Parshat Vayakhel
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Open up a chumash with Rashi on this parsha, and the first thing you notice is… no Rashi. You can count on your hand, for example, the number of comments Rashi provides on chapters 36 and 37; after all, he's already commented on these topics in parshat Terumah, chapters 25 and 26.
Why does the Torah painstakingly repeat every detail of the mishkan? It could have written, "They did exactly as they were instructed to do?" Were the Torah to have done so, there would be no question as to Rashi's whereabouts, because the summary verse would speak for itself.
There are other places in the Torah where a tale or episode is recounted, either by the narrative or a narrator in the text. Some examples are: the Creation story, told differently in Bereshit chapters 1 and 2; the introduction to the flood tale in Bereshit 7:6-19; Avraham's servant's experience finding a wife for Yitzchak in Bereshit 24. In all these cases, Rashi has a field day with the retelling.
In our parsha's repetition of the Mishkan details, however, Rashi is silent.
One example where details are not repeated is when Moshe is given signs to convince the people of his divine calling. He turns a staff to a snake, his hand becomes afflicted with tzara'at, and he is told to spill river water to the ground where it will become blood (Shmot 4:1-10). When he actually performs them, the Torah summarizes saying, "He did the signs." (Shmot 4:30-31)
Perhaps the difference between the signs Moshe performs and the building of the Mishkan rests in who was instructed to carry out the tasks. The details of Moshe's signs-performance were a formality in a task that was his alone. We saw the instructions and we know what it means when we're told "He did the signs."
The Mishkan, on the other hand, was instructed to Moshe, but it was not Moshe's job to build and to create. Thus we must see that every detail is followed according to the instruction, so we can be the auditors who ensure that all was done correctly. Here it is not just the actions of one man. There is much more chance of error, of mistake, of the possibility of instructions not being followed properly.
Parshat Vayakhel is therefore presenting one of the first examples of a true transmission of mesorah (heritage passed from teacher to student/follower).
Perhaps Rashi remains silent because he does not want to distract us from the important details that are taking place. He explained it for us already, and now he wants us to do our legwork, to check for ourselves if the instructions were carried out properly.
The Talmud (Yebamot 87b) says "silence is like agreement." Rashi agreed with the importance of the transmission of the mesorah, and felt no need to comment, because the notion stands for itself.
In this case, his silence speaks volumes, loud and clear.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Here We Go Again - on Women and Rabbinic Chauvinism
Pirkei Avot 1:5 (Part 1) [The follow up to this posting can be found here]
There is an online forum for educators called "lookjed." Over the last five years I have contributed a thought here and there on different subjects which arise. Of late, my responses have been more limited to subject matters - or responses of others to certain subject matters - that bother me.
A question was asked about what seems to be a disturbing mishnah in Pirkei Avos:
This is what irked me. After the above respondent makes a comment about how there are two sides - as much as there are negative comments about women in the works of the rabbis, there are positive ones as well and therefore "even traditionalists—and I am not one—have a choice on what to follow."
With respect to the non-traditionalist, here is a different perspective from an always-trying-to-
improve traditionalist:
I would like to address the comments of the respondent, and the difference between the question (how can I reconcile this passage I do not understand?) and the above response (the rabbis are disparaging to women).
A number of years ago, I came across a book entitled "Women in Judaism" by Leonard Swidler, and I was appalled to see how one who is a professor could be so biased, not to mention ignorant, of any true understanding of Judaism. The way he presents women in Judaism, and Talmudic quotes in particular, is downright disturbing and offensive.
I am not going to be the one who says that some statements about women which appear in rabbinic writings are not troubling. They are troubling. But that is because, I feel, they are misunderstood, misrepresented, and looked at through a myopic lens that assumes the rabbis were "a bunch of chauvinistic jerks who looked at women in only one way."
This is not to suggest ignorance on my part of some injustices in the law. No less than Rabbi Akiva was well aware that there were problems in the interpretation of certain laws, and set to mend those errors in his own application of the law. Rabbi Akiva was, I daresay, a forward thinking feminist in his day (who, were we to combine two rabbinic statements about his being responsible for the continuation of Torah through the five students he taught after the deaths of his original thousands and his telling his students that "sheli v'shelakhem shelah hi" - all of our Torah knowledge is a credit to my wife - credits all of Torah thought and knowledge to a woman), was a pretty bright guy who couldn't miss this mishnah. And if he had such profound respect for his wife and for women (See Rabbi Jonathan Duker's chapter on Rabbi Akiva in his "The Spirits Behind the Law"), I don't believe he would let Yosi ben Yochanan's comments go down without a fight.
So I don't think that saying "I don't think there is any honest way around the fact that this mishnah is disparaging to women" is very honest.
Because if you are looking at any quote that seems troubling merely on its simplistic meaning, you're going to have many, many, many problems. Take the bracha of "she'lo asani ishah" as an example (see here and here) – anyone who finds offense in that bracha does not understand what a bracha is, or what that bracha means. Just because you can't see "any honest way" does not mean there isn't one.
As far as saying "This is probably the single most prominent negative statement about women in the whole of rabbinic literature" – Dr. Swidler would disagree with you on that, and does so in his book, as he seems to have a vendetta against rabbinic literature and rabbinic Judaism in its treatment of women.
And so I propose, in opposition to your approach that maintains we must "acknowledge that it is negative, and face the issue of how to deal with those few unfortunate negative comments about women in rabbinic literature" that we need not acknowledge that it is negative, because it could be one of the most obvious thoughts you will read today.
If we are merely translating phrases and not understanding them a. in context, and b. in the manner in which they are meant, then we are being disrespectful to ourselves and our heritage by thinking those old rabbis were so dumb that they would say these things, not to mention have to answer to their wives who they probably talked to every now and then to tell them how their day went.
I am surprised that one would bring Bruriah as an example, because it seems (at least according to Rashi in Avodah Zarah 18b) that she fell into the exact trap of what the mishnah refers to - a teaching which the respondent claims she ridiculed.
Getting back to Rabbi Akiva for a moment, the first comment Rabbi Akiva makes in Avot (3:17) is that "mockery and levity bring a man to immorality – schok v'kalut rosh margilin et ha'adam l'ervah." Perhaps this is a hint to the meaning of the mishnah which begged this initial question and discussion.
Let us now examine the mishnah. And let us keep in mind that language is very important. The mishnah does not say "Do not speak with women (נשים)." It does not even say "Do not speak with a woman." It says "Do not speak with ha-ishah - האשה – the woman."
Let me call your attention to the great verse in Kohelet 7:26:
וּמוֹצֶא אֲנִי מַר מִמָּוֶת אֶת הָאִשָּׁה אֲשֶׁר הִיא מְצוֹדִים וַחֲרָמִים לִבָּהּ אֲסוּרִים יָדֶיהָ טוֹב לִפְנֵי הָאֱלֹהִים יִמָּלֵט מִמֶּנָּה וְחוֹטֵא יִלָּכֶד בָּהּ:
" And I find more bitter than death the woman whose heart is snares and nets, her hands are bonds; whoever is good in God's sight will escape from her, and a sinner will be taken by her."
