We’re in the month of Nisan. Nisan is the first of the Jewish months, and it’s also the month in which we celebrate that great, holy day of Pesach (Passover). Usually, at this time of year, the parashiyot of the Torah around Passover are Vayikra (the third book of the Torah) and Tzav, the first two portions in the third book of the Torah, Vayikra. Since everybody is making Pesach tapes and Haggadah tapes, these parashiyot are well ignored. I don’t see too many Vayikra or Tzav tapes. As has been my habit lately, what everybody else is talking about, I don’t like to talk about, so we’re going to talk about Vayikra tonight. You can get your Pesach tapes at your local Ricoh store, free, just like anything else. There are plenty of them out there, including my tape from last week.
The whole book of Vayikra is considered boring because it starts off with the korbanot (offerings) brought in the Beit HaMikdash (the Temple). People don’t find it interesting to hear about this kind of korban and that kind of korban. I find it very interesting because every word and every letter of the Torah is interesting. In fact, tonight we’re going to concentrate on three letters—only three letters—which gives us a lot of time to cover Vayikra. We might be here for the rest of our lives if I did it three letters at a time. Tonight is basically about three letters: “Adam ki yakriv mikem korban laHashem” (When a person among you brings an offering to Hashem).
Tonight’s class is dedicated by a generous sponsor in memory of Natan ben Simbal, a good friend, Mr. Nat Rudy, one of the stalwarts and mainstays of this particular synagogue and this room, where he has sat for many, many years. The dedication is from his children and grandchildren.
The pasuk (verse) says, if a man should bring an offering, and then it describes the different types of livestock and fowl that can be brought. It’s pretty cut and dried. But Rashi, the commentator, opens with Adam. Those are the three letters, by the way: Aleph (first Hebrew letter), Dalet (fourth Hebrew letter), Mem (thirteenth Hebrew letter). “Adam lama ne’emar?” (Why is “Adam” stated?) Why is Adam mentioned here? It could say, “Should someone want to bring an offering, this is what they bring.” But specifically, the word Adam is used. So Rashi asks: Why is Adam the word that Hashem uses to describe the human being, the Jew, or the person who wants to bring an offering to the Temple?
Rashi answers: Just like Adam, to whom everything belonged, had no competition and no neighbors—he was it. Adam and his wife owned everything. Just as in his time, if he brought an offering, it would be free of any taint of theft. There’d be no Gezel (theft) involved because everything belonged to them. You, the Jewish person who wants to bring an offering, must make sure you don’t bring stolen goods. In other words, don’t steal a sheep and bring it to the Temple. If a person can overcome this desire to steal and bring an offering, the Midrash (rabbinic interpretation) says, he’s better than Adam. So if any person, any human being, brings an offering, “we top Adam going away,” as they say in sports.
Why is the Jew who brings an offering from animals that were not stolen greater than Adam? The verse from Tehillim that the Midrash brings, about an ox and horns, is hard to understand. It has to do with this. I’ll give you the answer quickly: We didn’t only learn not to offer stolen goods from Adam. A person has to know that even honestly acquired property, when it’s offered to Hashem, still isn’t yours. What you offer and give is Hashem’s to begin with, as it says, “Give to Him from what is His,” because you and what you’re giving are also His, with a capital H. I think most people can understand that concept. But why is it so important when it comes to an offering?
The point we’re trying to make about Adam, and why we bring him in here, is that when somebody goes to the trouble of raising livestock or working hard to earn the money that it cost in those days, when there was a Temple, to buy the livestock needed for an offering, the effort you put in and the success you have in getting what you want—the animal to bring to the Temple—might lead you to feel that it’s mine. I’m bringing something that I earned. Now, how is that different from Adam? Adam was clear. He moved into the Garden of Eden. Everything was given to him. As we say, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was given everything on this planet and in this universe to serve him and for his own personal gratification. He definitely didn’t think about earning or owning anything. Therefore, the Torah says Adam: The offerings we bring to Hashem must be brought with the knowledge and clarity Adam had, that everything belongs to Hashem.
