Rabbi Levin's Blog

3,295 years ago, Hashem told Moshe how to divide the Land of Israel amongst the tribes.  Each tribe was a different size and had a different lifestyle, and therefore each received an appropriately sized lot.   Now usually in a situation like this, there would be a committee of experts to decide how the land should be apportioned. There was, in fact, such a committee, composed of one leader per tribe, and managed by Yehoshua and Aaron’s son Elazar (Bamidbar 34:16-29).  But this division was done in a very unusual way. While the portions of the land were divided based on size and need, it was not the committee that had the final say on who got which portion.  The land was divided by a lottery.  Specifically, the names of the tribes were written on pieces of paper and placed in one box, and the portions were placed in another box, and one paper was drawn from each box.  Whichever portion came up for that tribe was theirs.   Now this seems strange.  If each tribe needs a piece of land that

  A profile or two antisemites: Balak, the king of Moav, is afraid.  The Jews are coming and are going to perform genocide on his people and take his land.  It was a fabrication.  Hashem had warned the Jews not to go to war against Moav or take their land, because it was not to be part of the Promised Land until Moshiach comes.  But that didn’t stop Balak from trying to employ a greater antisemite than him, Bilaam. Bilaam was a known curser.  Hashem gave him great prophetic vision, and our Sages taught that in terms of prophecy he was on the level of Moshe.  But he didn't use it for good.  The Mishnah describes him as an arrogant man with an evil eye.  He had figured out the exact second of every day when Hashem’s wrath is revealed in the world, and he knew that in that moment any curse he gave would be fulfilled.   He had proven himself previously when the Emorites fought a war against Moav.  He cursed the Moavites, and the Emorites captured a large part of their land.  Now Moav,

Imagine something that both purifies and defiles.  This is one of the paradoxes of the Red Heifer.  It is called “Chukat haTorah” -  the decree of the Torah - in this week’s Parsha, Chukat, implying something we accept on faith without human logic. Until the Temple was destroyed, there was a special purification process for someone who had come into contact, either directly or by being under the same roof, with a corpse.  This person was considered “tamei” - which for lack of a better word we translate as impure.  There is nothing intrinsically wrong with being in a state of impurity, but a tamei person may not enter the Temple grounds or partake of any consecrated food, like the meat of holy offerings. The Torah outlines the purification process.  A young cow that has purely red hair, not even two white or black hairs, is slaughtered and then burned together with some other items and the ashes are collected.   A Kohen puts water from a live spring into a container and add the ashes ,

  Thirty years is a long time.  Good people leave a good impression on those around them, and great people leave a great impression.   With time though, the memories become more distant.  We think of our loved ones or heroes with admiration, and think back to our relationship with them and their contributions with nostalgia. It is 30 years since our revered rebbe passed away, and the last word I would use to describe how we think of him is nostalgia. Nostalgia is a memory of the past.  (As Rabbi YY Jacobson says, nostalgia is not what it used to be.)  The Rebbe is very much with us, and his impact, far from waning, has grown exponentially. I remember a few years after the Rebbe passed away, a good friend of  mine was bothered about people saying that the Rebbe lives on.  Then he traveled with me to the annual Shluchim convention in Brooklyn, NY.  At the famous banquet,, the “Roll Call” of all the Shluchim was announced by the late Rabbi Moshe Kotlarsky.   He first announced the Shluchi