D'Var Torah - Parshas Tazria/Metzora - 5762
By Rabbi Baruch Lederman
The Torah prohibits the speaking of Lashon Hara (Derogatory
Speech). When we denigrate others, we not only cause them harm and loss, but
we create a negative environment that affects the listener and even the
speaker of the lashon hara. Attitudes affect and infect others, both
consciously and subconsciously, as the following true story illustrates:
A man and his elderly father once fell into a dispute. They were very
poor and lived in a shack with no heating. They only had one coat and the
father felt that he should get to wear it since he was a frail old man, stuck
all day in a house with no heat. The son felt that he should get the coat
since he had to work outdoors to support the family. His father who was being
supported by him was at least indoors out of the wind.
They couldn't settle their dispute so they went to
the Rabbi to seek his decision. Each one told the Rabbi, his side of the
story. The Rabbi asked them to each return in two days and he would render
his decision.
On the way home, the son started thinking to himself,
"What am I doing? What sort of 'Honor thy Father' is this? How can I deny my
own father this coat? He is sick and frail. I am healthy. If I get cold I can
light a fire at the work site. He should get the coat."
At the same time, the father started thinking to
himself, "What am I doing? My son is working hard to support me? How can I
let him do this and deny him the coat? If I get cold I can put on a sweater
or a blanket or drink a glass of hot tea. He should get the coat."
Each man now refused to wear the coat and insisted
that the other wear one it. Neither could convince the other so they went
back to the Rabbi to ask him to rule on their new dispute. The Rabbi thought
for a moment and said, "I have a spare coat. Why don't I lend it to you and
then you each can have a coat." Now everyone could be happy.
The son then asked the Rabbi, "I do not mean to be
disrespectful; rather, I am burning with curiosity. If you are going to offer
your coat, why did you not offer it the first time we came here?"
The Rabbi replied, "The first time you came, you each
said 'I must have the coat' so without thinking, it made me feel 'I must
have my coat.' The second time you came, you each said, 'I don't need the
coat, I want the other one to have the coat,' so I felt 'I don't need the
coat, I want the other one to have the coat.' (Heard from Rabbi Paysach
Krohn)
Dedicated in loving memory of
Fruma Yetta bat Yosef, by
her son Dr. Al Salganick.
D'Var Torah - Parshas Tazria/Metzora - 5761
By Rabbi Baruch Lederman
Tazria-Metzora
After giving birth, a woman brings a purification
offering to the Bais HaMikdash (Temple). The offering consists of a sheep and a
dove. The Torah says that if the woman cannot afford a sheep then she brings two
doves. We see a simple idea that a person should never give up, but should make
do with what they have.
[From the Houston Chronicle] On Nov. 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the
violinist, came on stage to give a
concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln
Center in New York City. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know
that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with
polio as a child, and
so he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of
two crutches.
To see him walk across the stage one step at a
time, painfully and slowly, is an sight. He walks painfully, yet majestically,
until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the
floor, undoes the
clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the
other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under
his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play.
By now, the
audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across
the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps
on his legs. They wait until he is ready to play. But this time, something went
wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin
broke. You could hear it snap - it went off like gunfire across the room. There
was no mistaking what that sound
meant. There was no mistaking what he had to
do.
People who were there that night thought to themselves: "We
figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the
crutches and limp his way off stage - to either find another violin or else find
another
string for this one."
But he didn't. Instead, he
waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again.
The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. And he played
with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard
before.
Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a
symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that
night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You could see him modulating,
changing,
recomposing the piece in his head. At one point, it sounded like he
was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made
before.
When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the
room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of
applause from very corner of the auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming
and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he
had done.
He smiled, wiped the sweat from this brow, raised his
bow to quiet us, and then he said, not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive,
reverent tone, "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much
music you can still make with what you have left."
The above story
distributed by Avraham Alter, was submitted by Rabbi Yerachmiel Askotzky. HAVE A
GREAT STORY? Please send it to us. Contact us to dedicate a Dvar Torah in memory
of a loved one or in honor of a person or event.
D'Var Torah - Parshas Metzora
By Rabbi Baruch Lederman
A metzora is a person who was stricken with a leprosy-like disease called
tzaraas. This disease, which existed in Biblical times, was not caused by
physical causes, but was a Divine punishment meted out for certain sins,
particularly lashon hara (evil speech). Lashon hara hurts many people. It
hurts the listener, the one being spoken about, all those affected by the
information and society in general. But there is another victim - perhaps
the greatest victim - and that is the one doing the speaking. When you
are critical of those distant from you, you are unwittingly training
yourself to be critical of those close to you. You will tend to be the
type of person who upon seeing your child's Report Card with 4 A's and 1
B, will immediately harp, "Why did you only get a B?" In doing so you
will shatter the self esteem of the ones you love most. The very ones you
wish to protect from harm. You will also destroy the self esteem of
another very important person, namely yourself. You will be so well
trained at being critical that you will be supercritical of yourself,
minimizing in your own mind, all of your accomplishments, negating all of
your good qualities while magnifying all of your faults and shortcomings.
You will always be blaming others and feel like a victim of the world.
