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Somebody once told me if you want to know who the friends of the Chassan and Kalar are. It's very easy. So you have those friends that are in the first dance in that first circle. You know how there's like the concentric circles. The first circle is like the close friends. The second circle is like the friends. The third circle is like the father and the father-in-law's friends. And then like that awkward outside circle that they start the old man circle. I'm a proud member of that old man's circle now. By the way, I look at these kids flying around. I'm like, "Where do you get the energy from" You crazy kids? You know, but that's not where you can tell who the close friends of the Chassan and Kal are. How can you tell where the close friends are? The close friends are there at the third dance. Good friends are there even at the second dance because it's still before dessert. Everybody wants that runny chocolate chip cookie with the ice cream on top.
But who's there at the third dance when there's nobody left? When it's just the chassan or the kallah and the good friends, that's how you know who's a real friend. So too at the end of his man, it's Thursday, the last Thursday. Many synagogues have already closed. Sharfman's still going proudly. Baruch Hashem, you girls are the close friends. Not just of your seminary, but your close friends of the Rebbe Anisholim. You're saying, 'Look, I'm here. This is where I want to be.' So, when I was walking in, so many girls said to me, "There's so many girls not here." Add the Rebbe. The girls that are here are the good friends, and we have a special shir prepared for the good friends of the Kallah, of the Chassan who have stuck it out till the end. What was that? I have good friends. Good friends. Not friends with girls. I don't believe in platonic relationships. But other than that.
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You don't have to put that down in your notes. It's like some girls like when you sneeze, they're at you. Three questions for tonight. Question number one. It's a weird one. I bet you not a lot of girls know this one. The Gemara in Sanhedrin, Ninety-eight B discusses what is Mashiach's name. What is Messiah's name? Menachem Endel Shneerson. Menachem is one of the names given. I didn't mean to start anything. Yechi. The just so. Though I kind of like it that the Rebbe waves at me everywhere I go in Eretz Yisrael. You know all those signs. You know Yechi Amela. I always wave back. My kids think I'm crazy. The Rebbe said hello. One of the names that Mashiach has is that he's known as the leper. He's known as the one who has tzaras. That's a strange Gemara. Why would Mashiach's name be that he has tzaras?
Why is that what he is known by? That's question number one. Obviously, this week's parsha being Tazria. We're going to discuss tzaras. Now I want to read to you in English. I want to read to you a Rambam. Why would you call Mashiach by the name of the leper, The metzora? Somebody who has tzaras. Question number two. I'm going to read to you a Rambam. You all know this halacha, but I want to read it to you anyway. I have it here printed in English. It's the Rambam nine two in Hilchos Tumas Tzaras. And he's talking about in this Rambam, who can declare somebody tahor or tamei regarding taras. He says, even though everyone is acceptable to assess blemishes, the designation of a person as impure or pure is dependent on a priest, on a kohen. So if I am a chacham, and I know what's called taras and what's not called taras, because taras, as you know, is not just a physical malady, but it's a spiritual one. Let's say I have shemush. I know what a mitzora is.
That's great, but I cannot come along and declare that somebody is tahor or tameh unless I am a kohen. And I'm not a kohen. I'm a levite, so I can't do it. What is implied? If there is a priest who does not know how to assess blemishes. A kohen who doesn't know, he's not proficient in this area. He doesn't know what's a mitzora or not. So a sage should observe them and instruct him. Say you are impure, and the priest says you are impure. Say you are pure, and the priest says you are pure. Isolate him, and he isolates him. The pronouncement must be made by a priest because, as Deuteronomy 21:5 states, their statements will determine every quarrel and every blemish. So if I don't know the halacha, no problem. What do I go? I go to my local posek who knows cholch tzaras. He comes with me, the kohen, and he says, 'It is tzaras. Declare him impure. It is not tzaras. Declare him pure.' Isolate him. All these declarations must be made by the kohen, even though the kohen knows nothing.
