Parshat Parah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The calendar this year has us reading "Parshat Parah" (Bamidbar 19, which speaks of the Red Heifer) in the week following our reading of the tale of the Golden Calf (in Ki Tissa - last week's parsha). Is there a connection?
One might say there need not be a connection, simply because Parshat Parah is the next in line of the "4 Parshas" that round out this time of year. As the Aruch Hashulchan puts it (685:1), "[we read Parah] because the burning of the heifer was done close to the month of Nissan in order that people could participate in the Paschal Lamb in purity."
And yet, there is a connection between the two, as pointed out by Rashi in Bamidbar 19:22. There Rashi writes that the "Red Heifer is a parable to the son of a maid who soiled the palace of the king. They say, 'Let his mother come and clean up his mess!' So does the cow come and atone for the calf."
The source Rashi is quoting is the Medrash Tanchuma (8) on the parsha, when Rabbi Aivo explains why of all sacrifices which are generally male animals, the Red Heifer is a female.
The midrash recounts a tale of Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai and a "stranger" who confronted him saying the ritual of the cow makes no sense. Rabbi Yochanan asked him, "What do you when a person has been contained by an evil spirit?" The stranger described a low-key form of an exorcism in which something is put on fire below the person and water is sprinkled to get the evil spirit out.
Rabbi Yochanan was flabbergasted: "Listen to what you are saying!" In other words, each method is equally strange to an outsider. Rabbi Yochanan explained to his students after the non-Jew left, "It is not the dead who brings on tumah, and it is not the heifer who purifies. Rather it is God who made rules and laws and decrees and we are not to disregard or break them."
The Red Heifer is therefore a mitzvah that serves the purpose of relieving us of a status of spiritual impurity, both of which (mitzvah and spiritual purity/impurity) are made up notions created by God for His reasons.
But there's a problem. Both the midrash and, subsequently, Rashi imply that the Red Heifer came about to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf. But it is Rashi himself who says that one of the mitzvot that was taught to the people at Marah, even before the giving of the Torah, and certainly before the Golden Calf incident, was the mitzvah of Parah Adumah (Shmot 15:25)!
How do we reconcile Rashi saying that Parah Adumah was taught before the Torah was given with his suggesting that the Parah Adumah serves as an atonement for the Golden Calf?
Some suggest that there is an editor's mistake in the Rashi, because the Talmud includes "Kibud Av" – honoring one's parents – as one of the commandments discussed in Marah. Perhaps Rashi had written the abbreviation for Kibud Av (Kaf Alef), which was mistaken to read "Peh Alef," and was thus transcribed as "Parah Adumah." [The Kaf and Peh are easily mistakable, particularly in some styles of handwriting.]
Others reject such a notion, arguing that in Marah the people were taught "Chok u'mishpat" – a statute and a judgment – and Parah Adumah is the classic example of a Chok.
And so, our question remains.
As a parent, have you ever decided that a punishment or (as we call them) a "loss of privilege," or maybe just a decision/consequence your children did not like was in order? And then, you found out that something else that you had been unaware of had also taken place and you then included the new item in the "reason" for your choice of action? I certainly have. [And may have been the recipient of such as a child as well!]
Making the Parah Adumah atone for the Golden Calf is called "poetry in motion," because it fits so nicely into the narrative of what transpired after Parah Adumah was first taught to the people.
More importantly, at this time of year leading into Pesach, perhaps the lesson of Parah Adumah can be one of a re-commitment to the Torah "just because." The Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai tale reminds us that we don't need to be such geniuses. Not everything we see or do has to make complete sense. There are some things about the Torah and about Judaism that are hard to explain rationally, and may even leave us with questions. Do we therefore throw all of Judaism under the bus because of one question?
I have met too many people who have found one contradiction, or one thing that bothers them so much that all of Judaism is therefore rejected. This is an unfortunate consequence of intellectual dishonesty, frustration, or apathetic curiosity. "Seek and ye shall find" is not meant to be a throwaway line. Judaism has many approaches and answers to different questions.
The Parah Adumah teaches us that if at first something is taught "just because," eventually we will find that its purpose actually makes a whole lot of sense when it comes to atone for a major faux pas that almost destroyed our nation.
We seek reasons to help ourselves appreciate our religion better. And if the reasons we find don't work for us, our job is to keep seeking.
And we shall find!
Friday, March 16, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
Too Strict About Shabbos?
Ki Seesaw
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The Jewish movements that changed the face of Jewry in the 19th and 20th centuries raised serious concerns about the nature of the Torah and how it stands the test of time. Many of the mitzvot of the Torah, for example, are not applicable in our day and age – highlighted by the lack of a Temple in Jerusalem.
Some mitzvot are simply not observed – the mitzvah of the eved ivri (Jewish indentured servant), amah ivriya (Jewess maidservant), yibum (levirate marriage), for example – because our society has evolved in such a way that these are quite strange.
We also have a difficult time swallowing the nature of the mitzvah to wipe out Amalek. While there are enemies of the Jewish people who exhibit Amalek-like qualities, this does not make them Amalekites. As such, I, for one, am glad that we cannot identify true Amalekites and are not subject to the mitzvah of destroying them.
There is a passage in Ki Tisa which is difficult to explain to the modern Jew, and to a world that shies away from the notion that we have the right to administer a capital punishment. To be sure, the Torah makes capital punishment very difficult to administer. The Torah also did not create a prison system. Punishment was carried out immediately, to serve as a deterrent, and was practiced at minimum expense, quickly, with no attention paid to a concern of "causing undue pain and suffering." It was done as humanely as possible – very forward thinking for its time
While capital punishment is much easier to understand when someone has committed murder, how do we understand it in the context of – "Six days you shall work, the seventh day is the Sabbath – it is holy to God. Whoever does 'melakha' on this day will be put to death" (Shmot 31:15)?
The Torah even describes a case when an individual who gathered wood on the Sabbath was put to death. (Bamidbar 15:32-36)
Of course, this is not something we pay any attention to now – in the sense that we would never ever put someone who does "melakha" on the Sabbath to death. We might, however, explain – as we do for all laws in the Torah that carry a death punishment in their depiction (i.e. hitting or cursing one's parents (see Shmot 21:15,17)), that these are very serious offenses, not to be taken lightly.
Beyond that, however, I think it is important to understand two points: where the Torah is coming from in advancing this rule, and why it is not our place to judge the Torah.
