T

iferes

He was a penniless refugee, fleeing from his murderous brother. When he lay down to sleep, he protected himself with a makeshift pile of stones. Yet he dreamed a dream of eternal significance, a dream that conveyed multiple messages to him and his progeny that would reverberate until the end of days.

Among the numerous dreams in Chumash, Yaakov Avinu’s vision of the ladder is perhaps the most famous. The ladder has been variously interpreted as the pathway of the malachim who come to earth at the bidding of their Master, a timeline of world empires, and the depiction of Har Sinai at Matan Torah. But the fundamental definition of a ladder is a connector.

The sulam was mutzav artzah v’rosho magi’a hashamayimah. The legs of the ladder were planted on the ground, yet its head reached the heavens. Yaakov was on his way to build a family who would do the impossible. They would bridge the distance between heaven and earth. This would be the family of Klal Yisrael.

Yaakov’s very name is a combination of a yud, the letter of spirituality, and the letters that spell eikev, the heel — the lowest part of a person.

The ability to create something new, harmonious, and enduring from two entities, often opposites, is the hallmark of Yaakov Avinu. In doing so, the synthesis that emerges is so balanced, whole, and correct that it can only be called tiferes — a thing of beauty and glory.

The ladder is not the only symbol of this singular role of Yaakov. The stones he collected miraculously coalesced into one. According to some opinions, they were originally 12 stones, and their merging presaged Yaakov’s role in giving birth to 12 tribes, who would be diverse, yet form a united Klal Yisrael. Others assert that there were only two stones. Their union represented his fusion of the middos of Avraham and Yitzchak, his grandfather and father, into the attribute of tiferes.

If chesed, Avraham’s attribute, is represented by the right hand, and gevurah, Yitzchak’s middah, by the left hand, then tiferes, the middah of Yaakov, the third patriarch, is represented by the torso — the middle of the two extremities. Fittingly, it is during the third week of Sefiras Ha’omer that we focus on the Sefirah of tiferes.

The word tiferes is used to describe the middle path of conduct in the opening mishnah in this week’s perek in Pirkei Avos (2:1): What is the proper path for man to choose? Whatever is tiferes for him from His Creator and tiferes for him from fellow men.

The Golden Middle

In this mishnah, Rabi Yehudah Hanasi describes man’s life in This World as a trodden path, a narrow space between the boundaries on the right and the left, and he defines the proper path as one that balances his relationship with Hashem and with his fellow man.

The Gemara Yerushalmi uses similar imagery in this passage: Torah is compared to two paths, one of fire and one of ice. If he strays too close to the fire, he’ll get burned. If he strays too close to the ice, he’ll freeze. One should therefore maintain a middle course.

The Rambam famously writes that “the straight path involves discovering the midpoint of each trait. For example, a person should not be easily angered nor without feeling; rather he should adopt an intermediate course and display anger only when appropriate. He should not be overly stingy nor an excessive spender. He should not laugh excessively nor be sad and depressed. The man whose traits are equally balanced can be called a wise man, and his path is called ‘Derech Hashem.’ ”

Perhaps we can suggest that the tendency to sway, or shuckel, during prayer is a graphic depiction of this middle pathway. Rav Shimon Schwab proposes that the back-and-forth movement represents the exquisite interplay of love and fear in the mind of the supplicant. As he faces his Creator, he comes forward eagerly with love and desire, but then immediately retreats in fear and awe. He comes close again, and then jumps away once more, and so the cycle continues.

What is the middle course between chesed and gevurah? As we have explained previously, Avraham was drawn to performing kindness, and he balanced it with gevurah; Yitzchak was inclined to exercise restraint, and he refined it with chesed. Because of their work, Yaakov was able to immediately apply the proper combination to any given situation, without any natural gravitation toward either extreme.

The Torah describes Yaakov as ish tam yosheiv ohalim, a complete person who sits (studies) in the tents of Torah. The plural ohalim, tents, indicates that Yaakov drew from both the Torah of Avraham and the Torah of Yitzchak. It was only after his study of both ways, that he was able to build upon them and combine them into tiferes. Thus Yaakov is called bechir sheb’Avos, the perfection of the Patriarchs.

The Chumash defines Yaakov as a Torah scholar; Michah Hanavi associates Yaakov with the middah of emes, as in the words, titein emes l’Yaakov (Michah 7: 20); and, the Zohar links Yaakov with tiferes. How do these three concepts converge in Yaakov Avinu?

In order to answer this question, we require a deeper understanding of tiferes.

The Beauty of Balance

Tiferes is sometimes translated as beauty, for beauty can be defined as a perfect balance of elements that come together in a pleasing way. In a person, beauty is associated with symmetry of facial features and proportion of bodily limbs. In a sunset, beauty is a perfect blend of colors, and in a symphony, it’s the harmonious combination of sounds. In each case, something new has been fashioned, and it’s greater than the sum of its parts.

In a similar vein, the Bigdei Kehunah, priestly garb, were called bigdei kavod v’tiferes. They were woven from a combination of different threads, and their beauty glorified the Kohanim.

