ahausman

As Am Yisrael, the Jewish family, this D’var Torah is devoted in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Israel who have been under constant attack on multiple fronts.

And, as a Beth El family, this D’var Torah is humbly dedicated to the memory of Carol Lorraine Smith and Barry Katz. May God Comfort the Smith and Katz families among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Shabbat Shalom!

I pray this finds you all well.

In the incredible 2008 HBO miniseries John Adams, which details the life and career of our nation’s second president, there is a dramatic scene that is carried out in the summer of 1776 in Philadelphia at the Continental Congress. The delegates are divided as to whether the colonies should seek independence from Great Britain or attempt to reconcile with their mother country with whom they are now at war.

John Dickinson of Pennsylvania gives every reason under the sun why the thirteen colonies should seek peace and reunification with Britain. Citing everything from a bloody and protracted conflict with one of the powerful nations on earth, to Native American raids on the frontier, to slave uprisings, to civil war and even that another European power may attempt to conquer them as reasons to pull back from the brink. He concludes with the plea “…Oh, gentlemen. To escape the protection of Great Britain by declaring independence unprepared as we are would be to brave the storm in a skiff made of paper.”[1]

John Adams (played by indomitable Paul Giamatti) delivers a rebuttal that is the stuff of legends:

“Objects of the most stupendous magnitude. Measures which will affect the lives of millions, born and unborn are now before us. We must expect a great expense of blood to obtain them but we must always remember that a free constitution of civil government cannot be purchased at too dear a rate as there is nothing on this side of Jerusalem, of greater importance to mankind. My worthy colleague from Pennsylvania has spoken with great ingenuity and eloquence. He’s given you a grim prognostication of our national future, but where he foresees apocalypse I see hope. I see a new nation ready to take its place in the world. Not an empire, but a republic. And a republic of laws, not men. Gentlemen, we are in the very midst of revolution. The most complete unexpected and remarkable of any in the history of the world. How few of the human race have ever had an opportunity of choosing a system of government for themselves, and their children. I am not without apprehensions, gentlemen. But the end that we have in sight is more than worth all the means. My belief says that the hour has come. My judgment approves this measure and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, all that I am and all that I hope in this life, I am now ready to stake upon it. While I’ll live, let me have a country. A free country.”[2]

Hearing Dickinson’s impassioned “nay” and Adams’ heartfelt “yay” reminds me of the story of the twelve spies in this week’s parsha of Shlach (Numbers 13:1–15:41).

After scouting out Canaan, the Promised Land, ten of the twelve scouts deliver an extremely negative assessment of their chances of actually claiming their birthright:

“We came to the land you sent us to; it does indeed flow with milk and honey, and this is its fruit. However, the people who inhabit the country are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large; moreover, we saw the Anakites there…We cannot attack that people, for it is stronger than we…The country that we traversed and scouted is one that devours its settlers. All the people that we saw in it are of great size” (*Numbers 13:27-28, 31, 32)

Their appraisal triggers alarm throughout Israel. We read, “The whole community broke into loud cries, and the people wept that night. All the Israelites railed against Moses and Aaron. ‘If only we had died in the land of Egypt…or if only we might die in this wilderness!’” (*Numbers 14:1-2)

However, just as Adams countered Dickinson, the heroic spy Caleb breaks with the majority of his party. We are told, “Caleb hushed the people before Moses and said, ‘Let us by all means go up, and we shall gain possession of it, for we shall surely overcome it.’” (*Numbers 13:30)

As Americans, we are the legacy of Adams; and as Jews, we are the descendants of Caleb and Joshua. In other words, we are called upon to be optimists, dreamers, and not just doers, but can-doers. We are met to inherently and roundly reject cynicism, defeatism, negativity, and pessimism, and instead enthusiastically embrace and wholeheartedly cling to those great concepts and immortal values of challenge, competition, teamwork, dreams, opportunity, possibility, positivity, victory, and hope.