Isn't that interesting? It is okay. Even if a priest is a minor, or intellectually or emotionally incapable, the sage instructs him, and he declares the person definitively impure, releases him from the inspection process, or isolates him. When does the above apply? When the priest relies on the words of the sage. If, however, the priest assesses the blemish and relies on his own understanding, it is forbidden for him to assess any blemish unless he is instructed by a master and is thoroughly versed in all the blemishes and their names, including the blemishes that affect the person and those that affect clothes and houses. So it's very simple. If you are the Cohen and you want to declare a person pure and impure without a chacham who's telling you what to do, what do you need to be? You need to become a possekh. You need to know all of the halachos of tarsas, and you need to know all the different types of tarsas, and only then can you declare someone pure or impure. If you don't know the halacha, that's fine. Get your local posik; he'll tell you what to say, and you say it. Girls, let's be high school kids for a second, right? What would you say if you were a high school kid to this halacha?
What was that? I don't know if I would have said that when I was in high school. It sounds ridiculous. Why do I need the kohen to declare it? The kohen knows nothing. What is he? He's just a kohen. Why is he a kohen? Because his father is a kohen. You girls know the famous joke? Everyone knows this joke, no? What? The famous joke about a kohen. A guy comes to a rabbi and he says, Rabbi, I want to be a kohen. He says, You want to be a kohen? He goes, Yeah, I want to be a kohen. I'll pay you ten thousand dollars to convert me to be a kohen. Because ten thousand dollars, I'm sorry, we don't convert people to be kohanim. He goes, Rabbi, I'm a wealthy man, Fifty thousand dollars to be a Cohen.
So I'm like, we don't convert people to be Cohens. He goes, a hundred thousand dollars. We don't convert people, because Rabbi, that's it, a million dollars, my final offer. He goes, we don't convert people to be a Cohen. Why do you want to be a Cohen so badly? He says, because my father was a Cohen and his father was a Cohen and his father was a Cohen. I want to be a Cohen too. You can't become a Cohen. You're either a Cohen or not. So what did this guy do to become a Cohen? He's a minor. He's a twelve year old little boy. I have a two and a half year old son. I am just thinking again; he's a baby. But let's say my two and a half year old son, one day, God willing, will be twelve years old. Twelve years old. What does a twelve year old know? Nothing. The Rav of the town, the Rav of the Shul, the big Talmud Chacham, comes and says, 'Declare him a mitzvah.' Why? What? What? What does the declaration matter? Let the Chacham do it. Isn't it just a question of being able to say it is tzaraas or it's not tzaraas? Why do you need a declaration? You hear the Kasha?
That's question number two. Question number three is from the Haftorah. I want to tell you a story. It's a story that probably most of you know. We'll go over it again because it's a terrible story. The story takes place during the era of the first Beis Hamikdash, when the Syrian army came to the northern kingdom of Israel. Remember it was split between Malchus Yehuda and Malchus Israel. When they came to the northern kingdom of Israel, they laid siege. You girls know what laid siege means. They surrounded the town called Shomron. Girls, when you have a town that's laid siege, what happens? You cannot get in or out of the town. What's the problem if you can't get in or out of the town? Back in the day, you're going to starve. You are going to starve. You do not have the necessary provisions to be able to survive. Quoting now from the Pasuk in Malachim Beis in English, said the hunger became so bad that a donkey's head was being sold for food for eighty pieces of silver, and a cup of pigeon dung was a meal sold for five pieces of silver.
The famine was so bad. The Pesukim tell us that the townspeople resorted to cannibalism. They would eat people. They would eat children. Now there was a king, the king of Israel at the time. His name was Jehoram. He was walking along the city walls. And a woman called out to him. And she said the following. She said, "Your Majesty, please help me." And the king said, "What's the problem?" And the woman said, "I need you to settle a dispute. What's the dispute? I want you to settle." My son died, and my neighbor's son died. So the neighbor said to me, 'Let's make a deal. Today we'll eat your son. Tomorrow we'll eat my son.' Having no choice, I agreed to the deal. And yesterday, we ate my dead son, and now today. She's not honoring her end of the deal, and she's not letting us eat her dead son. This is the case that I need you to parse.
This gives us an insight into the nature of how bad the hunger had become. They were mamish cannibals making deals about eating their own dead children. Now Yehoram, he was obviously very frustrated with the siege, and he had in his kingdom, right there in Shomron. He had a man who you all know, his name was Elisha, Elisha Hanavi. Yehoram blamed Elisha. Yehoram blamed Elisha for this problem, and he's asking that Elisha should be put to death because he's not, as a navi, he's not solving our problem. He should be beseeching our Kadosh Baruch Hu on our behalf, and he's not doing so. So Yehoram asks that we're going to kill Elisha, and he takes a trusted adviser, a trusted soldier, is sent to go kill Elisha. But Yehoram wants to see Elisha executed with his own eyes. And as they get to Elisha's home, Elisha has a nevuah, saying that Hakadosh Baruch Hu will deliver them the next day. Imagine, you're on your way to kill Elisha.
