something,” and we who are but “nothing” before Him. Thus, the very foundation of our worship is to “concede” this point to G-d: as soon as we regain consciousness in the morning, we must adopt G-d’s perspective, the true perspective, on reality.

Each and every Jew has it within him or her to achieve this “concession” to G-d, this recognition of His truth. However, this is not to say that everyone has fully internalized this idea; unfortunately, that may not be so at all. Hoda’ah does not imply that one has thoroughly embraced and internalized the proposition in question, has become suffused with a realization of its certainty. Hoda’ah simply means that one admits and recognizes that this must be so, but one can still be quite remote from a true internalization of the idea. In this respect, hoda’ah corresponds to the “transcendence” discussed earlier: the idea is not really one’s own, it does ...