Baruch Haba’im, Rabotai. We find ourselves, along with the rest of Klal Yisrael, in the middle of the most important month of the year: Elul. It may seem funny to call Elul the most important month. One might think of Tishrei as the most important month, because that is when we have Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot. So why is Elul called the most important month? The Chachamim call Elul Chodesh HaRachamim (the month of mercy). That is its sign.
It is almost like spring training. If you asked the players, they would tell you that if you did not go to spring training, there is no way you could play baseball in April. Elul is the spring training for Tishrei. If you do not go through Elul, and you are not working and training yourself, Rosh Hashanah is not just one day or two days. Rosh Hashanah is whatever your Elul was.
Most guys wake up on Rosh Hashanah, look at the calendar, and say, “Tomorrow is Rosh Hashanah.” They are waiting for it, and maybe, if they are a little more religious, they will buy a new pair of shoes. “Come out and see the new shoes I bought.” That is Rosh Hashanah to them. In the yeshiva world and in more religious circles, Elul has a different feeling, a different mindset and framework. You are scared, thinking, working, building up. It is a training ground for that big day, so when Rosh Hashanah comes, it does not just hit us: “Boom, there’s Rosh Hashanah.” We have been working and building up to it. We have worked our way up from Rosh Chodesh.
There are a lot of things that should be going on in every person’s life during this month. Of course, going to Selichot (penitential prayers) every morning for 20 days already, before Rosh Hashanah, puts you in a different mode.
This week’s parasha, we read about Bikkurim (first fruits). A man has a field and some fruit, and he has a mitzvah: the first of his fruits must be brought up to Jerusalem and given to the Kohen (priest). It is very interesting how the Mishnayot explain this mitzvah, as it is brought down in the Rambam. You might say that the mitzvah of Bikkurim should be fulfilled simply: You go into your backyard, see the first cluster of grapes, put a string on it, take it to Yerushalayim, put it in a basket, and say, “Hey, Mr. Cohen, this is Bikkurim.” Say the prayers you have to say, and that is it, like any other mitzvah.
The Rambam says no. How was the procession of Bikkurim, the mitzvah of Bikkurim, fulfilled? First of all, it was not an individual thing. It was not that a guy decided, “Today I’m bringing Bikkurim,” and went up to Yerushalayim by himself. You waited until a certain time, and you brought it with a group of people, with a whole city. They would get together, meet in a certain place on a certain day, and say, “Okay, we’re going up to Jerusalem to bring Bikkurim.”
All the people bringing Bikkurim slept outside in the street the night before they were ready to go up to Jerusalem. They did not want them to sleep in a house, because there could be tumah (ritual impurity): there might be a dead body, and they could be in a tent with it. Then they would not be able to bring the Bikkurim to the Beit HaMikdash the next day.
Picture the scene. There were 10,000 Jewish people. By profession, people in those days were farmers, so a large majority were involved in agriculture and had this mitzvah upon them. Thousands of Jews were signed up for the mitzvah for the coming year. They went to a certain city, and now they were all sleeping in town. Everybody was saying, “Oh, Bikkurim! Bikkurim day!” It was like a big, massive overnight gathering.
In the morning, the appointee in charge gets up and says, “Gentlemen, everybody wake up! It’s time to forge on to Zion, to Jerusalem, to see God!” That is the wake-up call. They have an ox that they bring in front of them. Some say this was the ox brought on the Mizbe’ach (altar) during the mitzvah of Bikkurim, but it was not a regular ox. Picture the scene: a thousand guys have just woken up and pray Shacharit (the morning prayer) all together. What a minyan (prayer quorum)! It is the Bikkurim minyan.
Then they start proceeding toward Jerusalem, with the ox walking in front of them. They plate the ox’s horns with gold and put a wreath of olive branches on its head to remind everybody that the only fruits obligated in Bikkurim are the seven species of Israel, one of which is the olive. They have a bunch of flute players, playing music during the procession.
Again, you ask, “Where did the concept of parades come from?” This is a Torah idea that we think Macy’s got from. Everything comes from the Torah. This is the first parade in history: the Bikkurim Day Parade. You have thousands of people and a float in the middle, with its horns all decorated, and guys playing beautiful music on the flute. How exciting does this sound?
Now, what is all this for? All of this is background for a mitzvah that is, essentially, taking a basket and going to the Kohen and saying, “Here you go.” Technically, that is the mitzvah. You could do it in the driest way possible. You could go at two o’clock in the morning, make an appointment at the Beit HaMikdash, find the Kohen, give it to him, and be on your way to work. Your guy is outside waiting to take you to work. “I’m only running in for one second to do the mitzvah.” You give it to him and say, “I’ll see you later.”