I would suggest that the Sabbath, being one of the "Ten Commandments" and being the model of God's rest from the work of Creation, is our best example of how we can imitate our Father in Heaven. He created for six days, and rested on the seventh. In this sense, neglecting the Sabbath serves as a denial of His role in creating the universe. A Jewish person who snubs God's existence in this way is like a person who smugly rebels against a king in his own court, at the king's celebration of his kingdom. [I understand people do not feel this way – but this is a very simple argument of where the Torah may be coming from.]
I don't feel we can judge the Torah as being immoral for suggesting a capital punishment for this offense, because morality is defined differently in every generation. This point was articulated brilliantly by Rabbi Norman Lamm in a sermon he delivered on March 21, 1970, entitled "In Defense of Samuel."
Addressing Shmuel the Prophet's right to kill Agag, king of Amalek in Samuel I 15:33, Rabbi Lamm suggested there are absolute moral principles, but there are also "moral insights that develop slowly in the history of the human family as a result of various individual insights, until by consensus…they are recognized as binding moral judgments."
In his homiletical elaboration, he raises historical developments of the practices of polygamy and slavery of old, as well as the draft board (this was during the Vietnam War) and the penal system of our society today, the former two having been defined in more modern times as being morally reprehensible, and the latter two are subject to scrutiny in our evolving society. Are we to therefore judge great otherwise moral people of ages past for having practiced these activities in a time and place when our contemporary moral sensitivity did not yet exist, and when the common consensus was that these activities were moral?
"Quite possibly, flogging a man once and for all and letting him free thereafter is more humane than taking 15 of the best years of his life and throwing him into jail with other criminals, there only to compound his injury by making it permanent."
I do a lot of work, and participate in many education opportunities that cater to non-observant Jews. Many people simply do not have the education, the ability, the know-how, or the wherewithal to change old habits, or to commit to the Sabbath the way many of us are committed.
This does not take away from their commitment to being Jewish, or their desire to represent the Jewish people and to take the proverbial bullet for our People.
I hope that all Jews can engage themselves in a step by step process – even if it is a many-years-long process – to reconnect with the Sabbath. Start with Friday night, turn off the phone and computer, light the candles, enjoy a meal and relax. You may extend your "vacation" into Saturday over time, and I am sure your life will be enriched from it.
Enjoy the Sabbath. Enjoy a taste of the World to Come.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The Jewish movements that changed the face of Jewry in the 19th and 20th centuries raised serious concerns about the nature of the Torah and how it stands the test of time. Many of the mitzvot of the Torah, for example, are not applicable in our day and age – highlighted by the lack of a Temple in Jerusalem.
Some mitzvot are simply not observed – the mitzvah of the eved ivri (Jewish indentured servant), amah ivriya (Jewess maidservant), yibum (levirate marriage), for example – because our society has evolved in such a way that these are quite strange.
We also have a difficult time swallowing the nature of the mitzvah to wipe out Amalek. While there are enemies of the Jewish people who exhibit Amalek-like qualities, this does not make them Amalekites. As such, I, for one, am glad that we cannot identify true Amalekites and are not subject to the mitzvah of destroying them.
There is a passage in Ki Tisa which is difficult to explain to the modern Jew, and to a world that shies away from the notion that we have the right to administer a capital punishment. To be sure, the Torah makes capital punishment very difficult to administer. The Torah also did not create a prison system. Punishment was carried out immediately, to serve as a deterrent, and was practiced at minimum expense, quickly, with no attention paid to a concern of "causing undue pain and suffering." It was done as humanely as possible – very forward thinking for its time
While capital punishment is much easier to understand when someone has committed murder, how do we understand it in the context of – "Six days you shall work, the seventh day is the Sabbath – it is holy to God. Whoever does 'melakha' on this day will be put to death" (Shmot 31:15)?
The Torah even describes a case when an individual who gathered wood on the Sabbath was put to death. (Bamidbar 15:32-36)
Of course, this is not something we pay any attention to now – in the sense that we would never ever put someone who does "melakha" on the Sabbath to death. We might, however, explain – as we do for all laws in the Torah that carry a death punishment in their depiction (i.e. hitting or cursing one's parents (see Shmot 21:15,17)), that these are very serious offenses, not to be taken lightly.
Beyond that, however, I think it is important to understand two points: where the Torah is coming from in advancing this rule, and why it is not our place to judge the Torah.
I would suggest that the Sabbath, being one of the "Ten Commandments" and being the model of God's rest from the work of Creation, is our best example of how we can imitate our Father in Heaven. He created for six days, and rested on the seventh. In this sense, neglecting the Sabbath serves as a denial of His role in creating the universe. A Jewish person who snubs God's existence in this way is like a person who smugly rebels against a king in his own court, at the king's celebration of his kingdom. [I understand people do not feel this way – but this is a very simple argument of where the Torah may be coming from.]
I don't feel we can judge the Torah as being immoral for suggesting a capital punishment for this offense, because morality is defined differently in every generation. This point was articulated brilliantly by Rabbi Norman Lamm in a sermon he delivered on March 21, 1970, entitled "In Defense of Samuel."
Addressing Shmuel the Prophet's right to kill Agag, king of Amalek in Samuel I 15:33, Rabbi Lamm suggested there are absolute moral principles, but there are also "moral insights that develop slowly in the history of the human family as a result of various individual insights, until by consensus…they are recognized as binding moral judgments."
In his homiletical elaboration, he raises historical developments of the practices of polygamy and slavery of old, as well as the draft board (this was during the Vietnam War) and the penal system of our society today, the former two having been defined in more modern times as being morally reprehensible, and the latter two are subject to scrutiny in our evolving society. Are we to therefore judge great otherwise moral people of ages past for having practiced these activities in a time and place when our contemporary moral sensitivity did not yet exist, and when the common consensus was that these activities were moral?
"Quite possibly, flogging a man once and for all and letting him free thereafter is more humane than taking 15 of the best years of his life and throwing him into jail with other criminals, there only to compound his injury by making it permanent."
I do a lot of work, and participate in many education opportunities that cater to non-observant Jews. Many people simply do not have the education, the ability, the know-how, or the wherewithal to change old habits, or to commit to the Sabbath the way many of us are committed.
This does not take away from their commitment to being Jewish, or their desire to represent the Jewish people and to take the proverbial bullet for our People.
I hope that all Jews can engage themselves in a step by step process – even if it is a many-years-long process – to reconnect with the Sabbath. Start with Friday night, turn off the phone and computer, light the candles, enjoy a meal and relax. You may extend your "vacation" into Saturday over time, and I am sure your life will be enriched from it.
Enjoy the Sabbath. Enjoy a taste of the World to Come.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Take For You
Parshat Tetzaveh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are four times in the Torah when the people are instructed to "take" an item or material for a purpose which is then described, using the Hebrew word "v'yikchu" (with a shva under the vav) – meaning, "and they will take."
