Hashem instructs Moshe Rabbeinu to replace the two Tablets which he shattered. These Tablets contained the Aseres HaDibros, Ten Commandments. Apparently, the replacement Tablets represented a pivotal moment for the Jewish People, since, when Moshe shattered the first Tablets, Hashem concurred with his decision. This is evinced in the closing pasuk of the Torah, U’l’chol ha’yad ha’chazakah… asher asah Moshe l’einei kol Yisrael, “And by all the strong hand… that Moshe performed before the eyes of all Yisrael” (Devarim 34:12). The yad chazakah, strong hand, is in reference to Moshe’s shattering of the Luchos, to which Hashem responded, Yiyasher kochacha she’shibarta, “You should be strengthened (thank you) for breaking the Luchos.” As this pasuk represents the conclusion of the Written Law, it would suggest that Moshe imparted a critical lesson to the nation – one so important that it concludes the Torah. Furthermore, the last pasuk in the Torah should be sort of a conclusion which projects a summation of the Torah, what it represents and what it should mean to us. If so, what is the lesson we are to derive from the breaking of the Luchos?
Horav Gedaliah Eisenman, zl (Mashgiach Kol Torah), suggests that, by his actions, Moshe alluded that one should not rely on hypothesis, conjecture, heresy, before reaching a decision to take action. He must see with his own two eyes and then draw a conclusion. Hashem informed Moshe that the nation has sinned egregiously – by creating a molten idol. Hashem instructed Moshe to descend from Heaven and return to the people. When our leader returned, he saw the level of moral turpitude to which the nation had plummeted, and he shattered the Luchos. The glaring question is what took him so long to act? Did he chas v’shalom, Heaven forbid, doubt Hashem? If the Almighty said the nation had sinned, no room for debate existed. Moshe taught us a powerful lesson: A judge does not issue his verdict until he sees with his own two eyes. Moshe personally did not have to see the outrage, but he needed to teach a lesson. Thus, he waited until he saw, and then he acted.
Alternatively, Moshe was certain that, when Hashem said the nation had strayed, they had, indeed, sinned. He felt, however, that perhaps he could inspire them to repent, to do teshuvah. When he returned and saw all the revelry that surrounded the idol worship, he realized that they had gone beyond the point of return. To gravitate toward the idol as a result of depression, and fear over losing their leader (who in their minds was late in returning) still allowed for hope of a return to observance. When he saw them dancing gleefully before their idol, he acknowledged that they were not worthy of the Luchos.
Moshe was imparting the lesson of simchah, joy, accompanying an endeavor. As long as the sin of the golden calf was simple rebellion, pure idol worship provoked by whatever fantasy entered their minds, they had hope of returning. Once joy was added to the equation, it was a sin from which they could not return. The flipside is, when joy accompanies a positive endeavor, when one’s Torah study is accompanied by a deep-rooted sense of joy and gratitude to the Almighty, the bond is inexorable. Moshe taught us how to study Torah so that we become inseparable from it. This was the lesson to be derived from the breaking of the Luchos. It is this lesson that appropriately concludes the Torah.
The Maharam, zl, m’Rothenburg, was the preeminent German Tosafist and leader of Ashkenazic Jewry during the middle to end of the Thirteenth century. He wrote voluminous responsa (3500 are extant). His talmid muvhak, primary disciple, was Rabbeinu Asher, zl (Rosh), who codified his Rebbe’s halachic decisions. His son, Rabbeinu Yaakov, zl (Baal HaTurim), codified his father’s works, which resulted in the Tur Shulchan Aruch. In other words, much of contemporary halachah may be traced to the Maharam. At the end of his life (last seven years), the Maharam was incarcerated by the Emperor of Austria in one of his castles. He had done nothing, but the vicious emperor, egged on by a Jewish apostate, was under the impression that the Jewish community would pay an immense sum of money to ransom their beloved Torah leader. The Maharam would hear nothing of it. Under no circumstances would he allow the Jewish community, which was already overtaxed, to suffer on his part. As a result, he remained in prison for seven years until his petirah, passing, in 1293. The emperor then held the body for ransom. The Maharam preempted the despot’s plan with his own will, prohibiting the community from ransoming his body. His body lay in the dungeon for seven years until the emperor died, and his son succeeded him. The son asked only for a small token amount of money, which was supplied by one Jew, who asked only to one day be buried next to the Maharam.
I wrote this brief bio to underscore what this holy man experienced in his life. He achieved the pinnacle of Torah erudition; yet, he suffered greatly the last seven years of his life. Nonetheless, his love for and joy in learning Torah superseded all of his troubles. Hence, the following quote from the closing paragraph of his brilliant commentary to Mishnayos Ohalos (one of the most difficult mesechtos in Shas), which he wrote while incarcerated in the emperor’s castle, “With this, I conclude my commentary to the chapter that deals with a tower that is suspended in the air, which I wrote while I was imprisoned in a tower. I offer my praise and adoration to Hashem Who did not remove His kindness from me: when I was in the darkness, His word was a beacon of light for me. He did not forsake me all the days of my life – and even after my passing.” To write such a tribute, one must experience an overwhelming emotion of joy in studying Torah and in his attachment to Hashem.