No. For some reason, the Torah wants to make a whole field trip out of it. They have flutes blowing. Watch, watch—it gets better. They are walking up to Jerusalem. You can imagine it like a marathon: everyone is running, and people are standing on the side watching the action. Those are the spectators. You can imagine the spectators on the sidelines as the procession walks up to Jerusalem. They are waving, wishing them good luck. The people are walking on the road, singing a song and reading Tehillim (Psalms), a Tehillim that says to go up to Jerusalem.
When they get close to Jerusalem, they send messengers ahead to tell the people there that they are coming. “Listen, they’re coming! Get ready—the parade is almost here.” The people start preparing, and everybody starts carrying their baskets. Now the people of Jerusalem come out of the city and greet the people who are arriving.
It is almost like a Sefer Torah procession. When the people waiting in the shul hear that the people are coming with a new Sefer Torah, they take out all the Sifrei Torah and go into the street. It is one of the most beautiful minhagim (customs) we have. You can cry when you see such a thing: the Sifrei Torah come out of the shul to greet the other Sifrei Torah. All the people of Jerusalem come out and greet the people bringing Bikkurim. Unbelievable.
When they enter the city of Jerusalem, they begin to sing. Now that they have reached Jerusalem, they sing because they are happy: they have reached it, and they are standing in Jerusalem. There are storekeepers in Jerusalem. There are thousands of people, and the storekeepers and workers must stand up. Like you have to stand up for a rabbi when he walks into a room, halacha says that the storekeepers sitting in front of their shops, selling their wares and souvenirs in Jerusalem, must stand when the people bringing Bikkurim pass by, out of kavod (honor) for them.
You can imagine how the people bringing Bikkurim feel. They are walking in the street. They are not necessarily Talmidei Chachamim (Torah scholars). They are right there, doing their regular work. All of a sudden, everywhere they go, everyone stands up for them out of kavod. They are obligated to greet them: “Welcome to Jerusalem! Welcome!”
Now they walk into Yerushalayim proper, with the flutes playing, and they get up to Har HaBayit (the Temple Mount). Imagine the excitement: they have arrived at the place. They get to Har HaBayit, and now they are ready. That is it; they have their basket. On the way up, somebody else can hold your basket, but once you reach Har HaBayit, you have to take the basket yourself and hold it.
They say, “Hallelujah, hallelu El bekodsho” (Praise God in His sanctuary), and the whole crowd starts singing it. They keep going through Har HaBayit until they reach the Azarah (the Temple courtyard). They say it three or four times until they reach the Azarah, repeating it. They reach the Azarah, and they start singing, “Hallelujah, hallelu El bekodsho.” Finally, each person lines up in front of the Kohen and gives him the Bikkurim.
What is the purpose of all this? This is a mitzvah like every other mitzvah. But for some reason, the Torah felt that, in order for the mitzvah of Bikkurim to hit you with its importance and be done the right way, if you just went to the Kohen and said, “Here,” you might lose sight of the importance of what you are doing. So, in this mitzvah, the Torah gave you a lot of background music in order to awaken you. All of this awakens you. You say, “Wow, what an item this is.” Bikkurim is not just going, “Hey, here’s the basket.” It is in order to excite the person, wake him up, and motivate him in what he is doing.
All this stuff is not part of the actual mitzvah of Bikkurim. It is side things: the flute, the parade, the singing of “Hallelujah,” the people standing up for them. That is all background music, but it is vital background music. That is why I tell you the same thing about Elul. Rosh Hashanah can be a very dry item. It can just be two days on the calendar, and that is it. You go to shul, you pray, you eat, and it is almost like every other holiday.
That is why we say, “No, no. You have a month of Elul to prepare the background music.” It is obligatory upon each person to make his own parade. Nobody is making the Elul parade. If you want to, we’ll sleep in the streets tonight, but I don’t know how much that’s going to do for us. One has to prepare himself in Elul mentally and spiritually, with different moves and changes that he is making. He is getting up for Selichot every morning. He is psyching himself up. He is going to an extra class, learning a little more, giving a little more charity. His actions are a little different.
Elul is not like Adar, not like Av, not like Tammuz, and not like Cheshvan. The way your mode is this month, it is a preparatory month for Rosh Hashanah. Once Rosh Hashanah comes, the actual day, you are giving the Bikkurim to the Kohen, so to speak. You are already in a different framework. You can have two guys sitting in shul, best friends, and one guy is not sapping up what he could really get out of Rosh Hashanah because he did not go through spring training. He is sluggish. By the time he gets into it, the holiday is over. “Okay, now I’ll wait for next year.” But if you are already prepared, then right when Rosh Hashanah begins, you are ready. You are warmed up. You have been waiting for that day—not just since last night, but for 30 days—for that moment to stand in judgment.
That is just a little hakdamah (introduction) for those who are not so familiar with what Elul is and its importance. Tonight, I’ll be honest with you: it is beautiful to know what we are going to say here. No chiddushim (new insights); everything is written in the sefarim. But what we are going to try to do tonight is this: you have psyched yourself up; it is vital; we should be doing things, we should get involved. I am going to try tonight to give all of us a trick to passing judgment on Rosh Hashanah.
