Chazal teach that one who has been saved from danger is obligated to bring a korban todah. Unlike most korbanos, the todah was accompanied by forty loaves of bread which had to be eaten within a single day and night. The abundance of food and the compressed time frame virtually required that others be invited to share in the meal. The Torah, in effect, mandated publicity.
Some people enjoy the attention they receive when everyone is patting them on the back and wishing them well. Others are private people who shun the public limelight and view attention-grabbing as showboating, grandstanding. These people would rather celebrate their good fortune within the smallest group possible.
Obviously, the Torah wants the miracle publicized. Every miracle increases kavod Shomayim, glory of Heaven, and reminds people that Hashem runs the world. Unquestionably, the korban is meant to show people that Hashem intervenes, and only He can save one from danger. I have identified an added dimension to the publicity, which is beneficial. Imagine a person who has received a frightening diagnosis – similar to the one our Todah celebrant received months earlier. He has not shared the grim news with anyone but his wife. As such, he walks among people, going to shul, weddings, etc., carrying a burden that is, in and of itself, destroying the quality of his life. Fear gnaws at him, with depression soon to follow. His future, the way he sees it, appears bleak and uncertain. Suddenly, he is invited to a seudas hodaah, marking the release from a similar illness, by a friend. The beneficiary recounts the trauma, the treatments, the grim looks on the doctors’ faces – the overwhelming dread. Same diagnosis, same prognosis, then he heard the words, “Hashem was with me throughout the journey – from dread to thanksgiving. In that moment, something that has eluded him until now enters the picture: hope.
This, too, is the purpose of the korban todah. It is not merely an offering of thanks; it is a gift to others. It proclaims that salvation exists even when the path seems dark. It reassures the silent sufferer that he is not alone and that despair is not the final chapter.
Horav Shimshon Pincus, zl, would often remark that hope is a form of tefillah. When a person feels positive about his future, his spirit is strengthened, and, with it, the ability to endure whatever challenges may come his way.
So, too, is the fellow who declares, “I am not interested in making a large gathering. I do not want to draw attention to myself.” His humility may be well intentioned, but it does not align with the underlying motif of hodaah. The Korban Todah is not about the individual. It is about those who need to hear, to see and ultimately to believe. It is an act of chesed, feeding bodies, elevating spirits, engendering hope. It teaches that miracles do happen, more often than we are willing to concede. Hashem’s kindness is not reserved for a select few. Everyone can and should hope to be included under His umbrella of salvation.
