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Rabbi Shaya's Thoughts

Conflicted Feelings

How should we react when our child does something very wrong? Our love for them knows no bounds, but we cannot ignore what they have done. There is a familiar saying, “Don’t hate the sinner, hate the sin.” This is not easy to do, and even if we want to see it that way, how do we internalize this idea so that we live by it?

In this week’s Torah portion, Emor, we are introduced to the concept of the death penalty. The Torah describes four methods: by strangulation, by stoning, by sword, and by burning. After the death penalty is implemented, the body is then hung on a tree, but only for a very short time, and is then given a proper burial.

At first glance, this seems not only ritualistic, but also difficult to understand. If the person is already dead, why hang them on a tree? If they must be hung, why specifically from a tree? And even if that is required, why are they taken down quickly?

There must be a deeper message.

The Torah is teaching us a profound lesson. There are times when consequences for bad behavior must be carried out. However, we are not meant to define a person by their wrongdoing. Instead, we are encouraged to see the rationale behind their actions.

When the Torah speaks about hanging on a tree, it is not only describing an act, but more importantly, it is conveying an attitude. The “tree” should be understood as a reference to the original tree, the one from which Adam and Eva ate, and as a result, introduced the potential for human struggle and failure into the world.

This does not remove responsibility from us, but it does place the behavior into context.

After someone sins, the person is still seen as G-d’s creation, and therefore deserving of dignity. That is why they are not left hanging over night, but are taken down and given a proper burial soon thereafter.

This message applies to our own lives as well. When a child misbehaves, there may be consequences, but we should also look beyond the action itself. We should try to understand what may have influenced their behavior and respond with compassion alongside accountability.

This perspective is not limited to our children. It can shape how we view others, and even how we view ourselves. Even when judgment is necessary, it should always be carried out with kindness.

Shabbat Shalom

Elevating the In Between

There is a famous Chassidic saying: What you are not allowed to do, you cannot do. But even what you are permitted to do, you do not have to do. And what you are commanded to do, you must do.

In short, life includes:
The things we must do,
The things we must not do,
Everything in between.

This applies to our day-to-day lives as well as to our spiritual lives.

We do not want to live like robots. We want a life that is vibrant, and full of energy and enthusiasm. A lesson from the Torah’s “law about blood,” however, can help us learn how to balance the good energy and the potential pitfalls that can come from too much enthusiasm.

In this week’s Torah portion, Acharei - Kedoshim, we learn that the blood of a bird or a wild animal must be covered after slaughter, while the blood of a domesticated animal such as a cow, sheep, or goat, may be left exposed.

Why the difference?

When offerings were brought in the Temple, animals that were placed on the altar had their blood used in the service, and that blood was left exposed. Animals that were not brought to the altar had their blood covered.

Here is the deeper meaning behind this distinction:

Blood represents life. It is our vitality, our passion, and our drive. But that same energy can go in two very different directions.

If a person is on the altar, meaning that their energy is directed toward serving G-d, then that passion becomes a powerful force for good. It fuels enthusiasm, warmth, and excitement when doing a mitzvah.

But if that same energy is not directed toward something higher, it can easily become a source of negative behavior. In that case, it must be covered or restrained, or even better, it can be redirected.

Not everything needs to be avoided, and not everything needs to be embraced.

Like the energy of blood, the things we are permitted to do can go either way. If we leave them as they are, they remain ordinary, and sometimes even pull us down. But if we bring them onto the altar by infusing them with intention and purpose, they become elevated.

Judaism is not only about choosing between right and wrong. It is about choosing what to do with everything in between.

Will we leave it ordinary, or will we elevate it?

Shabbat Shalom

Lighting the Way

Motion-sensor lighting is incredibly practical. The light turns on the moment it senses someone passing by, instantly brightening the space when light is needed. Yet it has one frustrating flaw: when you stand still, relying on that light, it suddenly switches off, leaving you in darkness.

This is the story of our lives.

We can walk into a room and illuminate our surroundings with our presence. Our words and actions have the power to bring light into any space we enter. But just like a motion-sensor light, if we remain passive, that light can fade away.

In this week’s Torah portion of Tazria-Metzora, we learn about a person afflicted with a skin rash, Tzara’at (often incorrectly referred to as leprosy), who becomes ritually impure and must be quarantined outside the community until symptoms disappear. If this person enters someone’s home still with symptoms, the entire house and its contents become impure. However, if they are asked to leave “within the time it takes to light Shabbat candles,” the home remains unaffected.

For the last two thousand years—since the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem—this law has held no practical relevance in our daily lives. Yet its spiritual lesson remains profoundly relevant.

The Torah uses the lighting of Shabbat candles as the measure of time because this act is far more than a simple custom. On a deeper spiritual level, when we light the Shabbat candles on Friday night, we are not only bringing physical light into our homes, we are filling our homes with the radiant light of a mitzvah.

When we perform mitzvot in our homes, impurity finds no place to settle. And no mitzvah demonstrates this truth more powerfully than the lighting of Shabbat candles—a physical act that ignites spiritual brilliance, even though it occurs only once a week.

The flip side is equally true: The absence of this special light creates a spiritual void.

This mitzvah is uniquely entrusted to women and girls.. You hold the beautiful power to infuse your homes with both physical warmth and profound spiritual light. Never underestimate the impact of this sacred act.

By bringing this mitzvah into your home each week, you ensure that the light of holiness never fades, even in moments of stillness. You become the steady flame that illuminates your family’s path, week after week.

Shabbat Shalom

 

Changing Nature When Nature Won’t

 When nature behaves the way nature does but we are looking for a different outcome, we pray for a miracle. In a sense, we are beholden to nature, which leads us to conclude that the only way the situation can change is for a miracle to occur.

Lets take a closer look at nature vs. miracle.

In a way, it is the difference between the weekly solar cycle, which is as consistent as the sun rising and setting, and the monthly lunar cycle, that waxes and wanes.

An example of this differentiation within Jewish thought is found when assessing the difference between Shabbat and holidays. Shabbats designation has to do with the day of the week; “On the seventh day you shall rest.” Holidays rely on the day of the month, which is why the Seders are on a different night of the week each year, but start on the same day of the month, the 15th of Nisan.

But it is not always so clean cut.

This Shabbat is called Shabbat Hagadol, an important Shabbat. The reason for this is that while the Jews were still in Egypt, they were told that on the 10th day of the month, (at the time it was a Friday night), they should bring a lamb to their homes,. Then, they were to spray its blood on their doorposts so that G-d would know which homes to Pass over” as the killing of the first-born Egyptians took place. This was a huge miracle for the Jewish people, hence an important Shabbat.

Since this occurrence was a miracle, and it happened on the 10th of the month, why do we commemorate this event each year on a Shabbat, and not on the 10th of the month?

Miracles change the natural order of things temporarily, but nature stays the same.  However, transforming nature so that it behaves differently is an even greater miracle, since the miracle comes from within.

Commemorating this miracle on Shabbat gives us the power of the week, and the power of the month combined. We are celebrating not only a miracle that influenced nature, but also how nature itself changed.

This is the ultimate prayer. Not to ask only for a miracle, but to ask that nature itself change.

The month of Nissan and the holiday of Passover give us the opportunity to ask for this blessing. 

May all those who need a miracle with their health, be blessed with the miracle of nature itself changing. May they be healthy, to the extent that treatment and a miracles cure not be needed. 

Shabbat Shalom and chag Pesach sameach 

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