You're Yehoram. You're going with your trusted adviser, this soldier. And as you get there, Punkt. What happens? Alicia has a nevuah. What's the nevuah that Alicia says, quoting from the pasuk? Now in English. Then Alicia said, 'Hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord: Tomorrow, about this time, a saw of fine flour will be sold for a shekel. A saw is a measurement. A shekel, obviously, is a very small amount of money. And two saws of barley will sell for a shekel at the gate of Shomron.' So what is he saying? Tomorrow. It'll be fine. The famine will be over. Food will be so cheap that you could get it for a shekel or two shekels. We're going to have food in abundance. Don't worry. The officer that the king trusted, his trusted adviser, responds and says the following. So an officer on whose hand the king leaned answered the man of God and said, Look, even if the Lord would make windows in heaven for rain to come down, could this thing be?
Meaning, even if Hakadosh Baruch Hu opened the window and said, 'I'm giving you everything,' could it be possible that we're going to buy this food so cheap? It's going to be in such abundance. And Elisha said, 'In fact, You shall see it with your eyes, but you shall not eat of it. You will see,' he says to this officer. Tomorrow there will be this deliverance. You're going to see it, but you won't be able to eat from it. Hit pause on the story. We now go outside of the city gates. Outside of the city gates, there are four people who have been struck with tzaras. Sitting right outside the city gates. Correct, Degechazi and his three sons. Correct, the four lepers, Gechazi and his three sons. How Gechazi and his sons got leprosy, got tzaras, is a story for a different time. But right now, we're just fast forwarding to this part where they have this tzaras. They're standing outside the city gates. Now these men have a decision to make. They're also starving. But they're caught between a rock and a hard place, in the city, and the Syrian army.
That's where they're standing. They're outside the city gates. The Syrian army's over there, and Kallah Yisrael is inside Shomron. I'm quoting now from the Pesukim again, all in English. Now there were four leprous men at the entrance of the gate, and they said to one another, 'Why are we sitting here until we die? If we say we'll enter the city, the famine is in the city, and we shall die there. So going into the city doesn't help us. And if we sit here, we die also. Why do we die?' Because we have nothing to eat. If we go into the city, does it help us? No. Why not? No food. If we stay here, what happens? No food. So what's our option? Therefore, come. Let us surrender to the army of the Syrians. If they keep us alive, we shall live. And if they kill us, we shall only die. Meaning, what's the only option for living at this point? Surrendering to the Syrian army.
How were they allowed to be there? How were they allowed to be outside the city? You mean the Syrians? Why didn't they come to the city and kill them? It's a good question. So they go to the Syrian army. It's a good question. I'm not going to answer it. It's a good question. Now As they're walking towards the place where the Syrian army is encamped, an exceptional thing happens. A miracle occurred. What was the miracle? The Syrian army heard noises. What were the noises that they heard? They heard the sound of chariots and the hooves of hundreds of horses, and they heard swords, thousands upon thousands of swords coming to kill them. They were convinced that Kallah Yisrael had somehow bought the Egyptian army and the army of the Chitim to come and destroy them. It was all in their heads. It wasn't real, and as a result, they immediately fled. So what happens? The four lepers now come to the encampment of the Syrian army, and nobody's there. All their gold, all their silver, and all their food is just there for the taking. So what do these four lepers do? Initially, they start to take the gold, and they start to take the silver, and they start to take the food, and they start to hide it. But then these lepers have heru rechuvah. They decide we're doing the wrong thing.
We should do teshuva. Listen what it says. And they said to each other, we're not acting properly. Today is a day of good news, and we're being quiet about it. If we wait till morning light, then we will have sinned. Therefore, let us go and tell what we have learned at the king's household. So they go back to the city, and what do they say to everyone in the city? Good news. There is no siege. Inexplicably, the Syrian army has left. All of their stuff is there for the taking. But Khalil Yassraw is not convinced that they're telling the truth. So what do they do? They send out scouts to see if it's actually true. The scouts come back and say, It's true. The Syrian army is totally gone. And what do they do? Khalil Yassraw rushes for the gates of the city because they all want to get that food. And indeed, it was true. Barley, wheat was going for a shekel and two shekels. But there was an officer of the king who was standing by the city gates, looking out, seeing this empty encampment where the Syrians had fled, and he was trampled to death by the people who were rushing out.
