Does the Torah Determine Our Lifestyle?
Sefer Bamidbar begins by relating that Hashem spoke to Moshe in Midbar Sinai [the Sinai Desert]. The Medrash (Bamidbar Rabba 1:7) asks: Why was it necessary to mention here that this took place in Midbar Sinai? This had been the Jews’ location since leaving Egypt!
The Medrash answers that this is to teach us that only one who makes himself hefker [ownerless] like a midbar can merit to acquire Torah.
This is puzzling: First of all, the Sages generally use the term hefker in reference to property. For example, we render our chometz ownerless just before Pesach. We do not find this term applying to a person himself. How can we “make ourselves hefker?”
Secondly, why did the Sages add that one should make himself hefker “like a midbar?” What does this add to our understanding of the concept of hefker?
The Sefas Emes explains that while hefker usually means rendering ownerless, making oneself hefker means understanding that he is powerless, utterly dependent on Hashem for everything. The prime example of this was the Jewish People’s wanderings in the midbar. There, everyone knew that they could not survive even one day without the Manna, the Clouds of Glory, and the Well. They were subject entirely to Hashem’s direction.
We must adopt this attitude of “hefker” when we approach the teachings of the Torah. We cannot think: “How can this fit with my lifestyle?” Rather, we must understand that we are entirely subject to Hashem’s direction. The Torah’s teachings are what determine our lifestyle.
Rav Aryeh Finkel notes that this idea is the meaning behind the Jews’ declaration at Sinai: “Naaseh Venishma — we will do [Hashem’s commandments] and we will hear [i.e. we will learn them].” How could the Jews declare that they would do what that had not yet learned?
Rather, they were declaring their will to fulfill whatever Hashem commanded them, without consideration for how this would affect their lives. Of course, they would have to hear Hashem’s teachings in order to do them. But whatever He would say — they declared at the outset that this would determine their lives.
A person I know, whose business takes him to numerous communities in Eretz Yisrael and abroad, once commented to me that in certain places, he feels that the Torah is what governs people’s lives, while in other places, his feeling is that what matters to people is their own lifestyle. They may keep mitzvos, but their attitude is how to make mitzvos fit in with their lifestyle. The Medrash is stating that with such an approach to life, one cannot truly acquire Torah.
This, in fact, is implicit in the word “Torah” itself, which shares the same root as the word hora’ah, which means a teaching or directive. The Torah must be the sole directive of a Jew’s life.
When we study Torah, what we learn should be directing us as well. Rashi states (Vayikra 23:3) that our command is to learn Torah “in order to fulfill it.” The Ramban (Igeres HaRamban) states that upon finishing a learning seder, “search into what you have learned [to see] if there is something that you can fulfill.”
This is easy to do when learning the laws of brachos, Shabbos, or other things that apply in our daily lives. What about when we study the laws of a goring ox? If we do not own oxen, does this teach us anything practical? Rav Yerucham Brodiansky suggests that these teachings should impart to us the importance of our fellowmen and their possessions, and how careful we must be toward them.
Another way in which the Torah can affect our lives, adds Rav Brodiansky, is found in Ruach Chaim (3:9). As part of our efforts to control our yetzer hara, we can ask Hashem, before we begin learning, that the kedusha of the words of Torah we are about to say be used to help us in our struggle to do His will. Any Torah we learn — even subjects that are far removed from our daily lives — can have this positive effect on us.
The Chazon Ish (Igros 3:151) would say that Torah study should uplift us. Whatever subject one learns, the purity of his Torah should refine him and bring him to higher levels of avodas Hashem. All of his mitzvos are imbued with a greater level of yiras Shamayim.
Rav Yitzchak Nassan Kupershtok, a talmid of Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer, was relatively unknown to the general public. The talmidei chachamim of Yerushalayim, however, knew the greatness of this man. Harav Chaim Brim testified that in the thirty years he knew Rav Kupershtok, never once did he walk four paces without a Torah thought in his mind.
A glimpse at Rav Kupershtok’s life is enough to see how his Torah refined and uplifted him.
Rav Kupershtok was always on the lookout for mitzvos that needed doing, particularly ones that others overlooked. He lived in one of Yerushalayim’s older neighborhoods, whose stone walls had arches in which mezuzos had been placed many years before. Who was responsible for checking these mezuzos? Rav Kupershtok did not ask, but rather went late at night when no one would see him, took these mezuzos out, checked them and if need be, repaired or replaced them at his own expense.
Although he was always busy learning, those around Rav Kupershtok knew they could always rely on him for any matter great or small. Whether it was a small favor or a large loan, Rav Kupershtok would surely do all in his power to help, even though he was very poor himself.
Once, a man asked to borrow a substantial sum to cover the down payment for an apartment.
“Come to me this evening,” Rav Kupershtok answered. “I’ll see what I can do.” He then went to a free loan society and put in a request for a loan of the same amount. When the director of the society saw Rav Kupershtok, he immediately agreed to the loan. Later that evening, Rav Kupershtok gave this sum to the man who had asked him.
May our Torah direct and uplift us!