Perhaps nothing captures the American spirit nothing more than President Kennedy’s famous “we choose to go to the moon” speech: “We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win.”[3]

Likewise, there are few prose that capture the unconquerable Jewish spirit quite like Hatikvah – the Hope, which is today the national anthem of Israel:

“As long as in the heart, within,

The Jewish soul yearns,

And towards the ends of the east,

[The Jewish] eye gazes toward Zion,

Our hope is not yet lost,

The hope of two thousand years,

To be a free nation in our own land,

The land of Zion and Jerusalem.”

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, as, in the next couple of weeks we celebrate our beloved country’s 249th birthday, may we, as both Americans and Jews, be like both John Adams and Caleb of the Torah, seeking out hope in every moment of our days.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Shabbat Shalom!

I pray this finds you all well.

I remember it like it was yesterday – I was in the ER about 20 years ago with a pretty bad case of food poisoning and needed a couple of IV’s. In the next room, there was this man, screaming, yelling, and verbally abusing the nurses. When the nurse came in, my Mom (z”l) and I asked if everything was ok. “Oh yes, everything’s fine. The patient in the next room is detoxing and this is just part of it.”

I’m so proud of what Mom said next: “He might not be in a place to appreciate what you’re doing for him, so I’m going to thank you for taking care of him.”

That nurse’s care for that patient and my late Mom’s beautiful words were two of the most important lessons I’ve ever taken with me.

In this week’s parsha of Behaalotecha (Numbers 8:1–12:16) God punishes Miriam for attempting to subvert Moses’ leadership and for speaking ill of him and his wife (l’shon hara) by afflicting her with leprosy. Instead of accepting God’s judgement or gloating that his sister has received her just desserts, Moses cries out: “El na r’fah nah la – Oh God, I beseech you, heal her now!” (Numbers 12:13)

Despite Miriam’s cruelty to him, Moses still prays and pleads for her recovery. At the end of the day, no matter how much she has tried to hurt him, she is still his sister and he loves her.

We see this stoic, selfless, and compassionate legacy of Moses all around us. We see Moses in the teacher who continues to buy school supplies with her own money and spends extra time after hours tutoring struggling students even after those same students’ parents blame her for their kids’ bad grades; we see Moses in the police officer who  puts his life on the line even though daily he is the brunt of every insult imaginable from those he is protecting; we see Moses in the Soldier who deploys again and again to foreign lands to protect this great country, only to be a called a baby killer by a privileged and cruel few when he comes home; and we see Moses in that nurse who continued to treat that patient in the ER in the middle of the night no matter what cruel words he threw at her.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s strength, love, help, and guiding hand, may we all strive to act like Moshe Rabeinu did with Miriam, like that ER nurse, and like my Mother of blessed memory.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

This week, we delve into Parshat Naso, the longest Torah portion in the entire Torah!  “Naso” means “to take up” or “to elevate,” and it carries a powerful message about individual responsibility, elevation of spirit, and the sacredness of our interactions.

After the census and organization of the tribes in Bamidbar, Naso focuses on specific groups and their roles. It begins with the census of the Levites, detailing their duties in carrying the sacred components of the Tabernacle. This reminds us that spiritual work, the carrying of holy things, requires specific dedication and care.

The parshah also discusses the laws and the specifics of the Nazirite, an individual who takes a special vow to dedicate themselves more fully to God for a period, abstaining from certain things like wine and cutting their hair. This voluntary act of self-discipline, while specific to that ancient context, speaks to a timeless truth: that intentionally elevating our commitment to our spiritual path can bring us closer to the Divine. It highlights the power of personal vows and the pursuit of holiness through discipline.

Perhaps one of the most beloved and enduring parts of Parshat Naso is the Priestly Blessing, or Birkat Kohanim:

“May God bless you and protect you.

 May God deal kindly and graciously with you.

 May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.” 1

These aren’t just ancient words; they are a timeless invocation of blessing, protection, of grace, and of peace. They are a reminder that even in a world filled with challenges, there is a divine source of well-being, ready to flow into our lives and through us to others.

So, what does this rich tapestry of Parshat Naso mean for us today?

