Yizkor: Moses & His Children: Why the Hero is Absent from Haggadah
Would You Give Up 13 Million for Your Relationships?
- April 17, 2016
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- 9 Nisan 5776
Rabbi YY Jacobson
20 viewsYizkor: Moses & His Children: Why the Hero is Absent from Haggadah
Would You Give Up 13 Million for Your Relationships?
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- April 17, 2016
Where Is Moses?
It is one of the great mysteries of the Passover Haggadah. Imagine telling the story of the American Revolution and not mentioning George Washington; the story of the Civil War and not mentioning Abraham Lincoln; the story of the Civil Rights movement, and deleting Martin Luther King Jr.
And yet, in the entire Haggadah, as we tell the story of the Exodus of Egypt, we do not mention the man who did it all—Moses?![1]
How can that be?
We mention everybody: Pharaoh, the Egyptians, the frogs, the lice, and the locust; we speak of G-d and his people; we speak of the four sons and their questions; we address the tyrants of every generation who wish to enslave us and kill us. Yet the hero who is responsible for the entire event—is gone. Absent. Nada. Absurd, is it not?
Envy of Aaron
In the entire Torah we have only one instance of Moses becoming jealous of his brother. And the circumstances seem strange. It occurs in the context of Moses’ prayer that G‑d appoint a successor as leader of the Jewish people.
פינחס כז, יב-יג: יב וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, עֲלֵה אֶל-הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה; וּרְאֵה, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי, לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. יג וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל-עַמֶּיךָ גַּם-אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף, אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ.
רש"י: "כאשר נאסף אהרן אחיך" - מכאן שנתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן
G-d says to Moses: “After you have seen it, you also will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aaron was.” Rashi is intrigued by the apparently superfluous words “you also will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aaron was. He makes the comment that “Moses desired to die as Aaron had died.”
In what sense was Moses envious of his brother?[2] Was it that he, like Aaron, wished to die painlessly? Surely not. Moses was not afraid of pain. Was it that he envied his brother’s popularity? Of Aaron it was said that when he died, he was mourned by “all the children of Israel,” something the Torah does not say in the case of Moses. This, too, cannot be the answer. Moses knew that leadership does not mean popularity. He did not seek it. He could not have done what he had to do and achieve it.
The Kesav Sofer gives a penetrating insight. (Rabbi Avraham Shmuel Binyamin Sofer, also known by his main work Ksav Sofer (1815–1871), was one of the leading rabbis of Hungarian Jewry in the second half of the nineteenth century and Rosh Yeshiva of the famed Pressburg (today Bratislava) Yeshiva. His father, the famed Chasam Sofer, Rabbi of Pressburg, was the leader of Hungarian Jewry and one of the leading Rabbi's of European Jewry. His mother Sarel was the daughter of Rabbi Akiva Eger, Rabbi of Posen, one of the greatest Talmudic scholars of his time.)
כתב סופר פרשת פינחס: ונאספת אל עמיך גם אתה כאשר נאסף אהרן אחיך ופי׳ רש״י מכאן שנתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן. ונ״ל דאמז״ל כל המניח בן כמותו כאלו לא מת, כי יש לו זכות במצות הבן. לאחר מיתתו הולך ומשמש לפני ה' ע״י בנו. והנה אהרן זכה שכתרו נתן לבנו בחייו, ומשה לא זכה שבנו יהי׳ ממלא את מקומו והתאוה משה לזכות לכך. וזהו שהתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן שיהי׳ כאלו הוא חי. אבל באמת משה לא הי׳ צריך לכל זה כי זכות כל ישראל לעולם תלוי׳ בו, כי ע׳׳י קבלנו התורה וכאלו לא מת. וז״ש ונאספת אל עמיך גם אתה הגם שאין לך בן ממלא מקומך מ״מ תמות כאשר מת אהרן אחיך כי זכות כל ישראל תלוי׳ בך לעולם וק׳׳ל:
Aaron had the privilege of knowing that his children would follow in his footsteps. Elazar, his son, was appointed as high priest in his lifetime. Indeed, to this day kohanim are direct descendants of Aaron. Moses longed to see one of his sons, Gershom or Eliezer, take his place as leader of the people. It was not to be.
Rashi himself arrives at a similar conclusion by noting a second clue. The passage in which Moses asks G-d to appoint a successor follows directly after the story of the daughters of Tzelafchad, who asked that they be permitted to inherit the share in the land of Israel that would have gone to their father, had he not died. Rashi links the two episodes:
רש"י פינחס כז, טז: יפקד ה', כיון ששמע משה שא"ל המקום תן נחלת צלפחד לבנותיו, אמר הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי שיירשו בני את גדולתי. א"ל הקב"ה לא כך עלתה במחשבה לפני כדאי הוא יהושוע ליטול שכר שמושו שלא מש מתוך האהל וזהו שאמר שלמה (משלי כז) נוצר תאנה יאכל פריה.
במדבר רבה פינחס כא, יד: בניך ישבו להם ולא עסקו בתורה יהושע הרבה שרתך והרבה חלק לך כבוד והוא היה משכים ומעריב בבית הועד שלך הוא היה מסדר את הספסלים והוא פורס את המחצלאות הואיל והוא שרתך בכל כחו כדאי הוא שישמש את ישראל שאינו מאבד שכרו קח לך את יהושע בן נון לקיים מה שנאמר נוצר תאנה יאכל פריה:
“When Moses heard G-d tell him to give the inheritance of Tzelafchad to his daughters, he said to himself, ‘The time has come that I should make a request of my own—that my sons should inherit my position.’ G‑d replied to him, ‘This is not what I have decided. Joshua deserves to receive reward for serving you and never leaving your tent.’” Moses’ prayer was not granted.
The Children of Moses
One of the great mysteries in Scripture is the almost total silence about Gershom and Eliezer, the two sons of Moses. Some events relating to their childhood years are recounted, including the incident in Yisro about the reunion of Moshe with his wife and sons. But we know nothing at all about them as adults. There is no account provided of their development into manhood or of their relationship with Moshe. Indeed, it would have been most natural for the sons of Moshe to have assumed a major role in the leadership of the people or at least to have taken some part in public life in the wilderness. Yet this did not happen.
What happened to Moses’ children? On this the Torah is silent. They fade away in the narrative about their great father and his ultimate successor, Joshua.
Why? Perhaps they lacked the competence. Growing up as the children of Moses must have not been easy. How do you step in to the shoes of such a dad? And sometimes you go to the other extreme, simply to establish an identity for yourself. The son of a priest is a priest. The son of a prophet is rarely a prophet. Never mind such a prophet.
The Midrash states: G-d said to Moshe: "Your sons sat around and did not engage in Torah".[3]
Let us remember this too: From all of the Jews, these were the only two boys who did not experience the Exodus of Egypt. Moses came with his wife and sons to Egypt, but then sent them back home before he arrived. They were not witnesses to all of the preceding plagues, nor were they there at the splitting of the sea, and possibly not even at Sinai[4], at the defining moment of Jewish history, when they received the Torah. In many ways, they were not part of the collective Jewish experience. How fascinating, how sad, and how strange. They were the children of the MAIN MAN, but they themselves were not part of it.
Perhaps this is another element here. Moses was the ultimate prophet—either he was with G-d or with the people. He was the father of all of Israel and in a way it is possible that his own children never received the individual time, validation, attention, affection and care they needed from a father.
[What is more, the Talmud[5] identifies Yehonatan ben Gershom ben Menashe, the priest for the idol of Micha[6], as the grandson of Moshe Rabbeinu. (Menashe in Hebrew letters is Moshe with an extra “nun” thereby masking his true relationship to this idolater.)]
No Nepotism
Or maybe the reason for all of this lie elsewhere. The Talmud (Nedarim 81a) states: “Be careful not to neglect the children of the poor, for from them Torah goes forth… And why is it not usual for scholars to give birth to children who are scholars? Rabbi Joseph said: that it might not be said that Torah is their legacy…”
These are the great words of Maimonides:[7]
With three crowns was Israel crowned: with the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of sovereignty. The crown of priesthood was bestowed on Aaron . . . The crown of sovereignty was given to David . . . The crown of Torah, however, is for all Israel, as it is said, “Moses commanded us the Torah, as an inheritance of the congregation of Jacob.” Whoever desires it can win it.
Moses was therefore denied the chance to see his children inherit his role, so that his personal disappointment would become a source of hope to future generations. Torah leadership is not the prerogative of an elite. It does not pass through dynastic succession. It is not confined to those descended from great scholars. It is open to each of us, if we will it and give it our best efforts of energy and time.