Could I be such a fool that I would bring this disgusting verse from Kohelet to prove the argued point that the rabbis were a bunch of sadistic clods who were totally out to lunch when it comes to how to relate to women? Not exactly (a fool, that is).
You see, Kohelet has a different verse which is contradictory to this one:
רְאֵה חַיִּים עִם אִשָּׁה אֲשֶׁר אָהַבְתָּ כָּל יְמֵי חַיֵּי הֶבְלֶךָ אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לְךָ תַּחַת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ כֹּל יְמֵי הֶבְלֶךָ כִּי הוּא חֶלְקְךָ בַּחַיִּים וּבַעֲמָלְךָ אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה עָמֵל תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ:
" Enjoy life with the woman whom you love all the days of the life of your vanity, whom He has given you under the sun, all the days of your vanity, for that is your portion in life and in your toil that you toil under the sun." (9:9)
[Life is vanity; not the woman you love]
Unfortunately, the English doesn't do the Hebrew justice. The woman who is more bitter than death is "ha'ishah" while the woman with whom you will enjoy life is "ishah asher ahavta."
There is one difference – a letter heh – ה – at the beginning of the word describing the (bad) woman..
I hope it's not too far a stretch, nor too offensive, to suggest we can agree that as much as we like to think every person is a wonderful human being, that there are a few bad apples out there. There are some people who, in fact, are downright nasty. There are those (men and) women with "hearts of snares and nets."
This is the kind of woman Yosi ben Yochanan is suggesting to stay away from. While the man from Yerushalayim was talking to men, he could have easily said the same thing to women about men that need to be avoided: the kind that will seduce you away from your spouse, and from your normal life, by making promises of all kinds of things in exchange for…
If a married woman (Eishet chaveiro) is talking too much with a man who is not her husband, there is a problem with her marriage and with her husband's marriage. And the man who is seeking this social relationship with Eishet chaveiro is barking up a tree he should not be barking up.
Ask any man if he would be happy if his wife developed a regular social relationship with another man. Most normal men (with a head on the shoulders) would not be pleased with the prospect. Ask any normal woman if she'd be pleased if her husband developed a regular social relationship with another woman. I would be willing to bet the answer is NO. The intellectual stimulation will translate to the libido sooner than you think. Which is exactly what Rabbi Akiva in 3:17 is talking about.
If you think I am way off, I apologize for your naivete.
I heard one more interpretation of the meaning of "ha'ishah" from Rabbi Avner Kavas. He suggests that the letter heh at the beginning and the end of the word in question makes the numerical value of a word referring to woman the same as the numerical value of ish – man. (5+5 = 10 (the 'yud')) His point is that there are social rules which are the hallmark of a healthy society in which men and women interact, but know full well where to draw the line, mostly on account of the differences in the way male and female emotions operate. And yes, there are differences – BIG ones.
He suggests that "ha'ishah" refers to "the woman" who conducts herself as if she is "one of the guys" – in other words, pays no heed to gender differences and the direction minds can operate (please note I did not say "do operate") when one creates a social intimacy that can open the door to an inappropriate relationship.
As far as "b'ishto amru" (the difficult phrase raised by the questioner) – some say it refers specifically to the wife of Yosi ben Yochanan. Though I can't verify this notion about her. Rabbi Chiya had a horrible wife (see Yevamot 63a-b, right at the connection between the two sides of the page), but he recognized that his having his wife kept him from falling prey to sin (which indicates he was a normal man).
I will say this: Two of the women who are depicted as "ishto" in the beginning of the Torah (as opposed to "v'ishto") are Chava – in particular in the aftermath of a conversation she had with her husband that brought about the Fall of Man through the eating of a fruit, and Lot's wife – who, at least according to most interpretations, had a spicy mouth that said a little too much and caused her to get into a little bit of trouble when the city of Sodom was overturned. (Yes, I know Sarah is also called "ishto" many times, but for some reason, the rabbis were a lot more positive about the role she played in the Torah, versus the roles Chava and Mrs. Lot played – most notably through their speech and conversations).
Sometimes it is beneficial to find the words the person is utilizing in its original source – everything goes back in one form or another to Tanakh. And if we look at Yosi ben Yochanan's statement – at least the part when he mentioned "the woman" or "his wife" as a quote rather than a blanket statement about women in general, we can understand that he was talking about certain types of women, as opposed to ALL women.
Read the follow up to this posting here
There is an online forum for educators called "lookjed." Over the last five years I have contributed a thought here and there on different subjects which arise. Of late, my responses have been more limited to subject matters - or responses of others to certain subject matters - that bother me.
A question was asked about what seems to be a disturbing mishnah in Pirkei Avos:
משנה מסכת אבות פרק א משנה ה
[ה] יוסי בן יוחנן איש ירושלים אומר יהי ביתך פתוח לרוחה ויהיו עניים בני ביתך ואל תרבה שיחה עם האשה באשתו אמרו קל וחומר באשת חברו מכאן אמרו חכמים כל זמן שאדם מרבה שיחה עם האשה גורם רעה לעצמו ובוטל מדברי תורה וסופו יורש גיהנום:
Loosely translated:
Yosi ben Yochanan, a man of Jerusalem, says. "Let your home be open wide, treat the poor as members of your household, and do not converse excessively with the woman." They said this about his own wife [alternatively: 'about one's own wife'], surely it applies to his friend's wife. Consequently, the sages said, 'All the time a person converse excessively with the woman causes evil to himself, neglects Torah study, and will eventually inherit Gehinnom.'
Obviously, this mishnah seems to imply that men and women socializing is just about the worst thing people could do - putting the onus on men against talking to women, as if women were pariahs, or something like that. Emphasis on seems to imply
The question was posed:
I am finding it challenging to figure out how to present this in a way that is, frankly, not offensive to a modern audience, particularly to a class of questioning modern orthodox high school age students.
One of the respondents wrote the following:Though I think I can explain the basic values being expressed, I personally find the words "they said this about his own wife" to be the most challenging.
I don't think there is any honest way around the fact that this mishnah is disparaging to women. I have looked at traditional interpretations that attempt to soften it, but none is really convincing. If you interpret "sicha" as "gossip" instead of "conversation" then you still have the question why women and wives are singled out, as rechilut is disapproved in communication with anybody, not just women.