And that’s why the Jew has the potential to outdo Adam. Why do we have the potential to really outshine him? Because Adam, in his personal situation, couldn’t be misled into believing that he had produced what he was offering to Hashem, that he had earned it. It was just given to him. But the Jew who toils, works, and struggles to get whatever we get has to overcome our pride, our egos, our sense of accomplishment, and our desire for a pat on the back, in order to clear our minds of any sense of ownership. This is a battle with our yetzer hara (evil inclination). Our yetzer hara would prefer that we believe we did it, that my strength brought me what I have. If we win the battle, then our offering is greater than Adam’s.
That pasuk about the ox and the horns, which I didn’t explain too deeply, is a pasuk from Tehillim that says Adam was the only one to experience and bring as offerings animals that were created fully grown. He didn’t have to work on them. He just went out to the backyard and picked up a sheep or an ox and offered it. He didn’t have to feed it, grow it, or nurture it. It was made an adult, so he could just bring it, and there was no Gezel involved. There was no stealing involved because everything belonged to him.
When we show that we know it all comes from Hashem, and that we’re giving Him only what He has given us to give Him, we’ve overcome a battle with our own egos and our own brains, which tell us things are different. Now there’s another danger, a very different danger. Since everything belongs to Hashem—now that you’ve accepted what I said, right? Anybody object? Everything belongs to Hashem. Good. I’m glad nobody here is too jealous of their personal property. Even what you have in your safety deposit box belongs to Hashem. So now that we agree everything belongs to Hashem, what he owns belongs to Hashem, what she owns belongs to Hashem, and what you own belongs to Hashem. Therefore, as we say in the neighborhood, what’s the difference if I take yours and give it, or take mine and give it? It’s all His anyhow. What’s the big deal about not taking from you to give to Him? It’s all His. I’m not stealing from you; I’m giving Him back what’s His.
A person might think, “I can give from what I have, and it’s not mine, so I can take from another person because it isn’t his either. It’s all Hashem’s.” Therefore, the pasuk continues, “Adam ki yakriv mikem”—a person who brings an offering, mikem, from you, meaning, and not from what is stolen, but from what belongs to you. Hashem owns everything, but He has placed different things under different people’s authority. Other people can’t infringe on His distribution system. He decides who gets what, and I don’t have a right to take something away from someone to whom it was given.
That’s how we can understand a different pasuk. Speaking of offerings later in the Torah, in Devarim, and bringing things to the Temple, it says each person can bring “like the gift of his hand, like the blessing Hashem Elokecha has given to you.” It says “like the present.” You’re not actually bringing Him something of yours as a present. It’s like a present, because all that you have is a blessing from Hashem that He gave you. That’s why it’s like a present that you brought. The reason we have Adam and mikem is to teach us that Hashem has given everybody something, and I have no right to take it.
In fact, the Ten Commandments say I have no right even to want it: “Lo tachmod” (Do not covet). The Ten Commandments are a biggie; it’s up there, on the people’s side, that side. See this side? That’s the people-to-people side. I’m not allowed to want what you have. When you think about it, throughout the Torah and the Prophets, Hashem’s distaste for thievery and robbery is very clear. One of the more obvious examples, besides “Lo tignov” (Do not steal) up there—you see up there, right behind my head? Lo tignov, on top, on the side to my right arm. Got it? Lo tignov, see it? Boy, you’re having trouble. Tignov, I’m sorry, tignov, the third one, tignov. I said tignov because I’m into Gezel tonight. Lo tignov, the third one, right? So it’s up there. So that’s pretty clear. Hashem doesn’t want it. But there’s a pasuk in the prophet Yeshayahu, Isaiah, that says, “Ani Hashem soneh gazel ba’olah” (I am Hashem; I hate robbery in the burnt offering). I despise, I hate stolen offerings. That’s pretty clear.
So if that’s what Hashem says to the Prophet, please tell me why we have to go all around the block to come up with the derashah (interpretive inference) from the word Adam in Vayikra. What is Adam doing in Vayikra anyhow? I thought he died in Bereshit. What is he doing in Vayikra? Why do we need this derashah, this convoluted way of figuring out that Hashem doesn’t like Gezel? It’s pretty obvious. He doesn’t like stealing, cheating, or lying. There are so many Pesukim. That’s what the Chafetz Chaim asked: What do we need a derashah for?