Not Easy
Moses was given a great consolation by G-d, says the Kesav Sofer. Just as to this day kohanim are the sons of Aaron, so are all who study Torah the disciples of Moses. As the man who gave us Torah, every Jew in every generation studying Torah is a “child” of Moses, continuing his legacy and his life.
And yet, despite all, it was not easy for Moses to see his children deprived of their father’s throne. Moses craved that his children replace him and follow the road he paved. And this did not happen.
Moses’ “career” was, without a doubt, more successful and brilliant than anyone else in history. He has changed civilization. The hero of the holiday of Passover is Moses. He is the man who did it all! He is the man chosen by G-d to lead us out of Egypt, craft us into a nation, give us the Torah and teach the world the greatest wisdom. And yet in one respect, his brother Aaron surpassed him. Aaron had a privilege Moses was denied, namely, seeing his children and their descendants inherit his role. This pained Moses, and he tried to reverse it.
Passover is a holiday dedicated to “telling the story” to our children, imparting the experience to the next generation. Moses himself tells us many times that the primary purpose of Passover and the seder is to share and inculcate the story within our children.
Perhaps it is for this reason that Moses’ name is not in the Haggadah. Moses remains our greatest teacher and leader, but the focus of the Haggadah is “vihegadeta levincha,” to impart the story to your child. For thousands of years, every Passover we ensure our future by re-creating the only guarantee for our survival. We have a meal in which we talk to our children. We join in a Seder at which we discuss who we are and where we came from. We inspire our children and talk about our values. We have a warm and open relationship with our children based on honest dialogue, on frank discussion, on meaningful questions and answers.
In this, Moses did not succeed. His children were not part of the story, and they did not continue his story.
Our Parents’ Impact
The message today, moments before Yizkor, is crystal clear. As we reflect on the lives of our parents who have passed, what they gave us, what they taught us, it is our time to reflect also on what we are giving to our children. What am I imparting to my loved ones? What I’m I leaving them with? What are we doing to ensure that Yiddishkeit will remain in our family?
A Price Tag
I want to ask you a question today: If you were forced to put a price tag on those precious moments that create family ties, eternal family memories, and experience that allow you to impart my deepest values to my children, would you be willing to say they’re worth $13 million?
That was the amazing test faced by a professional major league baseball player just a few weeks ago – and his stunning response was a lesson with profound meaning for every one of us as we are about to say Yizkor.
It happened to Adam LaRoche, a Baseball veteran who played 12 seasons in the majors, previously for the Washington Nationals and more recently for the Chicago White Sox. Adam came to spring training expecting to continue a long-standing tradition, so important to him that it was included in his contract. He was a father who home-schooled his son Drake and took him along to the clubhouse frequently so that he could be a father figure regularly overseeing his son’s growth to maturity.
For Adam, spending time with his son was at least as important as reaching fame in his field of athletic expertise, a profession which had the added bonus of being extremely rewarding financially. And so Adam made sure that Drake would be with him as much as possible. He taught Drake discipline and responsibility by encouraging him to help out in the clubhouse and filling the role of the bat boy. Best of all though, Adams efforts gave them both the opportunity to spend time together – to foster the kind of relationship that ensures understanding, love and respect between two generations.
Drake was the team’s mascot and the other players enjoyed having him around. It isn’t uncommon for some players to bring their sons to the clubhouse, especially someone like Drake who is now a teenager. For more than a few players it’s part of baseball tradition. But in spring training this year the Executive Vice President of the Chicago White Sox had a change of heart about the boy’s presence with the players. Adam LaRoche was told he could no longer bring Drake to the ballpark at all.
As Adam LaRoche put it, “I had to make a decision. Do I choose my career? Or do I choose my family?”
Adam had a year to go on his contract which would pay him $13 million for the season. He could resign and forfeit that money, or he could accept the new limitation on his relationship with his son.
LaRoche said the decision was not difficult. “Of one thing I am certain: we will regret not spending enough time with our kids, not the other way around. This was likely to be the last year of my career, and in no way was I going to spend it without my son.”
So Adam LaRoche won’t be playing this season. He chose family over fame and fortune.
But this is far more than just a story about a ballplayer and his once-in-a-lifetime test of the value of a father-son relationship. As Yizkor remind us, all of us need to reflect on the importance of making the right decision when it comes to a choice between our career or our family, between the growth of our portfolios or the progress of our children.
Think of Your Family
On Passover, especially at this special moment before Yizkor, we are meant to acknowledge that our families come first – and if we don’t recognize that, we are still enslaved as much as we were in Egypt. Slaves to taskmasters who come in the form of careers which demand 24/7 obedience. Slaves to taskmasters offering obscene monetary compensation at the price of distancing ourselves from our loved ones. Slaves to taskmasters who force us to choose the profane over the sacred, the insignificant over the truly important.
Wal-Mart
Too bad that one of the wealthiest men in the world didn’t learn this lesson until it was too late. Sam Walton was the multibillionaire CEO of Wal-Mart, the fourth largest U.S. corporation.
By any measure, Sam was considered to be the ultimate entrepreneur. He took a small general store, revolutionized the retail industry and built his business into the mega-corporation that Walmart is today. During his lifetime, he was in regular contention for being the richest man in the world.
As he was lying on his deathbed, he struggled to get out his last three words on earth. He had given his life for his business. In that area, he succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Yet, it was at a price. He hardly spent any time with his wife, his children, and his grandchildren. He didn’t allow himself the moments of loving interaction, of cuddling a grandchild on his lap, of playing and laughing and rejoicing with his loved ones.
His final three words? “I blew it!” He had the billions, but by his own admission he had failed.
Sam Walton blew it? How could that be? He was a full-time, always-there business man! He would do anything to grow his business, and it gave him immense fame and fortune! But that’s where the problem lies, because when it came to the rest of his life, Sam wasn’t nearly as dedicated. He was never really “there” as a father, husband and friend. He had the wealthiest pockets, but the poorest soul. And in those last minutes of his life, he realized where he had failed.
I wonder if the same would be true for a person who dies after having lived the richest life with family and friends they so loved, yet didn’t have a business success story to define them. I suspect that they won’t say, “I blew it.”
Looking back at his legacy, Sam Walton left us with the greatest entrepreneurial lesson of all time: It is better to have an incomplete business life than an incomplete human life. I try to keep that in mind as I work on my business. While it’s still important for me to achieve professional success, I no longer let it define me. Instead, I focus on building loving and meaningful relationships, because I know that on my deathbed, it will be the people I loved who will be there, providing me comfort … not a business or a bank account.
Adam LaRoche didn’t blow it. He knew that some things are worth far more than $13 million.
An Opera Star
In the Passover Hagadah of Ruzhin, the compiler Rabbi Sholom Meir Voloch relates the following story.
A young girl, Rachel Shiff, was born in Vienna, Austria on January 21, 1888 and raised in a very observant Jewish home. She was also blessed with an unusually beautiful voice. One day an agent for the Vienna Opera got wind of the young Jewish ‘wunderkind’ and offered her the incredible opportunity to sing in the renowned Vienna opera, home to some of the greatest talent in Europe.
The girl was thrilled beyond words and was about to accept the invitation. The pay was incredible and the fame international. The challenge was this: The Vienna Opera was the ashram of German secularism at the time. For a Jew to succeed in that environment, she or he would feel compelled to shed every last layer of Jewish identity. (Just a few decades earlier, 40 percent of Berlin Jewry converted to Christianity in order to fully integrate into German society). In addition to this, Jewish law forbade the Jewish woman to sing in the presence of men, since in Judaism, the feminine voice captures the essence of her soul which does not belong to the public.
Yet all of the efforts of Rachel’s parents to convince their daughter that the opera was no place for a Jewish Torah-observant girl fell on deaf ears. She claimed that she would be the exception. Her father brought her to their Rabbi, Shlomo Baumgarten, who also tried to convince her that she should not pursue the tantalizing offer. When Reb Shlomo saw that he could not sway her, he asked her to go visit Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Heschel (1861-1935), the Kopichnitzer Rebbe, who lived in in Vienna at the time. (Kopishnitz, or Kopychyntsi, is a small town in Ukraine. He escaped the city during World War I and moved to Vienna. His successor was his son, Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel who relocated from Vienna to NY, whose daughter Chavah married Rabbi Zalman Gurari).
Immediately, father and daughter set out to visit the Rebbe. The young woman was certain that the Rebbe would lambaste her about how terrible she was for even contemplating such a career, and she prepared herself for the confrontation. To her surprise, the Rebbe’s reaction was vastly different. After he heard the situation he remarked that he understood how hard it was for her, and what a difficult predicament she found herself in. Then he asked her, “Tell me, mein tachter - my daughter, why do you want to join the opera so badly? Is it for the money?”
She thought for a moment and then replied that it wasn’t the money but the opportunity for fame. If she joined the opera everyone would know her name. Her impact would be international.