This is probably the single most prominent negative statement about women in the whole of rabbinic literature. It seems to me that the only way to deal with it honestly and in a way that has credibility to women today, is to acknowledge that it is negative, and face the issue of how to deal with those few unfortunate negative comments about women in rabbinic literature. As I note in my commentary, the Talmud reports that Beruriah, daughter of Chanania ben Teradion, wife of Rabbi Meir and a respected scholar in her own right, ridiculed this mishnah
This is what irked me. After the above respondent makes a comment about how there are two sides - as much as there are negative comments about women in the works of the rabbis, there are positive ones as well and therefore "even traditionalists—and I am not one—have a choice on what to follow."
With respect to the non-traditionalist, here is a different perspective from an always-trying-to-
improve traditionalist:
I would like to address the comments of the respondent, and the difference between the question (how can I reconcile this passage I do not understand?) and the above response (the rabbis are disparaging to women).
A number of years ago, I came across a book entitled "Women in Judaism" by Leonard Swidler, and I was appalled to see how one who is a professor could be so biased, not to mention ignorant, of any true understanding of Judaism. The way he presents women in Judaism, and Talmudic quotes in particular, is downright disturbing and offensive.
I am not going to be the one who says that some statements about women which appear in rabbinic writings are not troubling. They are troubling. But that is because, I feel, they are misunderstood, misrepresented, and looked at through a myopic lens that assumes the rabbis were "a bunch of chauvinistic jerks who looked at women in only one way."
This is not to suggest ignorance on my part of some injustices in the law. No less than Rabbi Akiva was well aware that there were problems in the interpretation of certain laws, and set to mend those errors in his own application of the law. Rabbi Akiva was, I daresay, a forward thinking feminist in his day (who, were we to combine two rabbinic statements about his being responsible for the continuation of Torah through the five students he taught after the deaths of his original thousands and his telling his students that "sheli v'shelakhem shelah hi" - all of our Torah knowledge is a credit to my wife - credits all of Torah thought and knowledge to a woman), was a pretty bright guy who couldn't miss this mishnah. And if he had such profound respect for his wife and for women (See Rabbi Jonathan Duker's chapter on Rabbi Akiva in his "The Spirits Behind the Law"), I don't believe he would let Yosi ben Yochanan's comments go down without a fight.
So I don't think that saying "I don't think there is any honest way around the fact that this mishnah is disparaging to women" is very honest.
Because if you are looking at any quote that seems troubling merely on its simplistic meaning, you're going to have many, many, many problems. Take the bracha of "she'lo asani ishah" as an example (see here and here) – anyone who finds offense in that bracha does not understand what a bracha is, or what that bracha means. Just because you can't see "any honest way" does not mean there isn't one.
As far as saying "This is probably the single most prominent negative statement about women in the whole of rabbinic literature" – Dr. Swidler would disagree with you on that, and does so in his book, as he seems to have a vendetta against rabbinic literature and rabbinic Judaism in its treatment of women.
And so I propose, in opposition to your approach that maintains we must "acknowledge that it is negative, and face the issue of how to deal with those few unfortunate negative comments about women in rabbinic literature" that we need not acknowledge that it is negative, because it could be one of the most obvious thoughts you will read today.
If we are merely translating phrases and not understanding them a. in context, and b. in the manner in which they are meant, then we are being disrespectful to ourselves and our heritage by thinking those old rabbis were so dumb that they would say these things, not to mention have to answer to their wives who they probably talked to every now and then to tell them how their day went.
I am surprised that one would bring Bruriah as an example, because it seems (at least according to Rashi in Avodah Zarah 18b) that she fell into the exact trap of what the mishnah refers to - a teaching which the respondent claims she ridiculed.
Getting back to Rabbi Akiva for a moment, the first comment Rabbi Akiva makes in Avot (3:17) is that "mockery and levity bring a man to immorality – schok v'kalut rosh margilin et ha'adam l'ervah." Perhaps this is a hint to the meaning of the mishnah which begged this initial question and discussion.
Let us now examine the mishnah. And let us keep in mind that language is very important. The mishnah does not say "Do not speak with women (נשים)." It does not even say "Do not speak with a woman." It says "Do not speak with ha-ishah - האשה – the woman."
Let me call your attention to the great verse in Kohelet 7:26:
וּמוֹצֶא אֲנִי מַר מִמָּוֶת אֶת הָאִשָּׁה אֲשֶׁר הִיא מְצוֹדִים וַחֲרָמִים לִבָּהּ אֲסוּרִים יָדֶיהָ טוֹב לִפְנֵי הָאֱלֹהִים יִמָּלֵט מִמֶּנָּה וְחוֹטֵא יִלָּכֶד בָּהּ:
" And I find more bitter than death the woman whose heart is snares and nets, her hands are bonds; whoever is good in God's sight will escape from her, and a sinner will be taken by her."
Could I be such a fool that I would bring this disgusting verse from Kohelet to prove the argued point that the rabbis were a bunch of sadistic clods who were totally out to lunch when it comes to how to relate to women? Not exactly (a fool, that is).
You see, Kohelet has a different verse which is contradictory to this one:
רְאֵה חַיִּים עִם אִשָּׁה אֲשֶׁר אָהַבְתָּ כָּל יְמֵי חַיֵּי הֶבְלֶךָ אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לְךָ תַּחַת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ כֹּל יְמֵי הֶבְלֶךָ כִּי הוּא חֶלְקְךָ בַּחַיִּים וּבַעֲמָלְךָ אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה עָמֵל תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ:
" Enjoy life with the woman whom you love all the days of the life of your vanity, whom He has given you under the sun, all the days of your vanity, for that is your portion in life and in your toil that you toil under the sun." (9:9)
[Life is vanity; not the woman you love]
Unfortunately, the English doesn't do the Hebrew justice. The woman who is more bitter than death is "ha'ishah" while the woman with whom you will enjoy life is "ishah asher ahavta."
There is one difference – a letter heh – ה – at the beginning of the word describing the (bad) woman..
I hope it's not too far a stretch, nor too offensive, to suggest we can agree that as much as we like to think every person is a wonderful human being, that there are a few bad apples out there. There are some people who, in fact, are downright nasty. There are those (men and) women with "hearts of snares and nets."
This is the kind of woman Yosi ben Yochanan is suggesting to stay away from. While the man from Yerushalayim was talking to men, he could have easily said the same thing to women about men that need to be avoided: the kind that will seduce you away from your spouse, and from your normal life, by making promises of all kinds of things in exchange for…
If a married woman (Eishet chaveiro) is talking too much with a man who is not her husband, there is a problem with her marriage and with her husband's marriage. And the man who is seeking this social relationship with Eishet chaveiro is barking up a tree he should not be barking up.
Ask any man if he would be happy if his wife developed a regular social relationship with another man. Most normal men (with a head on the shoulders) would not be pleased with the prospect. Ask any normal woman if she'd be pleased if her husband developed a regular social relationship with another woman. I would be willing to bet the answer is NO. The intellectual stimulation will translate to the libido sooner than you think. Which is exactly what Rabbi Akiva in 3:17 is talking about.
If you think I am way off, I apologize for your naivete.