Your life will be an unhappy and lonely place. A metzora is placed in
forced isolation outside the Jewish camp; but, guess what? You are doing
that to yourself already by speaking lashon hara. There is a tale of a
man who was permitted to see purgatory. As he approached, he saw a
fabulous banquet table laden with tantalizing delicasies but the people
faces were scoured and morose. As he neared he saw that each person had a
giant spoon and fork strapped to the length of each arm. They could touch
the food but they could not bend their elbows to bring it to their
mouths. The visitor, then was taken to paridise. As he approached, he
saw the same banquet table, but the peoples faces were happy and robust.
As he neared, he saw the same strapped arms, but here, each person was
feeding his neighbors. Your attitude can shape your world.
DVAR TORAH:
Metzora
The Metzora, like any other person, was
given Hashem’s blessings. He was given a truly amazing ability – the
ability to speak. Instead of utilizing that bracha (blessing) to do
great things for G-d and man, he turned it into something ugly. He spoke
lashon hara (gossip) that alienated him from the community. Hashem
orchestrates the world and takes care of us in amazing unexpected ways.
He showers us with blessings. We need to be able to accept those brachos
(blessings), as the following story illustrates:
(cont.
from Tazria) Mendel Goodman heard about a fine young man named
Yossi Rosenberg. Providence brought them together when Yossi came to the
Goodman’s aid during a hospital visit. Mendel arranged a shidduch date
between Yossi and his daughter Sheindel.
Yossi arrived to pick up
Sheindel for their date. Mrs. Goodman began, “Tell me Yossi, are you
related to the Rosenbergs in Toronto? I’ve heard so many delightful
things about that wonderful family.”
Yossi responded, “My
name isn’t Rosenberg, it’s Rosenfeld; and I’m from Montreal. My parents,
Herschel and Esther Rosenfeld, run a family business there.”
Mendel’s jaw dropped
upon hearing the name Herschel Rosenfeld. He never wanted to hear that
name again. After his dealings with him, he knew Herschel Rosenfeld all
too well, and there was no way he would have his daughter marry into the
family of that despicable man.
Mendel excused himself
and asked his wife to join him in the next room. “You heard what he
said. Hershel Rosenfeld from Montreal.”
“Yes Mendel, I know all
about you and Herschel Rosenfeld.”
“Then you know I can’t
let this happen.”
“Don’t make a scene now.
Let them go out. Maybe she won’t even like him and this whole thing
won’t even be an issue,” said Mrs. Goodman
Sheindel came back from
the date with stars in her eyes. She never had such a great time, nor
did she ever like a boy so much. Yossi was everything she could ever
want or hope for. She felt alive with him.
She couldn’t wait to
tell her parents all about it.
“You may not see that
boy again,” said Mendel abrubtly.
“What?!”
“You cannot continue to
go out with him.”
“But…”
“You don’t know what
kind of a man Herschel Rosenfeld is. There is nothing to talk about. We
are calling it off and that’s it.”
Sheindel couldn’t
understand what she was hearing. It was as if she had just gotten the
wind knocked out of her. She ran to her room in tears.
When Yossi heard the
news, he too was thunderstruck. He really liked Sheindel. She was kind,
virtuous, fun to be with. He had never met anyone like her. When he was
with her, he felt like the person he wanted to be. They were so
compatible, they hit is off so well, he knew she felt the same way.
Plus he felt wronged.
Mr. Goodman knew who his father was before they left the house. If it
was such a terrible problem, he could have stopped the shidduch before
it started. For Mr. Goodman to stop a successful shidduch at this point
was just wrong – especially when the whole reason was some silly grudge.
When Yossi’s Rosh
Yeshivah heard about this, he called Mendel, assuring him that Yossi was
the finest young man he could ever desire, and that any issue between
Mendel and Herschel had nothing to do with Yossi. It was to no avail.
Mendel would not budge.
Yossi was pining away.
Sheindel stole his heart. An older married friend of his, Shalom, who
learned in the kollel, said to him, “I know you are upset at the father
and you see the girl as an innocent victim, but if she is the type of
woman who cannot stand up to her parents, then that is a sign of the
future. Throughout your married life, she would cave in to her parents
every time there is a conflict and trust me, you would be miserable. If
this is what she is, you are better off without her.”
As painful as it was,
Yossi understood the truth of Shalom’s words.
Meanwhile Sheindel was
also pining away. The man of her dreams had just been ripped away from
her. Her once bright eyes were sad, pathetic and forlorn. It was
heartbreaking to look at her like this, but her father would not waver.
Sheindel was always an obedient daughter who did all she could to bring
nachas to her parents. Suddenly it hit her like an inspiration. She
thought to herself, “Im ain ani li mi li? If I am not for myself who
will be for me?”
She told her parents
politely but firmly, “I am going to tell the shadchan to set up another
date for me with Yossi, if he will still have me. I hope you consent to
this; but if you do not, I am fully prepared to face whatever I need to
face.”
The second date was even
better than the first. The more they went out, the happier they became
and the darker Mendel became. His wife saw how this was eating him up
alive. The two of them had a heart to heart talk about everything.
Mendel came to the realization that his objections were opinion not
fact. The problems were his own, not Yossi’s and certainly shouldn’t
become Sheindel’s.
As Mendel recently recalled, “It makes me shudder to
think that I was ready to let my personal subjective feelings ruin my
daughter’s life. Not to mention our entire family’s happiness – we
absolutely adore our son-in-law Yossi.”
Dedicated by Mrs.
Edith Wiseman
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