People are always looking for a loophole. Syrians especially—that is our way. Everybody who goes to court is looking for a maneuver. If we can handle the judge, the lawyer, the guest, the postponement—any angle you can get—a regular guy will try to maneuver himself into position. That is good in a court of human beings. But in the court of the Borei Olam (Creator of the World)—well, like we always say, every Syrian in his heart really believes deep down that when he gets to the final judgment, he is going to walk in there and all the J-Dubs are going to Gehinom and getting killed, and the S-Y is going to walk in. He believes Hashem is going to say, “Hey, put him on the side. You’re the S-Y. Okay, don’t worry about it. You know your father.” Every guy believes that to an extent.
When you are just in Israel, you are in the taxi cab, you tell the cabdriver, “Oh, yeah,” and we feel we are going to get preferential treatment somehow. In truth, it is not—we are laughing, but it is not true. Everywhere else we get preferential treatment, but it is not like that in the Beit Din shel Ma’alah (the Heavenly court). So we have to figure out whether there is a way. I’m telling you there is a way. There is a very big key here. Is there a loophole to circumvent judgment? There are two paths. Either we can say, “We’re confident judges; we’re ready. Go ahead, handle it.” Who is so certain that his teshuvah (repentance) is perfect, that he repented the right way and has no sins, and can say, “Hashem, here it is, here’s the book—check me out”?
Very few people can. Even the tzaddikim, during the month of Elul, when they started realizing the day of reckoning was coming, some of them would faint, some of them would pass out. Rabbi Yisrael Salanter fainted during the seder. “What’s the matter, Rabbi?” He says, “Elul is coming. Elul is coming.” It is Pesach. You see that just the word Elul would bring trepidation to the Chachamim. In the shul of the Chafetz Chaim, when they would announce on Rosh Chodesh, “Tuesday is Rosh Chodesh Elul,” half the shul would faint and half the shul would burst out crying. Elul is like a dirty word. Elul is scary. Whoa!
To go on our own merit is not really the best system. If we could find a loophole, that would be the key—especially if the loophole is proven and works, and we can bring proofs from the books, from the Gemara. Then it is something to work on; then we know a trick. Picture it as tax time. You have an accountant sitting in front of you, giving you the tricks for how to, chas veshalom (God forbid), steal—but legally beat the system. That is what tonight’s class is about: legal ways to beat the system and come out with a good chance of a good judgment.
There is an interesting Ramban on a pasuk in Shemot. Moshe Rabbeinu asks God—God tells Moshe to go to Egypt and save the Jewish people—so Moshe Rabbeinu says, “Who should I say sent me? What is Your name? Who am I a representative of?” God says, “You just tell them, ‘Eheyeh asher Eheyeh’ (I am what I am; I will be what I will be). That is the One who sent you.”
The Ramban, citing God’s name Eheyeh asher Eheyeh, says the following. Listen to this; it is beautiful, and it is a vital principle in religion. God says to you, “How you act toward Me”—what does that mean? If you open your hands and give tzedakah (charity)—the Jewish people are charitable—or if you do chesed (kindness) and show kindness to each other, then I will act the same way. I will open up to them and give to them. If they do not open up, are not kind, do not take care of each other, and do not have a good relationship with each other, then I will also hold back.
God is telling Moshe, “Tell them that I will treat the Jews the way they act toward each other.” This is a tremendous principle in Yahadut (Judaism). It is almost saying that we control the way God acts. God looks at the Jewish people, each one individually, and says, “Oh, he’s giving? Okay, I will give to him.” Midah k’neged midah (measure for measure). “Oh, he doesn’t give. He’s not doing kindness. Okay, then I act toward him the way he is acting.” It is almost like a mirror.
Now we have a tremendous power. What a capability we have. This is only for Jews, by the way. We have the capability to control. That is the way it works. Every night in the Arvit (evening prayer), we say, “Hashem tzilcha” (Hashem is my shadow). Everybody has a shadow. If you raise your hand to your shadow, and put up one finger, what does your shadow do? It puts up one finger. You put up five fingers; what does your shadow do? It puts up five. If you do that, then they will come to you and get—you can do that. That is a big trick. But it does not happen. “He is my shadow,” David says, which means that whatever I do, He imitates me. God mirrors me and does the same thing. When I am giving, when I am doing, God does the same thing and gives to me.
Once you know that rule—that God acts according to the nature of the human being—now, with your permission, we can start the class. The Gemara in Rosh Hashanah, Daf Yud Zayin. Amar Rabba (Rabba said): “Kol hama’avir al midotav, ma’avirim lo al kol pesha’av, shene’emar, nosei avon ve’over al pesha” (Whoever overlooks offenses against him, they overlook all his sins, as it is said, “He bears sin and overlooks transgression”). L’mi nosei avon? L’mi she’over al pesha (To whom does He bear sin? To the one who overlooks transgression).