Two of the instances appear at the beginning of last week's parsha and this week's parsha. "They will take 'terumah' to Me." (25:2) "Command the people, and they will take to you pure olive oil to light and raise a candle forever." (27:20). (This is repeated in Emor, Vayikra 24:2).
The other two instances are in Bamidbar 19:2, "Tell the Israelites and they will take to you an unblemished Red Heifer;" and Shmot 12:3, "They will take for them each a lamb for every house."
In three cases, the people are told to bring the items either to Moshe or for themselves, while the Terumah commandment is the sole difference, when they are told to bring the donation to God.
The idea of taking something to God in the context of the Mishkan is quite understandable. What is the purpose of the entire edifice, if not to become a Sanctuary for God's presence to rest on Earth?
On the other side, it is curious that the instructions for taking the oil and heifer are formulated in the same way, "V'yikchu ei'lekha" – to "and they will take to you." To Moshe? Why?
Ramban says the oil is to be brought to Moshe so he could be sure it is perfectly pure oil – that it follows halakhic specifications. Chizkuni says there is a practical reason involved – because he is the first one to enter the Mishkan, he will be the first one who needs the light to see in that windowless sanctuary.
The gemara, in the other hand, offers a different perspective, painting a contrast between Moshe's "needs" and God's non-needs. "Bring them to you, and not to Me, for I do not need their light." (Menachos 86b) In other words, while God does not need their light, you, Moshe, and the Jewish people, need the light of the Menorah.
Moshe is also told that the people should take to him the Red Heifer, which Rashi points out will always be called "the cow [ritual] that Moshe performed or instructed in the wilderness." Similar to the gemara, the Midrash Vayikra Rabba 30 says, "Is the [heifer] for Me? It is for you, to purify [the people]."
Moshe personally needs the light, and Moshe needs to provide the light. This is one of the two main components of Moshe's job, of Moshe's role as a "guide, advisor, leader" for the Jewish people.
With the red cow ritual, Moshe after whom the Red Heifer ritual is named, is not supposed to be doing a job the people can do for themselves, but he nonetheless serves as the conduit that brings about taharah to the people - the achievement of spiritual purity.
In this sense, Moshe is more like the "spiritual guide" who is meant to bring the people to live a life of purity. In the event that they have strayed, he is to guide them on the path that brings them back to purity.
Oil and heifer are brought to Moshe himself – to him, but for the people. Both items first come to him because he needs to tap into his innermost being, to utilize these raw materials in order to be able to achieve his maximum potential as a leader.
Moshe's job essentially serves two functions: As the source of light, he is meant to bring enlightenment, to help people find all the answers. At the same time, Moshe's other role as spiritual leader was to be the source of purity – to help people tap into the essence of their souls.
This double job is discussed by Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik in his essay "Engaging the Heart and Teaching the Mind," which appears in "Reflections of the Rav Volume II." He spoke about the differences between the spiritual guide who takes care of only the spiritual side of one's experience, while the other leader or guide actually shows people how to live.
In order to achieve either end, a spiritual end or a life-goal, we need to take something – a lamb, some oil, or a red heifer, and appreciate the value of the freedom, light or symbol of purity it evokes. We take it for ourselves because it is not God who needs it, but we who need these symbols to help us connect to God. Rabbi Norman Lamm said in a sermon on this parsha in the 1960s, "The Torah, with all its difficulties and demands and disciplines, is a gift by God to man, and our observance of the Torah is no gift by us to God."
In other words, it is all for us, to help us refine who we are, to aim to perfect our ways, so we can aim to achieve the completeness that comes from living an enlightened existence and a pure existence in the service of God and in the perfecting of Man.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There are four times in the Torah when the people are instructed to "take" an item or material for a purpose which is then described, using the Hebrew word "v'yikchu" (with a shva under the vav) – meaning, "and they will take."
Two of the instances appear at the beginning of last week's parsha and this week's parsha. "They will take 'terumah' to Me." (25:2) "Command the people, and they will take to you pure olive oil to light and raise a candle forever." (27:20). (This is repeated in Emor, Vayikra 24:2).
The other two instances are in Bamidbar 19:2, "Tell the Israelites and they will take to you an unblemished Red Heifer;" and Shmot 12:3, "They will take for them each a lamb for every house."
In three cases, the people are told to bring the items either to Moshe or for themselves, while the Terumah commandment is the sole difference, when they are told to bring the donation to God.
The idea of taking something to God in the context of the Mishkan is quite understandable. What is the purpose of the entire edifice, if not to become a Sanctuary for God's presence to rest on Earth?
On the other side, it is curious that the instructions for taking the oil and heifer are formulated in the same way, "V'yikchu ei'lekha" – to "and they will take to you." To Moshe? Why?
Ramban says the oil is to be brought to Moshe so he could be sure it is perfectly pure oil – that it follows halakhic specifications. Chizkuni says there is a practical reason involved – because he is the first one to enter the Mishkan, he will be the first one who needs the light to see in that windowless sanctuary.
The gemara, in the other hand, offers a different perspective, painting a contrast between Moshe's "needs" and God's non-needs. "Bring them to you, and not to Me, for I do not need their light." (Menachos 86b) In other words, while God does not need their light, you, Moshe, and the Jewish people, need the light of the Menorah.
Moshe is also told that the people should take to him the Red Heifer, which Rashi points out will always be called "the cow [ritual] that Moshe performed or instructed in the wilderness." Similar to the gemara, the Midrash Vayikra Rabba 30 says, "Is the [heifer] for Me? It is for you, to purify [the people]."
Moshe personally needs the light, and Moshe needs to provide the light. This is one of the two main components of Moshe's job, of Moshe's role as a "guide, advisor, leader" for the Jewish people.
With the red cow ritual, Moshe after whom the Red Heifer ritual is named, is not supposed to be doing a job the people can do for themselves, but he nonetheless serves as the conduit that brings about taharah to the people - the achievement of spiritual purity.
In this sense, Moshe is more like the "spiritual guide" who is meant to bring the people to live a life of purity. In the event that they have strayed, he is to guide them on the path that brings them back to purity.
Oil and heifer are brought to Moshe himself – to him, but for the people. Both items first come to him because he needs to tap into his innermost being, to utilize these raw materials in order to be able to achieve his maximum potential as a leader.
Moshe's job essentially serves two functions: As the source of light, he is meant to bring enlightenment, to help people find all the answers. At the same time, Moshe's other role as spiritual leader was to be the source of purity – to help people tap into the essence of their souls.