The Rebbe closed his eyes, deep in thought, and then replied: “Listen closely, my daughter. It is the dream of every Jewish woman to merit a child who will illuminate the world through his Torah learning. What if I promise you that if in lieu of your career at the Opera, you will be blessed with a child whose Torah will light up the world, and will be one of the greatest halachic authorities of his time, a child who will give you nachas, not only in this world, but even when you leave this world as well, would you consider such a deal?”
She wiped away her tears and said that she would indeed give up her Opera career for that. When she left the Rebbe she informed the agent that she was no longer interested. All of his cajoling and persuading could not shake her adamant resolve.
The young Rachel Schiff went on to marry Yosef Zvi Wosner. On Sep 4. 1913 (2 Elul 5673), Rachel gave birth to a son, Shmuel,
Rabbi Shmuel Wosner, died on the first night of Passover last year, April 3, 2015, at the age of 101. The author of the famed work Shevet Halevi, he was one of the outstanding halachic authorities of our time, a man whose erudition and scholarship in Jewish law has illuminated and influenced the Jewish world over the last half-a-century. Over the last century he has educated and mentored thousands of students. 100,000 Jews escorted him on his final journey, on the eve of the second night of Passover, in Benei Berak, where he served as Rabbi since 1947.
The famous Israeli lecturer, Rabbi Dan Segal, approached Rabbi Wosner some years ago to ask if the story was true. Rabbi Wosner emotionally replied that although his mother indeed had a stunning voice, she had never recounted that story to him. Then, with tears in his eyes, Rabbi Wosner explained that it made sense. “When I left home to learn in the famed Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin founded by Rabbi Meir Schapiro in Lublin, Poland, my mother begged me to never stop learning. She told me then that she gave up everything for my Torah learning. I now understand what she meant.”
What struck me about the story was how the Kophishnitzer Rebbe persuaded this young girl. He did not denigrate her; nor did he delegitimize her wish. To the contrary, he discovered what her underlying motivation was and helped her see how she can discover that need in a far more-lofty and noble environment, one which will not jeopardize her future as a woman, as a mother and as a Jew.
Kinder Transport
In November 1938, before the onset of World War II, some Jewish children had the opportunity to escape from Nazi Germany and resettle in England through what became known as the Kinder-transport.
Many of these children came from Torah observant homes, but there were not enough religious families able to accept these children. Other families who were willing to take them in were not willing to raise the Jewish children with the values and traditions they grew up with.
The Chief Rabbi of London, Rabbi Yechezkel Abramski, embarked on a frantic campaign to secure funding to ensure that every child would be placed in a proper Jewish environment.
Rabbi Abramski called one wealthy Jewish industrialist in England and asked him for a donation sizable enough to ensure that the children would be raised in proper Jewish environment.
“It is pikuach nefesh!” cried Rabbi Abramski.
At that point, the tycoon became incensed. “Rabbi”, he said, “please do not use that term flippantly. I know what pikuach nefesh is. Pikuach nefesh means a matter of life and death! When I was young, my parents were very observant. When my baby sister was young, she became very sick. We had to call the doctor, but it was on Shabbos. My father was very conscientious of the sanctity of Shabbos. He would never desecrate Shabbos. But our Rabbi told us that since this is a matter of “life and death”, we were allowed to desecrate the Shabbos! He called that situation of life and death “pikuach nefesh.” Rabbi Abramsky, with all due respect, the children are already here in England. They are safe from the Nazis. How they are raised is not pikuach nefesh!” With that, the man politely bade farewell and hung up the phone.
That Friday evening, the wealthy man was sitting at dinner, when the telephone rang incessantly. Finally, the man got up from his meal and answered the phone. As he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his face went pale. “This is Abramski. I would not call you on Shabbos if I did not think this was pikuach nefesh. Again, I implore you! We need the funds to ensure that these children will be raised as Jews!”
The man responded immediately to the appeal.
As we say Yizkor, we ought to answer this question for ourselves: I’m I giving my children and all my loved ones’ money, shelter, food, physical needs and an education. Or I’m I also giving them my very self – my soul, my history, my faith, my G-d, my Torah, my passion, my love, and my Neshamah.
(My thanks to Rabbi Nir Gurevitch, Rabbi Zalman Bluming and Rabbi Moshe Kahn for their assistance.)
[1] He is mentioned once “by mistake,” as we quote the verse “vayaamenu b’Hashem ubemoshe avdo.” But that is just because his name in that verse; it is a mention of Moses specifically
[2] Later at the end of the Torah, Rashi says that Moses craved the “death by a kiss” of Aaron. But here Rashi does not say that.
[3] Bamidar Rabba, 21, 14.
[4] Depending on the opinions when Yisro came with Moses’ family.
[5] Bava Basra 109b
[6] See Sefer Shoftim Chapter 17 and 18:30
[7] Laws of Talmud Torah ch. 3
- Comment
Class Summary:
It is one of the great mysteries of the Passover Haggadah. Imagine telling the story of the American Revolution and not mentioning George Washington; the story of the Civil War and not mentioning Abraham Lincoln; the story of the Civil Rights movement, and deleting Martin Luther King Jr?!
And yet, in the entire Haggadah, we do not mention the man who did it all—Moses?! How can that be?
In the entire Torah we have only one instance of Moses becoming jealous of his brother. And the circumstances seem strange. It occurs in the context of Moses’ prayer that G‑d appoint a successor as leader of the Jewish people. And it was the Kesav Sofer who offered a penetrating insight as to why Moses was envious of his brother Aaron.
What happened to Moses’ two sons? Why did they not succeed their father? What role did they play in Jewish life? On this the Torah is silent. They fade away in the narrative about their great father and his ultimate successor, Joshua. What was their secret?
The sermon tells the story of a professional major league baseball player who just a few weeks ago had to make a choice between his relationship with his child and a 13-million-dollar contract. His choice was astounding. We tell the story of Reb Chatzkel Abramski’s telephone call on Shabbos to save Jewish children in Britain. We tell the story of a young Jewish girl from Vienna who was offered a position in the Vienna Opera and how the Kaphishnitzer Rebbe dissuaded her from this ambition.
Sam Walton was the multibillionaire CEO of Wal-Mart, the fourth largest U.S. corporation. By any measure, Sam was considered to be the ultimate entrepreneur. He took a small general store, revolutionized the retail industry and built his business into the mega-corporation that Walmart is today. During his lifetime, he was in regular contention for being the richest man in the world.
As he was lying on his deathbed, he struggled to get out his last three words on earth. They were: “I blew it!”
Where Is Moses?
It is one of the great mysteries of the Passover Haggadah. Imagine telling the story of the American Revolution and not mentioning George Washington; the story of the Civil War and not mentioning Abraham Lincoln; the story of the Civil Rights movement, and deleting Martin Luther King Jr.
And yet, in the entire Haggadah, as we tell the story of the Exodus of Egypt, we do not mention the man who did it all—Moses?![1]
How can that be?
We mention everybody: Pharaoh, the Egyptians, the frogs, the lice, and the locust; we speak of G-d and his people; we speak of the four sons and their questions; we address the tyrants of every generation who wish to enslave us and kill us. Yet the hero who is responsible for the entire event—is gone. Absent. Nada. Absurd, is it not?
Envy of Aaron
In the entire Torah we have only one instance of Moses becoming jealous of his brother. And the circumstances seem strange. It occurs in the context of Moses’ prayer that G‑d appoint a successor as leader of the Jewish people.
פינחס כז, יב-יג: יב וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, עֲלֵה אֶל-הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה; וּרְאֵה, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי, לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. יג וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל-עַמֶּיךָ גַּם-אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף, אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ.
רש"י: "כאשר נאסף אהרן אחיך" - מכאן שנתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן
G-d says to Moses: “After you have seen it, you also will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aaron was.” Rashi is intrigued by the apparently superfluous words “you also will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aaron was. He makes the comment that “Moses desired to die as Aaron had died.”
In what sense was Moses envious of his brother?[2] Was it that he, like Aaron, wished to die painlessly? Surely not. Moses was not afraid of pain. Was it that he envied his brother’s popularity? Of Aaron it was said that when he died, he was mourned by “all the children of Israel,” something the Torah does not say in the case of Moses. This, too, cannot be the answer. Moses knew that leadership does not mean popularity. He did not seek it. He could not have done what he had to do and achieve it.
The Kesav Sofer gives a penetrating insight. (Rabbi Avraham Shmuel Binyamin Sofer, also known by his main work Ksav Sofer (1815–1871), was one of the leading rabbis of Hungarian Jewry in the second half of the nineteenth century and Rosh Yeshiva of the famed Pressburg (today Bratislava) Yeshiva. His father, the famed Chasam Sofer, Rabbi of Pressburg, was the leader of Hungarian Jewry and one of the leading Rabbi's of European Jewry. His mother Sarel was the daughter of Rabbi Akiva Eger, Rabbi of Posen, one of the greatest Talmudic scholars of his time.)