Firstly, like the Levites, we are all called upon to carry something sacred. For us, that might be our values, our integrity, our commitment to service, or the welfare of those we lead and serve. Each and every day, we “elevate” ourselves by upholding these sacred trusts.

Secondly, consider the spirit of the Nazirite. While we don’t take such vows literally, we can all find ways to practice intentional dedication and discipline in our lives. This might mean dedicating time to spiritual practice, exercising self-control, or consciously choosing actions that elevate our character and our unit’s mission.

And finally, let the words of the Priestly Blessing resonate within you. Not only are they a source of personal comfort and hope, but they also offer a powerful reminder of our capacity to be a source of blessing for others. Just as the Kohanim delivered this blessing, we, through our actions and our presence, can bring protection, kindness, and peace to those around us. Be a blessing to your families, and to your communities.

And here’s a phrase to carry with you this week, a spiritual elevation for your journey:

With focused prayer, your spirit will bear blessings to share everywhere!

May this Shabbat Parshat Naso, inspire us to elevate our commitments, embrace our sacred responsibilities, and become conduits of blessing and peace in our lives and in the world.

Loyalty in deed, Indeed!

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach.

I hope this finds you all well.

My wife said something truly powerful to me in the car the other night that she heard from attorney Elica Le Bon: “It’s more important to be good than to appear to be good.” She couldn’t be more right. Think about it- who do you want in your life: the friend who tells you they’ll show up for you and never does, or the friend that says they’ll show up and actually does? The choice is pretty clear.

On the joyous holiday of Shavuot which starts this year on Sunday, we read the story of the Book of Ruth. In it, the elderly and impoverished Israelite Naomi, after having lost her husband Elimelech and two sons Machlon and Chilion, tells her Moabite daughters-in-law Naomi and Orpah to return to their parents as she has nothing to offer them. They refuse to leave her, but when Ruth tells them to depart a second time, Orpah obeys and tearfully leaves. Ruth, in contrast, clings to Naomi and utters the now famous declaration: “Do not urge me to leave you, to turn back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may the LORD do to me if anything but death parts me from you.” (Ruth 1:16-17*)

I feel a little bad for Orpah – she honors her mother-in-law by obeying her. However, in doing so, we today read the Book of Ruth and not the Book of Orpah. On the other hand, she’s no Ruth. Ruth, out of loyalty and love, argues, pushes back, and goes against what’s obviously the safer option, the easy choice. I hate to think the worst of Orpah, but I have to ask, were her actions simply performative? Did she secretly breathe a sigh of relief when Naomi scolded her and told her once more to go home to her parents? Or, was she in fact a loving and strict loyalist who did exactly what her mother-in-law commanded her to do, to the letter, regardless of how she herself felt?

And perhaps this is where Orpah and Ruth differ. Orpah is loyal to the word, while Ruth is loyal to the deed. Ruth’s actions go far beyond those of Orpah.

So who are we called to be as Jews?

Ibn Ezra wrote, “My deeds shall both my witnesses and judges be”; Shammai proclaimed, “Say little and do much”; Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel taught, “Not theory but practice is the essential thing”; and the philosopher Baruch Spinoza penned, “We can judge a man faithful or unfaithful only by his works.”[1]

Hence, true loyalty and fidelity means to go above and beyond for those we love and care about.

As an American Jew, when I think of loyalty incarnate, one of the first people that comes to mind is Christopher Celiz (z”l). Chris was both a proud Jew and US Army Ranger who sacrificed his life in 2018 in the mountains of Afghanistan. He willingly and consciously placed himself between an American helicopter and enemy forces so that the aircraft would not be shot down. His loyalty was quite literally embodied by his actions, deeds, and ultimate sacrifice.

Bizrat HaShem, as we approach the holy and sacred festival of Shavuot, may we always remember to be as loyal as Ruth, to be devoted as Chris Celiz, and to be forever mindful that loyalty is far more of a physical act – one that is full of blood, sweat, sacrifice, hard days, and tears than it is a word that simply looks good.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos, a wonderful weekend, and a Chag Sameach!

