(ז) וַיִּקַּח֙ סֵ֣פֶר הַבְּרִ֔ית וַיִּקְרָ֖א בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י הָעָ֑ם וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ כֹּ֛ל אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֥ר יְהֹוָ֖ה נַעֲשֶׂ֥ה וְנִשְׁמָֽע׃
(7) Then he took the record of the covenant and read it aloud to the people. And they said, “All that the LORD has spoken we will faithfully do!”-a
נעשה ונשמע - נעשה מה שדיבר וגם נשמע מה שיצונו עוד מכאן ולהבא ונקיים.
נעשה ונשמע, “we will carry out what G’d has said already, and we are also prepared to listen (obey) to what He will command from here on in.
Chizkuni on Exodus 24:7
According to our author’s interpretation of the Mechilta when the Israelites said their famous: נעשה ונשמע generally understood as their giving G-d a blank cheque, this was not so, they simply expressed the wish to learn the details of what Moses had already read out to them.
According to our author’s interpretation of the Mechilta when the Israelites said their famous: נעשה ונשמע generally understood as their giving G-d a blank cheque, this was not so, they simply expressed the wish to learn the details of what Moses had already read out to them.
ותשמע הארץ שעליה עמדו כשאמרו נעשה ונשמע.
ותשמע הארץ, “hear o earth,” singular mode, there being only one earth, seeing that the people were standing on it when they had said: נעשה ושמע, “we will carry out the laws of the Torah as soon as we will hear them” (Exodus 24,7)
Silver From the Land of Israel. From the writings of Rabbi Abraham Isaac HaKohen Kook. by Rabbi Chanan Morrison.
The ultimate moment of glory for the Jewish people — their greatest hour — occurred as God revealed His Torah at Mount Sinai. The Israelites remarkably pledged, Na'aseh v'nishma — "We will do and we will listen to all that God has declared" (Exodus 24:7).
They made two promises: to do, and to listen. The order is crucial. They promised to keep the Torah, even before knowing why. The Midrash (Shabbat 88a) related that, in merit of this pledge of loyalty, the angels rewarded each Jew with two crowns. And a Heavenly Voice explained, "Who revealed to My children this secret used by the angels?"
What was so special about this vow, "We will do and we will listen"? On the contrary, would not fulfilling mitzvot with understanding and enlightenment be a superior level of Torah observance? And why does the Midrash refer to this form of unquestioning allegiance as a "secret used by the angels"?
The ultimate moment of glory for the Jewish people — their greatest hour — occurred as God revealed His Torah at Mount Sinai. The Israelites remarkably pledged, Na'aseh v'nishma — "We will do and we will listen to all that God has declared" (Exodus 24:7).
They made two promises: to do, and to listen. The order is crucial. They promised to keep the Torah, even before knowing why. The Midrash (Shabbat 88a) related that, in merit of this pledge of loyalty, the angels rewarded each Jew with two crowns. And a Heavenly Voice explained, "Who revealed to My children this secret used by the angels?"
What was so special about this vow, "We will do and we will listen"? On the contrary, would not fulfilling mitzvot with understanding and enlightenment be a superior level of Torah observance? And why does the Midrash refer to this form of unquestioning allegiance as a "secret used by the angels"?
Rabbi Dr. Shmuly Yanklowitz, "M'nuchat HaNefesh- Equanimiy: Finding Peace in Responsibility" in The Mussar Torah Commentary
Traditional thinkers tell us to cultivate the middot of trust and faith—bitachon and emunah (אֱמוּנָה וּבִטָּחוֹן). We need not worry too much, they suggest, since ultimately God is in control. Everything happens for a reason. So much is beyond our control. We should not get too worked up in worry, fear, and anxiety. Years ago, Alan Morinis and Avi Fertig of the Mussar Institute shared, in a program where I was learning, that the word for worry, d’agah (דְּאָגָה) has four of the first five letters of the alef-bet. The one missing is bet (ב), which represents bitachon. One who is lacking trust will end up with worry.