כתב סופר פרשת פינחס: ונאספת אל עמיך גם אתה כאשר נאסף אהרן אחיך ופי׳ רש״י מכאן שנתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן. ונ״ל דאמז״ל כל המניח בן כמותו כאלו לא מת, כי יש לו זכות במצות הבן. לאחר מיתתו הולך ומשמש לפני ה' ע״י בנו. והנה אהרן זכה שכתרו נתן לבנו בחייו, ומשה לא זכה שבנו יהי׳ ממלא את מקומו והתאוה משה לזכות לכך. וזהו שהתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן שיהי׳ כאלו הוא חי. אבל באמת משה לא הי׳ צריך לכל זה כי זכות כל ישראל לעולם תלוי׳ בו, כי ע׳׳י קבלנו התורה וכאלו לא מת. וז״ש ונאספת אל עמיך גם אתה הגם שאין לך בן ממלא מקומך מ״מ תמות כאשר מת אהרן אחיך כי זכות כל ישראל תלוי׳ בך לעולם וק׳׳ל:
Aaron had the privilege of knowing that his children would follow in his footsteps. Elazar, his son, was appointed as high priest in his lifetime. Indeed, to this day kohanim are direct descendants of Aaron. Moses longed to see one of his sons, Gershom or Eliezer, take his place as leader of the people. It was not to be.
Rashi himself arrives at a similar conclusion by noting a second clue. The passage in which Moses asks G-d to appoint a successor follows directly after the story of the daughters of Tzelafchad, who asked that they be permitted to inherit the share in the land of Israel that would have gone to their father, had he not died. Rashi links the two episodes:
רש"י פינחס כז, טז: יפקד ה', כיון ששמע משה שא"ל המקום תן נחלת צלפחד לבנותיו, אמר הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי שיירשו בני את גדולתי. א"ל הקב"ה לא כך עלתה במחשבה לפני כדאי הוא יהושוע ליטול שכר שמושו שלא מש מתוך האהל וזהו שאמר שלמה (משלי כז) נוצר תאנה יאכל פריה.
במדבר רבה פינחס כא, יד: בניך ישבו להם ולא עסקו בתורה יהושע הרבה שרתך והרבה חלק לך כבוד והוא היה משכים ומעריב בבית הועד שלך הוא היה מסדר את הספסלים והוא פורס את המחצלאות הואיל והוא שרתך בכל כחו כדאי הוא שישמש את ישראל שאינו מאבד שכרו קח לך את יהושע בן נון לקיים מה שנאמר נוצר תאנה יאכל פריה:
“When Moses heard G-d tell him to give the inheritance of Tzelafchad to his daughters, he said to himself, ‘The time has come that I should make a request of my own—that my sons should inherit my position.’ G‑d replied to him, ‘This is not what I have decided. Joshua deserves to receive reward for serving you and never leaving your tent.’” Moses’ prayer was not granted.
The Children of Moses
One of the great mysteries in Scripture is the almost total silence about Gershom and Eliezer, the two sons of Moses. Some events relating to their childhood years are recounted, including the incident in Yisro about the reunion of Moshe with his wife and sons. But we know nothing at all about them as adults. There is no account provided of their development into manhood or of their relationship with Moshe. Indeed, it would have been most natural for the sons of Moshe to have assumed a major role in the leadership of the people or at least to have taken some part in public life in the wilderness. Yet this did not happen.
What happened to Moses’ children? On this the Torah is silent. They fade away in the narrative about their great father and his ultimate successor, Joshua.
Why? Perhaps they lacked the competence. Growing up as the children of Moses must have not been easy. How do you step in to the shoes of such a dad? And sometimes you go to the other extreme, simply to establish an identity for yourself. The son of a priest is a priest. The son of a prophet is rarely a prophet. Never mind such a prophet.
The Midrash states: G-d said to Moshe: "Your sons sat around and did not engage in Torah".[3]
Let us remember this too: From all of the Jews, these were the only two boys who did not experience the Exodus of Egypt. Moses came with his wife and sons to Egypt, but then sent them back home before he arrived. They were not witnesses to all of the preceding plagues, nor were they there at the splitting of the sea, and possibly not even at Sinai[4], at the defining moment of Jewish history, when they received the Torah. In many ways, they were not part of the collective Jewish experience. How fascinating, how sad, and how strange. They were the children of the MAIN MAN, but they themselves were not part of it.
Perhaps this is another element here. Moses was the ultimate prophet—either he was with G-d or with the people. He was the father of all of Israel and in a way it is possible that his own children never received the individual time, validation, attention, affection and care they needed from a father.
[What is more, the Talmud[5] identifies Yehonatan ben Gershom ben Menashe, the priest for the idol of Micha[6], as the grandson of Moshe Rabbeinu. (Menashe in Hebrew letters is Moshe with an extra “nun” thereby masking his true relationship to this idolater.)]
No Nepotism
Or maybe the reason for all of this lie elsewhere. The Talmud (Nedarim 81a) states: “Be careful not to neglect the children of the poor, for from them Torah goes forth… And why is it not usual for scholars to give birth to children who are scholars? Rabbi Joseph said: that it might not be said that Torah is their legacy…”
These are the great words of Maimonides:[7]
With three crowns was Israel crowned: with the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of sovereignty. The crown of priesthood was bestowed on Aaron . . . The crown of sovereignty was given to David . . . The crown of Torah, however, is for all Israel, as it is said, “Moses commanded us the Torah, as an inheritance of the congregation of Jacob.” Whoever desires it can win it.
Moses was therefore denied the chance to see his children inherit his role, so that his personal disappointment would become a source of hope to future generations. Torah leadership is not the prerogative of an elite. It does not pass through dynastic succession. It is not confined to those descended from great scholars. It is open to each of us, if we will it and give it our best efforts of energy and time.
Not Easy
Moses was given a great consolation by G-d, says the Kesav Sofer. Just as to this day kohanim are the sons of Aaron, so are all who study Torah the disciples of Moses. As the man who gave us Torah, every Jew in every generation studying Torah is a “child” of Moses, continuing his legacy and his life.
And yet, despite all, it was not easy for Moses to see his children deprived of their father’s throne. Moses craved that his children replace him and follow the road he paved. And this did not happen.
Moses’ “career” was, without a doubt, more successful and brilliant than anyone else in history. He has changed civilization. The hero of the holiday of Passover is Moses. He is the man who did it all! He is the man chosen by G-d to lead us out of Egypt, craft us into a nation, give us the Torah and teach the world the greatest wisdom. And yet in one respect, his brother Aaron surpassed him. Aaron had a privilege Moses was denied, namely, seeing his children and their descendants inherit his role. This pained Moses, and he tried to reverse it.
Passover is a holiday dedicated to “telling the story” to our children, imparting the experience to the next generation. Moses himself tells us many times that the primary purpose of Passover and the seder is to share and inculcate the story within our children.
Perhaps it is for this reason that Moses’ name is not in the Haggadah. Moses remains our greatest teacher and leader, but the focus of the Haggadah is “vihegadeta levincha,” to impart the story to your child. For thousands of years, every Passover we ensure our future by re-creating the only guarantee for our survival. We have a meal in which we talk to our children. We join in a Seder at which we discuss who we are and where we came from. We inspire our children and talk about our values. We have a warm and open relationship with our children based on honest dialogue, on frank discussion, on meaningful questions and answers.
In this, Moses did not succeed. His children were not part of the story, and they did not continue his story.
Our Parents’ Impact
The message today, moments before Yizkor, is crystal clear. As we reflect on the lives of our parents who have passed, what they gave us, what they taught us, it is our time to reflect also on what we are giving to our children. What am I imparting to my loved ones? What I’m I leaving them with? What are we doing to ensure that Yiddishkeit will remain in our family?
A Price Tag
I want to ask you a question today: If you were forced to put a price tag on those precious moments that create family ties, eternal family memories, and experience that allow you to impart my deepest values to my children, would you be willing to say they’re worth $13 million?
That was the amazing test faced by a professional major league baseball player just a few weeks ago – and his stunning response was a lesson with profound meaning for every one of us as we are about to say Yizkor.
It happened to Adam LaRoche, a Baseball veteran who played 12 seasons in the majors, previously for the Washington Nationals and more recently for the Chicago White Sox. Adam came to spring training expecting to continue a long-standing tradition, so important to him that it was included in his contract. He was a father who home-schooled his son Drake and took him along to the clubhouse frequently so that he could be a father figure regularly overseeing his son’s growth to maturity.