I heard one more interpretation of the meaning of "ha'ishah" from Rabbi Avner Kavas. He suggests that the letter heh at the beginning and the end of the word in question makes the numerical value of a word referring to woman the same as the numerical value of ish – man. (5+5 = 10 (the 'yud')) His point is that there are social rules which are the hallmark of a healthy society in which men and women interact, but know full well where to draw the line, mostly on account of the differences in the way male and female emotions operate. And yes, there are differences – BIG ones.
He suggests that "ha'ishah" refers to "the woman" who conducts herself as if she is "one of the guys" – in other words, pays no heed to gender differences and the direction minds can operate (please note I did not say "do operate") when one creates a social intimacy that can open the door to an inappropriate relationship.
As far as "b'ishto amru" (the difficult phrase raised by the questioner) – some say it refers specifically to the wife of Yosi ben Yochanan. Though I can't verify this notion about her. Rabbi Chiya had a horrible wife (see Yevamot 63a-b, right at the connection between the two sides of the page), but he recognized that his having his wife kept him from falling prey to sin (which indicates he was a normal man).
I will say this: Two of the women who are depicted as "ishto" in the beginning of the Torah (as opposed to "v'ishto") are Chava – in particular in the aftermath of a conversation she had with her husband that brought about the Fall of Man through the eating of a fruit, and Lot's wife – who, at least according to most interpretations, had a spicy mouth that said a little too much and caused her to get into a little bit of trouble when the city of Sodom was overturned. (Yes, I know Sarah is also called "ishto" many times, but for some reason, the rabbis were a lot more positive about the role she played in the Torah, versus the roles Chava and Mrs. Lot played – most notably through their speech and conversations).
Sometimes it is beneficial to find the words the person is utilizing in its original source – everything goes back in one form or another to Tanakh. And if we look at Yosi ben Yochanan's statement – at least the part when he mentioned "the woman" or "his wife" as a quote rather than a blanket statement about women in general, we can understand that he was talking about certain types of women, as opposed to ALL women.
Read the follow up to this posting here
Friday, February 18, 2011
His Finest Hour...? Not Really (and yet...)
See also this attempt at defending Aharon
Parshat Ki Tisa
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Looking objectively at the depiction of the creation of the Golden Calf, it is quite hard to understand the role Aharon plays. Is he guilty of something really really bad? Is he a manipulated victim? Was he coerced? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time?
What is clear is that on account of Moshe's delayed return, Aharon is approached and told to make "something" to replace Moshe as leader. Aharon instructs the people to get the earrings of their family members – children and wives – and with the earrings the men bring back (which seem to be their own earrings), he has a mold or model golden calf fashioned. Either he does it personally, or he has someone else do it. Upon seeing how some of the people related to the calf, Aharon builds a mizbe'ach and announces "There will be a festival to God tomorrow!" – God, of course, being the Tetragrammaton – God's four letter name of יקוק.
What is also clear is that Aharon never referred to this calf as a God, and he certainly never participated in any festivities or worshipping of the calf.
What, then, was his role? Why does Moshe become so upset with him?
Ralbag posits that Aharon was doing only one thing: stalling.
He asked for the jewels of family members, assuming they would not give their jewelry up easily. He began to mold a model of the calf to delay the actual building of what the people were asking for.
When Moshe still did not show, Aharon began building a mizbe'ach. This takes time. And when it was finished, instead of inaugurating it right away as is commonly done, Aharon had the brilliant idea to buy more time through delaying until "tomorrow." That the people took the initiative on their own the following morning, when they saw Aharon was not leading any festivities, is their problem. Aharon could no longer fight off the mob mentality that had overtaken the minds of those who were smitten by the perception of what the Golden Calf would do for them.
Abravanel observes that we really do not know when the people first approached Aharon. At the end of Mishpatim Moshe went up, with no provisions and no foreseeable means of nutrition, to be on the mountain for an undetermined amount of time. Up until then, every time he went up he came down the same day. (See his ups and downs in Shmot 19).
Did they approach Aharon after 3 days? A week? Two weeks? Just because the tale of the creation of the Golden Calf pans out in six verses does not mean it did not take two weeks of negotiating and staying the crowd! That the Torah told us Moshe went up for 40 days and nights (24:18) does not indicate the people, or even Moshe, were aware he'd be away that long, or for any specific amount of time. It is possible Moshe might have stayed longer, had he not been sent packing on account of the wayward actions of the people down below.
And if Hur had been killed (24:14 indicates he and Aharon were in charge and as Hur does not appear in our tale, the Rabbis said he had been killed by the mob), Aharon has real cause to respond to their requests, to indicate he is working with them, before he is taken down as well. Ibn Ezra raises one person's opinion (he does not quote from whom) that Aharon felt the need to avoid losing his life in order to save as many people as possible. Were he to die, things would go out of control quickly, and many more people would succumb to the peer-pressure and join the ranks of the Golden-Calf-ers – 3,000 of whom were killed in its aftermath.
Therefore the Abravanel spells out in great details how Aharon was delaying. He took the time to fashion a small model of a golden calf (the choice of calf versus lamb has to do with the lamb being Aries, the god of Egypt, and the calf being Taurus, the next Zodiac sign, as the god of Egypt had been defeated by the God of Israel). In turn, the model would be copied in a much larger version, which would take a day or two to fashion. And, frankly, Aharon indicated that such an "important" item could not be completed without the stamp of Moshe! This would further cause them to wait.
That he wanted everything to be done right would also play into why he insisted on building the mizbe'ach himself! He was hoping that in all the delayed efforts, the people would take a step back and realize they were pursuing a worthless goal of a meaningless symbol to replace Moshe as the leader.
He said the "Festival would be for Hashem tomorrow" hoping A. that God would hear and tell Moshe to scoot on down to nip the rebellion in the bud; and B. that the masses would understand that anything they were doing was for the sake of Hashem in Heaven. Unfortunately, neither plan worked and Moshe was only told to leave after the party had started, on account of the boors who did not understand Aharon's intent when utilizing God's name in anticipation of any celebration.
When Moshe emerges he becomes so upset with his brother because Aharon played a role in bringing about the sin the people committed. It could be Aharon's intentions were honorable: play the role, cater to them in a way they think you're on their side while you delay as much as you can, hope and pray that Moshe will come down and set everything right. But honorable intentions don't always bring about positive results. Just think about Lot's daughters.
Are we to understand that delay tactics don't work, and a person must take a stand to do what's right at the outset, even at the cost of one's life? Not at all. Sometimes delaying a little while allows a sensible solution to play itself out. (Sometimes it doesn't – see Samuel I 13:6-14) From Moshe's perspective, however, the stakes were too high and his brother faltered at what could have been his finest hour.
In an immediate and direct sense, it does not seem Aharon is punished for any idolatry component of the Golden Calf. He does not lose his life and he does not lose the right to be the High Priest who brings about forgiveness for the people on Yom Kippur. Therefore I do not think it is our place to be too critical of Aharon.