So he saw the nevuah of Elisha came true. He saw it with his eyes, but he wasn't able to partake of it because he was killed. That's the haftorah. Girls, what question am I going to ask? Was that? With What does it have to do with anything? Girls? Whenever you hear a story like this, is it a cool story? Yes. Is it a dramatic story? Could Disney make this into an amazing movie? Probably not. Imagine like four matzoras sitting at the gate. It's probably not a good Disney movie. But if we were to make this into a movie, this could be a really dramatic movie. The problem is, it doesn't seem to teach us anything. And I have to teach you something about Sifrei Tanakh, girls. Every single story that's in Tanakh is relevant to us in our lives. If the story is not relevant to you, what does that mean?
It means you don't understand the depth of the story. If they chose to include this in Sifrei Tanakh, it means that it's more than a cool story about an officer who doubted Elisha's prophecy and was trampled to death. It's more than a cool story. How Chlaiyosra had gotten to the place where they were mamish starving and they were involved in cannibalism and they were miraculously saved. Just because they were miraculously saved doesn't have anything to do with us. So the question is, why do we care about this story? So the three questions are: Question number one, Why is Mashiach's name the leper? Question number two. Why does a Cohen have to make the pronouncement that someone has tarsas? And question number three is why in the world is this story included in Sifrei Tanach? Why do we care? Got the three questions? It's from the Torah.
There is a pasuk in Bamidbar. This pasuk in Bamidbar, most of you know. The pasuk says, 'The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, This is how you shall bless the children of Israel. Saying to them, May the Lord bless and bless you and watch over you. May the Lord cause countenance to shine to you and favor to favor you. May the Lord raise his countenance toward you and grant you peace. They shall bestow my name upon the children of Israel, so that I will bless them." Girls, what pasuk is that? You should know it very well. Yiverecha Hashem v'yishmerecha. When do we hear that? Every single Shabbos, God willing, from our parents, you'll do that for your children, right? Saying the psukim, giving your children a bracha. This was actually something that the Kohanim were instructed to do. By the way, it's even a conversation in Halacha whether or not a father is allowed to put his hands on the head of a child, because that's what the Cohen does. And even though maybe we should be able to say the psukim, maybe we should not be able to do it like a Cohen. It's a major discussion in the post. The Cohen is given a specific ability to bless. The question is why.
In order to explain this, I need to teach you first a basic principle. That is the notion of how each soul is different than every other soul. We're used to thinking that a person is a Cohen because his father is a Cohen. A person is a Cohen because his grandfather was a Cohen. A person is a kohen because his great grand great grandfather was kohen. But in fact that's not true. Every single soul comes from a particular place in Shamayim, and the place that the soul comes from has a lot to do with what that soul is capable of doing in this world. So the Zohar says, "Do you want to know why a kohen is a kohen? A kohen is not a kohen. Because his father is a kohen, because his grandfather is a kohen, because his great grandfather is a kohen, all the way back to Aaron, a kohen. That's a siman. That's a sign that he's a kohen."
But it's not the reason he's a kohen. Why is a kohen? Because in Shamayim there is a chamber of love, and the souls of the Kohanim come from this chamber, from this Oel of love, and that is why. A Cohen has the capacity to be a conduit for God's love in this world. That's why they have the capacity to bless. Because they are the people who bring down. That's why Aaron a Cohen. What was Aaron a Cohen known for? He was capable of creating peace between people. Ovem esabrios umakarvem la Torah. Why was Aaron a Cohen able to do that? Because he didn't have a regular soul. He had a super soul. He was the soul of Aaron a Cohen. Where did his soul come from in Shamayim? His soul came from the Heichal of Love, The Heichal of Ahava. There's a special Heichal, a special place in Shamayim called Ahava. And that's why the soul is able to come down in this way. Now there's a halacha. It's brought down in Shochan Archarav.
