Middle of the Road: R’ Yehuda Oppenheimer

We stand before the great holiday of Shavuos – Z’man Matan Toraseinu – the day we finish preparing to receive the Torah. (The Torah was actually given on the seventh of Sivan.) The Torah is the central repository of our values, Ki heim chayeinu v’orech yameinu (It is our very life and the length of our days). While the Torah is infinite, the most significant characteristic that we use to describe it is “Toras Emes,” “the Torah of Truth.” Receiving the Torah could not come at a better time – we live in a world that seems to be dominated by sheker (falsehood). Of course, the world outside of Torah has always contained elements of sheker, but I don’t remember a time in my 60-plus years that we have been bombarded by it on such a constant basis.

 Ah, politics – the national pastime of Israel. Everyone has an opinion – a nation of prime ministers, as the old Golda Meir line goes. After four elections in the past two years, one would think we are inured to really worrying about the outcome, or lack thereof. But this time around, an earthquake is happening, and it is deeply worrying.

As we begin recounting the incredible story of Moshe Rabbeinu once again, a question that bothered me for years (and I am sure that I am not alone in this) is, given the hostility of Pharaoh to the Jews, and Moshe in particular, how is it that Moshe seems to be able to waltz in and out of the palace whenever he chooses? We know from many sources the incredible life and death power that the Pharaohs had over everyone and everything in Egypt and the whole Middle East, including Eretz Yisrael. (Not the subject for today, but historical and archaeological sources prove this beyond a doubt.) So how is it that Moshe was personally exempt from any control by the Pharaoh?

Last night, long before the disaster happened, I basked in my curmudgeonly smugness. We came to Tzfat for the holiday weekend, as my wife and kids excitedly anticipated joining the hundreds of thousands in a long night of singing and dancing in honor of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai in nearby Meron. Although Lonni tried valiantly to get me to join her, I was quite content to sit on my mechutan’s mirpeset (balcony) in Tzfat and look at the lights of Meron across the valley. I generally do not like endless singing and dancing; I wonder what the revelers are thinking about and how much it really has to do with ahavas Hashem. I question how it connects with the rather severe personality of Rabbi Shimon that we meet in the Gemara. Maybe it is my nature as a Yekke or a cynic – I felt little connection to the crowds that I was grateful to avoid.

Once again, Tish’ah B’Av approaches. As we have done so often, we will mourn the Churban, and lament how sin’as chinam (baseless hatred) caused so much pain and suffering. And yet, the problem of baseless hatred is still with us, seemingly growing by the day.

 The last two weeks have been excruciating for Trump voters.