Traditional thinkers tell us to cultivate the middot of trust and faith—bitachon and emunah (אֱמוּנָה וּבִטָּחוֹן). We need not worry too much, they suggest, since ultimately God is in control. Everything happens for a reason. So much is beyond our control. We should not get too worked up in worry, fear, and anxiety. Years ago, Alan Morinis and Avi Fertig of the Mussar Institute shared, in a program where I was learning, that the word for worry, d’agah (דְּאָגָה) has four of the first five letters of the alef-bet. The one missing is bet (ב), which represents bitachon. One who is lacking trust will end up with worry.
Rabbi Avraham Isaac HaCohen Kook
When a great man involves himself too much with details, whether by studying them or by anxiety about them, he is diminished and his stature lessened; he must return and repent with love, with greatness of soul, and bind that contents of his spiritual life with great and sublime ideas. Certainly, he must not slight any detail, and always expand force and holiness in his deeds as well.
When a great man involves himself too much with details, whether by studying them or by anxiety about them, he is diminished and his stature lessened; he must return and repent with love, with greatness of soul, and bind that contents of his spiritual life with great and sublime ideas. Certainly, he must not slight any detail, and always expand force and holiness in his deeds as well.
Rabbi Dr. Shmuly Yanklowitz, "M'nuchat HaNefesh- Equanimiy: Finding Peace in Responsibility" in The Mussar Torah Commentary
This is one of the crucial points of Parashat Mishpatim. Laws and ethics are complex. It is easy to get lost within the minutiae of the rules and fail to zoom out to the broader principles guiding our moral lives. To be clear, Rabbi Kook deeply valued details. Furthermore, there are too many today who are clearly not concerned enough about facts and the process of truthful inquiry. However, Kook was aware that we can easily begin to worship details in a way that is paralyzing for our broader spiritual vision and for actualizing our most cherished values in the world. Complexity should lead us to pause and reflect, yes, but complexity should also guide us to our moral and societal responsibilities.
This is one of the crucial points of Parashat Mishpatim. Laws and ethics are complex. It is easy to get lost within the minutiae of the rules and fail to zoom out to the broader principles guiding our moral lives. To be clear, Rabbi Kook deeply valued details. Furthermore, there are too many today who are clearly not concerned enough about facts and the process of truthful inquiry. However, Kook was aware that we can easily begin to worship details in a way that is paralyzing for our broader spiritual vision and for actualizing our most cherished values in the world. Complexity should lead us to pause and reflect, yes, but complexity should also guide us to our moral and societal responsibilities.
Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv, the Alter of Kelm
A person who has mastered peace of mind has gained everything.
A person who has mastered peace of mind has gained everything.
Rabbi Yisrael Salanter
As long as one lives a life of calmness and tranquility in the service of God, it is clear that he is remote from true service.
As long as one lives a life of calmness and tranquility in the service of God, it is clear that he is remote from true service.
Baal Shem Tov
Equanimity (השתוות / hishtavut) is very important. That is, it should make no difference whether one is taken to be an ignoramus or an accomplished Torah scholar. This may be attained by continually cleaving to the Creator -- for if one has devekut [deep connection with God], one isn't bothered by what other people think. Rather, one should continually endeavor to attach oneself to the Holy Blessed One.
Equanimity (השתוות / hishtavut) is very important. That is, it should make no difference whether one is taken to be an ignoramus or an accomplished Torah scholar. This may be attained by continually cleaving to the Creator -- for if one has devekut [deep connection with God], one isn't bothered by what other people think. Rather, one should continually endeavor to attach oneself to the Holy Blessed One.
Rabbi Rachel Barenblatt
When I had my strokes, several years ago, I spent a lot of time talking with my mashpia (spiritual director) about equanimity. I was struggling to come to terms with what had happened to me, and with my desire to know why I'd had the strokes and to reach some certainty that I wouldn't have another one.... I seem to remember that I was able fairly easy to respond with equanimity to the immediate experience of the strokes; I found it more difficult to maintain equanimity as we moved into the realm of longterm medical uncertainty....There's much in the world today which challenges my equanimity.