We figured out a way to get God to bypass us on a lot of sins we do and refrain from writing them down against us. We are talking about people who have aveirot (sins), people who have pesha’im (transgressions)—big ones. The Gemara is saying that this is the way to get God to overlook them, at least for the coming year, for the judgment. Hashem is judging your actions on Rosh Hashanah, and if there are sins there, that causes the judgment to be a little negative. To get Hashem to close the file and give you more of a chance to make teshuvah, it is pending: you still have to make teshuvah for those sins, and there is still punishment for those sins, but your judgment on Rosh Hashanah will not be affected by them. This is a major item. To get God to close the file on a lot of the bad things, the Gemara tells you the following: “Kol hama’avir al midotav.” That is all you have to do. Be ma’avir al midotav, and you are in.
What does ma’avir al midotav mean? The way I understand it is as follows. Somebody comes in front of a guy and angers him. He says something not nice, says a wrong word, embarrasses him. Let’s make the case even clearer: the other guy is wrong. He is embarrassing him, and the person being wronged is in the right. Normally, your reaction is to come back at the guy. He said the wrong thing, he does not know what he is talking about, you are right, and he did it. So you answer him.
A guy like that—which is all of us—obviously is not the best thing. If you let yourself get angry, it shows you are not one of the tzaddikim. The tzaddik does not even get angry. If you are on that level—though we do not know too many people like that—a guy comes, spits in your face, does the wrong thing, hurts you, does something against your will: “I’m not bothered. This is Hashem. It doesn’t matter. I don’t get affected.”
We are talking about us now, people who are affected by the way people act toward us. They are telling you: if a guy controls it and says, “You know something? Leave it. I’m not going to answer. He said it; he did it. I’m not going to answer what he said,” whether it is a coworker who made a snide remark that gets under your skin, your wife, your child, or a stranger—we come in contact with people all day long, and we are constantly involved in confrontations. Wherever you go, even to a restaurant, you have a confrontation with your waiter. You go anywhere, there is confrontation.
They are telling you that if you get angry, if you get nervous when people say things to you and push your buttons, and you are boiling and want to lash back at the guy, but you control it, that is a key. You are not the best guy, because if you have to control something, that is an admission that you are not already there. But okay, that is realistic; you are normal. You cannot look at them like they are crazy. Then you are a tzaddik; you are abnormal. In our community, the way we judge people is: “Is the guy religious?” “No, no, he’s normal.” That is the way we look at it. “No, no, he’s a normal guy.” The religious guy is crazy; he’s nuts. Everybody else is regular. “He’s regular. What is he?” He is religious. He is irregular; he is crazy.
In any event, they are telling you that this is a key. If you can put yourself in that position—which really happens every day—you are constantly answering back, sticking up for your rights. Nobody wants to be timid or intimidated by people. We have a mouth. We know how to talk. You want to stick up for yourself, especially when you are right. If you are wrong, you are not going to answer because he is right. Leave it. He is right. Even in that case, we like to make excuses and pretend that we are right.
I am talking about the case where you are 100 percent right and he is 1,000 percent wrong. They are telling you: let it go. You have controlled your judgment of people. When you do not come back at them, you have minimized your judgment. God acts like a shadow: put up your hand, and God puts up the same thing. “Oh, he minimized his judgment; he controlled his anger, he controlled his patience.” Then we come to the final judgment. God says, “I have to act like he does. He controlled himself, so I close the file.”
That is what it is, gentlemen. If you find yourself doing this during this month, it should be on your mind 24 hours a day. What I just told you is such a secret and such a key, it is like I am giving you the lottery numbers here. I do not see anybody writing this down. I am assuming everybody is going to remember this.
If I were sitting here telling you, “Gentlemen, this is the Gemara that tells you tomorrow night’s lottery numbers for $80 zillion: 14, 63,” you would have guys with six pens out. “Say it again, Rabbi. I missed the first number. 14, 16? Did I write it the right way? Is 16 first? What’s the supplementary number?” You would ask a million questions because lottery numbers are important; they are about money. Here we are talking about the year, about judgment. Everyone is thinking, “The truth is, we made it until now without this trick. We made it last year and for the past 20 years.” So you take the trick and say, “Thank you for telling us,” but in the back of your mind you are thinking, “Without the trick, we made it.” By tomorrow morning, you go to the guys in the club and say, “What was that tricky talk?” “I don’t know, something about accounting. I always talk about it. He said a lot of nice things about it. I forgot the point.”
Sometimes, do not belittle what I am telling you. Do not walk out of here foggy on this. That is why, usually, in class we like to talk about a lot of subjects. Tonight I want to focus on one thing, so it is clear when you walk out of class. If they say, “What did he talk about?” you should not start fumbling, like I do with my wife every week when I come home. “What was the subject?” “You know, the parasha.” “Every week you talk about the parasha. What’s the point?” We say it enough times. We get home and do not want to say it anymore. Everyone should be clear when he goes to his wife. “What did the rabbi talk about?” “He gave us a key to passing judgment on Rosh Hashanah, and the key is to control your anger,” and so on.
