We are currently in the period known as Bein haZmanim, a time when many of us take a vacation. The term Bein haZmanim also alludes to the fact that we are “between times”, the two exceptionally special periods of Bein haMetzarim and Chodesh Elul.
There are no coincidences in the yearly cycle of mo’adim, leading us to wonder why the month of Elul follows the sad and dark days of Bein haMetzarim. Could it not have fallen in the weeks after Pesach or Sukkos, for example? And why do the Shivah d’Nechemta coincide with the weeks of Elul?
The Mishnah Berurah cites several roshei tevos of the word Elul, the most famous of which is “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li”. What is the deeper meaning of this phrase and how is it manifested in the month of Elul?
Do Not Cut Yourself
In this week’s parsha we are commanded, “You are children of your God, You shall neither cut yourselves nor make any baldness between your eyes for the dead.”
The Gemara in Sanhedrin recounts the following: When R Eliezer died and his Aron was brought out, his student, R’ Akiva, was in such distress that he made incisions in his flesh and his blood poured onto the ground. The mefarshim ask (see Tosfos in Sanhedrin ad. loc. and Yevamos) how R’ Akiva could do so given that the Torah states explicitly “Lo sisgodedu - Do not cut your flesh out of distress.” They answer that in this case, it was different - “mishum divrey Torah sha’ani” - since his distress was over Torah, it was permissible to cut himself.
This seems difficult to understand. Imagine a great tzaddik sitting and learning b’hasmada on Yom Kippur night. After five hours of learning the fast is taking its toll and he can no longer concentrate on his learning. Would he be permitted to take a drink of water? Surely not! The fact that it is “mishum divrey Torah” would make no difference at all. Likewise, a person could certainly not eat a piece of pork to help him feel stronger and learn better. The mitzvos must be observed in all circumstances. Why then was R’ Akiva permitted to cut himself, seemingly violating a clear issur, just because his grief was over divrey Torah?
When Life IS Worth Living
Two years ago we quoted a wonderful explanation by R’ Chaim Shmulevitz zt”l as to the deeper meaning of the prohibition of Lo Sisgodedu.
When a person is in distress over the death of a close relative, he will often experience a feeling of significant loss. In fact, at times, he may even feel that without his relative “life is not worth living”, to the extent that he tears into his own flesh. But this is a grievous mistake. The Torah’s response to these feelings is “banim atem Lashem - You are the children of Hashem”. With a father like Hashem, life is always worth living. The passuk continues with the issur of Lo Sisgodedu.
However, when the loss is not just over a close relative, but over the Torah itself, this prohibition no longer applies. This is because it is a true and eternal loss, a loss of life in its very essence. The loss of Torah justifies the feeling that life is not worth living, and one is permitted to tear one’s flesh.
What Was He Missing?
Let us try to understand R’ Akiva’s desperate cry and feelings of hopelessness. He was one of the greatest of the Tannaim. We can’t relate to his prowess in Torah. He spent twenty-four years learning without interruption, returning with twenty-four thousand talmidim. Chazal relate that he derived heaps of halachos from each kotz of each letter in the Torah. Why then, was he so distressed when R’ Eliezer passed away? He had not lost the enormous volume of Torah that he had learned - he was surrounded by many other great tzaddikim and could surely find himself another Rebbe from whom to learn.
This episode teaches us the truly extraordinary appreciation a person should have for Torah. Though R’ Akiva had acquired a vast amount of Torah, if he lost even the smallest part he felt that it was a greater loss than any personal tragedy, even the loss of his closest relative. Each word of Torah was his lifeline and not having his Rebbe – from whom he had received so much Torah - gave him such great distress that he tore his flesh until his blood poured onto the ground. The lack of even a morsel of Torah gave him the feeling that life was simply not worth living.
Let us delve a little further into this astounding midah of R’ Akiva. We will see that to him, personal distress, or even tragedy, was not a reason to stress, whereas a loss of Torah was as tragic as could be.
Advice from the Fox
It was a period of great distress for Klal Yisrael: The authorities had forbidden the study of Torah. Much of the nation feared for their lives and complied with the edict, but not R’ Akiva; he continued learning and teaching Torah. When questioned about his actions he responded with the following mashal:
The fish were panicking, rushing about in distress - people wanted to catch them and eat them. The fox looked down from above and, seeing the panic, decided that it was time for his sage advice. “My dear friends”, he said, “I have the perfect solution for you. Instead of remaining down there in the danger zone with the risk of being caught and eaten, why not come and join me up here, and you and I can live side by side in harmony?”
The fish responded: “Are you the fox who is said to be the cleverest of the animals? You fool! Here in the water - our place of life - we panic about being caught and eaten. If we leave the water - the source of our life - we will certainly die!
Reciting Shema as his Flesh was Being Combed!
With this message delineating the importance and lifeline of Torah, R’ Akiva continued to risk his life learning and teaching Torah - life itself. Soon afterwards, the authorities caught him in the act and arrested him.
R’ Akiva’s crime was punishable by death. However, the wicked Romans did not simply execute him; they sought to cruelly torture him, raking his flesh with metal combs. His talmidim looked on aghast. The time for reciting Krias Shema arrived and, rather than crying out in agony, R’ Akiva recited the passuk “Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokenu Hashem echad”. His astounded talmidim asked him, “Rebbe, ad kan - to this extent?” to which R’ Akiva responded: “All my life I was mitzta’er, I was pained about the passuk “b’chol nafshecha”. When would I ever have the chance to fulfil it? Now that I finally can do so, should I not rejoice? He extended the word echad until his neshama left him.
