Ramban answers this question by quoting the Midrash that states that the Aron needed everyone’s participation because it was the most sacred item in the Mishkan, the one that was the dwelling place of the Shechinah. The Aron had to be built by everyone, so that all the Jews should have the merit of attachment to the Torah (which is represented by the Aron). [Of course, it was not necessary for every person to be physically involved in the construction of the Aron; this participation could be accomplished by each person donating one gold article for use in making it, or by his rendering some small assistance to Bezalel. Indeed, Ramban states that the participation could even be done mentally, by the person directing his thoughts to the matter of the Aron’s construction.]

This shows us that the very heart of the Jewish nation is its connection to Hashem through the Torah. Regarding all the other important elements of the Mishkan, the donor could decide and choose which items he would like to contribute toward. But the Aron, which contained the source of our nation’s existence, the Torah, needed to be constructed with the participation of each and every Jew.

This concept — that the Torah must belong to each and every member of Klal Yisrael — brings to mind a story that is told about one of the great roshei hayeshivah who was collecting funds for an emergency building campaign. While doing so, he encountered a good-hearted wealthy person who offered to cover the cost of the entire project by himself. The rosh yeshivah thanked him profusely for his generous offer, but refused to accept it. He explained to the prospective donor that in order to build Torah, one must gather not only funds, but also the merits of the רַבִּים, the public, and this can be done only by collecting from many people. This concept is derived from the building of the Aron, the resting place for the Torah and the Shechinah, which, as we have learned, required some form of contribution from every single person.

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This concept is discussed by Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah (2:26), where he notes that often, when people hear a very moving lecture or are shaken up by terrible news, they are prompted to change their ways. However, the impact does not last long, for the yetzer hara tries hard to make the person forget the lesson. In just a few days, he will be back to normal.

The only way to insure a lasting message from an inspiring incident or the like is for a person to consciously “wake himself up” and discern what lessons can be learned from that incident, and how those lessons can impact upon and change his life.

He quotes the words of Hillel (Avos 1:14): אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי מִי לִי, If I am not for myself, who will be for me? This means that although a person can hear speeches and lectures given by others, nothing will become a part of him unless he is actively involved in internalizing the message, utilizing his own understanding and intellect.

This is what Yisro did. He did not simply hear the facts of the great miracles as everyone else did; he took it a step further. He asked himself: “What does my knowledge of those miracles obligate me to do? What lessons do they teach me? Who is really in charge of everything in this world? And what can I do to become close to the true God?”

In the Yiddish language there are two very similar words, whose meanings are worlds apart. One is הערען, heren, which means hearing, and the other is דערהערען, derheren, which means comprehending. Someone can talk in a foreign language and he will be heard by everyone in the room, but not everyone will understand and comprehend what is being said.

This is why so many times, even after being exposed to clear indications of the hand of Hashem (such as the hurricanes and tsunamis of recent years), it does not take long for us to shake off our inspiration and go back to our regular routine. If we only hear current events, but fail to understand their messages and internalize their lessons, then the yetzer hara will do a fine job of helping us to forget the initial impact.

Rav Chaim Shmulevitz put it so perfectly. The Midrash (Yalkut |sechead|244) tells us that a maidservant saw at the Sea what even the great Yechezkel the prophet did not see (this refers to visions of Hashem’s Throne). He asks: Why, then, did the maidservant not become a prophet like Yechezkel? And he answers: Because even after she saw the great vision, she remained a maidservant; she did nothing more than see. Thus, while she may have indeed seen great things, this did not motivate her to grow spiritually and change her ways.