What might any one of us have done were we in his place? It is very hard to say.
Parshat Ki Tisa
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Looking objectively at the depiction of the creation of the Golden Calf, it is quite hard to understand the role Aharon plays. Is he guilty of something really really bad? Is he a manipulated victim? Was he coerced? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time?
What is clear is that on account of Moshe's delayed return, Aharon is approached and told to make "something" to replace Moshe as leader. Aharon instructs the people to get the earrings of their family members – children and wives – and with the earrings the men bring back (which seem to be their own earrings), he has a mold or model golden calf fashioned. Either he does it personally, or he has someone else do it. Upon seeing how some of the people related to the calf, Aharon builds a mizbe'ach and announces "There will be a festival to God tomorrow!" – God, of course, being the Tetragrammaton – God's four letter name of יקוק.
What is also clear is that Aharon never referred to this calf as a God, and he certainly never participated in any festivities or worshipping of the calf.
What, then, was his role? Why does Moshe become so upset with him?
Ralbag posits that Aharon was doing only one thing: stalling.
He asked for the jewels of family members, assuming they would not give their jewelry up easily. He began to mold a model of the calf to delay the actual building of what the people were asking for.
When Moshe still did not show, Aharon began building a mizbe'ach. This takes time. And when it was finished, instead of inaugurating it right away as is commonly done, Aharon had the brilliant idea to buy more time through delaying until "tomorrow." That the people took the initiative on their own the following morning, when they saw Aharon was not leading any festivities, is their problem. Aharon could no longer fight off the mob mentality that had overtaken the minds of those who were smitten by the perception of what the Golden Calf would do for them.
Abravanel observes that we really do not know when the people first approached Aharon. At the end of Mishpatim Moshe went up, with no provisions and no foreseeable means of nutrition, to be on the mountain for an undetermined amount of time. Up until then, every time he went up he came down the same day. (See his ups and downs in Shmot 19).
Did they approach Aharon after 3 days? A week? Two weeks? Just because the tale of the creation of the Golden Calf pans out in six verses does not mean it did not take two weeks of negotiating and staying the crowd! That the Torah told us Moshe went up for 40 days and nights (24:18) does not indicate the people, or even Moshe, were aware he'd be away that long, or for any specific amount of time. It is possible Moshe might have stayed longer, had he not been sent packing on account of the wayward actions of the people down below.
And if Hur had been killed (24:14 indicates he and Aharon were in charge and as Hur does not appear in our tale, the Rabbis said he had been killed by the mob), Aharon has real cause to respond to their requests, to indicate he is working with them, before he is taken down as well. Ibn Ezra raises one person's opinion (he does not quote from whom) that Aharon felt the need to avoid losing his life in order to save as many people as possible. Were he to die, things would go out of control quickly, and many more people would succumb to the peer-pressure and join the ranks of the Golden-Calf-ers – 3,000 of whom were killed in its aftermath.
Therefore the Abravanel spells out in great details how Aharon was delaying. He took the time to fashion a small model of a golden calf (the choice of calf versus lamb has to do with the lamb being Aries, the god of Egypt, and the calf being Taurus, the next Zodiac sign, as the god of Egypt had been defeated by the God of Israel). In turn, the model would be copied in a much larger version, which would take a day or two to fashion. And, frankly, Aharon indicated that such an "important" item could not be completed without the stamp of Moshe! This would further cause them to wait.
That he wanted everything to be done right would also play into why he insisted on building the mizbe'ach himself! He was hoping that in all the delayed efforts, the people would take a step back and realize they were pursuing a worthless goal of a meaningless symbol to replace Moshe as the leader.
He said the "Festival would be for Hashem tomorrow" hoping A. that God would hear and tell Moshe to scoot on down to nip the rebellion in the bud; and B. that the masses would understand that anything they were doing was for the sake of Hashem in Heaven. Unfortunately, neither plan worked and Moshe was only told to leave after the party had started, on account of the boors who did not understand Aharon's intent when utilizing God's name in anticipation of any celebration.
When Moshe emerges he becomes so upset with his brother because Aharon played a role in bringing about the sin the people committed. It could be Aharon's intentions were honorable: play the role, cater to them in a way they think you're on their side while you delay as much as you can, hope and pray that Moshe will come down and set everything right. But honorable intentions don't always bring about positive results. Just think about Lot's daughters.
Are we to understand that delay tactics don't work, and a person must take a stand to do what's right at the outset, even at the cost of one's life? Not at all. Sometimes delaying a little while allows a sensible solution to play itself out. (Sometimes it doesn't – see Samuel I 13:6-14) From Moshe's perspective, however, the stakes were too high and his brother faltered at what could have been his finest hour.
In an immediate and direct sense, it does not seem Aharon is punished for any idolatry component of the Golden Calf. He does not lose his life and he does not lose the right to be the High Priest who brings about forgiveness for the people on Yom Kippur. Therefore I do not think it is our place to be too critical of Aharon.
What might any one of us have done were we in his place? It is very hard to say.
Observing Moshe's Yartzeit in a Leap Year
This article appears this week in the Jewish Star
Mendele Mokher Seforim (1835-1917) famously wrote, "Among Jews, a birthday is no holiday. But the anniversary of a death; that a Jew remembers."
Last Friday's (2/11) Hebrew date was the 7th of the first Adar of 5771. As the Talmud points out in Kiddushin 38a, this is the date of the death of Moshe Rabbenu, as well as the date of his birth.
One of the debates that regularly comes up in different shuls is how to best observe the anniversary of the death of the ultimate Jewish leader.
There are those who try very hard to avoid saying tachanun on the 7th of Adar. While I will not pass judgment on these individuals, I will say there is no real precedent in halakha to do this. The idea of celebrating a yarzeit is Chassidic in nature, but even "celebrating" Moshe's yarzeit was frowned upon (while celebrating that of a great "rebbe" was not) by none other than Rabbi Zadok HaKohen of Lublin (Poked Akarim 6).
There are those who might fast on a yarzeit – any yarzeit. This is highly appropriate – the Talmud (Nedarim 12a) and Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chaim 580:1-2) recommend this position for many dated events, or for one's parent or deceased rebbe.
The question that comes up in a year such as this, a Jewish leap year which includes two months of Adar, is "Which Adar is the one in which we mark the date of Moshe's death?"
While one approach to the question could be answered through the choice we might make of which Adar is the real month, versus which one is the additional month (most people believe the first Adar is the extra month), a more pressing question is "What is the actual date of Moshe's death?"
The Mechilta (Beshalach, Vayisa 5) raises three possible answers to this question: Rabbi Yehoshua, who confirms the Talmudic approach that Moshe's death took place in Adar of a regular non-leap year; Rabbi Eliezer Hamodai, who says Moshe died in the first Adar of a leap year; Rabbi Elazar, who raises the suggestion that Moshe died on the 7th day of Shvat in a regular year.
