Torah

The birth of a new year is a time of reflection and resolution, when hope and inspiration fill the air. We dream about what this upcoming year holds in store for us, how we can make the rest of our lives the best of our lives. We all have ideas, ambitions, and aspirations that we yearn to bring to fruition, and the new year gives us “permission” to revisit these goals and breathe new life into them. For a brief moment, everything is crystal clear; we see our purpose and our path with vivid clarity. However, there is an underlying frustration that accompanies this time period, as well. If we reflect honestly, we often realize that our new year’s resolutions are awfully similar to those of last year, and the year before, and the year before…

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 ohr, skin of light. When you looked at Adam, you didn’t see his body, you saw Adam himself; his neshama, his soul. When you look at a light bulb, all you see is radiant luminescence; only if you look closely can you make out the surface of the bulb. The same was true regarding Adam: he was luminescent; 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.

Time is infused with infinite spiritual richness, and each point in time is a wave that carries with it layers of depth. The cycle of holidays is a course of spiritual progression that we can tap into as we advance towards our ultimate personal and collective destination. The cycle of Torah reading provides this same opportunity. Each parshah has unique ideas and concepts that are particularly relevant to the time of year when it is read. As we go through this cycle, year after year, we propel our kabalas haTorah forward one level higher every year. Every time we restart the Torah cycle, we begin the same Torah, but on a more elevated level, turning the circular Torah cycle into an elevating spiral in time.

It’s the worst aveirah in the entire Torah – at least according to our mothers and morahs.

There’s a shoe, recitation of verses, and of course, some spit.

Of the very many (74!) mitzvos in Parshas Ki Seitzei, Chalitzah stands out as one of the most unusual. When a man dies without children (Rachamana litzlan), it is the obligation of his brother to marry the widow and build up the name of the deceased. One who refuses to do so must participate in the Chalitzah ceremony, in which his sister-in-law takes him to beis din, removes his shoe, and spits on the floor. (No, she does not spit on him, and she does not spit inside the shoe.)

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?