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

I hope this finds you all well.

There’s this guy. He buys a brand new jeep. He is so excited about his new ride. And he does everything with it- hauling equipment, off-roading, the daily commute, long family trips, going to the grocery store…you name it. When his wife offers to drive them somewhere in her car- nope, it has to be the jeep. Even when he has the option to walk, bike, or use any other type of transportation, he still uses that darn jeep. Well, as one can imagine, that beloved new toy of his doesn’t last too long.

When we think of the word “rest”, especially in a Jewish context, we think of Shabbat, the seventh day, the divinely-ordained day of rest. We read in Sefer Beresheit (the Book of Genesis): “And God blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it; because that in it He rested from all His work which God in creating had made.” (Genesis 2:3*).

But who is this rest actually for?

In Sefer Shemot (the Book of Exodus) we find out. We are told, “Remember the sabbath day and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of Adonai your God: you shall not do any work – you, your son or daughter, your male or female slave, or your cattle, or the stranger who is within your settlements.” (Exodus 20:8-10*).

This idea of mandating all of God’s creations and manifestations to have rest and renewal goes further, when in this week’s combined parsha of Behar-Bekhukotai (Leviticus 25:1-27:34) we are commanded, “When you enter the land that I assign to you, the land shall observe a sabbath of Adonai. Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield. But in the seventh year the land shall have a sabbath of complete rest, a sabbath of Adonai you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard.” (Leviticus 25:2-4*)

Cars need tune-ups, aircraft need inspections and parts changed out, ships need repairs in dry dock, people and animals need rest, and the land needs to go fallow from time to time. All things need rest. We simply can’t go a million miles an hour all the time, nor demand that of others. We need to make sure we get relaxation and resiliency both for ourselves and those around us.

Bizrat HaShem, with God on our shoulders and in our hearts and minds, may we all practice and realize the importance of rest and renewal.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

I hope this finds you all well.

There’s this kid, and he’s fast, and I do mean fast.  When he runs the 100 meter, everyone else is just fighting for second place. Given his speed and maneuverability, playing as a wide receiver seems like a natural fit. He exceeds expectations and performs brilliantly during his pee-wee and middle school years. His major flaw is that he’s good and he knows it all too well. Instead of confidence, he displays arrogance; instead of a desire to learn and improve his game, he brags constantly about all his achievements; and instead of humility, he gives off an air of hubris a mile away.

Well, high school comes around and he shows up for the football team’s training camp. Everyone thinks he’s a shoo-in for starting wide-receiver. When the results come in after camp, he shockingly doesn’t make first-string. He doesn’t even make second string. In fact, he doesn’t even make the team at all!

Angry and indignant, he goes to the coach. “Why didn’t I make the team, don’t you know how fast I am?! How could you do this to me?!”

“You are fast, there’s no doubt about that,” the coach replies, “But I need players who are far more than fast. After practice each day, did you help move the practice dummies? Did you help collect all the jerseys? In the morning, you were always the last to arrive, and as soon as practice was done in the afternoon, you were the first one to leave. While your friends were diligently studying the playbooks every night, you were texting with buddies back home and playing on your phone. You never offered to help clean equipment. When your potential teammates were eating healthy meals, you were snacking on junk food. And after runs, which yes, you always finished first in, you never went back and cheered on the slower candidates or ran with them. Wearing this uniform is a privilege, earned by teamwork and exemplified by selflessness, not how fast you can sprint down the field. Values will always triumph over talent.”

One of the most important marks of great leaders is selflessness, i.e. the putting aside of one’s own dreams, wants, comforts, desires, and ambitions in service of those they lead. In other words, their service is leadership. Better put – it’s servant leadership.

In this week’s parsha of Emor (Leviticus 21:1-24:23), we see several examples of such servant leadership.

We receive several commandments including the prohibition of Kohanim (priests) from defiling themselves except for the closest of relatives (21:1) and only being allowed to marry a woman who is a virgin and is not a widow, divorcee,  born from wedlock, or had been involved previously in harlotry (21:7,13-14).