With the addition of the 7th day of Shvat, only one possible date remains that no one suggests – that Moshe may have died on the 7th of Adar II in a leap year.
Rabbis Eliezer and Elazar are working with the premise that Moshe's death preceded the entering of the land of Israel by 63 days (Midrah Sechel Tov Shmot 15:35 explains their analysis), while the straightforward Talmudic position is that Moshe's death took place 33 days before crossing the Jordan River on the 10th of Nissan.
The difference between these opinions lays the groundwork for our establishing our answer. Rabbi Elazar's opinion is not really accepted – so we will confine the remainder of our words to the 7th of Adar opinions.
There is a debate between Rabbi Yosef Karo and Rabbi Moshe Isserles in the Shulchan Arukh 568:7 as to when to observe a yarzeit during the leap year, in the event that the death took place during a regular year. Rabbi Karo believes it should take place in the second Adar, while Rabbi Isserles calls for it to be observed in the first of the Adars (to do it as soon as possible), while noting the practice some have to observe the yarzeit in both months.
Some will argue that when a birthday or yarzeit took place in a leap year, the proper date to observe the event in a different leap year is the exact date – an Adar I date in Adar I, and an Adar II date in Adar II (See, for example, Mishneh Brurah 55:43).
The Magen Avraham disagrees with this idea, however, as he posits that one ought to count year by year, instead of paying attention to a leap-year birthdate. It is his opinion, as such, that all bar mitzvah birthdays, for example, will only be observed in Adar II, regardless of whether one was born in Adar I.
Rabbi Jacob Emden was asked this particular question – whether to observe Moshe's yarzeit in Adar I or Adar II (She'eilat Yaabetz 1:117), and he explained that it all depends on how one views Moshe's yarzeit.
Haman rejoiced that his lottery fell in Adar because he knew of Moshe's death in Adar and felt it was a bad month for the Jews. As such, the miracle of Purim is inextricably linked to the yarzeit of Moshe. With this logic, the month in which we observe Purim is the month when Moshe's yarzeit should be observed.
On the other hand, R' Emden attemps to reconcile an opinion that suggests Moshe was born in Adar I (and died on the same day), on account of the passage of nearly three months (2.5 to be exact) from his birth until the date he was found by Pharaoh's daughter in the river on 21 Nissan.
In the final analysis, the jury is still out on the exact month of Moshe's death – Adar I of a leap year, or Adar of a regular year.
Those who want to follow the practice of the Shulchan Arukh (580:2) to fast are encouraged to do so. If you want to fast twice, like the Rama suggests in 568:7, kudos to you.
But if you're looking to get out of tachanun twice, I am pretty sure that is not what Rabbi Isserlis had in mind.
Mendele Mokher Seforim (1835-1917) famously wrote, "Among Jews, a birthday is no holiday. But the anniversary of a death; that a Jew remembers."
Last Friday's (2/11) Hebrew date was the 7th of the first Adar of 5771. As the Talmud points out in Kiddushin 38a, this is the date of the death of Moshe Rabbenu, as well as the date of his birth.
One of the debates that regularly comes up in different shuls is how to best observe the anniversary of the death of the ultimate Jewish leader.
There are those who try very hard to avoid saying tachanun on the 7th of Adar. While I will not pass judgment on these individuals, I will say there is no real precedent in halakha to do this. The idea of celebrating a yarzeit is Chassidic in nature, but even "celebrating" Moshe's yarzeit was frowned upon (while celebrating that of a great "rebbe" was not) by none other than Rabbi Zadok HaKohen of Lublin (Poked Akarim 6).
There are those who might fast on a yarzeit – any yarzeit. This is highly appropriate – the Talmud (Nedarim 12a) and Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chaim 580:1-2) recommend this position for many dated events, or for one's parent or deceased rebbe.
The question that comes up in a year such as this, a Jewish leap year which includes two months of Adar, is "Which Adar is the one in which we mark the date of Moshe's death?"
While one approach to the question could be answered through the choice we might make of which Adar is the real month, versus which one is the additional month (most people believe the first Adar is the extra month), a more pressing question is "What is the actual date of Moshe's death?"
The Mechilta (Beshalach, Vayisa 5) raises three possible answers to this question: Rabbi Yehoshua, who confirms the Talmudic approach that Moshe's death took place in Adar of a regular non-leap year; Rabbi Eliezer Hamodai, who says Moshe died in the first Adar of a leap year; Rabbi Elazar, who raises the suggestion that Moshe died on the 7th day of Shvat in a regular year.
With the addition of the 7th day of Shvat, only one possible date remains that no one suggests – that Moshe may have died on the 7th of Adar II in a leap year.
Rabbis Eliezer and Elazar are working with the premise that Moshe's death preceded the entering of the land of Israel by 63 days (Midrah Sechel Tov Shmot 15:35 explains their analysis), while the straightforward Talmudic position is that Moshe's death took place 33 days before crossing the Jordan River on the 10th of Nissan.
The difference between these opinions lays the groundwork for our establishing our answer. Rabbi Elazar's opinion is not really accepted – so we will confine the remainder of our words to the 7th of Adar opinions.
There is a debate between Rabbi Yosef Karo and Rabbi Moshe Isserles in the Shulchan Arukh 568:7 as to when to observe a yarzeit during the leap year, in the event that the death took place during a regular year. Rabbi Karo believes it should take place in the second Adar, while Rabbi Isserles calls for it to be observed in the first of the Adars (to do it as soon as possible), while noting the practice some have to observe the yarzeit in both months.
Some will argue that when a birthday or yarzeit took place in a leap year, the proper date to observe the event in a different leap year is the exact date – an Adar I date in Adar I, and an Adar II date in Adar II (See, for example, Mishneh Brurah 55:43).
The Magen Avraham disagrees with this idea, however, as he posits that one ought to count year by year, instead of paying attention to a leap-year birthdate. It is his opinion, as such, that all bar mitzvah birthdays, for example, will only be observed in Adar II, regardless of whether one was born in Adar I.
Rabbi Jacob Emden was asked this particular question – whether to observe Moshe's yarzeit in Adar I or Adar II (She'eilat Yaabetz 1:117), and he explained that it all depends on how one views Moshe's yarzeit.
Haman rejoiced that his lottery fell in Adar because he knew of Moshe's death in Adar and felt it was a bad month for the Jews. As such, the miracle of Purim is inextricably linked to the yarzeit of Moshe. With this logic, the month in which we observe Purim is the month when Moshe's yarzeit should be observed.
On the other hand, R' Emden attemps to reconcile an opinion that suggests Moshe was born in Adar I (and died on the same day), on account of the passage of nearly three months (2.5 to be exact) from his birth until the date he was found by Pharaoh's daughter in the river on 21 Nissan.
