A Quick Torah Thought

Here and there, one of my older daughters, ages 8 and 10 will make a vow that I think even they clearly know they have no chance of keeping. In the heat of the moment, or the midst of a fight they'll promise to never be friends, or never speak again, or never give each other anything AGAIN forever more. It is at times like these that I'm reminded of the mandate uniquely designed for fathers to annul their children's vows. The immense authority I have is astounding; I can enable my children to speak to each other again, lend out their pencil cases, and even share candy with each other. From my mighty pedestal, I reign over my children and rein in their wanton abuses and careless, and frivolously made otherwise binding commitments. What really though is at the heart of this ritual, and could my underage daughters truly make any life-altering commitments that truly would require my ratification, or annulment? Is it not implicitly understood, even by my children themselves,...

One of the most remarkable features of Pinchas's momentous decision to kill Zimri was that he acted in a way dimetrically opposed to everything his father represented. Aharon was a man of peace, of conciliation, who, bent over backwards, even effacing his own identity to bridge rifts and imbue husband and wife with renewed trust.  Pinchas, seeing an unbecoming act, did not flinch, spearing Zimri, the Prince of Shimon and the Midianite princess, Cozbi, thus ending a plague that had killed twenty-four thousand Israelites.  Pinchas acted very differently from his father, and yet, in being precisely who he was, saved perhaps tens of thousands of Israelites who otherwise likewise would have been smitten.  Many a son has faced a similar dilemma. Most recently, Rabbi Kanievsky consciously eschewed the method of learning desired by his father, the Steipler.  The Jewish way, is in essence, to be yourself - to shape your unique abilities through the guidance you've received fr...

In Pirkei Avot we are adjured to be of the students of Abraham, our forefather, and not the evil Balaam. The contrast between the two personages is pronounced in rabbinic literature, and presumably rooted in the character traits demonstrated in the text of the Torah. For example, both woke up early to prepare their donkeys for the monumental journeys they would take; for one, it was in contravention of God's command, the other in keeping with it. Similarly, both designated elevated places to look out and see what had come, or would come, of God's children; for Abraham, the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Balaam what would befall the victims of his curses, the Jewish people. And yet, there seems to be a tendency in the Midrash, or biblical exposition, to portray an ever more extreme contrast, something that seems to be in keeping with an educational philosophy on the part of our sages to create very black and white character types, or even typecasts where certain historical ...

One of the enigmas that's received the most attention regarding the red heifer is the fact that its ashes purify those who are impure, whilst impurifying those who are pure.  I've heard some say that herein there is an important lesson in kiruv , bringing Jews closer to Hashem; sometimes, to help a fellow Jew, you have to sink temporarily to a lower level so that you can bring him closer.  I don't think that that's the message here.  It would seem, on an overly simplistic level, that the very essence of the red heifer is to teach us about the circle of life. That what's impure can become pure, and vice versa. That given that life is temporal - "From dust you have come and to dust you will return" - it is still part of an eternal cycle. Though man may have sinned and his life has tragically become truncated, at the same time, even on an ecological level, life is reborn. Bodies disintegrate and become new life. Metaphorically, that is true all the more so. W...