Parshas Vayikra 5783
Much has been said about the problem of hagiographies in the Jewish world. When the life of a great rav is depicted in such a way so as to describe only his triumphs and none of his challenges, we are rendered with a saintlike picture that no longer holds much of a lesson for the average Joes reading the story. “Of course the Chofetz Chaim did that. He’s the Chofetz Chaim. What does that have to do with me?”
I don’t know what the precise sweet spot is between an honest portrait of a great person’t life and the pitfall of relating the sorts of anecdotes that actually become denigrating. But one thing that gets lost in the shuffle of this particular conversation is another critical point. That we can learn from great people not only in how we are so similar, but how we are so different.
Parshas Vayikra begins with a call—one that Hashem makes to Moshe and to Moshe alone. Rashi explains that the term “Vayikra,” represents a call from Hashem that Moshe perceived as actual sound, despite no one else being capable of hearing it. In truth, this is a description that accurately describes not only the difference between Moshe and the rest of his generation, but between Moshe and the rest of history.
In the seventh chapter of Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah, the Rambam describes the process of achieving prophecy. Far from coming as a sudden shock to the prophet, nevuah is something that required tremendous preparation, deliberately clearing one’s mind of other thoughts, reaching a state of inner calm and tranquility, and readying oneself to perceive of Hashem’s messages. Much was needed to raise the proverbial antenna so that Hashem’s voice could come through over the airwaves.
Not so for Moshe Rabbeinu. The Rambam quotes the Torah’s descriptions of Hashem speaking with Moshe in a manner of “one speaking with his friend” and a connection so close and almost casual that it could be characterized as speaking “face to face.”
In this regard, it is impossible to learn from Moshe by identifying closely with him. Moshe’s ability to interact and converse with Hashem exceeded that of even the greatest of nevi’im, let alone the rest of us. But what we can do is remind ourselves of just unlike Moshe we are. Whereas Moshe needed no further preparation, whereas Moshe was always at the ready to speak with G-d, we must remind ourselves of just how much effort must be made to ready ourselves for an encounter with Him.
When we pray, we speak to Hashem. When we learn Torah, He speaks with us. These two halves comprise the whole that is our running dialogue with Hashem. Do we prepare ourselves for that conversation?
In his description of prophecy mentioned above, the Rambam speaks of how nevi’im would enter a meditative state in order perceive of the Divine word, clearing their minds of other thoughts. A walk through the woods or sitting in the lotus position for a number of minutes in advance of every tefilah or shiur may not be realistic. But we can all give more thought to trying to arrive at either in a more mentally prepared state.
We tend to qualify punctuality or lateness to davening or learning in quantitative terms. When we’re on time, we can daven or learn more. When we are late, less. When we are on time, we accomplish a quantitatively larger amount of Talmud Torah, when we are late, it is smaller. But we should consider the further reality that these mitzvos are effected not only in quantity, but quality as well. The earlier we are, the more time there is to detach from whatever we’ve just come from and ease further into what we’ve now come to do. We can daven or learn in a state of greater calm and lean into the sense that we are engaged in a conversation with Almighty, attempting to hear His word, or articulately sharing ours with Him.
We’ve all had those conversations where the lips of the person opposite us is moving, but we’re just not hearing their voice. Our minds are a miles away, still processing the residue of whatever we’ve just been doing. We do our best to respond with something—anything—that may sound half-intelligent, but end up sounding ridiculous because our thoughts are elsewhere. We can’t be caught in an endless loop of our conversations looking this way. Not those we have with other people, and certainly not those we have with Hashem.
Moshe Rabbeinu was unusual. Vayikra—Hashem called and Moshe’s mind was at the ready for a conversation with Master of the Universe. There is great value in appreciating just how different we are. We desperately need to prepare ourselves. To have a few moments of space to pivot from the space we’ve just rushed out of into the one we hope to occupy with Hashem.