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Parshas Matos begins with the discussion of vows. In the context of this discussion, the Torah commands us: “You shall not profane your words.” Rashi interprets this to mean that one should not make his words “chulin,” or profane. In other words, this is a general command against speaking d’varim b’teilim – meaningless words, wasted words. This seems like a strange prohibition. Why are meaningless words such an egregious problem? Lying, defamation, and lashon ha’ra are clearly harmful and negative; their prohibition is not surprising. Why, though, is wasting words so severe that it warrants specific mention? It appears to be neither harmful nor evil – simply unnecessary. Why, then, are wasted words so spiritually harmful? And in a deeper sense, why do we experience a unique pleasure in wasting words, simply talking for the sake of talking? In order to understand this, let us study the concept of speech.

There’s a story of two elderly men who were childhood friends, but had not seen each other in many years. One day, they run into each other on the street, and are delighted to recognize one another. One of them lives in the area, so he invites the other into his home. They happily begin catching up, getting lost in their stories and jokes as the day goes on. The guest finally notices that it has become dark outside, so he asks his friend what time it is.

The Jewish divorce document, called a get, is written according to a very specific format. One such requirement is that it must be written across 12 lines. Tosafos (Gittin 2a) asks why this is so, first suggesting that perhaps it is because the word “get” has the g’matria (numerical value) of 12. Tosafos then gives another answer, one much more enigmatic: In total, there are 12 lines separating the five books of the Chamishah Chumshei Torah, as there are four lines of separation between every sefer in the Five Books of Torah. Since a get is a document of separation, it therefore adopts this feature of separation from the sefer Torah as well, requiring 12 lines. This is a compelling answer, because the Torah is the original “document” of the world. It therefore seems reasonable to model the get, a halachic document, off of the foundational document of the Torah. The document of separation, therefore, contains 12 lines, corresponding to the 12 lines of separation in the Torah.

The topic of leadership is both fascinating and fundamental to human society. In Parshas Shoftim, the Torah discusses the three categories of Jewish leadership: The Melech (king), the Sanhedrin (courts), and the Kohanim (priests). What is the Jewish approach to leadership, and how does it compare to other perspectives on leadership?

“I want the very best.” That’s what we tell ourselves, isn’t it? As human beings, we understand that there is a spectrum of quality for everything, and we want only the best. We desire the best relationships, teachers, friends, food, clothing, experiences – the best of everything. But what makes something the best? Sometimes, it’s the quantity; this brand supplies more of its product for the same price. But often, it’s the quality that makes the difference. When you pay an increased rate for a service, experience, or luxury, you do so with the assumption that you are receiving a higher quality product, one that is fundamentally improved from the basic, standard package. With this in mind, let us explore a unique idea connected to Parshas Eikev.

Before Adam sinned, he looked nothing like you or I do today. When we look at one another, all we see is flesh and bone, but if you looked at Adam before he sinned, his appearance was angelic, transcendent, luminescent. The Midrash says that he wore kosnos or, skin of light. When you looked at Adam, you didn’t see his body, you saw Adam himself – his neshamah, his soul. When you look at a light bulb, all you see is radiant luminescence; only if you look very closely can you just make out the surface of the bulb. The same was true regarding Adam; only if you looked very closely could you just make out his physical body. His body was transparent, with the outside loyally and fully reflecting his inner self. This is true beauty, where the inner and outer melt into a oneness, where the physical perfectly reflects the inner spirituality, where the physical projects something much deeper than itself. Beauty is the harmony and synthesis of different components, resulting in something infinitely greater than the sum of its parts.