But what is the point of these mitzvot (commandments)? Why are they there?

We are told: “For they are holy to their God and you must treat them as holy, since they offer the food of your God; they shall be holy to you, for I Adonai, who sanctify you, am holy.” (21:7-8)

As one can discern, to be holy requires living in an absolute and unquestionable state of purity. To achieve this, the priests had to give up and forgo anything, anything that could be seen or considered as being in conflict or detracting from this Avodah Kedosha – this holy service. And of course that meant gut-wrenching sacrifice. If a priest and divorcee fell madly in love, they could not marry; if a priest had a dear friend (who was not family) who died, he could not stand vigil over his body and pay his last respects; and if a priest wanted to marry a woman with a troubled past but had reformed her ways, he was likewise prohibited from having a life with her. No doubt, these prohibitions could cause deep and everlasting heartbreak.

So how did some of our great sages give us comfort when duty entails such sadness? The 13th century Rabbi, Eleazar ben Judah of Worms wrote, “The love of service burns in the hasid’s heart, and he is glad to fulfill the will of his Creator”; The 17th century Czech Rabbi Elijah Landsofer proclaimed, “The purpose of man’s creation is the service of God”; and the Italian Rabbi of the 18th century Moshe Chaim Luzzatto wrote, “Like a swift moving fire which ceases not nor rests, until it has accomplished its purpose, so must man’s energy be in the service of God.”[1]

In a secular parallel, in 1947, the 21-year old future Queen Elizabeth II told the British people, “I declare before you all that my whole life whether it be long or short shall be devoted to your service.”[2]

The priests both led and served the people of Israel and they served God. This life of servant leadership was neither easy nor comfortable, but it was authentic, essential, and most importantly, sacred.

The altruistic lives and devoted service and the kohanim give us each a fundamental question to ponder: “What are we willing to give up and what are we willing to sacrifice in order to be of service to our communities, our nation, our fellow Jews, humanity, and God?

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we all recognize and embrace the spirit of servant leadership that each of us has within our souls.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

I hope this finds you all well.

In the film The Free State of Jones, Newton Knight (played by Matthew McConaughey) and his followers hold a Confederate Lieutenant and his soldiers at gunpoint after they try to confiscate the local farmers’ corn crops. He declares:

“He’s asking if I ought to kill a man for some corn … I don’t know … See here, lieutenant, you steal our corn, we got nothing to feed the hog. If we can’t feed the hog we got nothing to put in the smokehouse, we got nothing to put in the smokehouse we starve in the winter. That’s murder, ain’t it? You know what the penalty for murder is, don’t you, lieutenant?”[1]

Often in life, we only think of the immediate impacts of our words and actions. But how often do we think of the many long-term ramifications and secondary, and tertiary effects that come with them?

In this week’s combined parsha of Acharei Mot-Kedoshim (Leviticus 16:1-20:27) we receive 79 commandments. One of them is exceedingly clear-cut: “Ye shall not steal; neither shall ye deal falsely, nor lie one to another.” (Leviticus 19:11*)

When should someone not steal or swindle? Well, on the face of it, it’s wrong; you’re taking something that doesn’t belong to you.

But it goes beyond that. Going back to McConaughey’s character’s quote – theft has a domino, ripple effect on everything from the victim’s livelihood, health, and well-being all the way to robbing them of their sense of safety, righteousness, justice, innocence, trust, goodness and morality in the world. An act of theft can most assuredly traumatize its victim. Additionally, for those who commit theft, those who steal, and those who swindle, they earn an indelible reputation and a mark on them that follows them all the days of their lives. Honestly, the labels of “thief” and “swindler” can continue to dog and sully one’s name and stain their memory long after they have died. And even if they change their ways, the mark will remain on them like a tattoo, scar, or brand. It can even soil and besmirch the thief’s family, school, and communities who are often tragically declared guilty simply by association.