Look at the story the Gemara tells. Rav Huna, the son of Rav Yehoshua, became weak, sick. Rav Papa went to visit the rabbi. Rav Papa saw that he was about to die, so Rav Papa told the people around him, “Bring the shrouds. Bring the tachrichim (burial shrouds). The rabbi is about to die. Go make arrangements.” They called the chevra kadisha (burial society); they were having a funeral.
Shortly after they left, Rav Huna woke up and got out of bed healthy. Rav Papa was embarrassed. Rav Papa was standing in front of Rav Huna, having called the chevra kadisha and arranged the funeral, and now Rav Huna had woken up. He had already had me buried; I am alive, and he told them to get my tachrichim! Rav Papa could not believe it. He had witnessed a miracle. So he said, “You were dead. They came back to life. Mai chazit?” (What did you see?)
Rav Huna said, “I was gone. I was supposed to die; there is no question about it. The Holy One, blessed be He, said at my judgment, ‘Since he does not stand on his principles, since he is lenient when someone says something to him, and he lets it slide; he does not always have to have the last word, and he does not have to answer the guy back—he is easygoing—send him back.’”
Now you see something greater. It is not only a better judgment. Life and death are in the hands of the secret of this loophole. The rabbi, according to the system in Heaven, system A, was supposed to die. System B said to save him for one reason: he was a rabbi who acted in that fashion.
However, it would not be fair if I told you the loophole without giving you a key stipulation. The Gemara makes this stipulation. It is a great item, like fatty meat, delicious, but there is a thorn in it. There is one thing you have to know. It says, “Nosei avon ve’over al pesha lish’erit nachalato” (He bears sin and overlooks transgression for the remnant of His inheritance). What does “lish’erit nachalato” mean? The Gemara says it means people who make themselves like nothing: humble people.
The Gemara says the reason you do not answer the guy back has to be humility. If the reason you did not answer him is, “I have to answer this lowlife? It is not kavod for me to lower myself to answer. If a dog barks, am I going to answer the dog? I’m not going to answer. It’s not fitting for me,” that does not work. Or if you did not lash back because you were caught off guard and did not have the right words, but you are thinking, “If I had another chance, I would tell him this and that,” it does not work. If you did not answer because you were in the Amidah (the standing prayer), it does not work; you could not talk. You would have killed the guy, but you could not. The reason for your tolerance has to be humility.
That turns out to be the key to judgment on Rosh Hashanah: working on humility. When somebody comes and pushes your button, he is affecting your anochi (ego). He is attacking your ego, what you stand for, or your knowledge. Think for a second about just today: how much confrontation have you had with people? This goes on constantly. There is not a second that we are not dealing with other people. Just sitting with people involves give and take. People talk and get offended. People talk on the telephone and you say the wrong word. One does not want the other to get the upper hand, so he lashes back. The question is: what am I, in the end? Am I a big eagle? It is not so bad if the eagle gets hit once in a while. It brings you back to earth, to reality. If it is because of humility that you do not answer back, then you are doing okay.
There is a Sha’arei Teshuvah. Sha’arei Teshuvah is the guide, the handbook to teshuvah. I would advise reading it during the month of Elul. It is written by Rabbeinu Yonah. It has an English translation and takes you by the hand, step by step, showing you how to make teshuvah. In Sha’arei Teshuvah, he talks about this subject of the loophole, getting around judgment. He calls it a “gate.” It does not mean a city in Israel; it means a gate. After the rabbi tells you, “Do this, do that, act this way before you are judged,” this is a gate that shines on your judgment.
There is a story in the Gemara Ta’anit. Listen to the story and what comes out of it. There is going to be a chiddush according to what we talked about, and we are going to delve into a new thought that is vital to know in judging our rabbis. You will see what I mean.
There is a story of Rabbi Eliezer. There was a famine; there was no rain, there was a drought. The custom was to have a special fast. They would have a chazan (prayer leader) get up, and instead of saying the normal 18 berachot (blessings) in the Amidah, they would add six more, making 24 berachot.
Imagine Rabbi Eliezer getting to the teivah (prayer platform), getting up and crying in the Amidah. He says six extra blessings, asking for rain. He finishes the Amidah. Everybody looks outside: there is not a cloud in the sky, nothing. The student gets up to the teivah and says, “Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, our King), lema’anach (for Your sake), have mercy on us,” and the rain comes down in torrents.
Rabbi Eliezer says 24 berachot and nothing happens. Rabbi Akiva says two lines, and the rain comes. The people start murmuring: “Rabbi Eliezer—we thought he was a big rabbi. We see Rabbi Akiva; he is much greater. The student is greater than the rabbi. The people started murmuring. They had claims: he could not do the job, and the other one said two words—bingo, you had rain.”