He explains that we have this particular way of learning because there’s more than one type of Gezel. We think Gezel means sneaking into somebody’s house at night, climbing onto the roof, boring a hole, coming in, and taking something. That’s really what geneivah (theft) deals with. Gezel is like robbery: You stop someone on the road, stick a gun to their head, and say, “Your wallet or your life.” They’ve got even better ways now; they have carjackings: “Your car or your life. Open the door, or I’ll blow your brains out.” It’s crazy. That’s Gezel. But there’s more than one type. The Chafetz Chaim tells us that not only stealing or robbing is called Gezel in the Torah.
Let’s take someone who’s a nice guy and knows a little bit. His neighbor starts to think, “This guy’s pretty smart. He’s a real talmid chacham (Torah scholar).” I like this derashah, because you’ll see in a minute why. The neighbor feels this person is a rabbinical student or rabbi and figures, “I’ve got to help him out. I’m going to give him this and give him that, help support him, slip the lamplight with some money under his door, drive his children—they don’t have a bus service—to school. I’m going to start giving to him because I’d like the talmid chacham to benefit from my possessions.” That’s a very worthwhile thing. And from the son of the giver, that’s wonderful. But if the person receiving knows he’s Mr. Beda, not Rabbi Beda—if he knows he’s really not worthy of that treatment because he’s not really a talmid chacham—then the person taking may not be robbing outright, but at least it smells a little bit. There are ways of benefiting through something called geneivat da’at: trickery, literally stealing somebody’s mind, fooling people, tricking people, letting them operate under false assumptions and benefiting from it. The Chafetz Chaim says that’s called Gezel, and that’s the kind of Gezel Hashem is referring to. Of course, the outright stuff is in the verses. But He’s telling you, “You want to bring Me an offering? You want to bring atonement for a sin by bringing Me something you earned honestly? I don’t want offerings made with money or merchandise that even has dust of Gezel on it.” Avak gezel (dust of theft).
One time the Chafetz Chaim was saying Birkat Hamazon, and his son was listening. He got to the part where we say—and by the way, I’m using the Sephardic version, even though he said the other version. There are a couple of words different. I have to change the story because I have trouble saying it the other way. I don’t get it right. I had enough trouble with—imagine if I tried to give the wrong book out to Amazon.
He says, “Don’t make it so that we need assistance from other people to survive. We don’t like that, and certainly not their loans. We don’t want to be subject to borrowing from other people. Why? So that we won’t be embarrassed in this world or embarrassed in the next world.” When the Chafetz Chaim said these words, he went, “Ugh.” His son, Aryeh Leib, asked his father for an explanation. The Chafetz Chaim answered that the statement seemed not to make sense. If a person needs a handout to live, the embarrassment is right here in Olam HaZeh (this world). What are you talking about, being embarrassed in Olam Haba (the World to Come)? If I have to stick my hand out—did anybody ever have to ask desperately for a loan or financial assistance? I hope not. It’s a pretty embarrassing situation. It’s hard to ask people for money for somebody else, let alone for yourself. Certain people have a lot of trouble raising charity because they’re embarrassed to ask. I don’t like asking people for money. “Let me give you a check.” It’s just something I can’t do because it’s embarrassing. You can imagine how embarrassing it is for a person who has to do that to survive. What are you talking about?
He says the real explanation of the embarrassment in Olam Haba is that a person gets from others because they see him as something he isn’t. When they reach the world of truth, when that recipient is up there and the truth is revealed before the heavenly court, everybody knows he was a phony and gained through false pretenses. There in Olam HaEmet (the world of truth), we know very clearly who you are and what you are. That will be embarrassment in Olam Haba.
The Kli Yakar makes a similar point. He says that when Rashi mentions “min hagezel (from the stolen thing),” he means from the thing that was stolen. Do we think a person would steal a sheep and take that exact sheep to the Beit HaMikdash, to the Temple, as atonement for a sin? It’s pretty brazen and pretty—well, I hate to use bad words because my children sometimes listen to the tape. But it’s pretty stupid, isn’t it? My girls aren’t here tonight, so I can say that. Don’t let them listen to the tape. It’s a bad word. But it’s pretty dumb, isn’t it? “I’m going to steal something and bring it to the Mikdash (the Temple) to make up for a sin, to show Hashem that I really want to be good.” It doesn’t make sense.