Let's say you have a Cohen who is disliked by the Tzibur, or he dislikes the Tzibur. He's not allowed to do berachas kohenim. Isn't that an amazing halacha? Let's say I am a kohen. What would you think? I am a kohen. Let's say I am a kohen living here in Eretz Yisrael. Here in Eretz Yisrael, we do berachas kohenim every day. If the tzeibur doesn't like you, the kohen, or you, the kohen, don't like the tzeibur, what's the halacha according to the Shulchan Aruch Harav? You are not allowed to give berachas kohenim. Why not? Because berachas kohenim is predicated on being able to unite people with love, being able to generate love, compassion, togetherness, unity. So far, so good. What's the bracha that the Cohen makes? Anybody knows? Levareches amchal Yisrael be'ahava. That we're given that the Cohen is making the bracha. He's give. He's make. He's commanded us to bless his people Israel with love. Why? Why specifically be'ahava?
Because the soul of the Cohen comes from the Heichal of Love. Quoting to you now from the Shulchan Aruch. A Cohen, even though he is single, an unmarried Cohen, performs the priestly blessings. An eighteen-year-old guy in Mevaseret who's not married, who's a Cohen, what's the halacha, girls? He's able to go up and do Duchening. However, the Rama brings a sheita of the Mordechai, and the Rama says some say that he should not perform the blessing. For one who lives without a wife, lives without joy, and one who blesses must be in a joyous state. So the Cohen who is yet unmarried, according to the Rama, should not get up again. It's the Rama quoting the sheet of the Mordechai says he shouldn't duchen. Why not? Because if you're not a person who knows until you're married, you don't know what love is. Until you're married, you don't know what joy is. So if you're not a person who's experienced a hava, you can't give the bracha. But now girls were left with another question. So now we understand why a kohen is able to give a bracha. We know why a kohen is able to be the ones to say Yiverecha Hashem v'yishmerecha.
But we still don't know why the kohen must be the one to proclaim tameh or tohor when it comes to the mitzvah. I want to teach you based on this the explanation of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Schozir Yagan Aleinu, A tremendous, tremendous message, Specifically one that I think is very relevant to all of us, As we are about to leave back to America, Some of us, and certainly as we're about to take Bein Azmanim in seminary and even to head into the Chag HaGeulah of Pesach. The question was: We know why a Cohen now is able to bless; he's able, he has that capacity to bring God's love into this world because his soul comes from the Hechal of love. But why does that connection? Two being the one to say tahir or tameh when it comes to the mitzvah. I want you to think about who a mitzvah was. What was the life of a mitzvah? If you were declared tameh and you were sent to live outside of the city, what was your life like? You talk to anyone? Lonely. You're totally isolated. You're totally alone. You're totally stigmatized. This is the worst possible life that a person can have. Could you imagine being a mitzvah? Everybody knows where you live? You're outside. You're shunned by society.
Telling somebody they have to leave the city. Telling somebody they have to leave the camp. Telling somebody they have to leave society. Not a simple thing to do. It's like if you can imagine being the one that has to kick a girl out of seminary or a guy out of yeshiva. Let's say you're a girl who made a big mistake. You got caught making a big mistake. Maybe it was your third time getting caught making a big mistake. And now the seminary has no choice but to ask you to leave for a series of reasons. Maybe it's the right thing for the seminary. Maybe the seminary feels they can no longer educate you. They feel like you're impacting other people. You're bringing people down with a negative energy. Maybe what you do is seen as something that other girls will look at and say, 'Oh well, she gets away with it, so I can get away with it.' Maybe they're trying to protect their reputation. Maybe you need a wake-up call.
