בראשית ברא אלקים
In the beginning of G-d’s creating. (1:1)
One of the classic questions which Chazal raise and the commentaries elaborate on is: Why does the Torah begin with the letter bais (Bereishis), rather than the letter aleph, which is the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet? One would expect that the foundational text for all Creation, the blueprint for life and living, would commence with the first and primary letter of the alphabet. Chazal teach that the aleph was placated with another enviable position in the Torah: Anochi Hashem, the first word of the Aseres HaDibros. The Ten Commandments represent our basic guidelines for living as Torah Jews. They are the standard, a microcosm of the entire Torah, with each commandment alluding to entire categories of mitzvos. Even the number ten symbolizes wholeness and completion. The Aseres HaDibros express the values and principles that underpin all mitzvos. While we have no question that it is enviable for the aleph to serve as the beginning letter of this seminal corpus of Torah – it is still not the same as being the first letter to the Torah.
Furthermore, among the various reasons Chazal cite to explain why the bais supersedes the aleph, the Yerushalmi (Chagigah 2:5) explains that bais is the letter which begins b’rachah, blessing, while aleph is the first letter of arur/arirah, curse. The Torah should begin with blessing. This implies, however, that it is acceptable for the Aseres HaDibros to begin with the aleph which, on some level, is connected to curse.
Perhaps we may explain why the aleph’s place is at the beginning of the Aseres HaDibros, the halachah/mitzvah (so to speak) part of the Torah. The first mitzvah of the Aseres HaDibros is Anochi Hashem Elokecha, “I am Hashem, your G-d.” This statement is much more than Hashem simply “introducing” Himself to Klal Yisrael. Rather, He was presenting to them the foundation of all mitzvos, the basis of the mitzvah of emunah, faith in Hashem. Indeed, every other mitzvah in the Torah depends on Anochi Hashem. If G-d, the Supreme Being, does not exist, the mitzvos have no meaning. In other words, without Anochi, we have no Torah.
While this explains the overriding significance of Aseres HaDibros, how does it ameliorate the aspect of arur, curse, from characterizing the aleph? We might suggest that what we think is a curse is determined by our limited, mortal minds. If, indeed, our faith and conviction are pure, if our emunah in Hashem is palpable and unequivocal, then what appears to be arur might actually be baruch! Hashem has no evil within Him. He is blessing, but one must believe b’emunah sheleimah, with complete faith in Hashem. This is the lesson of Anochi. The aleph of arur is transformed via the aleph of Anochi.
Alternatively, Chazal (Shabbos 105A) teach that Anochi is an acronym for: Anochi Nafshi Kesivas Yehavis, “I, Myself, wrote and gave the Torah.” This reflects the idea that Hashem infused the Torah with His essence, and Anochi is the opening of Hashem giving of Himself. Thus, the aleph of Anochi intimates that the Torah is a Divine gift containing Hashem’s essence.
This sheds light on the significance of the aleph and its placement at the head of the Aseres HaDibros. Other factors explain why Hashem selected the bais over the aleph to be the first letter of the Torah. Perhaps we may add a simpler, yet profoundly personal, insight that speaks to the heart of our avodah, service, to the Almighty.
In the Hebrew language, we often use the letter bais as an os shimush, a prefix that serves a grammatical function. It is not a self-contained word; it does not stand on its own; rather, it bonds, converts and attaches itself to others – often redefining the word. It is a letter that “serves” a preposition that gives life to the word to which it is attached. The aleph, by contrast, is independent and stands alone – a symbol of individuality. It is the “first” letter of the alphabet, strong and solitary. Aleph is the letter that represents self-containment. The Torah seeks to teach us that life is not about “I” or “me,” but about “us” and “we.” Thus, it begins with bais, the letter of shimush, of connection and support. On the other hand, concerning growth in Torah and mitzvah performance, asserting oneself, using the letter aleph as a guide for growth, nothing and no one should prevent us from success in Torah study and observance.
Emunah is a religious staple without which one cannot claim to be an observant Jew. Many people obviously talk the talk, but, when it comes to walking the walk and manifesting their emunah, their faith is subdued and, hence, flawed. The following classic story is well-known, but well-worth repeating, because it goes to the crux of the issue.
The story is told of two chassidim who would annually travel to visit their Rebbe for Succos. On the way, they would stop at a certain inn run by an observant Jewish couple. One year, the innkeeper approached them humbly and asked, “You know that I am not a chasid, but nevertheless I have a favor to ask of you: My wife and I have been married for ten years and have not been blessed with a child. Can you ask the Rebbe to intercede on our behalf?”
The chassidim agreed to speak to the Rebbe, and, the next morning, the innkeeper’s wife began parading around town with an expensive baby carriage, heralding the future birth of their child. When her friends gathered to wish her mazal tov, she explained that, while she was not yet with child, she soon would be. After all, the chassidim were going to speak to their Rebbe. Seeing this, the two chassidim were slightly embarrassed because they knew that prayers do not always engender the results for which they hope. Hashem decides what is best, and it does not always precisely correspond with our aspirations.
The following year, the chassidim returned to the inn, as the innkeeper’s son’s circumcision was in progress. The joy was palpable, as everybody shared in the celebration – everybody but one of the chassidim. He said nothing until he arrived at the Rebbe’s home, and he began to pour out his heart to him: “For thirty years, I have been your trusted disciple. Every year, I ask for your blessing that my wife and I be blessed with a child. We have yet to be blessed. Yet, Hashem answered the innkeeper, who is not a chasid, on his first request. Why?”
The Rebbe took his disciple’s hands in his and looked deeply into his tear-stained eyes and asked, “Tell me something: during these thirty years, did you ever buy a baby carriage? How great was your faith compared to that of the innkeeper’s wife?”
This story tells it all. We must take our emunah to the next level. We must demonstrate our belief by participating actively in our faith. Perhaps we should not go as far as buying a baby carriage, but we must realize that emunah is not a spectator event.