What the Kli Yakar says is more likely to happen is that a person might conduct their business slightly dishonestly, and give charity and do mitzvot (commandments) with the profits they earned slightly dishonestly. So they’re taking min hagezel—not the Gezel itself, but portions of it, little bits here and there. Nobody would take the whole sheep. But what I earned is honestly, I don’t look at that. And it’s okay, I’m doing mitzvot with it. Doesn’t the end justify the means? Not in Torah. Hashem doesn’t want any part of what you stole.
There was a great rabbi called the Steipler. He lived in Bnei Brak in our lifetime, and some people were fortunate to see him. The Steipler once had a visitor and showed him some important documents and papers. The Steipler needed copies to settle an important matter. The man said, “If the rabbi really needs them, no problem. We have a copy machine at work, and tomorrow I’ll bring you the copies.” The Steipler started trembling, like somebody who had, as they say proverbially, seen a ghost. He said, “Did you get permission from the boss?” That’s Brooklyn for B-O-S-S, which is boss out of town. I always have to translate that word. You know, the boss. Somebody from the Midwest—they don’t have bosses; they have bosses. So he said, “Did you get permission from the boss? If not, you’re stealing from him, and I don’t want any part of your theft.”
The truth is, there are many people who wouldn’t dream of cheating anyone or stealing for personal gain. Most of us are basically honest. But we’re very willing to stretch the truth for a mitzvah. We say a mitzvah is different. The truth is, when we think that way, we’re very, very wrong. The Torah teaches that Hashem wants no part, no partnership, in your crime. Offerings brought to the Temple are desired by Hashem only if they’re earned totally honestly. That’s our introduction tonight.
There’s a wonderful man who’s a rabbi in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His name is Rabbi Yisrael Miller, shlit”a (may he live long). He’s written several English books that are very good and available in English. If you see his name on a book, buy it. It’s good; I recommend it. Most of the ideas from here on in are his, and I don’t like to steal, so I’m going to tell you whose ideas they are: Yisrael Miller, Rabbi Yisrael Miller. He starts with basically the same question the Chafetz Chaim asked, and that’s why I’m connecting them. Why teach this lesson by referring to Adam? Why not just say outright, “Don’t steal, even for a mitzvah; just be 100% squeaky clean”? Why start with Adam? What’s Adam doing in Vayikra anyhow?
Perhaps the Torah would like to teach us not only the commandment not to rob or steal, but something more important, or at least important. It would like to teach us an attitude. How do we deal with envy of what another person has? How do we control the desire to acquire more and more by illegal methods? I got that right the third time.
The Torah answers that question with, “Look at Adam.” We’re back to those three letters. How do we deal with envy? Look at Adam. How do we deal with our desire to acquire more and more toys, big boys out here? Look at Adam. Adam knew something we should know, but don’t realize. Adam knew the whole world was his. He didn’t have to deal with envy. He didn’t have to overcome an urge to steal. We, too, can handle desire if we realize the famous teaching of Chazal (the Sages), which says the whole world belongs to each and every one of us. Our rabbis teach that a person should always feel and say, “Bishvili nivra ha’olam (For me, the entire world was created).” “Just for little old me.” This isn’t a slogan or what they call a quotable quote. It’s reality. For me, the entire creation was created. That’s the principle. Hashem created His world with each one of us in mind, and He gives each of us all that we need to complete our mission here during our short visit.
Now, how does that work? Let’s take a look. You get a package; you’re coming down to this world. He puts you in an earth suit. You have a neshama (soul), which can survive only in spiritual worlds. When it goes outside of the space capsule and walks around in space, it needs a space suit. When your neshama comes down here, since this is a physical world and the neshama is spiritual, it needs an earth suit, which is your body. So He makes that fantastic bazra, that fantastic shidduch, the marriage between your soul and your body, and sends you down here. But He doesn’t send you down just to walk around and one day say, “What am I doing down here? That’s a pretty tree.” That’s enough. No. He has a mission in mind for you. In Hashem’s plan for history, each of us has a mission. We have things to accomplish. So what does He do? He gives you what you need to accomplish it.