There's a million reasons why it might be the right thing to throw a girl out of a seminary. But when you're throwing a girl out of a seminary, I want you to know that the burden that the educator has is a massive one. When you throw a guy out of yeshiva, the burden that the rosh yeshiva has on his shoulders is beyond anything you could possibly imagine. Why? Because think about what's about to happen to you. You're about to go out And people are going to ask you, 'Why are you home? What are you doing home? Weren't you in Israel for the year?' Because maybe no other seminary will take you, or let's say another seminary does take you. Why'd you switch? All the questions that are going to be asked. What are the answers you're going to give? You might lie. You might say things like, 'Oh, it wasn't for me.' 'Oh, I didn't like the girls there.' 'Oh, I didn't like the rebbeim or the mechanchot.' But ultimately
You know how a Jewish secret is told: one person at a time. One person at a time. So the rosh yeshiva says, "I'm not going to tell anybody." But of course the secretary knows, and the secretary tells her husband. The husband tells a chavruta. The chavruta tells another chavruta. And before long, what happens? Everybody knows this girl got thrown out of seminary. This guy got thrown out of yeshiva. And now you have those awkward looks when you walk into shul for the first time. Did you hear? She got thrown out of seminary. That's why she's home, right? The rabbi of the shul now is being extra compassionate to you. It's so good to have you back. But of course, you know you're a disappointment. Even if you say I don't care, think about the feeling of isolation. Think about the feeling of rejection. Think about the feeling you're going to have towards Yiddishkeit. Even if you're the one who messed up. What's going to be the feeling you have? They threw me out. And unless you've ever been in real trouble in your life, you don't know what I'm talking about. But if you've been in real trouble
If you're a girl who understands what it's like to be called into the principal's office, to be told you're suspended, you're expelled, this is your last chance. If you know what that's like, then you know the pain that I'm talking about. And believe me when I tell you that the pain that child experiences is exquisite. The pain that child experiences is I am not wanted, and there is no greater pain. For any person in the world than the feeling that I am not wanted. So the question is, how do we do that? How do we hold someone accountable, and at the same time, we have to make them feel that they're not being rejected, that they're not unloved, that they're not unwanted, but yet they have to suffer the consequences of their actions because it's good for them. Even if you think the policy of the seminary or the yeshiva is ridiculous, if you violated that policy and as a result you were asked to leave Even if you feel the punishment was unjust, remember it was your action that brought you there. But we get so wrapped up in the feeling of 'I was thrown out' that we never take stock of the action that caused us to get there to begin with. Unless one thing happens, and this is what's mission critical. You ready for it? It's very easy.
If the person that gives you that potch is somebody who loves you in ways that you cannot imagine, it is the only way to cushion the blow. Imagine for a moment that you have a mechanechet, and this mechanechet has given you so many hours of her time. She sat with you, and she listened to you, and she empathized with you, and she cared about you. She invited you to her house for Shabbos. You played with her children. You had serious conversations with her. You really grew from her, and you saw that she went above and beyond. And you messed up. Imagine when she calls you in, and she's going to be the one to tell you that you have to leave. What do you think the conversation will sound like? Because there are two ways of being expelled from a seminary. One way is callously, like an executioner. You get called in, and the conversation is with a person who's sitting on the opposite side of the desk and says, 'It's time for you to leave.'
We're going to contact your parents. Let's book you a flight home. Executioner style. We in, we out. The whole conversation doesn't take more than thirty seconds. If the conversation goes longer, it's only because you begged. Please give me another chance. And what does the person say? There are no more chances for you. It's cold. It's callous. It's dry. But if that mechanechet, who cares so much about you, who's instilled so much time, who's been mashkia so much in you, when she calls you in, the tears that she has are real. Her tears are as real as yours. And when she calls you in, the feeling you have is I let myself down, I let her down. She believed in me. And when you leave, because yes, the punishment may need to happen, but when you leave, what do you spend your time contemplating? You don't spend your time contemplating the injustice of the system.
You say I messed up, and you take responsibility and you take ownership. It actually allows you to focus on the issue because of the love that you felt when you were expelled. It allows you to take true ownership of the mistake that you make and actually rectify the situation. Unfortunately, for those of you in this room who have been on the other side of discipline, so often it's not that way. So often it involves people yelling and screaming and telling us how terrible we are and how could we do this and judgmentalism. But if you actually care about somebody, when that person leaves your office to go call their parents to say that I just got suspended or expelled, you can't sleep that night. You, the educator, can't sleep that night. Because you know that what you did, even though it was the right thing, caused pain. Even though it was gevura in your heart, it's chesed because you know it's the right thing. And what's amazing about those types of people is it allows the one who was punished to actually take responsibility. There's a story with Roshalom of Freifeld, the Chetadik Levracha, the founding Rosh Yeshiva of Shariyoshev.