The great texts and sages teach us as much. Rabbi Akabiah ben Mahalalel of the Mishnah proclaimed, “I’d rather be called a fool all my life than commit wrong in the sight of God for one moment.” (Mishnah Eduyot 5:6**). Likewise, Samuel ben Adiya taught, “Thus did my father counsel me in bygone days: ‘Samuel, destroy not what I have built up!’”** Finally, in Proverbs we are instructed, “a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.” (Proverbs 22:1**). In companionship to these powerful sentiments, in the famous movie Gladiator, Russell Crowe shouts, “What we do in life echoes in eternity.”[2]

With this mitzvah, we see far more than just a commandment and a law, but a mindset with which to move through life. If we proactively and consciously thought about the far-reaching effects and implications of our actions, perhaps we would think, speak, and act in a far more sacred, kind, and holy manner.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we think deeply and thoroughly long before we ever act or speak.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Shabbat Shalom!

I pray this finds you all well.

As a liberal arts guy, I’ve always held medical professionals (doctors, PA’s, dentists, pharmacists, psychologists, APRN’s, medics, corpsmen, EMT’s, etc.) in the highest regard. Obviously, first and foremost, their job…their calling, their passion is to save lives and provide their charges with a better quality of life. But it’s also about the vast amount of knowledge – anatomy, biochemistry, toxicology, hematology, virology, radiology, oncology, psychology, pharmacology – that they possess and their ability to fuse these complex disciplines into diagnoses and treatments.

One day, I’m having lunch with a friend of mine who’s a doctor. He tells me how wonderful, how noble it is that I’m a Rabbi. I tell him, “Look, thanks, I appreciate it, but I can’t even hold a candle to what you do, to what you provide for folks.” He replies, “You want to know a secret? 80% of all health is in the hands of an individual. Think about it – exercising regularly, drinking plenty of water, brushing your teeth, avoiding fast food, getting your daily steps in, putting on sunscreen and wearing a hat and sunglasses, taking vitamins and minerals, not smoking or using tobacco products, drinking alcohol sparingly, getting enough sleep, reading, doing mental stimulation games, stretching, eating a healthy diet, not doing any illegal drugs, washing your hands, bathing, avoiding dangerous habits like driving drunk, high, or distracted, oh…and not holding lit fireworks in your hand on July 4th weekend; you do all those things, that’s a huge chunk of preventive health right there. If folks followed these simple things, you can bet I’d have a lot less patients coming to see me. And here’s the thing, these are easy fixes that don’t require any pre-med, med school, or a residency.”

Holy cow! He had a point. I had always thought about each of these simple practices individually, but put them together, and collectively they go a long way towards giving us good health and a great quality of life.

There’s an old saying: “cleanliness is next to godliness.”

But what if we were to say that to be healthy and clean is to be holy, and equally so, to be holy is to be healthy and clean? In other words, the two go seamlessly hand-in-hand. What if we were to say that our bodies were klei kadosh – vessels of holiness and treat them as such?

In this week’s combined parsha of Tazria-Metzorah (Leviticus 12:1-15:33) we see the confluence of health, cleanliness, and holiness. We receive multiple mitzvot (commandments) such as destroying one’s clothing if they become afflicted with a skin disease (Leviticus 13:45), not shaving a scall (Leviticus 13:33), and immersing oneself in a mikveh in order to cleanse and purify oneself after episodes of impurity (Leviticus 12:6; 14:10; 15:13-14, 28-29).

It’s remarkable – these mitzvot were not only meant to achieve a state of ritual and spiritual purity, but also had the effect of maintaining a degree of hygiene and wellness. In other words, physical, biological health comes from the Torah, the realm of the spiritual, thus placing it in a state of holiness. Tazria-Metzorah is far from the only example of this. For instance, in Deuteronomy 23:13, the Israelites are commanded to dig and utilize latrines outside of camp.

Another important point worthy of mention is that while many of the acts of purification and cleanliness require the presence, assistance, or declaration of a kohen, there are others that do not and can be done individually. The same can be said of our everyday holiness. There are many things that we can do each and every day- donning tefillin, reciting the Shema, saying the morning, afternoon, and evening prayers, reading the great Rabbis, contributing to tzedakah, performing gimilut chasadim and ma’asim tovim, and studying Daf Yomi – all of which we can do without the need for a Rabbi or a Shul, and of all of which allow us to access the holy and the sacred.