This double job is discussed by Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik in his essay "Engaging the Heart and Teaching the Mind," which appears in "Reflections of the Rav Volume II." He spoke about the differences between the spiritual guide who takes care of only the spiritual side of one's experience, while the other leader or guide actually shows people how to live.
In order to achieve either end, a spiritual end or a life-goal, we need to take something – a lamb, some oil, or a red heifer, and appreciate the value of the freedom, light or symbol of purity it evokes. We take it for ourselves because it is not God who needs it, but we who need these symbols to help us connect to God. Rabbi Norman Lamm said in a sermon on this parsha in the 1960s, "The Torah, with all its difficulties and demands and disciplines, is a gift by God to man, and our observance of the Torah is no gift by us to God."
In other words, it is all for us, to help us refine who we are, to aim to perfect our ways, so we can aim to achieve the completeness that comes from living an enlightened existence and a pure existence in the service of God and in the perfecting of Man.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
MM&M and Divine Inspiration
Parshat Terumah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In the descriptions of three of the elements of the to-be-constructed mishkan, the Torah includes the phrase "as you saw/were shown in the mountain."
In other words, in receiving the descriptions of how things are to be made for the mishkan, Moshe was also provided with a visual aid to better understand what the items in question should look like.
The Torah does not shy away from repeating phrases such as "As God commanded Moshe" and the like, which support a running theme in the Torah's narrative. As our phrase in question is repeated, but only three times, it stands to reason the three items or instructions thereof are connected.
We are told that Moshe saw a vision of the Menorah (25:40), how to set up the Mishkan in its entirety (notably through erecting the beams that make up the walls) (26:30), and what the Mizbeach was supposed to look like (27:8). Aside from all of the three items beginning with the same consonant, what could be a connection between three items that are so different?
The menorah is made out of solid gold, the beams are made of wood and covered with gold, and the mizbeach is made of wood and covered with copper.
If anything, the ark, the table, the small mizbeach and the beams would be in the same category, all made out of wood and covered with gold. Perhaps the cover for the ark and the menorah could be classified similarly as they are both of more complex and intricate design and made out of a solid piece of gold.
I think that the Menorha, Mishkan and Mizbeach have in common that they all serve the entire nation.
The mishkan itself and the mizbeach do this in a more obvious way. The building will be the center of Jewish life. It is the central image of that which we look to for inspiration in our quest to get close to God, as a place on earth where God's presence is identifiable. The mizbeach is the place where all sacrifices offered by the people will be brought, and it therefore serves the important function of channeling the connection people will be looking to make with God. The mizbeach is also used every day, and even had a prohibition against its fire extinguishing.
How does the menorah serve the entire nation? More pointedly, how does the menorah stand unique amongst all the other vessels? The Ark, for example, is the symbol of the Torah! While it is usually hidden, it is taken out to lead the people in battle!
The menorah is unique because even though just like the smaller mizbeach, the table, and the ark its place is hidden from the view of the general public, it is the only item in the mishkan which not only has a daily use (the ark sits idly, and the table is touched once a week when the show-bread is replaced), but whose function is a conglomeration of the participation of the entire nation.
One need look no further than the beginning of the next parsha (end of Ch. 27) to understand the role every member of the nation has in the functioning of the menorah.. As the Ibn Ezra writes (27:20), "There is an eternal commandment for the community to always provide the olive oil that will allow the candles to burn forever."
It therefore comes as no shock that the visions of the mishkan, mizbeach and menorah were shown to Moshe on the mountain.
If we were to symbolically contemporize these three things, the mishkan would be our community center (the shul building, perhaps), the mizbeach would be the specific place we serve God (such as the sanctuary) and the method of doing so (prayer), and the menorah would be that which shines forever because it is fully supported by our communities.
Maybe the parallel to the menorah is the Torah, maybe it's our children, maybe it's our way of life, maybe it's the values we continue to live, sacrifice and strive for, maybe it's just our hopes and dreams for our collective future.
None of these happen or work automatically. A divine blueprint is the best guide for making things work and having them be successful.
Moshe was given that blueprint for physical and tangible vessels of the mishkan. May we merit to be enlightened with a similar blueprint that will help our own "candles" burn forever.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In the descriptions of three of the elements of the to-be-constructed mishkan, the Torah includes the phrase "as you saw/were shown in the mountain."
In other words, in receiving the descriptions of how things are to be made for the mishkan, Moshe was also provided with a visual aid to better understand what the items in question should look like.
The Torah does not shy away from repeating phrases such as "As God commanded Moshe" and the like, which support a running theme in the Torah's narrative. As our phrase in question is repeated, but only three times, it stands to reason the three items or instructions thereof are connected.
We are told that Moshe saw a vision of the Menorah (25:40), how to set up the Mishkan in its entirety (notably through erecting the beams that make up the walls) (26:30), and what the Mizbeach was supposed to look like (27:8). Aside from all of the three items beginning with the same consonant, what could be a connection between three items that are so different?
The menorah is made out of solid gold, the beams are made of wood and covered with gold, and the mizbeach is made of wood and covered with copper.
If anything, the ark, the table, the small mizbeach and the beams would be in the same category, all made out of wood and covered with gold. Perhaps the cover for the ark and the menorah could be classified similarly as they are both of more complex and intricate design and made out of a solid piece of gold.
I think that the Menorha, Mishkan and Mizbeach have in common that they all serve the entire nation.
The mishkan itself and the mizbeach do this in a more obvious way. The building will be the center of Jewish life. It is the central image of that which we look to for inspiration in our quest to get close to God, as a place on earth where God's presence is identifiable. The mizbeach is the place where all sacrifices offered by the people will be brought, and it therefore serves the important function of channeling the connection people will be looking to make with God. The mizbeach is also used every day, and even had a prohibition against its fire extinguishing.
How does the menorah serve the entire nation? More pointedly, how does the menorah stand unique amongst all the other vessels? The Ark, for example, is the symbol of the Torah! While it is usually hidden, it is taken out to lead the people in battle!
The menorah is unique because even though just like the smaller mizbeach, the table, and the ark its place is hidden from the view of the general public, it is the only item in the mishkan which not only has a daily use (the ark sits idly, and the table is touched once a week when the show-bread is replaced), but whose function is a conglomeration of the participation of the entire nation.
One need look no further than the beginning of the next parsha (end of Ch. 27) to understand the role every member of the nation has in the functioning of the menorah.. As the Ibn Ezra writes (27:20), "There is an eternal commandment for the community to always provide the olive oil that will allow the candles to burn forever."
It therefore comes as no shock that the visions of the mishkan, mizbeach and menorah were shown to Moshe on the mountain.