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Explaining the reason why a person must always turn to the example shown by his forefathers and teachers, R’ Yerucham Levovitz offers an example of a hiker walking in a forest. When this person reaches a route that he has never traveled before, he need not despair, for he may easily reach his destination by following the trails and signposts that have been marked by the forest rangers familiar with the territory. These people are intimately acquainted with the terrain, and the directions they leave for future hikers can safely be followed. However, points out R’ Yerucham, even when clear signs and directions are available, not everyone is able to find his way around a forest, for maps and signposts only help those who are able to read them. A child, a person unfamiliar with the local language, or someone who is unable to read a map will still get lost. The only way that such a person can reach his destination and not get lost in the maze of the forest is to follow another person who, since he can read the directions, knows where he is going. As long as one follows in this person’s path, he will make it to safety.

The same is true, continues R’ Yerucham, of a person journeying through life, who is searching for the proper way to serve Hashem. He, no different than any traveler, does not have to find the right road on his own; Hashem gave clear guidelines in His Torah that, properly followed, will allow a person to easily travel the proper path. However, these guidelines will only help a person who understands how the Torah’s message is to be applied to every aspect of his daily life. A person unsure of the proper way to serve Hashem in a particular circumstance, however, need not despair. Like the child in the forest, he has only to follow the example of others who knew where they were going; namely, spiritually greater previous generations who understood how the Torah’s “signposts for life” provide guidance in all situations. By acting as these people did when they were faced with a similar challenge, every person can be sure that he will properly serve Hashem.

Taken literally, it seems from this Gemara that Hashem favored David over Shaul. David sinned on two occasions and was forgiven by Hashem; Shaul sinned only once, and was not forgiven by Hashem. David was able to keep his kingship despite having sinned twice, while Shaul lost his kingship after sinning only once.

The Gemara (Taanis 25b) records an instance where R’ Eliezer unsuccessfully prayed for rain, and then R’ Akiva did so successfully. A bas kol (voice from heaven) called out: ‘‘R’ Akiva did not succeed because he was greater than R’ Eliezer. He succeeded because he worked on his middos — especially the middah of being forgiving.’’ Yaaros Devash explains that R’ Eliezer also worked on his character; however, it did not take great effort on his part to become forgiving, because he was naturally forgiving. On the other hand, R’ Akiva was naturally unforgiving, but worked heroically to change this. In the end, they were equally forgiving, but Hashem responded to R’ Akiva’s prayers because he had exerted greater effort to get there. The Jews of that generation deserved drought as punishment for their sins, but Hashem chose to be forgiving just as R’ Akiva chose to become forgiving.

Maadanei Shmuel applies this approach of the Yaaros Devash to explain why Hashem ‘‘favored’’ David. The Gemara in Taanis (22b) states that when Shaul was coronated, he was without sin. He was perfect in appearance, strength, Torah, and character; however, as such he was unprepared for the possibility of failure. When confronted by Shmuel after the war with Amalek, his belief in his own infallibility stopped him from considering that he might have erred. He answered, ‘‘Do you not see that I fulfilled the word of Hashem?!’’ He never questioned his actions, because he believed that not destroying Amalek was the greater fulfillment of Hashem’s intent. Moreover, believing that he was always in concert with Hashem’s wishes, Shaul did not request Hashem’s help to be successful. His successes were the rightful consequence of a sinless life — not through Hashem’s mercy but through His justice!

On the other hand, explains Malbim, David’s subjugation to the will of Hashem was a constant struggle against his nature to sin. As David himself states (Tehillim 18:22): כִּי־שָׁמַרְתִּי דַּרְכֵי ה’ וְלֹא־רָשַׁעְתִּי מֵאֱלֹהַי, For I have kept the ways of Hashem and have not departed wickedly from my God. David proclaimed that if not for his commitment to follow the ways of Hashem he would have departed wickedly from Him. He had to choose to serve Hashem, and not follow his own desires.

The reason Hashem showed favor and mercy to David was because David never trusted himself not to sin, was constantly asking Hashem for assistance, and believed that his successes came about only as a result of Hashem’s mercy. On the other hand, Shaul considered everything as due to his unfailing righteousness, and did not seek Hashem’s help. Therefore, when he did sin, Hashem acted toward him with justice rather than mercy.