For Adam, spending time with his son was at least as important as reaching fame in his field of athletic expertise, a profession which had the added bonus of being extremely rewarding financially. And so Adam made sure that Drake would be with him as much as possible. He taught Drake discipline and responsibility by encouraging him to help out in the clubhouse and filling the role of the bat boy. Best of all though, Adams efforts gave them both the opportunity to spend time together – to foster the kind of relationship that ensures understanding, love and respect between two generations.
Drake was the team’s mascot and the other players enjoyed having him around. It isn’t uncommon for some players to bring their sons to the clubhouse, especially someone like Drake who is now a teenager. For more than a few players it’s part of baseball tradition. But in spring training this year the Executive Vice President of the Chicago White Sox had a change of heart about the boy’s presence with the players. Adam LaRoche was told he could no longer bring Drake to the ballpark at all.
As Adam LaRoche put it, “I had to make a decision. Do I choose my career? Or do I choose my family?”
Adam had a year to go on his contract which would pay him $13 million for the season. He could resign and forfeit that money, or he could accept the new limitation on his relationship with his son.
LaRoche said the decision was not difficult. “Of one thing I am certain: we will regret not spending enough time with our kids, not the other way around. This was likely to be the last year of my career, and in no way was I going to spend it without my son.”
So Adam LaRoche won’t be playing this season. He chose family over fame and fortune.
But this is far more than just a story about a ballplayer and his once-in-a-lifetime test of the value of a father-son relationship. As Yizkor remind us, all of us need to reflect on the importance of making the right decision when it comes to a choice between our career or our family, between the growth of our portfolios or the progress of our children.
Think of Your Family
On Passover, especially at this special moment before Yizkor, we are meant to acknowledge that our families come first – and if we don’t recognize that, we are still enslaved as much as we were in Egypt. Slaves to taskmasters who come in the form of careers which demand 24/7 obedience. Slaves to taskmasters offering obscene monetary compensation at the price of distancing ourselves from our loved ones. Slaves to taskmasters who force us to choose the profane over the sacred, the insignificant over the truly important.
Wal-Mart
Too bad that one of the wealthiest men in the world didn’t learn this lesson until it was too late. Sam Walton was the multibillionaire CEO of Wal-Mart, the fourth largest U.S. corporation.
By any measure, Sam was considered to be the ultimate entrepreneur. He took a small general store, revolutionized the retail industry and built his business into the mega-corporation that Walmart is today. During his lifetime, he was in regular contention for being the richest man in the world.
As he was lying on his deathbed, he struggled to get out his last three words on earth. He had given his life for his business. In that area, he succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Yet, it was at a price. He hardly spent any time with his wife, his children, and his grandchildren. He didn’t allow himself the moments of loving interaction, of cuddling a grandchild on his lap, of playing and laughing and rejoicing with his loved ones.
His final three words? “I blew it!” He had the billions, but by his own admission he had failed.
Sam Walton blew it? How could that be? He was a full-time, always-there business man! He would do anything to grow his business, and it gave him immense fame and fortune! But that’s where the problem lies, because when it came to the rest of his life, Sam wasn’t nearly as dedicated. He was never really “there” as a father, husband and friend. He had the wealthiest pockets, but the poorest soul. And in those last minutes of his life, he realized where he had failed.
I wonder if the same would be true for a person who dies after having lived the richest life with family and friends they so loved, yet didn’t have a business success story to define them. I suspect that they won’t say, “I blew it.”
Looking back at his legacy, Sam Walton left us with the greatest entrepreneurial lesson of all time: It is better to have an incomplete business life than an incomplete human life. I try to keep that in mind as I work on my business. While it’s still important for me to achieve professional success, I no longer let it define me. Instead, I focus on building loving and meaningful relationships, because I know that on my deathbed, it will be the people I loved who will be there, providing me comfort … not a business or a bank account.
Adam LaRoche didn’t blow it. He knew that some things are worth far more than $13 million.
An Opera Star
In the Passover Hagadah of Ruzhin, the compiler Rabbi Sholom Meir Voloch relates the following story.
A young girl, Rachel Shiff, was born in Vienna, Austria on January 21, 1888 and raised in a very observant Jewish home. She was also blessed with an unusually beautiful voice. One day an agent for the Vienna Opera got wind of the young Jewish ‘wunderkind’ and offered her the incredible opportunity to sing in the renowned Vienna opera, home to some of the greatest talent in Europe.
The girl was thrilled beyond words and was about to accept the invitation. The pay was incredible and the fame international. The challenge was this: The Vienna Opera was the ashram of German secularism at the time. For a Jew to succeed in that environment, she or he would feel compelled to shed every last layer of Jewish identity. (Just a few decades earlier, 40 percent of Berlin Jewry converted to Christianity in order to fully integrate into German society). In addition to this, Jewish law forbade the Jewish woman to sing in the presence of men, since in Judaism, the feminine voice captures the essence of her soul which does not belong to the public.
Yet all of the efforts of Rachel’s parents to convince their daughter that the opera was no place for a Jewish Torah-observant girl fell on deaf ears. She claimed that she would be the exception. Her father brought her to their Rabbi, Shlomo Baumgarten, who also tried to convince her that she should not pursue the tantalizing offer. When Reb Shlomo saw that he could not sway her, he asked her to go visit Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Heschel (1861-1935), the Kopichnitzer Rebbe, who lived in in Vienna at the time. (Kopishnitz, or Kopychyntsi, is a small town in Ukraine. He escaped the city during World War I and moved to Vienna. His successor was his son, Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel who relocated from Vienna to NY, whose daughter Chavah married Rabbi Zalman Gurari).
Immediately, father and daughter set out to visit the Rebbe. The young woman was certain that the Rebbe would lambaste her about how terrible she was for even contemplating such a career, and she prepared herself for the confrontation. To her surprise, the Rebbe’s reaction was vastly different. After he heard the situation he remarked that he understood how hard it was for her, and what a difficult predicament she found herself in. Then he asked her, “Tell me, mein tachter - my daughter, why do you want to join the opera so badly? Is it for the money?”
She thought for a moment and then replied that it wasn’t the money but the opportunity for fame. If she joined the opera everyone would know her name. Her impact would be international.
The Rebbe closed his eyes, deep in thought, and then replied: “Listen closely, my daughter. It is the dream of every Jewish woman to merit a child who will illuminate the world through his Torah learning. What if I promise you that if in lieu of your career at the Opera, you will be blessed with a child whose Torah will light up the world, and will be one of the greatest halachic authorities of his time, a child who will give you nachas, not only in this world, but even when you leave this world as well, would you consider such a deal?”
She wiped away her tears and said that she would indeed give up her Opera career for that. When she left the Rebbe she informed the agent that she was no longer interested. All of his cajoling and persuading could not shake her adamant resolve.
The young Rachel Schiff went on to marry Yosef Zvi Wosner. On Sep 4. 1913 (2 Elul 5673), Rachel gave birth to a son, Shmuel,
Rabbi Shmuel Wosner, died on the first night of Passover last year, April 3, 2015, at the age of 101. The author of the famed work Shevet Halevi, he was one of the outstanding halachic authorities of our time, a man whose erudition and scholarship in Jewish law has illuminated and influenced the Jewish world over the last half-a-century. Over the last century he has educated and mentored thousands of students. 100,000 Jews escorted him on his final journey, on the eve of the second night of Passover, in Benei Berak, where he served as Rabbi since 1947.
The famous Israeli lecturer, Rabbi Dan Segal, approached Rabbi Wosner some years ago to ask if the story was true. Rabbi Wosner emotionally replied that although his mother indeed had a stunning voice, she had never recounted that story to him. Then, with tears in his eyes, Rabbi Wosner explained that it made sense. “When I left home to learn in the famed Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin founded by Rabbi Meir Schapiro in Lublin, Poland, my mother begged me to never stop learning. She told me then that she gave up everything for my Torah learning. I now understand what she meant.”
What struck me about the story was how the Kophishnitzer Rebbe persuaded this young girl. He did not denigrate her; nor did he delegitimize her wish. To the contrary, he discovered what her underlying motivation was and helped her see how she can discover that need in a far more-lofty and noble environment, one which will not jeopardize her future as a woman, as a mother and as a Jew.
Kinder Transport
In November 1938, before the onset of World War II, some Jewish children had the opportunity to escape from Nazi Germany and resettle in England through what became known as the Kinder-transport.
Many of these children came from Torah observant homes, but there were not enough religious families able to accept these children. Other families who were willing to take them in were not willing to raise the Jewish children with the values and traditions they grew up with.
The Chief Rabbi of London, Rabbi Yechezkel Abramski, embarked on a frantic campaign to secure funding to ensure that every child would be placed in a proper Jewish environment.
