Dedicated by Yoel and Rachel Neustadt (Suffern, NY)
l’zechus a shidduch for Devora Gittel bas Golda
Dedicated by Yaks and Ariella Kushner (Far Rockaway, NY)
לעילוי נשמת הרב אברהם צבי בן ר׳ שמואל ז״ל ר׳ בן ציון בן ר׳ זלמן מרדכי ז״ל
Parshas Pinchas 5786
After the daughters of Tzelafchad approached Moshe requesting their father’s share in Eretz Yisrael, they explained, “אָבִינוּ מֵת בַּמִּדְבָּר וְהוּא לֹא הָיָה בְּתוֹךְ הָעֵדָה הַנּוֹעָדִים עַל־ה׳ בַּעֲדַת קֹרַח כִּי־בְחֶטְאוֹ מֵת וּבָנִים לֹא־הָיוּ לוֹ, — Our father died in the wilderness. He was not among Korach’s assembly that banded together against Hashem, but died for his own sin, and he left no sons.” They pleaded that their father’s portion in Eretz Yisrael not be lost simply because he had daughters.
Rather than rule on the matter himself, “וַיַּקְרֵב מֹשֶׁה אֶת מִשְׁפָּטָן לִפְנֵי ה׳,” and Hashem affirmed their claim, establishing the laws of inheritance.
A QUESTION ONLY HASHEM COULD ANSWER
At first glance, Moshe’s uncertainty is difficult to understand. If a man leaves no sons, why shouldn’t his daughters inherit? Why did Moshe need to escalate the shailah, bringing it before Hashem? The question is even stronger in light of the Gemara in Shabbos, which teaches that Moshe ruled on three halachos and Hashem agreed with his decisions. Why, then, was he uncertain specifically in this case, to the point that he had to bring it to Hashem, especially if the answer was straightforward?
The Kotzker explains the underlying difficulty. Chazal teach, “כל המענג את השבת נותנין לו נחלה בלי מצרים” (Shabbos 118a). According to Rabbi Akiva (Shabbos 96b), Tzelafchad was the mekoshesh eitzim, the man who desecrated Shabbos by gathering wood. If so, why should he merit a portion in Eretz Yisrael, and why should his daughters inherit it?
On the other hand, the Yerushalmi, quoted by the Chasdei Binyamin, teaches that Tzelafchad acted לשם שמים. His intention was to teach Klal Yisrael the severity of violating Shabbos and demonstrate that when Hashem warns us not to do something, He means it.
That was Moshe Rabbeinu’s dilemma. The question was not merely one of hilchos yerushah. It depended on something only Hashem could know: Were Tzelafchad’s intentions truly pure? If they were, then despite his act of חילול שבת, he had not forfeited his portion in Eretz Yisrael. Since only Hashem knows what is in a person’s heart, “וַיַּקְרֵב מֹשֶׁה אֶת מִשְׁפָּטָן לִפְנֵי ה׳.”
Hashem answered, “כֵּן בְּנוֹת צְלָפְחָד דֹּבְרֹת.” Although Tzelafchad had been the mekoshesh eitzim, his actions were ultimately לשם שמים, and therefore he did not forfeit his portion in the Holy Land.
THE HUMILITY TO WAIT FOR TRUTH
This is a beautiful pshat. As great a leader as Moshe Rabbeinu was, equally great was his humility. He understood that this was not simply a question of halachah. Only Hashem, the בוחן לבבות, knows the true intentions of a person’s heart. Rather than relying on what appeared to be the logical ruling, Moshe refused to pasken on something that only Hashem could know. His only concern was arriving at the truth. If that meant waiting for Hashem’s answer, then that is exactly what he would do.
There is, however, another beautiful explanation, based on a remarkable story involving the Minchas Chinuch.
