Two of Aharon’s sons died while transgressing the Divine commandments in the Temple service. Losing a son, either spiritually or physically is a most painful traumatic process as the following true anonymous letter illustrates.

Until a few years ago, I didn’t take anything very seriously. I had graduated from a Yeshiva high school, and unlike most of my class, I didn’t feel I had what it took to be a learner. I didn’t want to go to college right away, and I thought I would get a job and have a good time before I settled down. My parents were not very pleased with these decisions, but at that point in my life, what my parents wanted, was not terribly important to me.

We had never talked to each other about that trip to Monsey, nor had I ever told him about the death of my friends. I just walked back into their home that evening, and was taken back with open arms and no questions asked. I don’t think I will ever understand what happened that day. I just know, that sitting here late at night with my son in my arms, that I will try and be the father to him, that my father was to me.

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This Shabbos we read  Parshas Acharai Mos and Parshas Kedoshim. In Parshas Kedoshim the Torah gives many of the most basic commandments that deal with interpersonal relationships. “You shall not steal, you shall not lie, you shall not shall not oppress,… One of the instructions given to us is the Mitzvah to give rebuke to another Jew. “Do not hate your brother in your heart; You shall rebuke your friend … (Leviticus 19:17)  If we see someone do something wrong, we are not allowed to remain silent. We are required to give him or her rebuke. The Talmud tells us that this is true even if we have to rebuke him or her a hundred times. When we think about this, it really seems very hard. It is a challenge to rebuke someone even one time; to do this a hundred times,   the Chofetz Chaim points out, really takes a lot of determination – to just keep on telling someone that they are doing something wrong over and over. Where does one get the emotional strength to do this?

The Chofetz Chaim says we have to look at ourselves like a poor lady who is selling apples in the market place. She screams at the top of her lungs, “Cheap apples, cheap apples”… The percentage of passerby’s who actually may buy the apples may be a very small percent. Yet, if someone  would tell het that it is silly to keep calling out “Cheap apples, cheap apples,…” she would absolutely disregard them. The reason is, she knows that at the end of a long and tiring day, when she gets home and counts the money from whatever apples that she sold, she is able to put together enough coins to support her family and keep them fed. For this it is worth it for her to keep screaming “Cheap apples, cheap apples,” even if it looks foolish to people in the street.

The Chofetz Chaim says, this is the same idea with giving rebuke. It is not possible that after telling people what they have done wrong, that the rebuke will not have some effect upon them. If we care about them, and care about what they do, we will not just look the other way. How do we do this? There is a famous story of a well known speaker, who found that when he gave strong rebuke, people simply left in middle of his speech. He asked a Rabbi once what could he do to change this? The rabbi explained to him, based on a thought in the famous work Shelah, that his approach to giving rebuke was wrong:

King Solomon writes in Mishlei – “Don’t give rebuke to a letz – (a  scoffer) for he will hate you; rebuke a wise person for he will love you (9:8). At first glance this very hard to understand; why rebuke a wise person? If he or she is wise, then they don’t need rebuke? The scoffer is the one who does need rebuke?

The Shelah explains that there is a beautiful point in this verse. King Solomon is not referring to who we should give rebuke to. Rather, he is referring to how we should give rebuke.  When we give rebuke to someone, if the way we do so is by telling them that they are  bad, doing evil, and put them down, our words will have no effect. Most likely the person we are talking to will tune out right away. On the other hand, if we build them up – if we point out to them how special they are, how their neshama (soul) is greater than even angels, how Hashem loves them more than we can ever imagine, how  the whole world would be worth it to create – with all its billions of people – just for them!   When we explain thisto our friend – and then explain that such a special person as they really are should not be doing something that is not befitting them – then we have a real chance that they will listen to us.

This is the meaning of  the mitzvah in the Torah. You shall rebuke your friend! If we feel a closeness to the person we are rebuking, if we really respect them and build them up, then we have a chance to fulfill the mitzvah of rebuking them. However, if we just put them down just attack them, then we are doomed to failure.

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This Shabbos we read  Parshas Tazria and Parshas Metzora. In these two Parshas we read of the affliction called Tzaraas, a spiritual malady with physical signs that in Temple times would affect a person who committed certain sins. Primary among these sins was the sin of Loshon Hara, to speak evil of another Jew. The punishment of the person who gets thistzaraas ailment, is that he or she must now leave the entire community and live alone outside the community until they are healed and have gone through a purification process. When the Torah tells us of this punishment, the Torah tells us that the metzorah must stay “alone outside the camp” (Leviticus 13:46). Our Sages explain that he or she must not only stay away from other people who don’t have tzaraas. They are even prohibited to be in proximity of another person who also has tzaraas. We can understand that the Torah does not want the person with tzoraas in close quarters of people who are not afflicted with this malady. Why, however, can’t they be near those who also have the same affliction as they do themselves?