Rabbi Abramski called one wealthy Jewish industrialist in England and asked him for a donation sizable enough to ensure that the children would be raised in proper Jewish environment.
“It is pikuach nefesh!” cried Rabbi Abramski.
At that point, the tycoon became incensed. “Rabbi”, he said, “please do not use that term flippantly. I know what pikuach nefesh is. Pikuach nefesh means a matter of life and death! When I was young, my parents were very observant. When my baby sister was young, she became very sick. We had to call the doctor, but it was on Shabbos. My father was very conscientious of the sanctity of Shabbos. He would never desecrate Shabbos. But our Rabbi told us that since this is a matter of “life and death”, we were allowed to desecrate the Shabbos! He called that situation of life and death “pikuach nefesh.” Rabbi Abramsky, with all due respect, the children are already here in England. They are safe from the Nazis. How they are raised is not pikuach nefesh!” With that, the man politely bade farewell and hung up the phone.
That Friday evening, the wealthy man was sitting at dinner, when the telephone rang incessantly. Finally, the man got up from his meal and answered the phone. As he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his face went pale. “This is Abramski. I would not call you on Shabbos if I did not think this was pikuach nefesh. Again, I implore you! We need the funds to ensure that these children will be raised as Jews!”
The man responded immediately to the appeal.
As we say Yizkor, we ought to answer this question for ourselves: I’m I giving my children and all my loved ones’ money, shelter, food, physical needs and an education. Or I’m I also giving them my very self – my soul, my history, my faith, my G-d, my Torah, my passion, my love, and my Neshamah.
(My thanks to Rabbi Nir Gurevitch, Rabbi Zalman Bluming and Rabbi Moshe Kahn for their assistance.)
[1] He is mentioned once “by mistake,” as we quote the verse “vayaamenu b’Hashem ubemoshe avdo.” But that is just because his name in that verse; it is a mention of Moses specifically
[2] Later at the end of the Torah, Rashi says that Moses craved the “death by a kiss” of Aaron. But here Rashi does not say that.
[3] Bamidar Rabba, 21, 14.
[4] Depending on the opinions when Yisro came with Moses’ family.
[5] Bava Basra 109b
[6] See Sefer Shoftim Chapter 17 and 18:30
[7] Laws of Talmud Torah ch. 3
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Pesach 5776
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- April 17, 2016
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- 9 Nisan 5776
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Yizkor: Moses & His Children: Why the Hero is Absent from Haggadah
Would You Give Up 13 Million for Your Relationships?
Rabbi YY Jacobson
- April 17, 2016
Where Is Moses?
It is one of the great mysteries of the Passover Haggadah. Imagine telling the story of the American Revolution and not mentioning George Washington; the story of the Civil War and not mentioning Abraham Lincoln; the story of the Civil Rights movement, and deleting Martin Luther King Jr.
And yet, in the entire Haggadah, as we tell the story of the Exodus of Egypt, we do not mention the man who did it all—Moses?![1]
How can that be?
We mention everybody: Pharaoh, the Egyptians, the frogs, the lice, and the locust; we speak of G-d and his people; we speak of the four sons and their questions; we address the tyrants of every generation who wish to enslave us and kill us. Yet the hero who is responsible for the entire event—is gone. Absent. Nada. Absurd, is it not?
Envy of Aaron
In the entire Torah we have only one instance of Moses becoming jealous of his brother. And the circumstances seem strange. It occurs in the context of Moses’ prayer that G‑d appoint a successor as leader of the Jewish people.
פינחס כז, יב-יג: יב וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, עֲלֵה אֶל-הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה; וּרְאֵה, אֶת-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי, לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. יג וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל-עַמֶּיךָ גַּם-אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף, אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ.
רש"י: "כאשר נאסף אהרן אחיך" - מכאן שנתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן
G-d says to Moses: “After you have seen it, you also will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aaron was.” Rashi is intrigued by the apparently superfluous words “you also will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aaron was. He makes the comment that “Moses desired to die as Aaron had died.”
In what sense was Moses envious of his brother?[2] Was it that he, like Aaron, wished to die painlessly? Surely not. Moses was not afraid of pain. Was it that he envied his brother’s popularity? Of Aaron it was said that when he died, he was mourned by “all the children of Israel,” something the Torah does not say in the case of Moses. This, too, cannot be the answer. Moses knew that leadership does not mean popularity. He did not seek it. He could not have done what he had to do and achieve it.
The Kesav Sofer gives a penetrating insight. (Rabbi Avraham Shmuel Binyamin Sofer, also known by his main work Ksav Sofer (1815–1871), was one of the leading rabbis of Hungarian Jewry in the second half of the nineteenth century and Rosh Yeshiva of the famed Pressburg (today Bratislava) Yeshiva. His father, the famed Chasam Sofer, Rabbi of Pressburg, was the leader of Hungarian Jewry and one of the leading Rabbi's of European Jewry. His mother Sarel was the daughter of Rabbi Akiva Eger, Rabbi of Posen, one of the greatest Talmudic scholars of his time.)
כתב סופר פרשת פינחס: ונאספת אל עמיך גם אתה כאשר נאסף אהרן אחיך ופי׳ רש״י מכאן שנתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן. ונ״ל דאמז״ל כל המניח בן כמותו כאלו לא מת, כי יש לו זכות במצות הבן. לאחר מיתתו הולך ומשמש לפני ה' ע״י בנו. והנה אהרן זכה שכתרו נתן לבנו בחייו, ומשה לא זכה שבנו יהי׳ ממלא את מקומו והתאוה משה לזכות לכך. וזהו שהתאוה משה למיתתו של אהרן שיהי׳ כאלו הוא חי. אבל באמת משה לא הי׳ צריך לכל זה כי זכות כל ישראל לעולם תלוי׳ בו, כי ע׳׳י קבלנו התורה וכאלו לא מת. וז״ש ונאספת אל עמיך גם אתה הגם שאין לך בן ממלא מקומך מ״מ תמות כאשר מת אהרן אחיך כי זכות כל ישראל תלוי׳ בך לעולם וק׳׳ל:
Aaron had the privilege of knowing that his children would follow in his footsteps. Elazar, his son, was appointed as high priest in his lifetime. Indeed, to this day kohanim are direct descendants of Aaron. Moses longed to see one of his sons, Gershom or Eliezer, take his place as leader of the people. It was not to be.
Rashi himself arrives at a similar conclusion by noting a second clue. The passage in which Moses asks G-d to appoint a successor follows directly after the story of the daughters of Tzelafchad, who asked that they be permitted to inherit the share in the land of Israel that would have gone to their father, had he not died. Rashi links the two episodes:
רש"י פינחס כז, טז: יפקד ה', כיון ששמע משה שא"ל המקום תן נחלת צלפחד לבנותיו, אמר הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי שיירשו בני את גדולתי. א"ל הקב"ה לא כך עלתה במחשבה לפני כדאי הוא יהושוע ליטול שכר שמושו שלא מש מתוך האהל וזהו שאמר שלמה (משלי כז) נוצר תאנה יאכל פריה.
במדבר רבה פינחס כא, יד: בניך ישבו להם ולא עסקו בתורה יהושע הרבה שרתך והרבה חלק לך כבוד והוא היה משכים ומעריב בבית הועד שלך הוא היה מסדר את הספסלים והוא פורס את המחצלאות הואיל והוא שרתך בכל כחו כדאי הוא שישמש את ישראל שאינו מאבד שכרו קח לך את יהושע בן נון לקיים מה שנאמר נוצר תאנה יאכל פריה:
“When Moses heard G-d tell him to give the inheritance of Tzelafchad to his daughters, he said to himself, ‘The time has come that I should make a request of my own—that my sons should inherit my position.’ G‑d replied to him, ‘This is not what I have decided. Joshua deserves to receive reward for serving you and never leaving your tent.’” Moses’ prayer was not granted.
The Children of Moses
One of the great mysteries in Scripture is the almost total silence about Gershom and Eliezer, the two sons of Moses. Some events relating to their childhood years are recounted, including the incident in Yisro about the reunion of Moshe with his wife and sons. But we know nothing at all about them as adults. There is no account provided of their development into manhood or of their relationship with Moshe. Indeed, it would have been most natural for the sons of Moshe to have assumed a major role in the leadership of the people or at least to have taken some part in public life in the wilderness. Yet this did not happen.
What happened to Moses’ children? On this the Torah is silent. They fade away in the narrative about their great father and his ultimate successor, Joshua.
Why? Perhaps they lacked the competence. Growing up as the children of Moses must have not been easy. How do you step in to the shoes of such a dad? And sometimes you go to the other extreme, simply to establish an identity for yourself. The son of a priest is a priest. The son of a prophet is rarely a prophet. Never mind such a prophet.