Tzidkas HaTzaddik notes further that the source for the placement of the blessing of repentance in the Shemoneh Esrei identifies the heart’s understanding as a prerequisite for repentance (Yeshayah 6:10): וּלְבָבוֹ יָבִין וָשָׁב וְרָפָא לוֹ, [lest it] understand with its heart, so that it will repent and be healed (see Megillah 17b).

The purpose of the mitzvah of tzitzis is that through it one will remember Hashem’s commandments. The Gemara (Menachos 44a) recounts a story in this regard: Once there was an otherwise sinful person who was careful with the mitzvah of tzitzis. He heard that in a distant country there was a woman of ill-repute who commanded a phenomenal sum for her services. He made the appropriate arrangements and traveled to her home. When he entered, as he was about to commit the sin he had intended, his tzitzis-strings struck his face. He immediately turned away from the woman, and sat upon the ground. She asked him, “What blemish did you see in me?” He answered, “I swear that I have never seen anyone like you. But, there is a mitzvah that Hashem, our God, commanded us — it is called tzitzis. Regarding this mitzvah, the Torah twice repeats the words אֲנִי ה’ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם, I am Hashem your God. Hashem says, ‘I am the One Who will extract retribution, and I am the One Who will bestow reward.’ Just now, the four tzitzis-fringes were as four witnesses to this.” [The Gemara concludes the story that she — impressed at this miracle of the tzitzis-strings (see Rashi) — converted to Judaism, and eventually they were married.]

Tzidkas HaTzaddik observes that in this story the man knew he was sinning, and knew that it was wrong. He had an intellectual knowledge of his actions. But it was the tzitzis striking his face that triggered the emotional memory — the memory of the heart — and this helped him refrain from sinning.

Similarly, the Gemara (Nedarim 8a) tells us that one may take an oath — a practice generally frowned upon — to perform a mitzvah. The Gemara asks: Hasn’t every Jew already taken an oath to fulfill the mitzvos at Mount Sinai? The Gemara’s answer is that through this new oath, he will be more perseverant. Tzidkas HaTzaddik wonders: How will the oath cause him to be more perseverant? What is he adding that wasn’t there before? The answer is that he will now have an emotional connection to the mitzvah, and his heart will not allow him to come to sin.

One of these blessings is: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה … עוֹשֶׂה מַעֲשֵׂה בְרֵאשִׁית, Blessed are You … Who makes the work of creation. The source of this blessing is the Mishnah in Berachos (54a) that states that upon seeing hills, seas, rivers, or deserts one recites this blessing. Abudraham explains that by acknowledging something that was created during the six days of creation, and is still in existence, we certainly acknowledge the continued existence of Hashem, and He is thus praised. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 228:3) notes that this does not apply to all mountains, only to those that are extraordinary and through which the power of Hashem is recognized. Aruch HaShulchan comments that this would include mountain ranges such as the Alps, the Pyrenees, Mount Ararat, and any other mountain that is similarly outstanding in height and size.

Regarding rivers, however, there appears to be a dispute in the halachah. Addressing the same issue, the Shulchan Aruch (ibid. 2) states that one makes the blessing only on the four rivers mentioned in the Torah, such as Chiddekel (Tigris) and Peras (Euphrates). This is based on Tosafos (Berachos 54a) and Mordechai, which are cited in Beis Yosef on the Tur. Magen Avraham, however, is mystified by this ruling, for why should we not make a blessing on the other great rivers that were created? Furthermore, all of the poskim (Rambam, Tur, etc.) state simply “rivers,” with no such restriction. Also, what is meant by the phrase “like Chiddekel and Peras”? Those are the rivers of the Torah. He therefore concludes that the Shulchan Aruch means to say that the rivers must be of an exemplary variety (as cited from Abudraham) like Chiddekel and Peras. Aruch HaShulchan (and Mishnah Berurah) concurs with this explanation and adds that the Volga, Danube, and Rhine Rivers would fit this criterion.

