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“You shall be holy … “(Vayikra 19:2)
The Medrash Rabbah posits that one might think he must become as holy as Hashem, and points out that the pasuk ends with the words, “I, Hashem, am holy,” indicating that Hashem’s kedusha (holiness) is greater.
We learn here that every Jew has a personal obligation to make himself holy, albeit one will never eclipse the kedusha of Hashem. The great Alexander Rebbe, the Yismach Yisroel (1853-1910) asks: How could one possibly think that his kedusha could ever surpass the holiness of Hashem?
The Yismach Yisroel cites a dvar Torah related by the Biala Rebbe, R’ Yaakov Yitzchak, during the month of Iyar. He notes that the letters of Iyar contain the same letters as the word re’iah – seeing. Every Jewish month has its own special avodah, Divine service, and the avodah of Iyar is introspection, deep thought and analysis. During Iyar the Jewish people were in the midbar. It was a period of time for them to prepare themselves in anticipation of kabbalas haTorah and the revelation at Har Sinai, as they contemplated the miracles and wonders of yetzias Mitzrayim. Iyar is a time to appreciate the greatness of Hashem – mah rabbu ma’asecha Hashem – and to recognize all that Hashem does for us in this world.
The Yismach Yisroel elaborates that when the Jewish Nation were freed from Mitzrayim they were privileged to witness many miracles – the Ten Plagues, the defeat of the Egyptians, and the Splitting of the Red Sea at which time a Jewish maidservant saw visions that even the greatest of the prophets, Yechezkel HaNavi, did not merit to see. However, the Jewish people thought that they merited all this because of their own merit.
When they arrived at Marah, though, they were taught an invaluable lesson. Parched with thirst, they tasted the waters of Marah and found them bitter (as the name implies). Hashem then instructed Moshe Rabbeinu to throw a bitter branch into the water, contrary to one’s natural instinct to throw in a sweet branch. The message is clear, though. After introspection and self-development, a humble and unassuming individual who is offended and bitter about his past transgressions, will realize that his kedusha is a gift from Hashem, and not a simple achievement of his own.
We are a work in progress constantly seeking to elevate ourselves spiritually by refining and perfecting ourselves. However, we realize that all we are able to accomplish is b’ siyata d’Shmaya – with the help of Hashem.
We also learn in a Medrash that the Jewish Nation went to sleep the night before kabbalas haTorah. They slept so deeply that they did not wake up on time in the morning, and Moshe Rabbeinu had to wake them up. It is surprising, and almost unthinkable, that they even went to sleep preceding such an unprecedented event, never mind not waking up on time.
The Yismach Yisroel explains further that they fell asleep against their will. Hashem wanted to show them that it was not their own growth and anticipation that empowered them, but rather every effort requires siyata d’Shmaya.
The famous Rav of Frankfurt, Rav Avraham Abush (circa 1690-1769), concerned about the poor of the city, would personally collect funds for tzedakah. Once, before the High Holy Days, he approached a merchant from out of town for funds. The merchant was preoccupied with his business calculations and, not knowing Rav Abush personally, he thought he was just a simple beggar on the street. Shouting that he was a busy man, the merchant mercilessly chased Rav Abush away. The Rebbe heard himself shamed, but didn’t reveal his identity and quietly left.
As the merchant rose to leave, he began to look around for his cane but could not find it. He immediately thought of the beggar who had just been in to see him. The merchant pursued the “beggar,” and when he caught up with Rav Abush he began to hurl loud accusations and insults at him. “Ganav, you stole my walking stick! Just because I didn’t give you money you steal from me?”
“G-d forbid,” protested Rav Abush, “I didn’t touch your walking stick.”
The merchant didn’t believe Rav Abush and began to beat him. Rav Abush bore the blows in silence and still did not reveal his identity.
On Shabbos Shuva, Rav Abush gave his usual special drasha in the main shul in Frankfurt. The entire community gathered to hear him; it was standing room only. The merchant also came and found it difficult to even get in the doors. When he finally gained entrance, he stood all the way in the back, craning his neck to see the speaker.
To his utter shock and dismay, he realized that the Rav was none other than the beggar he had struck on the street, and he fell to the floor in a dead faint. When he was revived, the congregants advised him to go ask the Rav for forgiveness (mechilla). “He is a very forgiving person; he will not be upset or take revenge,” they assured him.
When the drasha was over, the merchant pushed through the crowd who were lining up to thank the Rav for his outstanding speech. Seeing him, Rav Abish thought that the merchant was coming to him again about his cane. He quickly reached out to the merchant and, before the merchant could say a word, the Rav asserted, “I swear to you in this holy place where we stand that I did not take your cane.”
Such was the humility and comportment of the Rav of Frankfurt.