The Midrash states: G-d said to Moshe: "Your sons sat around and did not engage in Torah".[3]
Let us remember this too: From all of the Jews, these were the only two boys who did not experience the Exodus of Egypt. Moses came with his wife and sons to Egypt, but then sent them back home before he arrived. They were not witnesses to all of the preceding plagues, nor were they there at the splitting of the sea, and possibly not even at Sinai[4], at the defining moment of Jewish history, when they received the Torah. In many ways, they were not part of the collective Jewish experience. How fascinating, how sad, and how strange. They were the children of the MAIN MAN, but they themselves were not part of it.
Perhaps this is another element here. Moses was the ultimate prophet—either he was with G-d or with the people. He was the father of all of Israel and in a way it is possible that his own children never received the individual time, validation, attention, affection and care they needed from a father.
[What is more, the Talmud[5] identifies Yehonatan ben Gershom ben Menashe, the priest for the idol of Micha[6], as the grandson of Moshe Rabbeinu. (Menashe in Hebrew letters is Moshe with an extra “nun” thereby masking his true relationship to this idolater.)]
No Nepotism
Or maybe the reason for all of this lie elsewhere. The Talmud (Nedarim 81a) states: “Be careful not to neglect the children of the poor, for from them Torah goes forth… And why is it not usual for scholars to give birth to children who are scholars? Rabbi Joseph said: that it might not be said that Torah is their legacy…”
These are the great words of Maimonides:[7]
With three crowns was Israel crowned: with the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of sovereignty. The crown of priesthood was bestowed on Aaron . . . The crown of sovereignty was given to David . . . The crown of Torah, however, is for all Israel, as it is said, “Moses commanded us the Torah, as an inheritance of the congregation of Jacob.” Whoever desires it can win it.
Moses was therefore denied the chance to see his children inherit his role, so that his personal disappointment would become a source of hope to future generations. Torah leadership is not the prerogative of an elite. It does not pass through dynastic succession. It is not confined to those descended from great scholars. It is open to each of us, if we will it and give it our best efforts of energy and time.
Not Easy
Moses was given a great consolation by G-d, says the Kesav Sofer. Just as to this day kohanim are the sons of Aaron, so are all who study Torah the disciples of Moses. As the man who gave us Torah, every Jew in every generation studying Torah is a “child” of Moses, continuing his legacy and his life.
And yet, despite all, it was not easy for Moses to see his children deprived of their father’s throne. Moses craved that his children replace him and follow the road he paved. And this did not happen.
Moses’ “career” was, without a doubt, more successful and brilliant than anyone else in history. He has changed civilization. The hero of the holiday of Passover is Moses. He is the man who did it all! He is the man chosen by G-d to lead us out of Egypt, craft us into a nation, give us the Torah and teach the world the greatest wisdom. And yet in one respect, his brother Aaron surpassed him. Aaron had a privilege Moses was denied, namely, seeing his children and their descendants inherit his role. This pained Moses, and he tried to reverse it.
Passover is a holiday dedicated to “telling the story” to our children, imparting the experience to the next generation. Moses himself tells us many times that the primary purpose of Passover and the seder is to share and inculcate the story within our children.
Perhaps it is for this reason that Moses’ name is not in the Haggadah. Moses remains our greatest teacher and leader, but the focus of the Haggadah is “vihegadeta levincha,” to impart the story to your child. For thousands of years, every Passover we ensure our future by re-creating the only guarantee for our survival. We have a meal in which we talk to our children. We join in a Seder at which we discuss who we are and where we came from. We inspire our children and talk about our values. We have a warm and open relationship with our children based on honest dialogue, on frank discussion, on meaningful questions and answers.
In this, Moses did not succeed. His children were not part of the story, and they did not continue his story.
Our Parents’ Impact
The message today, moments before Yizkor, is crystal clear. As we reflect on the lives of our parents who have passed, what they gave us, what they taught us, it is our time to reflect also on what we are giving to our children. What am I imparting to my loved ones? What I’m I leaving them with? What are we doing to ensure that Yiddishkeit will remain in our family?
A Price Tag
I want to ask you a question today: If you were forced to put a price tag on those precious moments that create family ties, eternal family memories, and experience that allow you to impart my deepest values to my children, would you be willing to say they’re worth $13 million?
That was the amazing test faced by a professional major league baseball player just a few weeks ago – and his stunning response was a lesson with profound meaning for every one of us as we are about to say Yizkor.
It happened to Adam LaRoche, a Baseball veteran who played 12 seasons in the majors, previously for the Washington Nationals and more recently for the Chicago White Sox. Adam came to spring training expecting to continue a long-standing tradition, so important to him that it was included in his contract. He was a father who home-schooled his son Drake and took him along to the clubhouse frequently so that he could be a father figure regularly overseeing his son’s growth to maturity.
For Adam, spending time with his son was at least as important as reaching fame in his field of athletic expertise, a profession which had the added bonus of being extremely rewarding financially. And so Adam made sure that Drake would be with him as much as possible. He taught Drake discipline and responsibility by encouraging him to help out in the clubhouse and filling the role of the bat boy. Best of all though, Adams efforts gave them both the opportunity to spend time together – to foster the kind of relationship that ensures understanding, love and respect between two generations.
Drake was the team’s mascot and the other players enjoyed having him around. It isn’t uncommon for some players to bring their sons to the clubhouse, especially someone like Drake who is now a teenager. For more than a few players it’s part of baseball tradition. But in spring training this year the Executive Vice President of the Chicago White Sox had a change of heart about the boy’s presence with the players. Adam LaRoche was told he could no longer bring Drake to the ballpark at all.
As Adam LaRoche put it, “I had to make a decision. Do I choose my career? Or do I choose my family?”
Adam had a year to go on his contract which would pay him $13 million for the season. He could resign and forfeit that money, or he could accept the new limitation on his relationship with his son.
LaRoche said the decision was not difficult. “Of one thing I am certain: we will regret not spending enough time with our kids, not the other way around. This was likely to be the last year of my career, and in no way was I going to spend it without my son.”
So Adam LaRoche won’t be playing this season. He chose family over fame and fortune.
But this is far more than just a story about a ballplayer and his once-in-a-lifetime test of the value of a father-son relationship. As Yizkor remind us, all of us need to reflect on the importance of making the right decision when it comes to a choice between our career or our family, between the growth of our portfolios or the progress of our children.
Think of Your Family
On Passover, especially at this special moment before Yizkor, we are meant to acknowledge that our families come first – and if we don’t recognize that, we are still enslaved as much as we were in Egypt. Slaves to taskmasters who come in the form of careers which demand 24/7 obedience. Slaves to taskmasters offering obscene monetary compensation at the price of distancing ourselves from our loved ones. Slaves to taskmasters who force us to choose the profane over the sacred, the insignificant over the truly important.
Wal-Mart
Too bad that one of the wealthiest men in the world didn’t learn this lesson until it was too late. Sam Walton was the multibillionaire CEO of Wal-Mart, the fourth largest U.S. corporation.
By any measure, Sam was considered to be the ultimate entrepreneur. He took a small general store, revolutionized the retail industry and built his business into the mega-corporation that Walmart is today. During his lifetime, he was in regular contention for being the richest man in the world.
As he was lying on his deathbed, he struggled to get out his last three words on earth. He had given his life for his business. In that area, he succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Yet, it was at a price. He hardly spent any time with his wife, his children, and his grandchildren. He didn’t allow himself the moments of loving interaction, of cuddling a grandchild on his lap, of playing and laughing and rejoicing with his loved ones.
His final three words? “I blew it!” He had the billions, but by his own admission he had failed.
Sam Walton blew it? How could that be? He was a full-time, always-there business man! He would do anything to grow his business, and it gave him immense fame and fortune! But that’s where the problem lies, because when it came to the rest of his life, Sam wasn’t nearly as dedicated. He was never really “there” as a father, husband and friend. He had the wealthiest pockets, but the poorest soul. And in those last minutes of his life, he realized where he had failed.
I wonder if the same would be true for a person who dies after having lived the richest life with family and friends they so loved, yet didn’t have a business success story to define them. I suspect that they won’t say, “I blew it.”
Looking back at his legacy, Sam Walton left us with the greatest entrepreneurial lesson of all time: It is better to have an incomplete business life than an incomplete human life. I try to keep that in mind as I work on my business. While it’s still important for me to achieve professional success, I no longer let it define me. Instead, I focus on building loving and meaningful relationships, because I know that on my deathbed, it will be the people I loved who will be there, providing me comfort … not a business or a bank account.
Adam LaRoche didn’t blow it. He knew that some things are worth far more than $13 million.