When astronauts go up to do exploratory missions on the moon or some planet, or to build a space station, they fill the capsule with all the little things they might need. They give them the food and air they need, clocks and watches and radios and whatever else they need. They give them Kenny G CDs because that’s what they like, and they play them on the MP3. They give them everything they need to go up there and do the mission, whatever it might be. Hashem is at least as efficient as NASA, the space agency. He sends you down here on a mission and gives you everything you need to get the job done.
Let’s start with the winner: He gives you your in-laws. That’s part of your package. Why did half the room smile and half the room frown when I said “in-laws”? Somebody explain that to me. He gives you your health, or lack of it. He gives you your material possessions, and surrounds you with some luxuries you may not possess. Everything that’s given or not given to you is part of a prescription for success that Hashem gives you. It’s your luggage for this world. You arrive here and have a mission to do. Trust me, guys, He knows that whatever you have and don’t have today is the best possible situation for you. Can you accept that? We don’t have to understand why. In fact, we’re permitted to try to improve it. It’s not illegal to try to improve your life. A lot of people think, “Okay, I shouldn’t decide it. Thank you. I’m going to sleep for 24 hours.” No. He gives you the right and the need to try to improve yourself spiritually and physically.
We grow. We change. A horse comes out, and a minute later he’s running around chasing his mother for milk. He’s almost fully grown; he just gains weight his whole life. That’s it. He gets a little taller and gains weight. He doesn’t grow like a person grows. A person is born helpless and grows into an adult who takes care of others, learns to think and reason, builds, and leaves a heritage for others. That’s growth.
We’re permitted and commanded to improve. But wherever we are when we take inventory—that’s like your freezer warehouse, a frozen picture of where you are right now—take an inventory, folks, and I guarantee one thing: Whatever the score is, whatever the count is, whatever your bottom-line numbers are, that’s what’s best for you right now. We have to know that because He, with a capital H, put you in that position. And it ain’t Father Knows Best. He knows best.
Let me give you an example. It’s very easy to tell people not to want what they don’t have, or not to need what other people have. It’s easy to say, “Let me paint a picture.” If you don’t have a wheelchair, if you don’t have to be hooked up to oxygen to breathe, you don’t feel jealous of the person who does have a wheelchair, do you? You don’t want those fabulous tubes up your nose 24 hours a day, do you? I hope not. Everybody looks normal here—mentally normal. You don’t want those things. You’re not jealous of the person who has them, are you? Well, that’s what Hashem decided they should have and need, and you have no problem not being jealous of it.
Now flip the coin. If Hashem, for some reason, didn’t give you a certain type of automobile that somebody else has, or a certain type of house, furnishings, stock portfolio, bank account, diamond, or platinum that somebody else happens to have—something Hashem gave them—are you jealous? Isn’t it the same as the wheelchair? That’s what Hashem gave them, and He didn’t give you. You have no problem accepting that He gave them the wheelchair, but some people—not us, of course; we come here every week and I brainwash you—but normal people, normal people, don’t want the wheelchair, but do want the Jaguar, like the man says on the radio. I don’t see why. For some reason Hashem didn’t give it to you. Trust me. It just means that for now I can underwrite it. I can guarantee it. It’s not what you need to do your job or complete your mission. If it were, He would give it to you. Anybody have any questions?
I’m making light of it, but this is very deep stuff. Yes, sir. “He doesn’t have a desire?” Very good question. He doesn’t have a desire for a wheelchair, but he has a desire for a Jaguar. That’s okay. You are now normal. It’s normal to want the Jaguar. But there’s a difference between saying that’s a nice thing to have and accepting that I don’t have it without envy. It’s okay. It’s nice that the other person has it. It’s a nice thing, and a nice thing to have. But I personally understand why I don’t have it: Hashem doesn’t want me to have it because I don’t need it. If I needed it, I know for sure He would give it to me. That’s what we’re up to.
Now let’s continue. Simple-minded people think success is measured by what we possess. The things we possess define success. Say that three times fast: “The things we possess define success.” The things we possess—that’s what people think. They think life is a game and he who dies with the most toys wins. I think that’s funny. Ninety-nine percent of the people inhabiting this planet think that way, and that’s sad. That’s not funny.
There was a book—and I rarely quote non-Torah sources, but I saw it quoted in a Torah book by a rabbi—that was written for corporate executives. It was very interesting. The book listed the ultimate measure of success. What’s ultimate success? The definition in this book was that you’re no longer burdened with things.
