Often life’s greatest treasures await those willing to mine the depths far beneath the surface. This truth in the physical world is far more apparent in the vast and majestic oceans of Torah.
There is a remarkable midrash quoted by the Bas Ayin (Parshas Hachodesh at the end of Sefer Shemos) which on the surface appears to be little more than an entertaining short story. Upon deeper reflection however, I believe the Bas Ayin is gifting us with the very foundational lesson of Yiddishkeit and life itself.
The midrash says that when Shlomo Hamelech built the Beis Hamikdash, there were two birds sitting on the roof of the Beis Hamikdash having a conversation with each other. One bird remarked to the other, “Do you see this remarkable edifice that was built? Just know that with one small movement I can bring the whole structure down.”
The midrash continues with Shlomo Hamelech exiting the Beis Hamikdash and overhearing the bird’s bold remark. Shlomo Hamelech then questions the bird by reminding it that the Beis Hamikdash was built on the foundation of Torah, avodah (service of Hashem) and chesed (acts of kindness). Why then was the bird seemingly devaluing the glorious house of Hashem?
The midrash concludes with the bird’s blunt response: “Excuse me, this is a private conversation between me and my fellow bird, this doesn’t involve you.”
With the midrash seemingly left open to a myriad of interpretations, the Bas Ayin views it through his lens of anivus (humility) and shiflus (reducing one’s sense of self-importance). The Bas Ayin explains that if the slightest hint of arrogance seeps into even a closed-door private conversation between husband and wife that doesn’t involve anyone else, the whole foundation of everything will crumble.
At first glance, the Bas Ayin seemingly offers a nice, true-to-form message in interpreting a peculiar story. In reality the Bas Ayin is handing us a gem that penetrates far deeper.
The Bas Ayin shared this midrash at the conclusion of five straight parshios that describe every detail regarding the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), a process which began with the famous pasuk of Hashem tasking the nation with “Ve’asu li Mikdash ve’shochanti besocham, Build for me a dwelling place so that I may dwell amongst you.” Thousands of years ago Bnei Yisrael fulfilled that charge from Hashem through building a physical Mishkan (and later a Beis Hamikdash). How can we best fulfill Hashem’s mandate today when we no longer have the Mishkan or Beis Hamikdash?
In addressing this question, let’s analyze the root meaning of arrogance. On the surface an arrogant person is simply a “show off” with an outsized sense of self-worth. Such a person is generally loathsome to be around. However if we excavate the deeper essence of arrogance, it represents the polar opposite of emunah (faith). One who lives with emunah recognizes that his or her successes, skills and talents were bestowed as direct gifts from the Master of the Universe. Alternatively, an arrogant person lives with the misguided belief that his or her successes, skills and talents are self-made, thereby denying (consciously or subconsciously) Hashem’s role in the process.
Armed with a deeper understanding of the essence of arrogance, we can return to our question regarding how we can best build a dwelling place for Hashem in this physical world of 5784. I believe the answer the Bas Ayin is revealing is that a life in which we make space for Hashem and truly look for Hashem’s providence in every aspect of life, is one in which we have built a dwelling place for Hashem. Such a life does not allow for even a hint of arrogant belief that we are the primary drivers of our destiny. We most certainly have free choice, and must use all of our God given abilities to do our hishtadlus (obligation to utilize our God given abilities to partner with Hashem for the good). However we must simultaneously and clearly recognize where our abilities originate from.
Upon reflecting on our life’s experiences, we can often point to a few that are most memorable and which deeply impacted us. One such memory involved my maternal grandfather, Charles Goldner a”h, who we affectionately referred to as Opa.
Opa was an immense talmid chacham who woke up at 4:00 a.m. every day (until his final week at the ripe old age of 101!) to study Torah, while simultaneously enjoying success in business. Opa was a Holocaust survivor who lost three children, his wife and the majority of his extended family in the ashes of European Jewry. Despite living through seemingly insurmountable challenges, every fiber of Opa’s body was permeated with a deep sense of emunah in Hashem and a recognition of Hashem’s providence over every aspect of this world.
There was a time during my teenage years when I was far more apt to hit the golf links at sunrise rather than head to shul. On one such early morning I was tiptoeing out of the house when Opa saw me and called me over to where he was pouring over his Gemara while enjoying the early morning nature outside the window. Opa pointed to a row of deer that were walking in a single file line. Upon explaining that it was the nature of deer to walk single file to avoid unnecessary exposure to hunters, Opa remarked how glorious Hashem is to create deer with such instincts.
Decades later that episode remains etched upon my soul as an example of what it means to make space for God in our lives and to truly see the hand of Hashem everywhere. Opa built a glorious mikdash for Hashem in this world squarely at the intersection of emunah and bitachon (trust). It’s a mikdash in which I someday dream of living. Good Yom Tov!
Daniel Gibber is a longtime resident of Teaneck and is a VP of Sales at Deb El Food Products. In addition to learning as much Torah as he can, he is also privileged to speak periodically on the topic of emunah and be involved in Jewish outreach through Olami Manhattan. He can be reached at: [email protected]