An Opera Star
In the Passover Hagadah of Ruzhin, the compiler Rabbi Sholom Meir Voloch relates the following story.
A young girl, Rachel Shiff, was born in Vienna, Austria on January 21, 1888 and raised in a very observant Jewish home. She was also blessed with an unusually beautiful voice. One day an agent for the Vienna Opera got wind of the young Jewish ‘wunderkind’ and offered her the incredible opportunity to sing in the renowned Vienna opera, home to some of the greatest talent in Europe.
The girl was thrilled beyond words and was about to accept the invitation. The pay was incredible and the fame international. The challenge was this: The Vienna Opera was the ashram of German secularism at the time. For a Jew to succeed in that environment, she or he would feel compelled to shed every last layer of Jewish identity. (Just a few decades earlier, 40 percent of Berlin Jewry converted to Christianity in order to fully integrate into German society). In addition to this, Jewish law forbade the Jewish woman to sing in the presence of men, since in Judaism, the feminine voice captures the essence of her soul which does not belong to the public.
Yet all of the efforts of Rachel’s parents to convince their daughter that the opera was no place for a Jewish Torah-observant girl fell on deaf ears. She claimed that she would be the exception. Her father brought her to their Rabbi, Shlomo Baumgarten, who also tried to convince her that she should not pursue the tantalizing offer. When Reb Shlomo saw that he could not sway her, he asked her to go visit Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Heschel (1861-1935), the Kopichnitzer Rebbe, who lived in in Vienna at the time. (Kopishnitz, or Kopychyntsi, is a small town in Ukraine. He escaped the city during World War I and moved to Vienna. His successor was his son, Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel who relocated from Vienna to NY, whose daughter Chavah married Rabbi Zalman Gurari).
Immediately, father and daughter set out to visit the Rebbe. The young woman was certain that the Rebbe would lambaste her about how terrible she was for even contemplating such a career, and she prepared herself for the confrontation. To her surprise, the Rebbe’s reaction was vastly different. After he heard the situation he remarked that he understood how hard it was for her, and what a difficult predicament she found herself in. Then he asked her, “Tell me, mein tachter - my daughter, why do you want to join the opera so badly? Is it for the money?”
She thought for a moment and then replied that it wasn’t the money but the opportunity for fame. If she joined the opera everyone would know her name. Her impact would be international.
The Rebbe closed his eyes, deep in thought, and then replied: “Listen closely, my daughter. It is the dream of every Jewish woman to merit a child who will illuminate the world through his Torah learning. What if I promise you that if in lieu of your career at the Opera, you will be blessed with a child whose Torah will light up the world, and will be one of the greatest halachic authorities of his time, a child who will give you nachas, not only in this world, but even when you leave this world as well, would you consider such a deal?”
She wiped away her tears and said that she would indeed give up her Opera career for that. When she left the Rebbe she informed the agent that she was no longer interested. All of his cajoling and persuading could not shake her adamant resolve.
The young Rachel Schiff went on to marry Yosef Zvi Wosner. On Sep 4. 1913 (2 Elul 5673), Rachel gave birth to a son, Shmuel,
Rabbi Shmuel Wosner, died on the first night of Passover last year, April 3, 2015, at the age of 101. The author of the famed work Shevet Halevi, he was one of the outstanding halachic authorities of our time, a man whose erudition and scholarship in Jewish law has illuminated and influenced the Jewish world over the last half-a-century. Over the last century he has educated and mentored thousands of students. 100,000 Jews escorted him on his final journey, on the eve of the second night of Passover, in Benei Berak, where he served as Rabbi since 1947.
The famous Israeli lecturer, Rabbi Dan Segal, approached Rabbi Wosner some years ago to ask if the story was true. Rabbi Wosner emotionally replied that although his mother indeed had a stunning voice, she had never recounted that story to him. Then, with tears in his eyes, Rabbi Wosner explained that it made sense. “When I left home to learn in the famed Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin founded by Rabbi Meir Schapiro in Lublin, Poland, my mother begged me to never stop learning. She told me then that she gave up everything for my Torah learning. I now understand what she meant.”
What struck me about the story was how the Kophishnitzer Rebbe persuaded this young girl. He did not denigrate her; nor did he delegitimize her wish. To the contrary, he discovered what her underlying motivation was and helped her see how she can discover that need in a far more-lofty and noble environment, one which will not jeopardize her future as a woman, as a mother and as a Jew.
Kinder Transport
In November 1938, before the onset of World War II, some Jewish children had the opportunity to escape from Nazi Germany and resettle in England through what became known as the Kinder-transport.
Many of these children came from Torah observant homes, but there were not enough religious families able to accept these children. Other families who were willing to take them in were not willing to raise the Jewish children with the values and traditions they grew up with.
The Chief Rabbi of London, Rabbi Yechezkel Abramski, embarked on a frantic campaign to secure funding to ensure that every child would be placed in a proper Jewish environment.
Rabbi Abramski called one wealthy Jewish industrialist in England and asked him for a donation sizable enough to ensure that the children would be raised in proper Jewish environment.
“It is pikuach nefesh!” cried Rabbi Abramski.
At that point, the tycoon became incensed. “Rabbi”, he said, “please do not use that term flippantly. I know what pikuach nefesh is. Pikuach nefesh means a matter of life and death! When I was young, my parents were very observant. When my baby sister was young, she became very sick. We had to call the doctor, but it was on Shabbos. My father was very conscientious of the sanctity of Shabbos. He would never desecrate Shabbos. But our Rabbi told us that since this is a matter of “life and death”, we were allowed to desecrate the Shabbos! He called that situation of life and death “pikuach nefesh.” Rabbi Abramsky, with all due respect, the children are already here in England. They are safe from the Nazis. How they are raised is not pikuach nefesh!” With that, the man politely bade farewell and hung up the phone.
That Friday evening, the wealthy man was sitting at dinner, when the telephone rang incessantly. Finally, the man got up from his meal and answered the phone. As he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his face went pale. “This is Abramski. I would not call you on Shabbos if I did not think this was pikuach nefesh. Again, I implore you! We need the funds to ensure that these children will be raised as Jews!”
The man responded immediately to the appeal.
As we say Yizkor, we ought to answer this question for ourselves: I’m I giving my children and all my loved ones’ money, shelter, food, physical needs and an education. Or I’m I also giving them my very self – my soul, my history, my faith, my G-d, my Torah, my passion, my love, and my Neshamah.
(My thanks to Rabbi Nir Gurevitch, Rabbi Zalman Bluming and Rabbi Moshe Kahn for their assistance.)
[1] He is mentioned once “by mistake,” as we quote the verse “vayaamenu b’Hashem ubemoshe avdo.” But that is just because his name in that verse; it is a mention of Moses specifically
[2] Later at the end of the Torah, Rashi says that Moses craved the “death by a kiss” of Aaron. But here Rashi does not say that.
[3] Bamidar Rabba, 21, 14.
[4] Depending on the opinions when Yisro came with Moses’ family.
[5] Bava Basra 109b
[6] See Sefer Shoftim Chapter 17 and 18:30
[7] Laws of Talmud Torah ch. 3
- Comment
Class Summary:
It is one of the great mysteries of the Passover Haggadah. Imagine telling the story of the American Revolution and not mentioning George Washington; the story of the Civil War and not mentioning Abraham Lincoln; the story of the Civil Rights movement, and deleting Martin Luther King Jr?!
And yet, in the entire Haggadah, we do not mention the man who did it all—Moses?! How can that be?
In the entire Torah we have only one instance of Moses becoming jealous of his brother. And the circumstances seem strange. It occurs in the context of Moses’ prayer that G‑d appoint a successor as leader of the Jewish people. And it was the Kesav Sofer who offered a penetrating insight as to why Moses was envious of his brother Aaron.
What happened to Moses’ two sons? Why did they not succeed their father? What role did they play in Jewish life? On this the Torah is silent. They fade away in the narrative about their great father and his ultimate successor, Joshua. What was their secret?
The sermon tells the story of a professional major league baseball player who just a few weeks ago had to make a choice between his relationship with his child and a 13-million-dollar contract. His choice was astounding. We tell the story of Reb Chatzkel Abramski’s telephone call on Shabbos to save Jewish children in Britain. We tell the story of a young Jewish girl from Vienna who was offered a position in the Vienna Opera and how the Kaphishnitzer Rebbe dissuaded her from this ambition.
Sam Walton was the multibillionaire CEO of Wal-Mart, the fourth largest U.S. corporation. By any measure, Sam was considered to be the ultimate entrepreneur. He took a small general store, revolutionized the retail industry and built his business into the mega-corporation that Walmart is today. During his lifetime, he was in regular contention for being the richest man in the world.
As he was lying on his deathbed, he struggled to get out his last three words on earth. They were: “I blew it!”
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