In the final analysis, the jury is still out on the exact month of Moshe's death – Adar I of a leap year, or Adar of a regular year.
Those who want to follow the practice of the Shulchan Arukh (580:2) to fast are encouraged to do so. If you want to fast twice, like the Rama suggests in 568:7, kudos to you.
But if you're looking to get out of tachanun twice, I am pretty sure that is not what Rabbi Isserlis had in mind.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
God's Three Keys
Parshat Tetzaveh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
With the abundance of storms that have everybody talking about the weather, one wonders how much the global warming camp can convince their opponents that "we" control the weather. Record snowfalls across the country seem to indicate to me that God, and not Hummers or Styrofoam cups, is still in charge.
The gemara (Taanit 2a) certainly concurs with this assessment, when it states, "Rabbi Yochanan said, 'There are three keys in the hands of God that are not entrusted to an agent. They are: the key of rain, the key of conception/childbirth, and the key of revival of the dead.'"
While it may be a stretch to include "snowstorms" in the "key of rain" that God controls, I am willing to go out on that limb with the confidence that not too many people will object.
The Gaon of Vilna implies from a different passage in Taanit 9a, that there is no concept in Jewish thought that is not hinted to in the Torah. For the source, or hint, to the idea of the keys God holds, he looks at Parshat Tetzaveh, Shmot 28:36 where the Torah, in describing the creation of the Tzitz (forehead-plate) says "…and engrave on it in the same manner as a signet ring, [the words], 'Holy to God.'"
In Hebrew, the last four words of this verse are, "Pituchai Chotam Kodesh LaHashem" - פיתוחי חתם קודש לה. The Vilna Gaon takes this phrase to mean, "The openings (or 'keys') of 'CH'T'M' are distinctly set aside for God." The three letters of the word "Chotam" are an acronym for the three keys the gemara says are in God's hands.
Chet = "Chaya," the ability to conceive and give birth to a child. Taf = "T'chiya," or resurrection. Mem = "Matar," rain.
These three powers are "kodesh la'Hashem," separate for God, and were not touched by any stranger.
It is amazing to behold the advancement of science and technology in our world. In a certain sense, we have given ourselves the opportunity to play God in so many aspects of our lives.
We can fertilize reproductive material in test-tubes to implant a viable embryo in a uterus, and we can incubate fetuses, once they've developed viable organs and features, to a point that, in some cases, they can live normal lives even if they've emerged from the womb at 24 weeks gestation.
But, we cannot create the materials that create the embryo. And we can not replicate those essential first few months in the womb. And as much as we know about medicine, there are still children who do not survive pregnancy, and there are still mothers who do not survive childbirth. The numbers are certainly better than at other times in history, but they are not yet zero. We don't know everything.
We can do all kinds of things to restimulate the heart, keep patients alive, revive those who have flatlined. A machine can keep a person's organs alive for a significant amount of time (I am not going into the hot debate of defining the end of life).
But we cannot bring back to life someone who has been dead for a few vital minutes. And, in the rare case when doctors have given up, done all they could, and the patient "comes back" nonetheless, it is generally noted that some things are in God's hands, as their advent is beyond what human science can explain. And, it goes without saying that resurrection as described in some of the Biblical stories (Elijah, Elisha) are beyond the scope of the abilities of Man.
From a religious perspective, I do believe there is nothing more arrogant than stating that humans control the weather and climate more than God controls the weather and climate.
The Torah certainly makes the case that humans ought to take care of our world to the best of our abilities because we can easily destroy it. And yet there is a seeming contradiction.
Bereshit 1:28 has God blessing the newly created humans, "...Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth and subdue it; v’kivshu’ha - have dominion over...every living thing...." At the same time, in Bereshit 2:15 God takes the newly created human,"... and placed him in the garden of Eden - l’ovdah ul’shomrah - to cultivate it and to guard it."
In an article about Judaism and the environment, which originally appeared in the OU's Jewish Action magazine and can now be found elsewhere online, Rabbi Freundel concluded his analysis of the subject thus: "...The true meaning, then, of the Biblical command of 'subdue the world' is not to conquer the world by ... destroying its resources. Its true implication is found in God's other statement to Adam about how to function in the Garden of Eden, i.e. 'to work it and to watch it.' Responsible use mixed with sincere concern, progress with restraint, growth and technology with conservation and preservation, is the Torah's ecological agenda.”
That refers to our responsibility.
The bottom line remains, however, that God is still in charge.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
With the abundance of storms that have everybody talking about the weather, one wonders how much the global warming camp can convince their opponents that "we" control the weather. Record snowfalls across the country seem to indicate to me that God, and not Hummers or Styrofoam cups, is still in charge.
The gemara (Taanit 2a) certainly concurs with this assessment, when it states, "Rabbi Yochanan said, 'There are three keys in the hands of God that are not entrusted to an agent. They are: the key of rain, the key of conception/childbirth, and the key of revival of the dead.'"
While it may be a stretch to include "snowstorms" in the "key of rain" that God controls, I am willing to go out on that limb with the confidence that not too many people will object.
The Gaon of Vilna implies from a different passage in Taanit 9a, that there is no concept in Jewish thought that is not hinted to in the Torah. For the source, or hint, to the idea of the keys God holds, he looks at Parshat Tetzaveh, Shmot 28:36 where the Torah, in describing the creation of the Tzitz (forehead-plate) says "…and engrave on it in the same manner as a signet ring, [the words], 'Holy to God.'"
In Hebrew, the last four words of this verse are, "Pituchai Chotam Kodesh LaHashem" - פיתוחי חתם קודש לה. The Vilna Gaon takes this phrase to mean, "The openings (or 'keys') of 'CH'T'M' are distinctly set aside for God." The three letters of the word "Chotam" are an acronym for the three keys the gemara says are in God's hands.
Chet = "Chaya," the ability to conceive and give birth to a child. Taf = "T'chiya," or resurrection. Mem = "Matar," rain.
These three powers are "kodesh la'Hashem," separate for God, and were not touched by any stranger.
It is amazing to behold the advancement of science and technology in our world. In a certain sense, we have given ourselves the opportunity to play God in so many aspects of our lives.
We can fertilize reproductive material in test-tubes to implant a viable embryo in a uterus, and we can incubate fetuses, once they've developed viable organs and features, to a point that, in some cases, they can live normal lives even if they've emerged from the womb at 24 weeks gestation.
But, we cannot create the materials that create the embryo. And we can not replicate those essential first few months in the womb. And as much as we know about medicine, there are still children who do not survive pregnancy, and there are still mothers who do not survive childbirth. The numbers are certainly better than at other times in history, but they are not yet zero. We don't know everything.
We can do all kinds of things to restimulate the heart, keep patients alive, revive those who have flatlined. A machine can keep a person's organs alive for a significant amount of time (I am not going into the hot debate of defining the end of life).