If we were to symbolically contemporize these three things, the mishkan would be our community center (the shul building, perhaps), the mizbeach would be the specific place we serve God (such as the sanctuary) and the method of doing so (prayer), and the menorah would be that which shines forever because it is fully supported by our communities.
Maybe the parallel to the menorah is the Torah, maybe it's our children, maybe it's our way of life, maybe it's the values we continue to live, sacrifice and strive for, maybe it's just our hopes and dreams for our collective future.
None of these happen or work automatically. A divine blueprint is the best guide for making things work and having them be successful.
Moshe was given that blueprint for physical and tangible vessels of the mishkan. May we merit to be enlightened with a similar blueprint that will help our own "candles" burn forever.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Mentorship 101
Parshat Mishpatim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Chapter 24 describes the immediate events preceding Moshe's trek to the mountain for forty days and nights. Aharon, Nadav, Avihu and the seventy elders accompany Moshe as he is about to commence his hike up the mountain.
Where did Yehoshua come from, and what was his role in all of this?
Explaining Yehoshua's sudden presence, Ramban says he was one of the elders. When Moshe leaves Aharon and Chur in charge, he does so because Yehoshua alone is accompanying him. This is a tribute to the greatness of Yehoshua. But how far up the mountain is Yehoshua allowed to go?
When Moshe emerges in chapter 32, the first person he meets is Yehoshua, who is similarly unaware of the Golden Calf fiasco. This leaves open the suggestion that Yehoshua is somewhere on the mountain – a point which can easily be read in to the verses quotes above.
How did they survive if they did not bring supplies? Ibn Ezra maintains Yehoshua was close enough to where the manna fell that he could easily sustain himself.
As for Moshe, the question of food becomes a little more complicated. In Devarim 9, Moshe recounts to the second generation his multiple trips up the mountain (chapters 24 and 32-34) – and how "I did not eat bread and I did not drink water" during the 40-day periods I was up there.
Could he really have gone 40 days without any food?
After all is said and done, we know Moshe is a human being. Special – yes. But very human. The Talmud (Yoma 4b) says the food that had been in Moshe's intestines were purged during the seven day waiting period (before he entered the cloud), until he was ready to become sustained by spiritual food. (The Alshikh calls this "getting sustenance from the 'ziv haShechinah.'")
We should recall that in lieu of saying "I did not eat anything," he singled out bread and water as the things he did not eat – while allowing that he may have still eaten something else.
The Talmud (Sukkah 5a) says Moshe never entered the realm of God, and God never rested in the realm of Man. If so, Moshe was always in the physical realm – and yet he never ate physical food. Physical food, as we know has good qualities, as well as negative parts which our digestive system rejects. The Talmud (Yoma 75b) discusses what the people ate in the wilderness: Abirim bread (based on Tehillim 78:25) – which is bread that ministering Angels eat. It is called Abirim because it is absorbed in Eivarim, the limbs of the body, and does not produce waste.
The Sfas Emes quotes the Zohar that says the "angelic food" is not what was given to the people. The angels are given it in its original, spiritual form, but by the time it reaches the human realm, it is in the form of a kind of bread, which they called "Mon" (manna).
The Maharsha therefore suggests that Moshe ate Manna on the mountain because it is a spiritual food, and it was only "bread" (specifically) that Moshe said he did not eat, as opposed to saying he did not eat at all.
How did Moshe get the food?
There is a debate as to how Moshe entered the mountain. One approach has a path opening for him to walk upon (Yoma 4b). The other side has him entering a cloud which elevated him to the top, in a Mary-Poppins-inspired move.
If he went up using the latter method, we have to assume God provided for him. But if he walked up on the path, is there room to suggest he did so to leave the line open back to Yehoshua?
The opening Mishnah in Avos says Moshe transmitted the Torah to Yehoshua. Rashi contradicts this in Shmot 34:32, when he leaves Yehoshua out of the chain of the heritage transmission. When did Yehoshua learn directly from Moshe, to the point that he is the top on the list in Avos? [His "not leaving the tent" in 33:11 may be a different breeding ground for his own personal learning, but leaves no indication of his being part of the mesorah transmission in the same way Rashi describes Moshe, Aharon, Aharon's sons and the elders as being links in a chain.]
The Shakh quotes the Medrash Tanchuma who says that while on the mountain, Moshe the human forgot everything he learned on a daily basis until God gave him all the knowledge as a gift. The change happened when his own physical matter became spiritual.
The Talmud (Baba Batra 75a) records how Yehoshua was like the moon to Moshe's sun. Yehoshua, as the leadership heir-apparent, is slated to reflect the light of the teachings of Moshe, just as the moon reflects the light of the sun. Yehoshua's accompanying Moshe serves the purpose of demonstrating the connection they'll carry as the links in the mesorah (heritage) that they bear to this day.
Is it such a stretch to suggest that Moshe communicated with Yehoshua on a daily basis while he was on the mountain? If there was a path from Moshe to Yehoshua, perhaps there was a transfer of manna (which the Talmud Yoma 76a says also fell in Yehoshua's merit), and a transmission of information which Moshe soon forgot afterwards.
If Yehoshua was the first link in the chain of mesorah, his presence on the mountain served a purpose. He could provide food for and help his mentor in a fitting manner, and he can be a sounding board for Moshe to practice teaching as quickly as Moshe learned the information.
This is the best way to learn, says a different mishnah in Avos (1:4). Lay at the dust of the feet of the scholars.
We learn from Yehoshua how to get close to a teacher, how to play the role of facilitator and learner, and the patience to wait until it is your turn to shine.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Chapter 24 describes the immediate events preceding Moshe's trek to the mountain for forty days and nights. Aharon, Nadav, Avihu and the seventy elders accompany Moshe as he is about to commence his hike up the mountain.
"God said to Moshe, 'Come up to Me, to the mountain, and remain there. I will give you the stone tablets, the Torah and the commandment that I have written for [the people's] instruction.' Moshe and his aid Yehoshua set out. Moshe went up on God's Mountain. He said to the elders, 'Wait for us here until we return to you. Aaron and Chur will remain with you. Whoever has a problem can go to them.'" (24:12-14)Rashi says "I don't know why Yehoshua is here, but maybe he is serving the role of "student who accompanies teacher." This answer leaves much unsaid.
Where did Yehoshua come from, and what was his role in all of this?
Explaining Yehoshua's sudden presence, Ramban says he was one of the elders. When Moshe leaves Aharon and Chur in charge, he does so because Yehoshua alone is accompanying him. This is a tribute to the greatness of Yehoshua. But how far up the mountain is Yehoshua allowed to go?