I know in my heart that the Baal Shem Tov was wise, on this issue as on so many. If I could encounter rejoicing and sorrow alike without being shaken, if I could receive insults and compliments alike without paying either one any mind, remaining focused on connecting with the Holy One of Blessing and bearing in mind what's really important (pro tip: not my own ego), that would be a high spiritual state indeed. I try, every day, to get a little bit closer. I do know that when I'm able to achieve something like devekut -- cleaving; attachment to God; deep connection with something far beyond myself -- everything in my life, both good and bad, takes on a different tone.
Sometimes I reach a kind of devekut when I'm leading prayer and we reach the bar'chu, the call to prayer. I find sometimes that when I'm playing guitar and singing the bar'chu something shifts in me. I can feel my voice changing, coming from somewhere deeper in my body. It's as though I'm no longer praying the prayer; instead the prayer is praying me. In that moment of singing and praying and praise, it doesn't even occur to me to wonder whether I'm leading a good service, or whether people like what I'm doing. It doesn't occur to me to remember that unkind thing someone said last week or the mean-spirited email I got the other day.
Sometimes I reach a kind of devekut when I am cuddling with my son. At night, him in his pyjamas, the two of us in the gliding rocker where we used to nurse. I'm singing him his goodnight songs, he's giggling and squirming in my arms, and I catch his laughter and then I'm connected to something so much bigger than myself. In those moments I forget my consternation at reading the news; I stop dwelling on mistakes and unkindnesses...
Striving for equanimity helps me respond to my life with gratitude, to relate to the world at large with the kindness and compassion I most value. Sometimes I manage it, for a while. Then something shakes me and my balance wobbles. Then I take a deep breath and seek balance again. I don't think equanimity is something one reaches once and then the journey's over....it still requires tending, and watering, and care.
When I had my strokes, several years ago, I spent a lot of time talking with my mashpia (spiritual director) about equanimity. I was struggling to come to terms with what had happened to me, and with my desire to know why I'd had the strokes and to reach some certainty that I wouldn't have another one.... I seem to remember that I was able fairly easy to respond with equanimity to the immediate experience of the strokes; I found it more difficult to maintain equanimity as we moved into the realm of longterm medical uncertainty....There's much in the world today which challenges my equanimity.
I know in my heart that the Baal Shem Tov was wise, on this issue as on so many. If I could encounter rejoicing and sorrow alike without being shaken, if I could receive insults and compliments alike without paying either one any mind, remaining focused on connecting with the Holy One of Blessing and bearing in mind what's really important (pro tip: not my own ego), that would be a high spiritual state indeed. I try, every day, to get a little bit closer. I do know that when I'm able to achieve something like devekut -- cleaving; attachment to God; deep connection with something far beyond myself -- everything in my life, both good and bad, takes on a different tone.
Sometimes I reach a kind of devekut when I'm leading prayer and we reach the bar'chu, the call to prayer. I find sometimes that when I'm playing guitar and singing the bar'chu something shifts in me. I can feel my voice changing, coming from somewhere deeper in my body. It's as though I'm no longer praying the prayer; instead the prayer is praying me. In that moment of singing and praying and praise, it doesn't even occur to me to wonder whether I'm leading a good service, or whether people like what I'm doing. It doesn't occur to me to remember that unkind thing someone said last week or the mean-spirited email I got the other day.
Sometimes I reach a kind of devekut when I am cuddling with my son. At night, him in his pyjamas, the two of us in the gliding rocker where we used to nurse. I'm singing him his goodnight songs, he's giggling and squirming in my arms, and I catch his laughter and then I'm connected to something so much bigger than myself. In those moments I forget my consternation at reading the news; I stop dwelling on mistakes and unkindnesses...
Striving for equanimity helps me respond to my life with gratitude, to relate to the world at large with the kindness and compassion I most value. Sometimes I manage it, for a while. Then something shakes me and my balance wobbles. Then I take a deep breath and seek balance again. I don't think equanimity is something one reaches once and then the journey's over....it still requires tending, and watering, and care.