Parshas Emor 5784
In commenting on the importance of personal upkeep, Abraham Lincoln famously said, “If you give me six hours to chop down a tree, I’ll spend the first four sharpening the axe.” A more modern-day example—for those who don’t regularly chop trees down with axes—may be the need to charge a cell phone. If you use you phone to communicate, research, or navigate, you know how important it is to ensure that the battery not become depleted.
In that vein, we need to be aware that simply plugging in the phone doesn’t always work. I’ve had the unfortunate experience more than once of leaving my phone plugged in and assuming it was charging, only to find that many minutes later, my battery was roughly at the same level. A quick double-tap on the home button revealed the culprit. Unbeknownst to me, I had over a dozen apps open, all idling in the backdrop, draining my phone of any charge just about as fast as it was coming in.
There are times in life that we think we’re recharging. But if our operating system is pulled in a dozen different directions, we’re likely not getting the boost we need.
Parshas Emor presents a command to provide olive oil for the lighting of the menorah, a command that ostensibly seems redundant. After all, this same instruction was already issued in Parshas Tetzaveh, alongside the other materials that needed to be donated for the construction and functioning of the Mishkan. The Ramban explains that our parsha is referring to a second donation that needed to be made after the first round of oil was used up. While Parshas Tetzaveh explains how the menorah would be fueled, Parshas Emor addresses the refueling.
It is interesting to consider the preceding pesukim in light of the Ramban’s comment. The mitzvah to replenish the oil comes immediately after a discussion of the various Yamim Tovim throughout the year. One may well be tempted to think of a holiday as a mere commemoration of events gone by. The Jewish People were liberated from Mitzrayim, they arrived at Sinai and received the Torah, they were protected by the Clouds of Glory throughout their travels through the midbar; and we remember these great events by celebrating the holidays associated with them.
But the Yamim Tovim are not only opportunities to remember, but to reflect; not only to recall, but to refuel. Every Yom Tov bears incredible messages that can transform our lives for the better, great sources of energy we can plug into in order to recharge.
The Netziv notes that with respect to remembering the Exodus, the Torah provides us with two different mitzvos: Sippur Yitzias Mitzrayiim, relating the story, and Zechiras Yetzias Mitzrayim, remembering the events. The former is fulfilled once a year as we gather round our Seder tables; the latter twice a day as part of the recitation of the Shema. The Netziv explains the relationship between the two as being that of a primary text and a short outline used to remember the full piece. Once a year we remind ourselves of the story in its entirety, its meaning, and its import. We are encouraged that “כל המרבה בסיפור יציאת מצרים, הרי זה משובח—The more one engages in the retelling of the story of the Exodus, the more praiseworthy his it.” That act is not only a once-a-year commemoration; it serves as a refreshed memory bank that—once reviewed on the Seder night—can more easily be accessed through the pithy statement of zechirah contained within the Shema.
On the Seder night we remind ourselves of Hashem’s Providence, the unique covenant between Him and His Chosen Nation, His willingness to overturn the very laws of nature in order to guide history in the manner He deems fit. We recharge the battery with the critical thoughts and themes that we’ll need to draw on throughout the rest of the year.
And how do we do so? Not only by plugging in the phone, but by shutting down all the unwanted apps. We sit, we discuss, we read—all on a night dedicated to that purpose. Simply going through the motions of eating matzah and marror and drinking cups of wine—without focused attention on what it all means would leave us with an unsharpened axe to chop down the trees that lay before us. We’d be connecting our device, but would walk away uncharged.
We’ve now moved into a different period of the year, stepping away from Pesach and approaching Shavuos. Like the other Yamim Tovim, there is an opportunity here not only to commemorate, but to connect—in a way that leaves us replenished in some critical areas of Jewish identity.
But it doesn’t happen on its own. We can count our way through Sefiras HaOmer, curate the best cheesecake recipes from our favorite cookbooks, even make plans to stay up learning the entire night—yet still emerged uncharged simply because our attention is fragmented and unfocused.
How do we ensure a Sefirar HaOmer and Shavuos that replenishes the depleted fuel supply? By know it won’t happen automatically and making efforts to consider and reflect upon the meaning, value, and fulfillment of Torah in our daily lives. We’re presently marching towards Har Sinai, counting off each day as we come closer and closer. What if we spent just mere seconds pausing and considering the import of that activity as we do so? If each night upon counting Sefirah and if at some point over Shavuos itself we stopped to consider the critical questions we need to be asking ourselves about the real-life relationship that exists between ourselves and Mattan Torah.
What has my relationship with Torah looked like this year? Has my Talmud Torah increased or decreased? Has my vigilance in keeping the mitzvos grown stronger or weaker? What can I do continue to improve further or to course correct? Who are the people who most positively influence my relationship with Torah and how can I be around them more often? What are the habits that create the most space for Torah study and how do I better institutionalize them in my daily routine?
The Yamim Tovim provide us with the same mandate as the oil of the menorah: to recognize that the tank naturally runs out and the importance of refueling when it does. But while we can simply press olives by rote and replenish the supply, recharging the mind and spirit require focus and attention. Can we carve out a few precious moments en route to Har Sinai to not only plug ourselves in, but to turn off the static making noise in the background?