18 Jun FIRST TIME – EVERY TIME

Parshas Beha’aloscha opens with HaShem
instructing Moshe to speak to Aaron
regarding the lighting of the menorah. A
task that Aaron, as Kohen Gadol, was
honored with.
“Va’yaas kein Aaron, And Aaron did so…”
(Bamidbar 8:3)
Rashi expounds on this pasuk, “Lehagid
sh’vocho shel Aaron, shelo shina, To praise
Aaron, that he didn’t change.”
Do we need to praise Aaron for adhering to
HaShem’s mitzvos? Would we expect
anything different from Aaron HaKohein?
Shelo shina, that he didn’t change. Both the
Kotzker Rebbe and the Vila Gaon teach
that Rashi is referring to Aaron’s mindset,
his attitude upon lighting the menorah. The
greatness of Aaron was that he was able to
maintain the same fervor and anticipation,
the same love and dedication, in lighting
the menorah the first time, as well as the
hundredth time, and even the thousandth
time.

No matter how many years passed, Aaron
didn’t change. Torah and mitzvos never
became routine and stale for him, but was
always seen as a z’chus, a special merit, an
honored privilege. For thirty-nine years,
Aaron lit the menorah with passion and
enthusiasm.
“Mi ya’aleh b’har HaShem, Who will
ascend onto HaShem’s mountain, U’mi
yakum bimkom kod’sho, And who will
stand in His holy place.” (Tehillim 24:3)
While it’s certainly virtuous and worthy to
reach the “mountain of HaShem”, it is
something else to stand on the mountain, to
maintain a high level of spirituality. Aaron
was not only able to climb the mountain,
but he stayed there. He lived a life of
kedusha, passionate about his commitment
in both thought and action.
It was Motzoei Shavuos. A friend shared
that she went to shul on Yom Tov to say
Yizkor for a parent. “I wanted to cry… to
feel the loss… to be inspired…” She sighed
and lamented how the tears never came.
I thought back to davening with my zeide,
HaRav Avraham Jungreis, zt”l. While I

never heard Zeide’s
Yizkor, (which I’m

sure was heart-
wrenching), I did

have the z’chus to
hear Zeide’s Yom
Kippur davening.
Zeide’s Asarah
Harugei Malchus,
the tefilla of the Ten
Martyrs, each
martyr a great, all
brutally murdered
during the era of
Roman rule. Zeide would say the tefilla
slowly, filled with emotion. He would cry
between each word, pausing to truly feel
the pain of our leaders who were so
viciously slaughtered. While I couldn’t see
Zeide’s face during davening, his tears and
inner pain, his anguish were very palpable.
I thing of our davening. While there are
those amongst us who cry during Yizkor,

all-to-often our words become mechanical-
like, said by rote. At times, as we daven –

myself included – our minds are distracted,
our thoughts flying in a hundred
directions. We are living in a culture that
multi-tasks, and it affects our thought
process, taking a toll on our davening.
How right my friend is. The tears, the
cries are missing. From the time I hear
the bang on the table and the call of
Yizkor, until the tefilla is over, I am not
quite able to finish. I need more time to
think, to feel, to cry, to be in the moment.
The parsha reminds us of the power of
Aaron. The emotions he experienced the
first time of lighting the menorah
remained with him as he lit day after day,
week after week, month after month,
year after year.
As it is with mitzvos that bring joy, so it
should be with those that recall pain. The
loss felt the first time saying Yizkor
should be felt every time. We must make
an extra effort for our tefillos to be said
with proper kavanna, deep concentration,
with each and every word thought out.
Davening should not be an exercise in
speed-reading.
Beha’aloscha…. Aaron lit the menorah.
Typically, we use the word le’hadlik, to
light. Why the term beha’aloscha,
meaning when you go up? While Aaron
would physically go up steps to light the

menorah, there is yet a deeper
understanding. Aaron seized the
opportunity to elevate his spiritual self. A
message to us. A life committed to Torah
and mitzvos gives us the power “la’alos”,
to elevate ourselves. HaShem gives us
many, many opportunities each day. Take
hold of a mitzvah and make it yours. Use it
to elevate your very being.
The lessons of Aaron HaKohein live on
with us. We light candles. Shabbos candles,
Yom Tov candles, Chanukah candles. We
also light candles at times of sadness.
Yizkor and yahrtzeit candles, a ner
neshama. Flames that all symbolize the
spiritual connection between man and
HaShem.
As we light, in a small way we bring the
kedusha of the Bais HaMikdash into our
own homes, creating a Mikdash Me’at”, a
sanctuary in miniature. We daven that we
follow in the footsteps of Aaron, and keep
every mitzva with the same enthusiasm as
the first time.
As the war in Eretz Yisroel continues, it’s
easy to become complacent, to get used to
the news. More lives are being lost, and so
many are still being held hostage. But we
must go back to October 7. Though it is
now more than eight months later, the fresh
pain and anguish we felt upon hearing of
the unspeakable atrocities committed on
that brutal day, should be no greater than
the agony and heartache we feel upon
hearing of every additional loss of life, of
severed limbs, of families torn apart by
tragedy and suffering.
We should continue to daven, to storm the
gates of Heaven with the same fervor and
intensity, and surely HaShem will respond
with yeshuos and refuos, and with the
besoros tovos that all of us – collectively
and individually – so desperately yearn for.