I’ll give you a couple of examples. There’s a major meeting of, let’s say, IBM and Microsoft. Picture a big, top-level meeting. Gates is going to be there. Is Gerstner still the head of IBM? They switched it, didn’t they? Anyhow, the top CEO of IBM is going to be there, and Bill Gates is going to represent Microsoft. It’s a major meeting. They have a huge room with a conference table, just like in the movies. I’ve never been in one that big, but in the movies they have a huge room with a table so long you could almost have a Syrian dinner on it. The vice presidents, lawyers, attorneys, and experts walk in, all dressed in their suits and looking spiffy. They’re carrying expensive briefcases. Coach isn’t good enough; it has to be some kind of custom Italian briefcase. It’s full of all the documents they need for the meeting: all the proofs, plans, business plans, and numbers. This is major.
Bill Gates walks in without a briefcase. He doesn’t need it. His value to the meeting is in his head. It’s the ideas he possesses, not the stupid papers in the bag. He doesn’t need those. The guys trying to make it need the briefcase, the thousand-dollar suit, the fancy things. They need them. Bill Gates walks in wearing a polo shirt and khakis, and he can sit down and talk to anybody because the value is what’s in his head, not the things he carries with him.
It’s said that David Rockefeller, a pretty wealthy young man and pretty successful in business, never wore a watch. If he went to a meeting, everybody in the room would be flaunting and showing off their platinum this, their diamond that, and their gold the other. I’m not going to name all the brands here. You know what they are. But he didn’t wear a watch. It’s said in legend that he knew it wasn’t important for him to be on time for the meeting, because nothing important would happen until he got to the meeting. He was it. He didn’t need the thing to make him important.
Have you ever seen a fancy restaurant where somebody walks in and gets the royal treatment, but doesn’t even have money with him? He doesn’t even use a credit card. The maître d’ comes over and says, “Thank you, sir,” and they send the bill to his office. He doesn’t even need money in his pocket or a credit card. He’s made it. Very few people are like that, but that’s the ultimate success. The bill is automatically sent to his corporate office, and he doesn’t even look at it. He can walk in anywhere, get what he wants, and not even sign his name because he’s made it already. Whatever he wants, he can get without carrying things to prove it.
So you have three real examples that ultimate success is when you no longer need things. Do you think I brought you here to tell you that? It’s all a mashal (parable), representing a tzaddik, a righteous person, who has his head on straight. A tzaddik has no more desire to possess things. He feels, “Hashem created everything for me.” And you know what makes a tzaddik so different from the rest of us underlings carrying briefcases and gold watches and driving fancy cars? The tzaddik enjoys luxuries even if they belong to others.
There was a famous rabbi called the Maharal of Prague. We’ve mentioned him many times. Maharal was the one who, when the Jews were persecuted in Prague in his time, around 1750, I think, maybe a little earlier, created a golem, a human form that he made that was able to do his bidding. It didn’t have a soul, but it was able to move, and they say it was the inspiration for the famous Frankenstein story, the golem of Prague.
This great rabbi was once holding some beautiful silver pieces, because he was very well trusted. They might make a swanny, I don’t know. It has to be very special to make a swanny. He had some beautiful silver pieces that he was holding because people trusted him. They belonged to a Gentile in Prague who had to make a trip or something and didn’t want to leave them at home, so he left them with the Maharal. He said to the Maharal, “I’ll pick them up when I come back. Feel free to use them.” Of course, the Maharal wouldn’t eat from them, kosher or not kosher. But the night of Pesach came, and the Maharal said, “On Pesach we’re supposed to put out the finest dishes, the finest silver, the finest linens—whatever we have, the finest—so that we can treat ourselves like kings and princes.” So you know what he did? He took out this other person’s silver and made a display of it, almost like a swanny table, a beautiful display of silver. He sat and enjoyed it, and it gave him just as much pleasure as if it were his own, because he understood that somehow, the way Hashem worked, He put it in his possession to enjoy tonight. Although it wasn’t his, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Beauty is enjoyable, so enjoy it.