Two members of the Tarnopol community once came before Rav Yosef Babad, author of the Minchas Chinuch, to adjudicate a monetary dispute. During the proceedings, one litigant casually mentioned that the Rav’s father had officiated at his wedding. Rav Yosef immediately asked the other litigant whether his father had officiated at his wedding as well. When he answered no, Rav Yosef disqualified himself from hearing the case. “I am concerned,” he explained, “that even this slight connection could unconsciously affect my objectivity.”
Rav Yosef said he learned this from Moshe Rabbeinu. After hearing the daughters of Tzelafchad describe their father as someone who had not participated in Korach’s rebellion, Moshe was concerned that even this favorable information could subtly influence his judgment. Rather than rely on his own objectivity, “וַיַּקְרֵב מֹשֶׁה אֶת מִשְׁפָּטָן לִפְנֵי ה׳.”
Perhaps there is a lesson for all of us. We naturally feel closer to people we know, people who are like us, or people with whom we share a history. Yet the Torah teaches that every Yid deserves the same care, the same concern, and the same fairness. Our relationships should never determine how much we value another person. Just as Moshe would not allow even the slightest personal connection to affect his judgment, we should strive to care about every Jew equally, seeing each person as a beloved child of Hashem.
THE CHASIDA
It is said in the name of the Gra that when one’s learning coincides with the weekly parashah, there is a special message to be found. This week’s Daf Yomi discusses the kosher status of the chasida, the stork. The Torah explicitly lists the chasida among the forbidden birds (Vayikra 11:19):
וְאֶת־הַחֲסִידָה הָאֲנָפָה לְמִינָהּ וְאֶת־הַדּוּכִיפַת וְאֶת־הָעֲטַלֵּף׃
The Gemara (Chullin 63a) then asks why the bird is called chasida, and answers:
אמר רב יהודה: “החסידה” – למה נקרא שמה חסידה? שעושה חסידות עם חברותיה.
Rav Yehuda said: Why is it called the chasida? Because it performs acts of kindness with its fellow storks.
Rashi explains, “מחלקת מזונותיה,” that it shares its food with them.
At first glance, this seems puzzling. If the bird is known for kindness, why is it tamei?
Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, in Ha’oros to Chullin, answers:
“יש שפירשו שזהו החסרון — שעושה חסידות רק עם חברותיה.”
Some explain that this is precisely the deficiency: it performs kindness only with its own companions.
Rav Elyashiv explains that the chasida certainly possesses the middah of chesed. It shares its food and cares for others. The problem is that its kindness is selective. It shares only with its own flock. It never looks beyond its own circle. It never thinks about those outside of it. That, he explains, is why it remains a tamei bird.
CHESED BEYOND OUR CIRCLE
Perhaps we can take the lesson one step further. This message extends far beyond the stork, and even beyond the animal kingdom. Hashem created a world in which it is perfectly natural to care for our own family, our friends, and the people in our community. There is nothing remarkable about loving those who are already close to us.
The Torah, however, calls us to something greater. True chesed is not measured only by how much we give, but by whom we are willing to give to. If our kindness is reserved only for those who are “our own,” it is incomplete. Real chesed reaches beyond our circle. It notices the person who is alone, the one who is overlooked, the one who has no one else thinking about them. That is the kind of kindness Hashem wants from us.
As we enter the Three Weeks, a time to strengthen our ahavas chinam, this message takes on even greater meaning. The achdus we show within our families, our friendships, and our communities is beautiful. But the story of Moshe Rabbeinu and the daughters of Tzelafchad, together with the lesson of the chasida, reminds us that our responsibility does not end there.
We must look beyond our own circle. We must notice the person who is often forgotten, reach out to the one who feels alone, and help those from whom we have nothing to gain. True chesed and true achdus are not defined by how we treat those closest to us, but by our willingness to embrace those outside our immediate circle.
The road from sinas chinam to ahavas chinam begins when we stop asking, “Who is part of my circle?” and start asking, “Who needs me today?” Because the Torah’s definition of unity does not end where our circle ends. That is where it only begins. •