The heavenly voice came down and explained exactly what was going on. Do not think the murmuring was like the murmuring we have from the ba’alei batim (congregants) in our shul: “The rabbi over here, this guy over here, money, this, that,” all types of talk like that. Those people do not get a bat kol (heavenly voice); they get a different type of awakening. Here, obviously, the rabbis in the shul who were talking were tzaddikim, trying to understand what was going on. How does Hashem answer these bat kolot? We should be so fortunate to have a bat kol come and answer our dilemmas.
The bat kol comes and says, “You made a mistake. Do not think Rabbi Akiva was answered because he is greater. He is not. Rabbi Eliezer is greater. Rabbi Eliezer does not follow the rule we are talking about tonight. He does not let things slide.” Really, in that time, they were not worthy of rain. Rabbi Eliezer got up and prayed. God says, “The one praying is someone who always goes with judgment, does not let anybody get away with anything, and always has to answer back. I will act with judgment.” Rabbi Akiva got up. Rabbi Akiva lets things slide. The Jews are not worthy, but he lets it slide.
Then Rav Yosef Salant asks the obvious question. What do you mean, “Not because Rabbi Akiva was greater”? He was greater. Obviously he was. If Rabbi Akiva was ma’avir al midotav and Rabbi Eliezer was not, Rabbi Akiva is greater than Rabbi Eliezer. Are you saying that one of the Tannaim of the Gemara had a flaw in his character? Rabbi Eliezer says in Pirkei Avot that he used to teach constantly. He taught, “Do not become angry.” He was patient. And this same Rabbi Eliezer, the Gemara says, was not ma’avir al midotav.
You have to know something here. There were two rabbis, one called Shammai and one called Hillel. Shammai was known as a kapdan (strict, exacting person); Hillel was known as an anavtan (humble, patient person). Nobody could get away with something with Shammai. You said the wrong word to Shammai, and he let you have it. Hillel was easygoing; he had time for you, patience for you, and would answer you. Until tonight, we always believed Shammai’s way was the wrong way, and Hillel’s was the right way. Kapdanut is not a good thing, chas veshalom. Rav Yisrael Salanter says—and I quote:
“Ki kol chachameinu zichronam livracha, shebedorot acharonim, umikol shekein bedorot harishonim, hayu domim lemalachei hasharet mamash, vekiyemu kol haTorah kula, vekol hamidot tovot sheba’olam” (All our Sages, of blessed memory, in the later generations, and certainly in the earlier generations, were truly like ministering angels; they fulfilled the entire Torah and all the good character traits in the world).
Do not look at Hillel as good and Shammai as an angry old man, a guy you do not want to get involved with, who bites your head off over the smallest thing. “The guy didn’t have his coffee; he’s nervous.” That is your picture of Shammai: a critic, upset, an angry man. Chas veshalom; it is impossible to say that.
It is interesting to know that Shammai is the one who used to say in Pirkei Avot, “Hevei mekabel et kol ha’adam besever panim yafot” (Receive every person with a pleasant countenance). He taught that whenever you see somebody on the street, greet him with a smile. And that same Shammai, who taught this to his students, is described by the Gemara as a kapdan. Listen to the explanation.
That famous convert came to Shammai and said, “Convert me on the condition that you teach me the Torah while I stand on one leg.” Shammai said, “Get out! This guy is making fun of the Torah. The Torah is vital, the Torah is holy, the Torah is serious. You are making a mockery of it? ‘Convert me on one leg’?” Shammai felt that kevod haTorah (the honor of the Torah) and the effect of the Torah were at stake. We cannot lead such a man, who comes in and acts lightheaded about such a serious subject. So Shammai took a stand.
That was not a character flaw in Shammai. Shammai believed this was what God wanted. Rav Yisrael Salanter says that he gets Olam Haba for his kapdanut. His kapdanut was l’shem Shamayim (for the sake of Heaven). It was not out of weakness, and it was not because he was unrefined. When the convert walked in, Shammai smiled. He welcomed him, sat him down, got him coffee and a piece of cake, and spoke nicely to him. When the man said, “Teach me the Torah while I stand on one leg,” Shammai said, “Oh, get out of here. Don’t start. We don’t do that.” That is where his kapdanut came in.
It was not weakness. When the convert walked out, Shammai did not say, “I should have controlled myself. I should have had more patience.” No. Shammai had calculated that he did the right thing. This is what God wants. Kevod haTorah—I cannot sit back and let that go. B’Shem Shamayim, a million percent. That was his approach. Hillel, however, believed differently: Hashem wants more tolerance; be a little more patient. The man came in and Hillel sat him down and gave him an answer.
Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel: a heavenly voice came down and said, “Elu va’elu divrei Elohim chayim” (These and those are the words of the living God). Shammai’s path is kapdanut. I have given you a big yesod (fundamental principle) here, because until now most of you thought Shammai was wrong on this issue and Hillel was right. The Gemara in Shabbat says that this is not because Shammai was wrong. There is a rule: when you have a machloket (dispute) between Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel, whose halacha do we follow? Bet Hillel. The Gemara says that this applies not only to law, but to character traits as well. Do not take Shammai’s approach to mean that it is wrong or that he made a mistake. Just as in an argument between two rabbis, when we take one opinion, it does not mean that the other opinion is wrong. We believe that in certain rules we have to take this opinion over that opinion. The same thing applies to character traits.
The law says that when Mashiach comes, the halacha will be like Bet Shammai. When Mashiach comes, the Gemara is going to say, “Le’olam yehei adam kapdan k’Shammai ve’al yehei anav k’Hillel” (A person should always be exacting like Shammai and not humble like Hillel). How can you say that? But that is going to be midat hadin (the attribute of strict judgment). When Mashiach comes, that will be the way to act.
In any event, those were two paths. Watch what we gain from this chiddush. Rabbi Eliezer’s rabbi was Shammai. When Rabbi Eliezer got in front of the teivah and God did not answer him, it was because he was not ma’avir al midotav. He was a kapdan. His kapdanut was l’shem Shamayim. It was not because he was doing the wrong thing or because he was weak or lacked good character. “I know you are l’shem Shamayim. I know you are acting because your rabbi taught you that, and you will go to Olam Haba acting like that. But I cannot act with you in that fashion, because you do not act that way.”
Rabbi Akiva, however, was a student of Hillel. Hillel said, “Let it go, let it slide. Be patient with people.” Rabbi Akiva was not greater than Rabbi Eliezer; he had this character trait that he learned from Hillel. So God said, “Not that you are greater, but because you have this trait, I will also control My judgment.”
“So Shammai is wrong?” No. That is what I am saying: it is a mirror. If one person looks in front of the mirror one way and another person looks another way, the mirror reflects what each one is doing. That is the way we are supposed to do it. Not if you are a student of Shammai? If you have Rabbi Shammai, you have to follow him. If you are following your rabbi and acting this way, we love you; it is great. But God will act toward you the way you act. You are acting with judgment, so I have to act with judgment. Therefore, the people do not deserve rain—not because you are wrong, but because you act that way. I am also going to act that way. Rabbi Akiva follows Hillel, whose way is, “Let it go.”
“Was Rabbi Akiva a student of Rabbi Eliezer?” Yes, but he was also a student of Shammai. I mean, yes, no: Rabbi Eliezer was a student of Shammai. Rabbi Akiva was a student of Rabbi Eliezer, and in this midah (character trait), he took Hillel’s way. That is amazing. Look at what a person has when he gets up and prays, when he has his midah. That means the Jewish people at that time did not deserve rain according to the law. People died according to the law. Rabbi Akiva, who is less of a rabbi than Rabbi Eliezer, gets up and says one line and is answered because his way is to let things go, not answer back.
Do not raise your voice. That is a big trick, by the way. One way to work on this trait is never to raise your voice. Usually, when you raise your voice, the thing starts to escalate. If you always train yourself, even when you are talking about what bothers you, to relax and calm down, keeping your tone at a low level, that is already a trick to control it. This is a subject we could talk about for hours, but I think I made my point.
One story, and then we’ll finish. There was a famous shul of Rabbi Shalom Sharabi, a big Mekubal (Kabbalist), zecher tzadik livracha (may the memory of the righteous be a blessing). It was on Rosh Hashanah, the night of Rosh Hashanah. In shuls, people buy seats for the holidays, and they make charts and put names on the seats; everybody has his seat. What happened—which happens many times—is that they looked at the chart and two people were sitting in the same seat.
Now, this was potential for disaster, even on a regular Shabbat during the year, let alone the High Holidays. The gabbai (synagogue attendant) in charge of giving out the seats was approached. He said, “It’s the night anyway. There are a lot of empty seats in the same section, so just sit there tonight. You sit there. It’s basically the same seat.” People might say, “Yeah, I’m not going to make a machloket if I’m sitting in the same section.” But then they say, “What do we do tomorrow, when it’s going to be jammed? That seat over there is a vital seat. Are you going to put me in the back, in another seat in the bad section?” So they started to flare up a little. “I’m not giving in. I’m not going to give in. Tomorrow, tomorrow we’ll worry about it. We’ll see.”
That night they both went home, each one thinking, “Tomorrow, that’s my seat. There’s no way I’m going to let this guy take it.” That is the nature of it. Each one is thinking, “I’m right.” On the plane back from Israel, Sunday night, we called the airline a hundred times. “We need a bulkhead seat because we have the baby.” They put a crib in front of the bulkhead seat. We said it a million times. They gave us special tickets marked “bulkhead,” marked for the crib. Everything was perfect. We got on the plane, and another lady was sitting in the bulkhead seat with the crib in front.