When you see a beautiful home, magnificent furnishings, or something beautiful in a garden that isn’t yours, enjoy it. Enjoy the sight of it. Enjoy the fact that you can see it. Say, “Bishvili nivra ha’olam.” Yes, it’s in that person’s possession, but the world was created for me to enjoy. If it’s something beautiful, it doesn’t have to be mine for me to enjoy it. It’s still beautiful.
In fact, just as an aside, the owner probably doesn’t enjoy it anymore. The person who enjoys it spends all the time and effort putting it up and gets very excited when they move in. But people who have a lot are usually on to the next thing. New is good while it’s new, but after a while we get bored, don’t notice it, or get used to it, and it’s just not as nice as when it was new. It could be a car, a house, or anything. The new toy is always more exciting and pleasurable than something we’ve already gotten used to.
Look at this scene. You see a beautiful home somebody’s been living in for 10 years. You go in to deliver a package or do something, and you say, “Wow, what beautiful moldings, what beautiful artwork, what beautiful furnishings, what a beautiful layout. It’s so sunny, so bright, so nice; the colors work together.” Enjoy it. The whole world was created for you. If Hashem let you see it, it doesn’t have to be yours to enjoy. You’re probably enjoying it at that moment more than the owner is. Then you go home and enjoy what’s yours. Double dip. You enjoy theirs and you enjoy yours. They were all put here for you to enjoy. When you recognize that the world was created for you to enjoy, you can enjoy theirs and then go home and enjoy yours. You, as they say, have it all. It’s not jealousy; it’s enjoyment.
Nothing in Torah life is coincidental, even the parashiyot we read very often. You go to a simcha (celebration), and they say, “It’s not coincidental that this week’s parashah says…” The rabbi gets up at a levayah (funeral procession) and says, “It’s not coincidental that this person passed away in the week of this parashah.” And it’s not. It’s a very true saying. It’s not coincidental that this lesson from Adam—that the whole world belongs to me, just as it belonged to him; that everything was created for me to enjoy; that it doesn’t have to be mine to enjoy; that I don’t have to be envious or jealous because I have what I need, because that’s what Hashem decided to give me and what’s best for me—comes from that one word, Adam, the three letters we started with. It’s always read at the beginning of Nisan, this month, two Shabbatot before Pesach. Always, always. Not coincidental.
Nisan is a time to celebrate freedom, but freedom is meaningful only if we use it to get what we want from life. Hashem gives you freedom so you can get what you want from life. Now I’m going to tell you what I brought you here for tonight.
One great tzaddik once said, “The only way to get what you want”—who can complete that sentence with me? “Serve Hashem.” Wrong. Next. “The only way you can get what you want.” “You’re happy with what you have,” she said, “is to want what you get.” Could have been in the email today, but I saved it for tonight.
Remember what the tzaddik said: The only way to get what you want is to want what you get.
Remember Adam. The world was custom-made for him. Well, guess what, folks? The world was custom-made for you. Enjoy everything around you. It was made for you to enjoy. Enjoy everyone around you, which is sometimes hard. They get angry with me; they rub me the wrong way. But enjoy everyone around you. Hashem made them part of your lives for you to enjoy, to enhance your life. That’s what all those people around you are for: to learn from, grow from, share with, and enjoy, to add something special to your life. Guess what? He made you for them to enjoy. What a great system. Billions and trillions of people have lived on this earth from Adam until now.
Our star tonight is Adam. What is he doing in Vayikra? Adam was put in Vayikra to teach us this lesson. The world was created for you. Everything belongs to you. Everything was put here for you to enjoy, so you don’t have to be jealous, steal, or be unhappy. We didn’t get the wheelchair; we got the Chevy. So it’s not a Lexus, but it isn’t a wheelchair. We’re not jealous of the negatives. We certainly shouldn’t be jealous of the positives. If somebody else has something, you can enjoy what they have. It’s beautiful. Look at it and enjoy it. It was put there for you to enjoy, and you don’t have to pay a mortgage on it. Isn’t that fantastic? A guy’s mortgage is probably $18,000 a month. His taxes are $5,000. You’re just enjoying it, sitting in there just like he is. Same home theater, same couch, same air conditioning, same temperature in the room. You’re sitting there enjoying it like he is. What do you have to own it for? You do own it. The whole world was created for you.
If you want to be free, use your freedom to get what you want. And if you want to get what you want, want what you get. That’s freedom. That’s the ultimate success.