Human nature is that when bad things happen, we search for a reason why Hashem is doing this. This is a good thing to do. Unfortunately, however, often instead of thinking about the things that we ourselves have done wrong and have to improve on, we think of the things that others have done. In the 1800’s, there was an outbreak of cholera in the city of Vilna. A man came to Rabbi Yisroel Salanter and told him that he knew why this dreadful sickness had affected the community of Vilna; it was all because of the sins of a certain Jew in the city who had done a terrible sin. Rav Salanter immediately responded with this very question – why does the Torah demand that the one who speaks loshon hara, evil of others, be removed for all contact with any human being? The answer, Rav Salanter explained, is that loshon hara that is spoken about others may be perfectly true. The Torah teaches a person that if you felt that you are better than others, if you feel that you have the ability to find the negative in other people, you have to remove yourself from all other people and focus on your own deficiencies and faults.

Someone once came to the famed Rav of Brisk and told him that certain punishments are befalling the Jewish people because of wide spread desecration of Shabbos. The Brisker Rav told him to think of the story of the prophet Jonah. Jonah was running away on a boat, trying to escape from the mission that Hashem had asked him to do in Ninveh. The other people on this ship, we are told, were all idol worshippers. Nonetheless, when a huge storm erupted and threatened to capsize the ship, Jonah did not even suggest that this punishment may be as a result of their idol worship. Rather, he immediately accepted responsibility for causing the storm and said it was because of his own sin.

This is the lesson of the punishment of the one who has tzaraas. When things happen around us, we must always try to think, what could be the message in this for me? In what way is Hashem asking me to do my part and improve in response to this situation? If we live this way, we will constantly find the ability to grow from all situations that we encounter in life.

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The Rabbis, stressing the importance of communal prayer, say, no doubt with a degree of hyperbole, that when prayers are offered in a congregation God will never reject them.

Some of the more sacred prayers can be recited only where a quorum of ten, the minyan, is present. The prayers in the standard liturgy are in the plural form: “Help us;” “Pardon us;” “Bless us;” “Wegive thanks to Thee.”

Psychological and Social Reasons for Minyan

Various reasons are given by the Jewish teachers for the advantage of communal over private prayer. Menahem Meiri [a 13th century Talmudist from Provence] stresses the psychological advantage: “Whenever a man is able to offer his prayers in the synagogue he should do so since there proper concentration of the heart can be achieved. The Rabbis laid down a great rule: Communal prayer has especial value and whenever ten pray in the synagogue the Shekhinah [the divine indwelling] is present.”

Judah Halevi’s Kuzari [a 12th century defense of Judaism] is in the form of an imaginary dialogue between the kind of the Khazars and a Jewish sage. The king asks, why all this emphasis on communal prayer? Would it not be better if everyone recited his prayers for himself where, on the contrary, there is greater concentration and purity of thought without distraction? The sage replies that an individual, praying on his own, may pray for others to be harmed, but a community will never pray for harm to come to one of its members. Furthermore, an individual may make mistakes when mouthing the words of the prayers whereas when people pray together they make up for one another’s shortcomings.

A Mystical Rationale

The Zohar gives a mystical reason. When an individual prays, his prayers do not ascend to God until there has first been a heavenly investigation to determine whether he is worthy for his prayers to be accepted. Communal prayers, on the other hand, ascend immediately to the heavenly throne without any prior investigation.

It Takes All Kinds

In an astonishing rabbinic saying, when communal prayers are offered on a fast day in a situation of dire necessity such as failure of the rains to come, there must be sinners among the supplicants, otherwise the prayers will not be answered. As the Rabbis put it, among the ingredients of the incense prepared in Temple times, one was the evil-smelling galbanum, which had nonetheless to be mingled with the other sweet-smelling spices before the incense could be used. The Jewish community is not a community of saints but is composed of all types of persons who, including the notorious sinners, find strength in coming together for a common purpose.

A folk etymology understands the [consonant] letters of the word tzibbur, “community,” as representing the [initials of] the words tzaddikim (“righteous”); beinonim (“average”); resha’im(“wicked”). It takes all sorts to make a Jewish community as it takes all sorts to make a world.

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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.’

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