Interestingly, Torah Temimah (Bereishis 2:14:35) addresses this question and states that the assumption of the Magen Avraham is that the blessing is due to the grand or spectacular features of these rivers. In fact, he argues, based on a Gemara (Bechoros 55b), the reason we bless the four rivers enumerated in connection with Gan Eden is because they are the foundation and source of all the rivers of the world. Thus, the blessing should be limited to them.

This blessing is also recited when one sees a comet or lightning, or witnesses an earthquake or hurricane. Although the Mishnah cited above states that the blessing on these things is שֶׁכֹּחוֹ וּגְבוּרָתוֹ מָלֵא עוֹלָם, for His strength and power fill the universe, the Gemara concludes that one may recite either of the blessings on these phenomena. Mishnah Berurah (227:5) states that the custom is to make the blessing of עוֹשֶׂה on lightning and שֶׁכֹּחוֹ on thunder. Nevertheless, since each is fitting for both, either one fulfills the obligation. [See there as to the proper procedure when experiencing lightning and thunder simultaneously or successively.]

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“This love [between man and wife] is an amazing power of the soul … At first glance, it would seem that there is no explanation for it, but rather that it is a natural instinct instilled in man by the Creator to insure the survival of mankind, just as He created hunger within man to ensure that he would eat. However, this answer does not suffice; for the physical desires of man, in combination with the natural longing for children, already suffice to ensure the continuance of the species. Why, then, did love between man and wife have to be added?

‘‘I have heard some say that this love is born of hakaras hatov, gratitude. Because a husband and wife assist each other in the fulfillment of their natural urges, they come to love one another. But this explanation, too, is mistaken; for there is no lack of people who do not possess the trait of hakaras hatov, and yet we see that they are not lacking in love for their spouses!

‘‘Thus, we must explain that a husband and wife love one another because they complete each other. It is part of the very nature of man that he is incomplete without a wife; as the Midrash states (Bereishis Rabbah §17), One who has no wife … is not a whole man. One who is single and alone cannot complete his mission in life. It is for this reason that man and wife love each other. As we have explained before, a person who is a ‘giver’ naturally loves the recipient of his gifts. And since enabling one to complete his mission in life is the greatest gift of all, man and wife are naturally inclined to love each other, and to want to make each other happy …

‘‘This is what I always tell couples on the joyous occasion of their wedding: ‘Always strive to please each other, and to give each other pleasure and happiness, as you wish to do at this moment. For as soon as you cease to wish to please each other, and instead begin to demand things of each other, your happiness will flee … ‘If a husband and wife work to always be giving to each other, their lives will be filled with good fortune and happiness.”

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The Gemara (Yoma 19b), however, states that the word בָּם means to emphasize that one is permitted to speak words of Torah but not other things, which Rashi interprets as childish speech or lighthearted banter.

The Chofetz Chaim expounds on this Gemara in his commentary to the verse וַיְהִי הָאָדָם לְנֶפֶשׁ חַיָּה, and man became a living being (Bereishis 2:7). Noting that Targum Onkelos translates it וַהֲוַת בְּאָדָם לְרוּחַ מְמַלְלָא, And there was in Adam the spirit of speech (and based on Ramban), the Chofetz Chaim says that the power of speech is Divine in nature, and does not consist of the four broad elements from which the rest of the world was formed. As such, the Chofetz Chaim focuses on this unique feature of man. He points out that all of a person’s actions require intent and concentration in order to be effective. For instance, one banging a nail into a wall must concentrate on holding the nail steady with one hand while banging it with a hammer held in the other hand. If he does not pay attention to either of these aspects of his task, he can easily bang his finger instead of the nail.

As opposed to this, Hashem gave man the unique power of speech, which he can instantaneously employ without any special thought to sound out any sound or word. An interesting example is the word וַיְדַבֵּר (and he spoke), each of whose letters requires using a different part of the mouth: lips, tongue, teeth, palette, throat — either alone or in combination. Yet one can easily roll out the word without thought, with all the moving parts working harmoniously and not hampering each other.

