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By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin
Parshas Beha’aloscha opens with HaShem instructing Moshe to speak to Aaron regarding the lighting of the menorah. A task that Aaron, as Kohen Gadol, was honored with.
“Va’yaas kein Aaron, And Aaron did so…” (Bamidbar 8:3)
Rashi expounds on this pasuk, “Lehagid sh’vocho shel Aaron, shelo shina, To praise Aaron, that he didn’t change.”
Do we need to praise Aaron for adhering to HaShem’s mitzvos? Would we expect anything different from Aaron HaKohein?
Shelo shina, that he didn’t change. Both the Kotzker Rebbe and the Vila Gaon teach that Rashi is referring to Aaron’s mindset, his attitude upon lighting the menorah. The greatness of Aaron was that he was able to maintain the same fervor and anticipation, the same love and dedication, in lighting the menorah the first time, as well as the hundredth time, and even the thousandth time.
No matter how many years passed, Aaron didn’t change. Torah and mitzvos never became routine and stale for him, but was always seen as a z’chus, a special merit, an honored privilege. For thirty-nine years, Aaron lit the menorah with passion and enthusiasm.
“Mi ya’aleh b’har HaShem, Who will ascend onto HaShem’s mountain, U’mi yakum bimkom kod’sho, And who will stand in His holy place.” (Tehillim 24:3) While it’s certainly virtuous and worthy to reach the “mountain of HaShem”, it is something else to stand on the mountain, to maintain a high level of spirituality. Aaron was not only able to climb the mountain, but he stayed there. He lived a life of kedusha, passionate about his commitment in both thought and action.
It was Motzoei Shavuos. A friend shared that she went to shul on Yom Tov to say Yizkor for a parent. “I wanted to cry… to feel the loss… to be inspired…” She sighed and lamented how the tears never came.
I thought back to davening with my zeide, HaRav Avraham Jungreis, zt”l. While I never heard Zeide’s Yizkor, (which I’m sure was heart-wrenching), I did have the z’chus to hear Zeide’s Yom Kippur davening. Zeide’s Asarah Harugei Malchus, the tefilla of the Ten Martyrs, each martyr a great, all brutally murdered during the era of Roman rule. Zeide would say the tefilla slowly, filled with emotion. He would cry between each word, pausing to truly feel the pain of our leaders who were so viciously slaughtered. While I couldn’t see Zeide’s face during davening, his tears and inner pain, his anguish were very palpable.
I think of our davening. While there are those amongst us who cry during Yizkor, all-to-often our words become mechanical-like, said by rote. At times, as we daven – myself included – our minds are distracted, our thoughts flying in a hundred directions. We are living in a culture that multi-tasks, and it affects our thought process, taking a toll on our davening.
How right my friend is. The tears, the cries are missing. From the time I hear the bang on the table and the call of Yizkor, until the tefilla is over, I am not quite able to finish. I need more time to think, to feel, to cry, to be in the moment.
The parsha reminds us of the power of Aaron. The emotions he experienced the first time of lighting the menorah remained with him as he lit day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.
As it is with mitzvos that bring joy, so it should be with those that recall pain. The loss felt the first time saying Yizkor should be felt every time. We must make an extra effort for our tefillos to be said with proper kavanna, deep concentration, with each and every word thought out. Davening should not be an exercise in speed-reading.
Beha’aloscha…. Aaron lit the menorah. Typically, we use the word le’hadlik, to light. Why the term beha’aloscha, meaning when you go up? While Aaron would physically go up steps to light the menorah, there is yet a deeper understanding. Aaron seized the opportunity to elevate his spiritual self. A message to us. A life committed to Torah and mitzvos gives us the power “la’alos”, to elevate ourselves. HaShem gives us many, many opportunities each day. Take hold of a mitzvah and make it yours. Use it to elevate your very being.
The lessons of Aaron HaKohein live on with us. We light candles. Shabbos candles, Yom Tov candles, Chanukah candles. We also light candles at times of sadness. Yizkor and yahrtzeit candles, a ner neshama. Flames that all symbolize the spiritual connection between man and HaShem.
As we light, in a small way we bring the kedusha of the Bais HaMikdash into our own homes, creating a Mikdash Me’at”, a sanctuary in miniature. We daven that we follow in the footsteps of Aaron, and keep every mitzva with the same enthusiasm as the first time.
As the war in Eretz Yisroel continues, it’s easy to become complacent, to get used to the news. More lives are being lost, and so many are still being held hostage. But we must go back to October 7. Though it is now more than eight months later, the fresh pain and anguish we felt upon hearing of the unspeakable atrocities committed on that brutal day, should be no greater than the agony and heartache we feel upon hearing of every additional loss of life, of severed limbs, of families torn apart by tragedy and suffering.
We should continue to daven, to storm the gates of Heaven with the same fervor and intensity, and surely HaShem will respond with yeshuos and refuos, and with the besoros tovos that all of us – collectively and individually – so desperately yearn for.
Shabbat Shalom!
Chaya Sora
Chaya Sora can be reached at [email protected]
This article was written L’zecher Nishmas/In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi, zt”l