And there was a story that he had to ask a boy to leave yeshiva. The boy was ready to come into his office. He knew he was being expelled. He was ready to go in and rip Ruf Riefeldt. He was ready to tell him how terrible he was. And all this and all that, and he was going to argue and fight. He had it all prepared. He walked into Ruf Riefeldt's office. Ruf Riefeldt was sitting there with the ultimate humility. He said to him, in all honesty, I'm sorry I couldn't inspire you to be bigger. The boy walked out of his office. Broken. And they said to him, what happened? And he said, he broke me with his humility. Because for the first time in this boy's life, The Rebbe didn't go after him and tell him how terrible he was. He was authentically saying, "I'm sorry. I wanted to help you see how big you were, and I couldn't get you there. I'm sorry." And that's what changed that young man's life. Throwing somebody out, declaring somebody a metzora, is the ultimate act of gevura, and therefore it must come from the ultimate ish chesed.
From the one who is designed. Love is his soul emanates from a heichal in Shamayim called love. So just like the Cohen gets up every day and duchins and says Berachas Cohen and says 'you are you have a Recha Hashem v'yishmerecha,' so too the Cohen has to be the one to tell the Metzora 'you are beloved,' because only from the Cohen could he hear such a message. And I'll add on my own knetch. Remember that this person he got tzaras. Why did he get tzaras? Lashon hara. Where does lashon hara come from? Lashon hara comes from seeing the world in such a negative way, in such an unloving way. Think about how cruel lashon hara is. Don't we get such a geshmack from lashon hara? After you say lashon hara, or even during while you're saying it, doesn't it feel awesome to say this nasty thing about the other person? It feels awesome for whatever reason. We're not getting into it now, but it feels awesome. But that person who was living with such a negative eye, they live with that negative eye towards themselves. The reason why they speak badly about others is because they're reflecting what's really going on the inside.
So they more than anybody in the world need the kohen to come and say, 'Don't look with such negativity,' because the kohen sees the world with such positive eyes. From seeing the world in a negative way, in an unloving way, in a non-kohen type of way. But there's one more piece here. And girls, I beg of you to give me five more minutes because these five more minutes, Mamish, are very special. What is the lesson that the mitzvah needs to learn? Why do we need to learn the story of the mitzvah? Where does salvation come from? Where does redemption come from? Often from the most unlikely of places. Let's go back to our story of the four lepers. Who was the one that brought the news of salvation? Was it the four lepers? Everybody was inside the city, but it was the expelled ones from outside the city that brought the news that the Syrian army had gone.
Only the one who didn't believe Elisha wasn't zocheh to participate in the miracle, because he was trampled. But it was the Mitzora, it was the four lepers that brought news of the redemption. Why is that significant to us? The question is, how do we look at our negative parts? There are two ways of looking at our negative parts. Let's say a girl is struggling with whatever midah she's struggling with. Let's say you have a girl who's struggling with the midah of kass. The question is, how does she see her kass? Does she see her kas as a negative midah, or does she see her kas with compassion? Does she see her kas with love? Now that sounds very strange. When you talk to a girl who's suffering from anger, what does she say? I hate my anger. Why do I hate my anger? And she'll give you a list of reasons that she hates her anger. I've chased away roommates in seminary. I've chased away some of my best friends. My own siblings can't stand me, and the only reason my parents stick by me is because they're my parents. My anger is destroying my life. If only I could get rid of my anger.
But the catch, twenty-two girls, is that until you learn to love your anger, until you learn to appreciate your anger, you'll never be able to work with it. Now that sounds like a very strange thing. But I'm going to explain it to you now, and I hope it makes sense. Mom is running out of time, but we could spend five, ten, fifteen hours just on the topic that we're starting to open up right now. All of our parts are protectors and managers. What do I mean to say? When you were a kid, let's take this girl who's suffering from anger. When she was a kid, she was nine years old. She went away to sleepaway camp. She was in a vulnerable position. She only had a couple of friends in sleepaway camp, and there were people that were bullying her in sleepaway camp. Inappropriate, and she felt very isolated. So she needed to learn how to cope. Some girls cope with depression. Some girls cope with eating.
She learned to cope with anger. She learned that by getting angry, people wouldn't bully her anymore. In fact, people became afraid of her. As a nine-year-old, she learned that part, and later in life, even though that part might be wreaking havoc and destroying her life, ultimately, where did that part originate from? It originated from a scared little girl who learned that anger solves the problem of attack. So now, later in life, she's married, and her husband says something to her. The husband didn't even mean to say a bad thing, but she felt under attack. Immediately, what happens? Boom! The anger comes out, and now she's sitting by the therapist. And what is she saying? My anger is destroying my life. I hate my anger. Your anger is having a negative impact on your life, and it's one that we need to solve. But your anger is trying to protect you. Don't you realize how, for many, many years of your life, your anger has been trying to protect you, and hasn't it been doing a great job?