We said to the stewardess, “What’s going on over here? There’s another person sitting here.” She came on; she did not have a boarding pass. We did not know where to put her. “She didn’t even have a boarding pass? I have a boy.” I was thinking, “I’m not a vagabond. I didn’t get on the plane without a boarding pass. She just got on at the last minute and scooched onto the plane. Do I give her my seat? Then my wife has to sit with the baby for 12 hours.”
But the principle applies. Of course, a normal, normal situation—let’s say this happened in Cheshvan or another month of the year—you might have heard a ruckus. You might have seen my picture in the newspaper the next day: “Ruckus on TWA.” But being Elul, in your mind you think, “I’m 1,000 percent right; they’re a million percent wrong. This is not my seat, it’s my wife’s.” So they can hire someone; I’ll sit over there. Next story.
That is a classic example. Again, it is not a praise to me. I was ready to kill the guys. My wife said, “Take it. You’re ready. Leave it; it’s not the point. Handle it.” So I am not praising myself; I am praising my wife.
In any event, to finish the story of the shul: they both went home, each one thinking, “Tomorrow it’s my seat.” One of them had a dream that night. In the dream, he was in Shamayim (Heaven), in a kind of black hole. He could not see anybody, a million miles in front of him, a million miles behind him, or to the side; he was all alone. On one side he saw white angels flying up, and on the other side he saw black angels. He was flying up with them at a slower pace. He moved up and up until he finally reached a big scale.
He saw the white angels jumping on one side of the scale and the black angels on the other. Each angel was holding a sign. One angel was holding tefillin (phylacteries), one was holding Torah, and one was holding chesed. The black angels were holding—
If you did it wholeheartedly, that makes a big angel. If you did it halfheartedly, that makes a half-sized angel. The size of the angel depends on the level at which you did it. It was the same with the other side. Some angels were big and fat; those were the things you enjoyed doing. The others were skinny and small; you felt guilty right after you did them, so they were not as much. And so on. They started putting the angels on the giant scale.
The man was watching and sweating. Whatever side won, that was it. They put the white angels on. It looked good, but the black angels were balancing back and forth, and the black angels had it. The man was terrified. What could he do? He pleaded: “Help!” One of the angels said, “Does this man have any yisurin (afflictions) in his life?” The Gemara says that if a person has afflictions, that already takes away a lot of aveirot. “Yeah, he had afflictions in his life.” “He suffered? Okay, that suffering is considered a mitzvah.” They started adding angels to the scale and taking off some black ones. It was getting a little more balanced, so the man had a chance. But he had not had enough yisurin to balance it perfectly.
He said, “Okay, what’s the next thing? Is there any other way out?” He heard the Beit Din talking behind closed doors. He heard the judges conversing: “There’s only one way out for this guy. Is he ma’avir al midotav? Is he tolerant? Does he let things go? Does he not stand on what is coming to him?” They said, “We don’t know. We never tested him.” The Beit Din said, “All right, let’s test him. Go to that shul. Let the gabbai and the Rosh Hashanah shul make a mistake with the chairs. Put two people in the same chair. Tomorrow is Rosh Hashanah; we’ll see how he acts.”
If the man walks into shul and says, “Take it. No problem. I’ll sit in the back. I’m not in the middle of this. Something is coming to me, but I’m tired; the other guy is better. Come on, guy,” then he wins. If he fails the test, that is his judgment; that is what he gets. The next day, he gets up and goes to shul. The other guy comes in with his guns, ready to wage war. The man says, “My friend, take the seat. Enjoy the seat. You can have the seat this year and next year. Put me in the back. I don’t care.”
Then they told the rabbi that the man had had the dream. The rabbi of that shul was a Mekubal. What a matter these things are! You see, this is not a fairy tale. It works. The man said, “You take the seat,” and already in Shamayim he had seen that this was the key to his judgment.
How many times does a guy not get the aliyah (being called to the Torah) he wanted? “You didn’t give it to me; you gave it to him!” He makes a whole scene, screaming and yelling. That is not letting it go. The zechut (merit) of not getting the right aliyah and keeping quiet about it is a bigger zechut than getting the right aliyah. You know what I just said? It is better to get the weaker one and keep quiet; that will do more for you in Shamayim than the big aliyah, the seat in the front row, and all the kibbudim (honors) you think are coming to you.
Therefore, gentlemen, we have a couple more weeks of Elul before the big day of judgment. Let’s work on this. Let’s make a conscious effort. In the next confrontations we have, keep this in your head: leave it. It should be evident to the people in your family. They should say, “You don’t usually act like that. What’s going on? That’s not your way. Usually you answer back. Usually you say something.” Your children should see, “Daddy doesn’t usually do that. Usually you scream at the waiter; usually you scream at the taxi driver.” Elul—we do not act like that during Elul.
God willing, it should not only be in Elul; it should work all year round. But let’s psych ourselves up. Let’s remember what we said about the Bikkurim. Gentlemen, we have to start the parade, get the flutes out, and start waking ourselves up in order to prepare for the big day of Rosh Hashanah.