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BEGIN WITH A GRIN

A man is drowning in the Moskva River and screams for help. Two police officers are standing nearby, but they’re just ignoring him. The man does not know what to do, and so with his last attempt, shouts, “The president is an idiot!” Immediately after hearing this, they jump in, pull him out of the water and one of the policemen says, “And now you will go with us for the crime of insulting the president of Russia.” The man desperately tries to defend himself, “But I meant the Ukrainian one!” To which the police officer replies, “You can’t trick us, we know good and well which president is an idiot.”

NOISY ENTRANCE

In our parsha (28:33), the Torah tells us about the making of the Me’il for the Kohen Gadol. “And on its bottom hem you shall make rimonim (pomegranates) of blue … and golden bells in their midst all around.” The making of the pomegranates and bells is so important that the Torah stresses and warns, “and its sound shall be heard when he enters the Holy before the L-rd and when he leaves, so that he will not die.”

The Ramban (along with other commentators) explains that the sound of the tinkling bells is so essential that the lack thereof can cause the Kohen Gadol to die! It sounds somewhat odd, doesn’t it? Why the big deal about the sound?

Some of the commentators, Rabeinu Bechayai and Ibn Ezra, explain that the words “and its sound shall be heard… so that he won’t die” don’t refer to the bells but to the voice of the Kohen Gadol himself, the sound of Aharon HaKohen’s prayers. But the majority of the textual commentators (Ramban, Rashbam, the Ohr HaChaim, etc.) explain that the sound that saves from death is the sound of the bells. Why? What is the purpose of the sound? What’s so bad about a little quiet?

After all, picture a respected rabbinical figure who enters a Beis Medrash wearing shoes that make noise so that everyone hears his arrival. Is that normal?

The Ramban addresses this conundrum and explains briefly, “One who suddenly enters the king’s chamber deserves death.” In other words, the sound of the bells serve as the Kohen Gadol’s asking permission to enter. This would mean that the ringing bells are only a preparation for the service and not an integral part of the service of the Kohen Gadol in the Beis HaMikdash. If so, why does the Torah command that the sound of the bells needs to be heard throughout his service?

The Rebbe explains that the Kohen Gadol represents the Jewish people, all of them, including those who are grasping the “ends of the Me’il,” i.e. the lowest elements of Jewish society. The Jewish people consist of two general categories: tzaddikim and baalei teshuva. The service of tzaddikim is done with a “still, small voice,” while the service of the baal teshuva is done noisily. Why?

There’s a saying, “When it hurts – you cry out.” Crying out symbolizes the inner pain of a person’s spiritual state. Quiet represents calm, that everything is in order. Therefore, Eliyahu HaNavi experienced the G-dly vision as a “still, small voice.” He did not see the spiritual reality as a storm wind but in that calm way that a person is aware of the life force inside himself.

Penitents, on the other hand, who struggle with the evil within themselves, make a lot of “noise” … the ringing bells represents a raging storm in the heart of that “fringe Jew” who hangs on to Torah and mitzvos with great effort. How do tires sound when a vehicle is trying to get out of the mud? Not exactly like a symphony… They sound like the screeching of someone trying to save his life.

Similarly, the Baal Shem Tov was once asked why Chassidim wave their hands and make all sorts of motions as they pray. He responded with an analogy of someone drowning in the river. He waves his arms and calls out, trying to fight the current that threatens to drown him. Nobody would laugh at him. The same for a baal teshuva; the same for a Chassid. “When he prays and moves around, don’t laugh at him. He’s saving himself from the iniquitous waters which are the kelipos and alien thoughts that come to distract him from his thoughts in his prayer.” (Kesser Shem Tov #215)

When the Kohen Gadol enters the Kodesh, he represents the Jewish nation, the quiet tzaddikim and the noisy baalei teshuva and marginal Jews. On the one hand he wears the stones of the Choshen which represent the names of the tzaddikim; on the other hand, on the edge of his Me’il are pomegranates and bells in order to include all Jews.

NOISY EXIT

At first glance, we might think that the service of tzaddikim, the service of the “still, small voice,” is superior to the service of the “great noisy sound,” since they are utterly subservient to G-d, utterly united with the G-dly reality like angels and the early prophets, peacefully aligned with the Torah and mitzvos and what could be better than that?

Chassidus teaches us that in one, important detail, there is something loftier in the service of baalei teshuva, the service of “great noise.” This is why the Gemara (Brachos 34b) says, “In the place where baalei teshuva stand, complete tzaddikim cannot stand.”

Although the tzaddik is on a higher spiritual level, this is his nature; it’s nothing new! The absence of noise and the silent acceptance demonstrate that that tzaddik is not going beyond himself; he’s not nullifying his existence at all. He remains the same. The absence of something new teaches us that the service of a tzaddik is limited, limited by the bounds of his existence and limited by the bounds of his nature.

The “noisy” service of baalei teshuva represents the breaking of the ego and the escape from the blockages of his existence. The fact that he is able to escape from the spiritual distance of the animal soul shows the unlimited power of the neshama which doesn’t reckon with the limitations of the animal soul and which has the power to overcome them and come close to G-d.

As to the message and lesson about bringing Moshiach – we are on the “edge of the Me’il,” in the generation of ikvesa d’meshicha. The souls in this generation cry out for a little (or a lot of) noise. All agree that more Jews need to be drawn close. Everyone knows that we can’t sit with folded hands and wait. We need to take action, go out and spread Torah and mitzvos. However, people still ask: Why the noise and ringing? Why do you need a mitzva tank with loudspeakers, or huge menorahs in sports stadiums? Why does everything need to be done noisily?

The answer is simple and two-fold. First of all, we need to know that there need to be bells at the bottom of the Me’il, i.e. the work done to draw in those on the “edge of the Me’il” to the “Kodesh,” has to be done noisily which arouses the inner tumult of their souls.

Second, we are in “the sound of the multitudes of Rome,” at a time and state in which everything in the world happens with bells and noise along with colorful advertising and media storms. The way to refine kelipa is by using those very things for holy purposes. We need to turn the clamor of Rome to holiness and use noise in the service of Torah and mitzvos. Then we will merit the great silence and peace that will come in the time of Moshiach through the “sound of the herald who calls out and says” about the coming Geula.

We will end with a story about a tank; not a mivtzaim tank but a military tank (plus a big bang), which got those in it to put on tefillin. A reservist combat soldier who fought in the “Protective Edge” campaign related:

“We entered into the Shejaiya neighborhood in Gaza. We were four men in the tank, three who were not religious including myself, and the religious gunner. Twenty-four hours after we entered the Strip, the gunner realized he had forgotten his tefillin outside the Strip. The rest of the crew including myself didn’t care much but he went into a panic. He was absolutely unwilling to fight without tefillin. ‘If I don’t have my tefillin, I’m not willing to go on.’

The tank commander had an idea. “The unit commander is religious. He surely has tefillin.” We contacted him and he said he had tefillin in his tank and we should come and get it. To go and get it during combat wasn’t simple, so he told us what we had to do; travel in reverse for ten meters, pull the rear of our tank up to the rear of their tank, open the rear chute of the tank and he would hand us the tefillin through there.

We did as instructed, traveled in reverse, linked up with the other tank, and suddenly there was a huge explosion that shook everyone up. Ten meters ahead of us, precisely where we had been a minute before, a roadside bomb of 250 kg was blown up which would have completely obliterated us. It turned out we had been at the opening of a tunnel. From that moment on, the entire crew began putting on tefillin.

Good Shabbos!

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