When Moshe emerges in chapter 32, the first person he meets is Yehoshua, who is similarly unaware of the Golden Calf fiasco. This leaves open the suggestion that Yehoshua is somewhere on the mountain – a point which can easily be read in to the verses quotes above.
How did they survive if they did not bring supplies? Ibn Ezra maintains Yehoshua was close enough to where the manna fell that he could easily sustain himself.
As for Moshe, the question of food becomes a little more complicated. In Devarim 9, Moshe recounts to the second generation his multiple trips up the mountain (chapters 24 and 32-34) – and how "I did not eat bread and I did not drink water" during the 40-day periods I was up there.
Could he really have gone 40 days without any food?
After all is said and done, we know Moshe is a human being. Special – yes. But very human. The Talmud (Yoma 4b) says the food that had been in Moshe's intestines were purged during the seven day waiting period (before he entered the cloud), until he was ready to become sustained by spiritual food. (The Alshikh calls this "getting sustenance from the 'ziv haShechinah.'")
We should recall that in lieu of saying "I did not eat anything," he singled out bread and water as the things he did not eat – while allowing that he may have still eaten something else.
The Talmud (Sukkah 5a) says Moshe never entered the realm of God, and God never rested in the realm of Man. If so, Moshe was always in the physical realm – and yet he never ate physical food. Physical food, as we know has good qualities, as well as negative parts which our digestive system rejects. The Talmud (Yoma 75b) discusses what the people ate in the wilderness: Abirim bread (based on Tehillim 78:25) – which is bread that ministering Angels eat. It is called Abirim because it is absorbed in Eivarim, the limbs of the body, and does not produce waste.
The Sfas Emes quotes the Zohar that says the "angelic food" is not what was given to the people. The angels are given it in its original, spiritual form, but by the time it reaches the human realm, it is in the form of a kind of bread, which they called "Mon" (manna).
The Maharsha therefore suggests that Moshe ate Manna on the mountain because it is a spiritual food, and it was only "bread" (specifically) that Moshe said he did not eat, as opposed to saying he did not eat at all.
How did Moshe get the food?
There is a debate as to how Moshe entered the mountain. One approach has a path opening for him to walk upon (Yoma 4b). The other side has him entering a cloud which elevated him to the top, in a Mary-Poppins-inspired move.
If he went up using the latter method, we have to assume God provided for him. But if he walked up on the path, is there room to suggest he did so to leave the line open back to Yehoshua?
The opening Mishnah in Avos says Moshe transmitted the Torah to Yehoshua. Rashi contradicts this in Shmot 34:32, when he leaves Yehoshua out of the chain of the heritage transmission. When did Yehoshua learn directly from Moshe, to the point that he is the top on the list in Avos? [His "not leaving the tent" in 33:11 may be a different breeding ground for his own personal learning, but leaves no indication of his being part of the mesorah transmission in the same way Rashi describes Moshe, Aharon, Aharon's sons and the elders as being links in a chain.]
The Shakh quotes the Medrash Tanchuma who says that while on the mountain, Moshe the human forgot everything he learned on a daily basis until God gave him all the knowledge as a gift. The change happened when his own physical matter became spiritual.
The Talmud (Baba Batra 75a) records how Yehoshua was like the moon to Moshe's sun. Yehoshua, as the leadership heir-apparent, is slated to reflect the light of the teachings of Moshe, just as the moon reflects the light of the sun. Yehoshua's accompanying Moshe serves the purpose of demonstrating the connection they'll carry as the links in the mesorah (heritage) that they bear to this day.
Is it such a stretch to suggest that Moshe communicated with Yehoshua on a daily basis while he was on the mountain? If there was a path from Moshe to Yehoshua, perhaps there was a transfer of manna (which the Talmud Yoma 76a says also fell in Yehoshua's merit), and a transmission of information which Moshe soon forgot afterwards.
If Yehoshua was the first link in the chain of mesorah, his presence on the mountain served a purpose. He could provide food for and help his mentor in a fitting manner, and he can be a sounding board for Moshe to practice teaching as quickly as Moshe learned the information.
This is the best way to learn, says a different mishnah in Avos (1:4). Lay at the dust of the feet of the scholars.
We learn from Yehoshua how to get close to a teacher, how to play the role of facilitator and learner, and the patience to wait until it is your turn to shine.
Friday, February 10, 2012
A Truly Humble Leader
Parshat Yitro
by Rabbi Avi Billet
As an introduction to the events that will unfold on the mountain, God tells Moshe to tell the people that they will soon become a kingdom of priests and a holy nation to God. (19:5-6)
The Torah then tells us that "Moshe came [back] and summoned the elders of the people, conveying to them all that God had said. All the people answered as one and said, ''All that God has spoken, we will do." Moshe brought the people's reply back to God. God said to Moshe, 'I will come to you in a thick cloud, so that all the people will hear when I speak to you. They will then believe in you forever.' Moshe told God the people's response." (19:7-9)
Rashi addresses the fact that Moshe conveyed the people's response the first time, saying it is a sign of respect to God to deliver the message, even though the Almighty and All-knowing knows what they said.
But the precedent is set that the people are told the message from God, they respond to Moshe, and then we are told that Moshe brought their reply to God. So how is that when God describes the thick cloud, Moshe does not convey the message to the people, they do not seem to respond, and yet Moshe tells God of their response? To what did they respond? What did they say? Why does Moshe seem to avoid sharing the second message of God with the people? And how did he then know what their response was if he didn't speak to them a second time?
Rashi explains that Moshe already knew the will of the people, namely "that they want to hear from You directly. After all, there is no comparison between hearing the king's message from his messenger versus hearing it directly from the king. 'We want to see our King.'"
Through trying to understand Rashi's exposition, the Kli Yakar has a novel approach to reading the text. Rashi does not address what the second response of the people is – only that Moshe was able to convey what they wanted. But the Kli Yakar posits that Moshe was in fact quoting the people, based on his understanding their will from their initial response, when he said the words "El Hashem – to God" in 19:9.
If the words "El Hashem" are not a quote, they are superfluous! The Torah should have said, "Moshe told their response אליו - to Him!" – obviously referring to God, with Whom Moshe is conversing. What was previously translated as "Moshe told God the people's response" should therefore be read, "Moshe [responded to God and] told Him the words of the people: 'To God.'"
This was a response to what God told him, "So that the people will hear when I speak to you and will also believe in you forever." Moshe knew from what the people had told him before that they were only interested in hearing from God. They had said, "We will listen to God" but said nothing about listening to Moshe!