This story underscores R’ Akiva’s astonishing dedication to Torah even in the most difficult of circumstances. However, there is one point that we must clarify. What did R’ Akiva mean when he said that he had always been “pained” about the passuk, “b’chol nafshecha”? What was the pain?
We may also raise a further question. When Moshe was on Har Sinai he was allowed to see the astounding Torah that R’ Akiva would learn in the future. Moshe asked Hashem to see R’ Akiva’s sechar and Hashem showed him R’ Akiva’s grisly death. “Zu Torah v’zu secharah? - This is Torah and this is its sechar?” exclaimed Moshe. “Shtok - Quiet!” retorted Hashem, “Kach alah b’machshavi techilah”.
Moshe essentially had the same question as the talmidim of R’ Akiva. Why was Moshe not answered at all whereas R’ Akiva’s talmidim were?
Times of “Dodi li v’ani lo”
R’ Ezriel Tauber offers a marvellous explanation, which also serves to enlighten us in the current time of the year. Moshe Rabbenu lived in a stupendous era of Jewish history, of yetzias Mitzrayim, of kriyas Yam Suf, of Matan Torah. It was a time of “Dodi li v’ani lo” - Dodi - Hashem - gives to me, and, in response, “ani lo - I serve Him”.
Times of “Ani l’dodi”
R’ Akiva, by contrast, lived during the most difficult times in Jewish history, times of pain, persecution, tremendous hester, and yissurim. This was a time of “Ani l’dodi” - I am to my beloved, (Hashem) without first receiving prosperity (the element of “dodi li”) from Him.
Before the times of R’ Akiva, it was possible to be mekadesh shem Shamayim, but only in a limited way. Hashem's presence was clear. Klal Yisrael felt Hashem’s love and embrace, received His Torah, saw the astounding nissim and had the first Beis Hamikdash with the great giluy panim that was manifested there. The avodas Hashem was great but not the greatest of all. It was “Dodi li v’ani lo” - He was good to me so I responded in kind.
R’ Akiva lived during a time of hester panim, of apparent tzaddik v’ra lo, of difficulty and pain for the nation. It was a time of stepping forward with “Ani l’dodi” before receiving any, “Dodi li”.
The Pain of Better Times!
Whilst experiencing the most unimaginable torture R’ Akiva was saying: “Until now all my avodas Hashem was not at its greatest level - it was ‘Dodi li v’ani lo’. All my life I was mitzta’er over the passuk of ‘b’chol nafshecha’. I was not able to serve Hashem during a time of hester. I did not have an opportunity to show ‘Ani l’dodi’, to demonstrate my unconditional love for Hashem. Now I am finally experiencing a situation where I am not receiving anything from Hashem. He is taking my neshama amid the most painful yissurim. Now is the ultimate time of being mekabel malchus Shamayim, of serving Hashem purely in a state of ‘Ani l’dodi'.”
When Moshe Rabbenu, the greatest leader and Rebbe of Klal Yisrael, was shown R’ Akiva’s painful death, he could not understand it. “Zu Torah v’zu sechara?” Hashem could not explain it to him because Moshe did not have the context and avoda of “Ani l’dodi”. However, R’ Akiva’s talmidim had lived in the times of hester and they had witnessed the astounding and unconditional avoda of R Akiva - “All my life I have been pained at not being able to fulfil b’chol nafshecha to its fullest, now is my opportunity”. They could, therefore, appreciate an answer to the question.
As the time for Krias Shema arrived R’ Akiva cried out Shema Yisrael, and, as he reached the word echad, he was ma’arich. He was conveying this: “Hashem is One, the same Hashem who took us out of Mitzrayim, gave us the Torah gave us life and was with us in all the good times - is echad - the same one G-d, who is with us in the times of hester, of pain and darkness and indeed in these painful bitter moments as my flesh is being combed until my death.” With that, his neshama rose to Shamayim.
Current Times
As we approach the yemey ha’rachamim of Elul and Rosh Hashanah, a time of teshuva, and kabalas ol malchus Shamayim, we may feel that the avoda is a continuation of Pesach or Shavuos when we are mamlich Hashem from a feeling of ahava. However, we now understand that the opposite is true.
Pesach is a time when we received a kiss from Hashem, as is Shavuos. But in Elul and Rosh Hashanah we give Hashem a kiss. We focus on “Ani le’dodi”, by being mamlich Him unconditionally, in the best possible way.
The best time for this is after Tisha b'Av. Following the chet ha’egel and the breaking of the luchos on shiva asar b'Tamuz, following the destruction of the two Batey Mikdash on Tisha b’Av, specifically in the time of the greatest hester when the kisses of Pesach and Shavuos have faded away, is the greatest kiss of “ani l’dodi”.
As we approach Shabbos Mevarchim and prepare for these special days, let us remember the real meaning of “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li”. We are doing teshuva, being mamlich Hashem, and giving Him the greatest kiss, not only in easy and pleasant circumstances, but even, and in fact, especially, when we experience difficulty and challenges. This is what R’ Akiva sought to fulfil and this is our kiss to Hashem.