Two of our great sages echoed these sentiments. The Rambam taught, “The properties of the soul depend on the condition of the body,” and the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber wrote, “The soul must not boast that is more holy than the body, for only in that it has climbed down into the body and works through its limbs can the soul attain to its perfection. The body on the other hand, may not brag of supporting the soul, for even when the soul leaves, the flesh falls into decay.”[1]

Perhaps the lesson from Tazria-Metzorah is two-fold: first, health and holiness are deeply and purposely linked, and second, so much of our health and holiness is in our own hands.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we all pursue intertwined health and holiness.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Why Construction Crews Wear Neon

Shabbat Shalom!

I pray this finds you all well.

As true as it is, the expression “Experience is the best teacher,” is a pretty harsh and cold concept. In other words, it means that painful mistakes, embarrassing errors, unfortunate accidents, and regrettable actions are going to give us tangible and palpable lessons that we’ll never be able to forget. It’s sad, it’s frightening, and it’s incredibly heartbreaking, but there is a great deal of pragmatism, truth, and honesty to it.

In this week’s parsha of Shemini (Leviticus 9:1-11:47), we see such a painful and tragic error play out.

We read: “Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before God alien fire, which had not been enjoined upon them. And fire came forth from God and consumed them; thus they died at the instance of God.” (Leviticus 10:1-2*)

It’s a mistake, and a very, very costly one at that, for the two novice priests who are brand-new to the job. More than a mistake and an accident, it’s a senseless tragedy and it should never have happened.

Sadly, we see the human toll that accidents, mistakes, and errors have on those around us. Go down the highway and you’ll see crosses marking where drivers sadly met their end, go past a construction crew and you’ll realize why they wear brightly colored, reflective, neon clothing and hard hats, put out orange safety cones and road flares, and have their own signage, drive past a high school right before prom and graduation season and you’ll get why they park a car wreck from a fatal DUI or distracted driving fatality right out front, or go to any building and you’ll understand why there are signs clearly displaying how to get to an emergency exit. In most of these cases, I posit that some terrible series of events had to have taken place at some point in the past that influenced how and why we do the things that we do in the present day.

The question begs: how do we make sure that we and those whom we love and care about never become a case study, statistic, news story, or tragic example?

To this end, the Talmud tells us a few things. For instance, Rav Dimi of Nehardea declares, “once an error is taught, it is taught, and cannot be easily corrected.” (Bava Batra 21a). In other words, if you see something wrong, unethical, immoral, dangerous, or unsafe, call it out immediately! If unsafe habits and practices fester, they can quickly become ingrained and institutionalized. Rabbi Judah teaches, “be careful in study, for an error in study counts as a deliberate sin.” (Pirkei Avot 4:13). I would take this to mean check, double check, and even triple check your work. Heck, have the humility to have someone go over your work as well. And if in doubt, check yourself a fourth time! Finally, there is a beautiful lesson from Derekh Eretz Zuta: “If you desire to study, do not say regarding what you do not understand, ‘I understand’. If you are questioned on [even] a trivial matter and you are not acquainted with it, be not ashamed to say, ‘I do not know’. If you were taught something which you did not grasp, be not ashamed to say [to the teacher], ‘Repeat it to me’ and do not pretend to yourself ‘I understood it’.” (Derekh Eretz Zuta 2:3).

We are bound to make errors and mistakes and have accidents happen to us because, after all, we are human. However, that does not mean these calamities aren’t preventable. If we get into a proactive and thoughtful mindset there is a lot of sadness and pain that we can get ahead of and even prevent. There are best practices and habits that are within our grasp that can mitigate and even eliminate such risks.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we take full advantage of the wisdom, patience, insight, awareness, understanding, thoughtfulness, humility, and common sense that we have in our minds, hearts, and souls to act safely both for our sakes and for the sake of others.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Quick Rabbi’s note:

Hi, Everyone – Shabbat Shalom Moadim L’simcha!