The Kli Yakar is intellectually honest and boldly states that as nice as this interpretation is, the text does not really imply this. How then can we justify making the claim that Moshe felt he was not believed?
Because when God initially gave the message to Moshe, He told him to tell the people directly. But Moshe first went to the Elders instead, prompting the people to say 'We will do [only] all that God said' even though the Elders had not yet addressed them. Witnessing Moshe address the Elders indicated to them that everything would be through middlemen. They, on the other hand, did not want to have the middlemen - they wanted to hear directly from The Source.
This is the difference between "Vayashav" (and he brought their response) and "Vayaged" (and he told God). The first time Moshe returned to God he said "We will do all of God's instructions." He did not say, "Only if it comes from God directly" because he assumed God would convey His message according to the desire of the people.
But when God said, "I will be coming to you in a cloud, and they'll believe in you (Moshe)," Moshe realized God was planning to speak through middlemen. His response at that point reflected the notion that "The people don't want to hear from me. They are looking "el Hashem [to God]" because they only want to hear from You."
Only at that point were the people told, "If that's what they want, they need to prepare to greet the king… wash up, separate from spouses etc." (19:10)
Both the Alshikh and the Seforno begin their explanations of these verses with the notion that Moshe recognized that the people had not believed in his prophesy, and that God was looking to manufacture this experience so the people would believe him [Moshe, that is], and believe in his role as prophet forever.
In this light, I believe Moshe is demonstrating two tremendous leadership skills. On the one hand, he understands the subtleties of the desires of the people. The spoken and even the underspoken, or unspoken words are not lost on him.
On the other hand, he understands his role as leader, but not as ruler. It's never about Moshe. God tells Moshe, "Through this the people will believe in you," but this is the last thing Moshe wants to hear. He certainly does not want to convey to the people a message that says, "What you are about to see will prove that I am the leader chosen by God." He is happy being a shepherd who takes care of the people, and who presents their needs and desires to the Almighty, even if it comes as part of a rejection of who he is and the role he is meant to play.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
As an introduction to the events that will unfold on the mountain, God tells Moshe to tell the people that they will soon become a kingdom of priests and a holy nation to God. (19:5-6)
The Torah then tells us that "Moshe came [back] and summoned the elders of the people, conveying to them all that God had said. All the people answered as one and said, ''All that God has spoken, we will do." Moshe brought the people's reply back to God. God said to Moshe, 'I will come to you in a thick cloud, so that all the people will hear when I speak to you. They will then believe in you forever.' Moshe told God the people's response." (19:7-9)
Rashi addresses the fact that Moshe conveyed the people's response the first time, saying it is a sign of respect to God to deliver the message, even though the Almighty and All-knowing knows what they said.
But the precedent is set that the people are told the message from God, they respond to Moshe, and then we are told that Moshe brought their reply to God. So how is that when God describes the thick cloud, Moshe does not convey the message to the people, they do not seem to respond, and yet Moshe tells God of their response? To what did they respond? What did they say? Why does Moshe seem to avoid sharing the second message of God with the people? And how did he then know what their response was if he didn't speak to them a second time?
Rashi explains that Moshe already knew the will of the people, namely "that they want to hear from You directly. After all, there is no comparison between hearing the king's message from his messenger versus hearing it directly from the king. 'We want to see our King.'"
Through trying to understand Rashi's exposition, the Kli Yakar has a novel approach to reading the text. Rashi does not address what the second response of the people is – only that Moshe was able to convey what they wanted. But the Kli Yakar posits that Moshe was in fact quoting the people, based on his understanding their will from their initial response, when he said the words "El Hashem – to God" in 19:9.
If the words "El Hashem" are not a quote, they are superfluous! The Torah should have said, "Moshe told their response אליו - to Him!" – obviously referring to God, with Whom Moshe is conversing. What was previously translated as "Moshe told God the people's response" should therefore be read, "Moshe [responded to God and] told Him the words of the people: 'To God.'"
This was a response to what God told him, "So that the people will hear when I speak to you and will also believe in you forever." Moshe knew from what the people had told him before that they were only interested in hearing from God. They had said, "We will listen to God" but said nothing about listening to Moshe!
The Kli Yakar is intellectually honest and boldly states that as nice as this interpretation is, the text does not really imply this. How then can we justify making the claim that Moshe felt he was not believed?
Because when God initially gave the message to Moshe, He told him to tell the people directly. But Moshe first went to the Elders instead, prompting the people to say 'We will do [only] all that God said' even though the Elders had not yet addressed them. Witnessing Moshe address the Elders indicated to them that everything would be through middlemen. They, on the other hand, did not want to have the middlemen - they wanted to hear directly from The Source.
This is the difference between "Vayashav" (and he brought their response) and "Vayaged" (and he told God). The first time Moshe returned to God he said "We will do all of God's instructions." He did not say, "Only if it comes from God directly" because he assumed God would convey His message according to the desire of the people.
But when God said, "I will be coming to you in a cloud, and they'll believe in you (Moshe)," Moshe realized God was planning to speak through middlemen. His response at that point reflected the notion that "The people don't want to hear from me. They are looking "el Hashem [to God]" because they only want to hear from You."
Only at that point were the people told, "If that's what they want, they need to prepare to greet the king… wash up, separate from spouses etc." (19:10)
Both the Alshikh and the Seforno begin their explanations of these verses with the notion that Moshe recognized that the people had not believed in his prophesy, and that God was looking to manufacture this experience so the people would believe him [Moshe, that is], and believe in his role as prophet forever.
In this light, I believe Moshe is demonstrating two tremendous leadership skills. On the one hand, he understands the subtleties of the desires of the people. The spoken and even the underspoken, or unspoken words are not lost on him.
On the other hand, he understands his role as leader, but not as ruler. It's never about Moshe. God tells Moshe, "Through this the people will believe in you," but this is the last thing Moshe wants to hear. He certainly does not want to convey to the people a message that says, "What you are about to see will prove that I am the leader chosen by God." He is happy being a shepherd who takes care of the people, and who presents their needs and desires to the Almighty, even if it comes as part of a rejection of who he is and the role he is meant to play.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Getting Angry, Speaking Calmly
Parshat B'Shalach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
After the splitting of the sea, the people begin to settle into their wilderness existence, and become the recipients of a daily dose of manna from heaven.
The instructions as to what this food is, how it is to be rationed, and how it is to be cooked and eaten are given piecemeal. In 16:19, Moshe tells the people not to leave any leftovers until the next day. Perhaps this was the precursor to every successful Passover program: no need to take leftovers to your room because there will always be a new helping of food the following morning.