But you start to argue, and you go, 'Yeah, it's doing a great job.' But think about all the negative impact that it's having. I understand. But if you try to kick your anger out of the car, this is what your anger is going to do. Because remember, your anger is only a nine-year-old in this case. What does a nine-year-old do? A nine-year-old throws a temper tantrum. A nine-year-old will grab on to the seat of the car. A nine-year-old will grab onto the handlebar of the car. A nine-year-old will grab onto the front seat of the car. And no matter how hard you try to pull, the anger will not leave because the anger says, even though you hate me. I will do whatever I need to do to protect you because that is my design. But if you come to your anger, and you say to your anger Though I don't appreciate the negative impact that you've had on my life, I can appreciate the positive impact that you've had. I can appreciate that from the time I was nine years old, it was you who was standing by my side, making sure I didn't get bullied.
What do you do? What do you see the anger do? As you appreciate it, all of a sudden, what starts to happen? I've been trying to get you to appreciate me all of these years. And now when you say to the anger, "Would you be willing to leave the driver's seat? Would you be willing to sit in the back seat of the car?" Because we need to change things up. Because anger is destroying my life. All of a sudden, the anger won't throw the temper tantrum because the anger feels love and appreciation. And here's the catch twenty two: that same mida of anger. The one that was destroying your life, once it's appreciated, is going to be the pathway to salvation. It's going to be the pathway to redemption, because now all of those feelings of vulnerability and under attack, all of a sudden you're going to be able to channel that anger to say, "I'm going to behave with dignity." And when someone attacks me, I'm not going to be codependent. I'm going to look at them in the eye, and I'm going to say, "You may not treat me that way." And I'm going to learn to leave an inappropriate conversation with dignity and say
I'm sorry, I won't speak to you if you're speaking to me like that. Without losing your temper, you're going to hold people accountable. You're no longer a victim. You're empowered. And where did it come from? From the very same midah that when you were a child, you were saying, 'I got to step up and be angry because it's the only way to not be bullied.' That very same midah is the pathway to salvation. The things that we're most ashamed of in our lives are very often those parts that are going to bring us to salvation. But we ignore them. We don't treat them with love and compassion. We don't recognize that those are the pathways to redemption. So the story of these four lepers is an amazing story. The city is under siege. The city is dying. The solution is where? What will be the pathway to salvation? Not killing Elisha. That's not going to be your pathway to salvation. It's the ones you threw out. It's the four lepers that you threw outside of the city, Gehazi and his children.
Those that you said they're the things that are destroying us. Those are the ones that have to be removed. No. Those are going to be the vehicles for salvation. And with this, we can come to our original question: What is Mashiach's name? Of course, the Gemara there gives us many answers. But the final answer the Gemara gives is that Mashiach is known as the Metzora. He's known as the leper. Why? Because it is from that leprosy, It's from that tzaras that if you're willing to look at it honestly and authentically in your life. That will be the pathway to salvation. And as I mentioned in the beginning of the year, I think this is appropriate for us going on Bein Azmanim and going into Pesach. Because as we go into Bein Azmanim, we will surely face challenges. And even if you're staying in Eretz Yisrael and you're not going to face these challenges now, you'll face them in the summer. And even if you won't face them in the summer, you'll face them at some point.
And there's a part of you that's going to be ashamed. You're going to have done something, perhaps. Hopefully not, but perhaps you'll have done something over ben azmanim that you'll think to yourself, 'I'm deeply ashamed of what I did. I can't believe that after seven months in sharfman's, I was able to do that. I can't believe I fell.' Don't look at it with shame. Don't look at it and tell it's unworthy. Look at it like the kohen would look at it. The kohen looks at it. What it doesn't say you're great. It doesn't say you're great because that's a lie, and you know it. What does the Cohen say? You're impure. This was a behavior that was beneath you, and it is expelled. But from that expulsion comes the opportunity to think, because it was treated with compassion. Comes the ability to change. That's where salvation comes from. And especially as we head into the Chag HaGeula of Pesach, of Yitzias Mitzrayim, it's incumbent upon ourselves to look at ourselves in a situation of Mezar of Mitzrayim, of constriction and restriction, with tremendous amounts of love, compassion, respect, and dignity.
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