   A quick apology!  Next week is actually Parsha Shemini…   …  This week is a special reading in honor of Pesach. (Exodus 14:30 – 15:21) (Haftarah II Samuel 22:1 – 51)

My apologies for any confusion, but I do hope you find this D’var Torah meaningful, nonetheless!

Wishing you a good Shabbos and a Happy Passover!  – Rabbi Aaron

Sometimes Silence is Best

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach! I hope this finds you all well.

I was very blessed with a phenomenal teacher and mentor during my time in Rabbinical school. I am forever grateful to him for his tutelage and friendship. Of all the nuggets of wisdom he shared with me, I’ll always remember a story he told me: there was a woman who had just lost her husband. They had been married for years and years and years. Their love for one another had neither ceased nor diminished; if anything, in fact, it had only grown with time. As one can easily understand, the widow was devastated. After the funeral, shiva was held at the widow’s house. Friends and family chatted and talked. The widow sat there on her living room couch, crying softly. My mentor went over to her. He offered no words, not a single syllable or utterance. He simply sat down next to her and held her hand. He held her hand and she held his for hours. No words – no mitzvot from Torah, no poetry from psalms or proverbs, no commentary from Rashi or Rambam… just his silent, reassuring, comforting presence. I’ll remember that story as long as I live.

I’ve loved our prophet Moses, Moshe Rabbeinu, since I was first taught about him at three years old. I’ve been in awe of his holiness, leadership, bravery, tenacity, humility, resiliency, and perseverance. He truly is the greatest of all our prophets.  But Moses was human, and because of that, sometimes he got it wrong, and that’s ok; in fact, there’s probably something humanizing and reassuring about that that makes him far more real, human, relatable, and accessible to us. I posit that in this week’s parsha of Shemini (Leviticus 9:1-11:47), we see one of these instances.

In Leviticus 10:1-2, after offering “alien fire” on the altar, Aaron’s two eldest sons, the newly appointed priests Nadab and Abihu, are killed.  In the next line, literally the next line, Moses turns to Aaron and says: “This is what God meant by saying: ‘Through those near to Me I show Myself holy, And gain glory before all the people.*’” (Leviticus 10:3).

When I hear Moses’ words I am reminded of other unhelpful, and quite frankly counterproductive words of “comfort and consolation”:

It is the adult who tells a child who has lost their first dog or cat, “oh don’t worry, you can get another one.”

It is the person who tells their friend going through a painful break-up or divorce after a multi-year relationship that no one saw coming, “it’s all good, there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

And it is the person who tells a woman who has suffered a traumatic miscarriage or still-born, “it’s ok, you can try again.”

When Moses says these words to Aaron, the text tells us the following: “And Aaron was silent.” (Leviticus 10:3).

For many, silence is awkward and uncomfortable. In moments of deep sadness and pain, we try to break the silence of pain and fill the pain of silence with words, any words really. We need words to make ourselves feel less awkward and we assume that those in pain need it as well. However, our forefathers saw past this and taught that sometimes less is more and that silence can truly be golden.

Rabbi Yehuda of the Talmud taught “The best remedy of all is silence;” (Megillah 18.a.11). In Proverbs we read “A knowledgeable man is sparing with his words; A man of understanding is reticent. Even a fool, if he keeps silent, is deemed wise; Intelligent, if he seals his lips; (Proverbs 17:27-28) Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar teaches “Do not assuage the anger of your friend at the time of his anger; do not console him at the time when his deceased lies before him…” (Pirkei Avot 4:9); and finally, Rabbi Shlomo ibn Gabirol declares “In seeking wisdom, the first step is silence, the second listening, the third remembering, the fourth practicing, the fifth teaching others.”[1]

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help and guidance, may we know when to offer words of hope, consolation, and reassurance to our neighbors, friends and family, and may we know when to simply be there with them in the pain of silence and silence of pain.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos, a Happy Passover, and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)