The reason for this gift, says the Chofetz Chaim, is that one must direct all of his concentration on the meaning of the words he wishes to convey, and the additional task of forcing the brain to work at making the actual sounds would be extraordinarily taxing. Therefore, Hashem instituted a system whereby man’s responsibility was to think about the idea behind the words, but their formation and delivery would be instantaneous. In this way, man could focus all his efforts on the study and understanding of Torah and not be hindered by the actual speech-related aspects of it.

In a related idea, the Chofetz Chaim notes that any intelligent person, with but a little thought, realizes that this remarkable gift was not given by Hashem to spout lashon hara, slander, gossip, or useless chatter. Obviously, these things are sinful, damaging to both the speaker and his subject, and are contrary to the intent of Hashem. What is essential to remember is that all the powers and gifts given by Hashem to man are meant to promote His glory and honor, and the power of speech is for וְדִבַּרְתָּ בָּם, to speak of them (the Torah) and not for wasteful, inane, or prohibited matters.

HaRav Bakst explains that the special affection Hashem has for the stars is a consequence of the reason for which they were created. The Gemara tells us that when the world was created, the sun and moon were of equal size. The moon then complained, saying, “How can two kings use the same crown?” Hashem concurred, and resolved the problem by diminishing the size of the moon. When the moon complained that it had in effect been punished for pointing out a problem that it had not caused, Hashem attempted to console it in various ways. In one of these attempts, Hashem created the stars, to placate the moon by adding many heavenly hosts (see Bereishis 1:16).

A creation whose very reason for coming into existence is to appease and conciliate is deserving of Hashem’s unrestrained affection. Thus, Hashem counts the stars repeatedly, to let it be known how dear they are to Him.

The lesson that we must learn is that Hashem expects of us as Jews to act as do the stars — to care and be concerned, and to try always to appease our friends, neighbors and brothers. This will cause Hashem to shower us with love in turn.

Rav Yitzchak of Volozhin writes that his father Rav Chaim of Volozhin would tell his children on a steady basis, “A person is not created to worry about himself; rather, he must always reach out and help others.” If we remember always to think about our fellow Jew first, and ourselves second, we will shine like the stars and enjoy Hashem’s abundant love.

Chovos HaLevavos states that the essence of teshuvah is a person’s return to the service of Hashem, attaining the status he lost when he strayed. How is this to be accomplished? Chovos HaLevavos explains that the nature of the teshuvah necessary is dependent upon the nature of the sinful behavior. He illustrates with an analogy: Two people are ill, both because they were not eating properly. However, while one simply was not eating enough, the other was consuming unhealthy foods that were affecting his health in a negative way. For the first, the remedy is straight forward; he must simply begin to eat the right foods and receive proper nutrition. There is nothing that he must now cease to eat. The remedy for the second person, however, involves two stages. First, he must stop eating the foods that are injurious to him, and then he must replace them with an equal amount of healthy foods. If he persists in his unhealthy eating, eating healthy foods in addition will not cure him.

So too, says Chovos HaLevavos, it is with sinners. Someone who has become lax in his mitzvah observance and is not doing what he should, need only concentrate upon performing his mitzvos with greater zeal; this is his teshuvah. But if one has done aveiros as well, then it does not suffice for him to perform virtuous acts; he must desist from his evil ways as well.

Chovos HaLevavos lists seven things of which a sinner must be cognizant if he is to attain true teshuvah. (1) He must be regretful and ashamed of his evil behavior. (2) He must know that the deed was wrong, and recognize the wickedness of his act. (3) He must know that Hashem is aware of his misdeed, and that punishment (without forgiveness) is inevitable. (4) He must understand that teshuvah is the cure that he requires. (5) He should make an accounting of all the good that Hashem has done for him. (6) He must contrast this with his own disobedience, and use it as a spur to his resolve not to sin further. (7) He must take concrete steps to avoid sinning again. One who undertakes to satisfy these requirements can attain true teshuvah.

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