If we value spirituality over externality, why should beauty be important? The Gemara (Berachos 57b) notes that “a beautiful home and beautiful furnishings broaden the mind of a person.” When our surroundings are aesthetically pleasing, they have a positive effect on us. The soothing influence of external beauty leads to inner harmony.

Yet it is all too easy to focus on the beauty of Olam Hazeh and to be entrapped by material pleasures. The Telsher Rav, Rav Avraham Yitzchak Bloch, reminds us that the human need for beauty should find expression in mitzvos. Chazal interpret the verse “zeh Keili v’anveihu — this is my G-d and I shall beautify Him” (Shemos 15:2) as a command to adorn our mitzvos. One should seek a beautiful esrog, fashion fine tzitzis, and decorate his succah tastefully. Rav Bloch adds another layer of meaning as well: Mitzvos performed this way will in turn beautify us. We become elevated and ennobled when we invest beauty into our avodas Hashem.

The Telsher Rav links tiferes with seder, organization; mesinus, patience; and menuchas hanefesh, peace of mind. Each of these commendable qualities demands that the person center on what is essential and vital in his life, and resist being pulled in other directions. The centering theme is reminiscent of the connection of tiferes with the torso.

Thus the tiferes personality is not conflicted, for he is able to reconcile and utilize his varied attributes and interests. His manner is calm and confident, and his behavior is stable and consistent. He does not have runaway thoughts and does not jump from one activity to the other.

Man of Truth

It’s striking that many of these qualities also describe an ish emes, a man of truth. An ish emes is not only a person who doesn’t lie; he is a person who is honest, consistent, and focused on true values, as opposed to a person who acts capriciously and is centered on superficial pursuits.

Accordingly, Yaakov’s struggles with Eisav and Lavan are regarded as the classic battle of emes versus sheker — the absolute truth of the Torah pitched against the falsehood of Olam Hazeh.

Like tiferes, emes is the perfection and clarity that is attained when varied units fit together to form a complete picture. The Maharal notes that the letters that make up the word “emes” are alef, mem and tav — the first, middle, and last letters of the Hebrew alphabet. This indicates the evenness and balance of emes, for the truth is not biased to any one extreme.

Torah is the absolute truth, and Yaakov is the ish tam yosheiv ohalim, the talmid chacham dwelling in the tent of Torah. Fascinatingly, just as Yaakov is the third patriarch, the Gemara links Torah with the number three: Hashem gave the threefold Torah [Torah, Neviim, Kesuvim] to a threefold people [Kohein, Levi, Yisrael] through the third-born son [Moshe Rabbeinu] on the third day [after the Sheloshes Yemei Hagbalah] in the third month [Sivan].

Furthermore, the preferred middle path, which the Rambam describes as the “Derech Hashem,” can be regarded as a third option — the one we find after first examining the two extremes.

There are various aspects of the Torah that seem to bridge two opposite entities. Torah and mitzvos are the ladder by which man lives on earth and connects to the heavens. The Voice of Hashem is associated with fire (see Tehillim 29), and with water (see Devarim 32). And Chazal describe the existence of Torah before Creation in opposing terms: “black fire upon white fire.” All this is possible when we consider that the Torah comes from a hidden, exalted place, where there are no contradictions.

We have learned that the Torah, in its perfection, represents the ultimate tiferes and the absolute emes. It is now clear why the qualities of tiferes, emes, and Torah all converge in Yaakov Avinu.

Thus far, we have analyzed the effect of tiferes on the self. In the weeks of Sefiras Ha’omer, it’s appropriate to ask how we can apply tiferes to our conduct toward others. Tiferes is also called rachamim, compassion, because it’s able to encompass more than one view. When Hashem employs the attribute of tiferes, He blends chesed and gevurah together in order to create a unique approach for each person in every situation. We can say that He sees the “big picture,” understanding our weaknesses and failings.

The person who emulates Hashem’s middah of rachamim will display empathy and compassion for others, for he is able to see things from their perspective. Rav Shmuel Riachi, in his commentary on the Tomer Devorah, gives an illuminating example. The Gemara (Kesubos 17a) relates that the way of Beis Hillel was to praise even an unattractive kallah as “kallah na’eh v’chasudah — beautiful and graceful.” They felt that a person’s outlook should be “me’ureves im habriyos — mixed with the outlooks of others.” If the chassan chose this kallah, she finds favor in his eyes, and therefore we can praise her truthfully, seeing her from his point of view.

When we react to situations according to the needs and perspectives of others, rather than according to our own instinctive nature, we have used the attribute of tiferes. And when we exercise this middah of rachamim, we in turn awaken Hashem’s trait of mercy upon us.

Sources include the writings of: Rav Chaim Friedlander, Rav Dovid Cohen, the Slonimer Rebbe, Rav Aharon Rubinfeld, Rabbi Yaakov Feder, Rabbi Yaacov Haber, and Rabbi Yisrael Isser Herczeg.

Originally featured in Family First, Issue 641. Mrs. Shani Mendlowitz is menaheles of Bais Yaakov Seminary of Montreal.