#1172 TZAV — 11 – 12 APRIL 2025 & 14 NISSAN 5785
PHYSICAL FOOD, SPIRITUAL REWARD
Rabbi Yisrael Lipkin of Salant (Eastern Europe, 1810-1883), or as he is better known, Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, was a prince among men. His towering intellect alone would have sufficed to ensure his memory would never be forgotten among his people. His many great disciples, including Rabbi Eliezer Gordon of Telz, Rabbi Yitzchak Blazer of St. Petersburg and Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv of Kelm, are testimony to his reputation as an outstanding disseminator of Torah. But it was his refined nature, dignity, integrity and personality that made him truly famous. Rabbi Salanter founded the Mussar movement as a vehicle to further the noble goals of self-improvement, character refinement and the highest standards of ethical behaviour amongst Jews. His mission was to “reform Jews rather than to reform Judaism.” The Mussar movement gained traction in the Lithuanian yeshivot where Rabbi Salanter’s students taught and influenced a new generation of young men. His influence is still felt in some higher institutions of Jewish learning that were transplanted from Europe to America, Israel and elsewhere, before and after the Holocaust. Rabbi Salanter excelled in the mitzvoth that govern the relationships between human beings, be they of a financial, personal or emotional nature. There are countless stories of how stringent he was in this area. Here are two examples:
Rabbi Salanter’s hechsher (kashrut licence and approbation) for matzo was highly sought after in Europe. He was known to be scrupulous in his observance of this mitzvah. A Jew who owned a matzo factory invited Rabbi Salanter for an inspection of his premises in the hope that he would receive the rabbi’s stamp of approval. At the end of the tour, the anxious owner asked the rabbi what he thought of the facility. Rabbi Salanter responded, “I cannot approve your matzoth. There is blood mixed in the food!” The man was aghast and asked for an explanation. The rabbi replied, “The blood of your workers is mixed into the matzo.” The kashrut of the factory was perfect but Rabbi Salanter was not prepared to issue a hechsher when it was clear that the workers, many of whom were indigent and elderly, were being overworked and taken advantage of.
A second story appears in the book Tnuas Hamussar (volume 1, pages 321-322) and is cited in The Legacy (by Chief Rabbi Dr Warren Goldstein and Rabbi Berel Wein, page 27). A shochet once told Rabbi Salanter that he was leaving his profession because he was afraid of making mistakes that would cause others to sin by eating non-kosher meat. He had decided to run a shop to make his living instead. Reb Yisrael remarked that it was a mistake to think that running a business would lead to fewer serious sins. He explained that when it comes to shechitah (ritual slaughter), there is only the one negative commandment of neveilah (non-kosher meat) at stake, but running a shop involves the potential transgression of the many mitzvos governing monetary matters which involve some of the most complex areas of halachah. And so as a shop owner, he would be much more likely to sin in many serious respects than he would be as a shochet. Reb Yisrael pointed out that one of the first questions a person is asked in the heavenly court is: “Did you deal faithfully, honestly in business?” (Shabbat 31a)
Rabbi Yisrael was renowned for his many wise aphorisms and sayings, all of which reflected his teachings. One of these (also cited in The Legacy, page 59) is: “Helping another human being in this world’s mundane matters is the foundation of my eternity in the next world.” I would like to suggest a scriptural source for this maxim from the book of Vayikrah. Of the many offerings described in this week’s parsha and the previous week’s (Vayikrah) is the sin-offering of which there are various types depending on who the offender is. The blood and certain fats are burned on the altar (Vayikrah 4:30-31) and the meat is consumed by the cohanim (ibid 6:19). The bringing of the sin-offering, together with sincere repentance, affords the perpetrator atonement for his sin (ibid 4:31). The Talmud (Pesachim 59b) wonders at what point the individual receives atonement – is it when the blood is sprinkled on the altar? Or when the fats are burned? The answer is most surprising:
“As long as the cohanim have not eaten the flesh, the owner of the sacrifice does not receive full atonement, for we have learned, “They – who received atonement through them, to inaugurate them, so sanctify them – shall eat them…” (Shmot 29:33), this teaches that the cohanim eat and the owners receive atonement.”
The context of the verse is the inaugural ceremony of the Tabernacle described in Parshat Tetzaveh and fulfilled in Parshat Tzav. The juxtaposition of the eating of the inaugural ram and atonement indicates that the ‘simple’ act of consuming the sacrificial flesh is the final step of the atonement process. This is a most wondrous but also perplexing notion. It is relatively easy to understand that one receives pardon from God when one regrets one’s actions, confesses one’s sin and brings an offering upon the altar in the Temple. All of these are ‘religious’ acts that help to repair the relationship between the sinner and his Creator. But what does eating the meat of the sacrifice have to do with atonement? It is such a trivial, physical deed. The Talmud dispels this misconception. Eating, or more correctly, providing food for God’s servants is certainly not trivial. It is no less a religious duty than placing fats and blood upon the altar. The Sefer HaChinuch (mitzvah 102) writes that “it is a display of the honour due the sacrifice, on which one’s atonement is contingent, to allow it to be consumed by the ministers [i.e. the cohanim] themselves rather than giving it to one’s servants or dogs or selling it in the marketplace.” The cohanim perform an important duty for the Jewish people for which they receive twenty-four gifts, some in the Temple, some in Jerusalem and others in the provinces of Israel (Chullin 133b). Many of these are foodstuffs such as the first fruits and the terumah portion of grains, wine and olive oil. When a Jew provides these material gifts to a cohen, he is fulfilling a religious duty and thereby earning spiritual merit in the next world. Thus, “helping another human being in this world’s mundane matters is the foundation of my eternity in the next world.” This did not end with the destruction of the Temple. The Talmud (Chagiga 27a), citing a verse from Yechezkel (41:22), notes that during the era of the Temple, the altar brought atonement but in the post-Temple era, “one’s table brings atonement.” Rashi explains that this is achieved through the hospitality one extends to others. This is especially true of the poor, the widow and the orphan who are often marginalised in society.
Rabbi Salanter’s words are not meant as a self-serving motivator to spur people on to care for the welfare of others. We must assist our fellow man for the sake of Heaven alone because that is what God demands of us and because it is fitting and proper. Rather, what that great teacher meant to convey was the enormity of what most people believe is ‘just’ a mitzvah between one man and another. On the contrary, he stressed that a mere physical act is what ensures your soul its place in the eternal world.
Lee, Chani Merryl & Naomi join me in wishing you Shabbat Shalom and Chag Kasher V’Sameach.
Rabbi Liebenberg
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