For the second and last time, we find the people not listening to Moshe (the first was in 6:9, during the heart of slavery, before the plagues began). People leave food for the next day – and it spoils. Moshe's reaction is to get angry at them.
It is quite understandable why they did not listen to him in Egypt. His efforts to that point had only yielded more work and more suffering. The people, exhausted from their exertions, had not the wherewithal to listen to Moshe's promises of redemption.
In our story, however, why wouldn't they listen? After all, if the manna from heaven is so clearly a miraculous gift, and if since the last "not listening experience" you have witnessed this man bring about ten plagues, split the sea and drown your oppressors, why wouldn't you think there's something to what he's doing and saying? How could you come to ignore him completely?
Perhaps they ignored him because they were still living in a slave mentality reality. Perhaps a slave counts every morsel of food that comes his way, not believing he'll see something good again for a long time. So even though they were told not to leave anything over, either they couldn't help it because they were used to hoarding or they couldn't believe that such fresh food would literally spoil in the morning.
So why did Moshe get angry? Shouldn't he understand the mind games the people play with themselves?
A closer look at other times when Moshe gets angry with the word "Vayiktzof" may help us understand Moshe's impetus for bringing out his anger card. The commentary of the Baalei Hatosafot summarizes the three times this word is used to describe Moshe's getting angry. The other two incidents are: when Moshe's nephews do not partake of the goat sacrifice at the dedication of the Mishkan, shortly after their older brothers die; and when the soldiers return from the all-out Midianite war having spared the women of the nation they had been ordered to wipe out completely. [He also "got angry" at the Golden Calf incident, and when dealing with the Korach group – except that there the Torah uses the word "Vayee-char"]
In each case, the Baalei Hatosafot explain, Moshe forgot a law as a result of his anger: in the manna story - he forgot to tell the people not to collect manna on the seventh day; with his nephews - he forgot that after losing a close relative a mourner does not eat meat ; after the Midianite war - he forgot the laws concerning how to kosherize vessels they had seized in battle.
There are a number of common denominators in the three stories. I will focus on two of them. Firstly, the people deliberately ignored a direct command from God that had been channeled through Moshe. Secondly, Moshe was very aware that a precedent was being set as each circumstance was a first time episode.
It's a difficult balance. Sometimes anger is warranted, and sometimes anger only serves to bring a person down. In Moshe's case, the setback he suffered was that he forgot a law – God, Aharon and Elazar taught him the three laws, respectively.
But what was at stake? God's honor.
The difference between Moshe getting angry "for God's sake" and those who think "they know what God wants" is that he was the direct line, and knew exactly and explicitly what needed to be done. And, in every case, he was trying to set a precedent that people could one day turn to for guidance - namely through reading the Torah's account of precedent-setting moments.
But not everything works out "the way you want" and his personal outcome was forgetfulness. God did not get upset or punish people for violating the shabbos, for example. He just asked Moshe to give them a little rebuke. And when Moshe delivered the message as he was told, the people changed.
Sometimes an option that serves a more productive purpose than anger is saying in a clear and firm tone, "I stand for this exact thing that God said." If communicated properly and respectfully, there is a much better chance that people will listen.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
After the splitting of the sea, the people begin to settle into their wilderness existence, and become the recipients of a daily dose of manna from heaven.
The instructions as to what this food is, how it is to be rationed, and how it is to be cooked and eaten are given piecemeal. In 16:19, Moshe tells the people not to leave any leftovers until the next day. Perhaps this was the precursor to every successful Passover program: no need to take leftovers to your room because there will always be a new helping of food the following morning.
For the second and last time, we find the people not listening to Moshe (the first was in 6:9, during the heart of slavery, before the plagues began). People leave food for the next day – and it spoils. Moshe's reaction is to get angry at them.
It is quite understandable why they did not listen to him in Egypt. His efforts to that point had only yielded more work and more suffering. The people, exhausted from their exertions, had not the wherewithal to listen to Moshe's promises of redemption.
In our story, however, why wouldn't they listen? After all, if the manna from heaven is so clearly a miraculous gift, and if since the last "not listening experience" you have witnessed this man bring about ten plagues, split the sea and drown your oppressors, why wouldn't you think there's something to what he's doing and saying? How could you come to ignore him completely?
Perhaps they ignored him because they were still living in a slave mentality reality. Perhaps a slave counts every morsel of food that comes his way, not believing he'll see something good again for a long time. So even though they were told not to leave anything over, either they couldn't help it because they were used to hoarding or they couldn't believe that such fresh food would literally spoil in the morning.
So why did Moshe get angry? Shouldn't he understand the mind games the people play with themselves?
A closer look at other times when Moshe gets angry with the word "Vayiktzof" may help us understand Moshe's impetus for bringing out his anger card. The commentary of the Baalei Hatosafot summarizes the three times this word is used to describe Moshe's getting angry. The other two incidents are: when Moshe's nephews do not partake of the goat sacrifice at the dedication of the Mishkan, shortly after their older brothers die; and when the soldiers return from the all-out Midianite war having spared the women of the nation they had been ordered to wipe out completely. [He also "got angry" at the Golden Calf incident, and when dealing with the Korach group – except that there the Torah uses the word "Vayee-char"]
In each case, the Baalei Hatosafot explain, Moshe forgot a law as a result of his anger: in the manna story - he forgot to tell the people not to collect manna on the seventh day; with his nephews - he forgot that after losing a close relative a mourner does not eat meat ; after the Midianite war - he forgot the laws concerning how to kosherize vessels they had seized in battle.
There are a number of common denominators in the three stories. I will focus on two of them. Firstly, the people deliberately ignored a direct command from God that had been channeled through Moshe. Secondly, Moshe was very aware that a precedent was being set as each circumstance was a first time episode.
It's a difficult balance. Sometimes anger is warranted, and sometimes anger only serves to bring a person down. In Moshe's case, the setback he suffered was that he forgot a law – God, Aharon and Elazar taught him the three laws, respectively.
But what was at stake? God's honor.
The difference between Moshe getting angry "for God's sake" and those who think "they know what God wants" is that he was the direct line, and knew exactly and explicitly what needed to be done. And, in every case, he was trying to set a precedent that people could one day turn to for guidance - namely through reading the Torah's account of precedent-setting moments.
But not everything works out "the way you want" and his personal outcome was forgetfulness. God did not get upset or punish people for violating the shabbos, for example. He just asked Moshe to give them a little rebuke. And when Moshe delivered the message as he was told, the people changed.
Sometimes an option that serves a more productive purpose than anger is saying in a clear and firm tone, "I stand for this exact thing that God said." If communicated properly and respectfully, there is a much better chance that people will listen.
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