But we cannot bring back to life someone who has been dead for a few vital minutes. And, in the rare case when doctors have given up, done all they could, and the patient "comes back" nonetheless, it is generally noted that some things are in God's hands, as their advent is beyond what human science can explain. And, it goes without saying that resurrection as described in some of the Biblical stories (Elijah, Elisha) are beyond the scope of the abilities of Man.
From a religious perspective, I do believe there is nothing more arrogant than stating that humans control the weather and climate more than God controls the weather and climate.
The Torah certainly makes the case that humans ought to take care of our world to the best of our abilities because we can easily destroy it. And yet there is a seeming contradiction.
Bereshit 1:28 has God blessing the newly created humans, "...Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth and subdue it; v’kivshu’ha - have dominion over...every living thing...." At the same time, in Bereshit 2:15 God takes the newly created human,"... and placed him in the garden of Eden - l’ovdah ul’shomrah - to cultivate it and to guard it."
In an article about Judaism and the environment, which originally appeared in the OU's Jewish Action magazine and can now be found elsewhere online, Rabbi Freundel concluded his analysis of the subject thus: "...The true meaning, then, of the Biblical command of 'subdue the world' is not to conquer the world by ... destroying its resources. Its true implication is found in God's other statement to Adam about how to function in the Garden of Eden, i.e. 'to work it and to watch it.' Responsible use mixed with sincere concern, progress with restraint, growth and technology with conservation and preservation, is the Torah's ecological agenda.”
That refers to our responsibility.
The bottom line remains, however, that God is still in charge.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Moshe Not Mentioned in the Parsha
Check this link for a quick, interesting analysis of this question on Parshas Tetzaveh.
Another nice vort (though a tad lengthy) can be found here.
Inspired by some of these teachings, here is the dvar Torah I wrote for the school newsletter at one of the schools where I teach:
Moshe Not Mentioned? Of Course He Is!
Is Tetzaveh really the only parsha since the birth of Moshe that does not mention him? No. And, truth be told, Moshe is absolutely mentioned in the parsha. Huh?
Firstly, Moshe's name does not appear in many of the parshas in the book of Devarim, because Moshe is speaking from Devarim chapter 5 through Devarim chapter 26.
Secondly, Moshe is clearly mentioned in Parshat Tetzaveh – 5 times in the first 5 pesukim, in fact! V'ata Tetzaveh – you will command; v'yikchu eilekha – they should bring to you [the oil] (27:20); V'ata Hakrev Eilekha – you bring close to yourself [Aharon and sons] (28:1); v'asita bigdei kodesh – you will make sacred vestments (28:2); v'ata t'daber – you will speak to everyone… (28:3)
Many argue that Moshe's name does not appear in the parsha because of the threat he gave Hashem in Shmot 32:32 to erase him from the Torah if Hashem would not forgive the Bnei Yisrael for the sin of the Golden Calf. The flaw in the argument is that when the Torah was once upon a time completed in a three year cycle, a. there was no parshat Tetzaveh as we know it now, and b. there were more "parshas" that did not contain Moshe's name!
So why do we make a big deal about it here? Most likely because this is the parsha closest to the threat (Ki Tisa is next week's parsha). Others suggest it is the parsha closest to Moshe's yarzeit (7 Adar – which is today), so Moshe's name is absent to indicate our mourning for him.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained that Moshe was trying to show Hashem that Hashem's relationship with the Jewish people was so important to him, Moshe was willing to sacrifice everything in order to make sure that relationship could survive even the biggest threat – a seemingly harmful venture into idolatry.
In this way, the parsha is the Torah's tribute to Moshe – he is not mentioned by name, but he is very clearly a part of the proceedings. As the greatest leader of the Jewish people, Moshe was even ready to give up his connection to the greatest gift Hashem has given the world, the Torah, in order to preserve the relationship the Jewish people have with Hashem. The Torah left his name out, but it could never remove his connection to the mishkan and efforts to bring holiness to the Jewish people.
Our relationship with Hashem is what makes us, the Jewish people, the special nation that we are. Are we ready to sacrifice everything for the sake of the Torah? Are we ready to give up everything we have so that we can make that relationship with Hashem even stronger?
While I certainly hope we won't have to give things up in order to keep this relationship with Hashem strong, I do believe we can always be taking positive steps toward making our relationship with Hashem stronger.
We always talk about learning Torah and doing Mitzvot. In addition, let us commit to thinking about Hashem and talking about Hashem when we do these things, so we can bring home the idea that we are constantly working to maintain and improve our relationship with Hashem.
Another nice vort (though a tad lengthy) can be found here.
Inspired by some of these teachings, here is the dvar Torah I wrote for the school newsletter at one of the schools where I teach:
Moshe Not Mentioned? Of Course He Is!
Is Tetzaveh really the only parsha since the birth of Moshe that does not mention him? No. And, truth be told, Moshe is absolutely mentioned in the parsha. Huh?
Firstly, Moshe's name does not appear in many of the parshas in the book of Devarim, because Moshe is speaking from Devarim chapter 5 through Devarim chapter 26.
Secondly, Moshe is clearly mentioned in Parshat Tetzaveh – 5 times in the first 5 pesukim, in fact! V'ata Tetzaveh – you will command; v'yikchu eilekha – they should bring to you [the oil] (27:20); V'ata Hakrev Eilekha – you bring close to yourself [Aharon and sons] (28:1); v'asita bigdei kodesh – you will make sacred vestments (28:2); v'ata t'daber – you will speak to everyone… (28:3)
Many argue that Moshe's name does not appear in the parsha because of the threat he gave Hashem in Shmot 32:32 to erase him from the Torah if Hashem would not forgive the Bnei Yisrael for the sin of the Golden Calf. The flaw in the argument is that when the Torah was once upon a time completed in a three year cycle, a. there was no parshat Tetzaveh as we know it now, and b. there were more "parshas" that did not contain Moshe's name!
So why do we make a big deal about it here? Most likely because this is the parsha closest to the threat (Ki Tisa is next week's parsha). Others suggest it is the parsha closest to Moshe's yarzeit (7 Adar – which is today), so Moshe's name is absent to indicate our mourning for him.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained that Moshe was trying to show Hashem that Hashem's relationship with the Jewish people was so important to him, Moshe was willing to sacrifice everything in order to make sure that relationship could survive even the biggest threat – a seemingly harmful venture into idolatry.
In this way, the parsha is the Torah's tribute to Moshe – he is not mentioned by name, but he is very clearly a part of the proceedings. As the greatest leader of the Jewish people, Moshe was even ready to give up his connection to the greatest gift Hashem has given the world, the Torah, in order to preserve the relationship the Jewish people have with Hashem. The Torah left his name out, but it could never remove his connection to the mishkan and efforts to bring holiness to the Jewish people.
Our relationship with Hashem is what makes us, the Jewish people, the special nation that we are. Are we ready to sacrifice everything for the sake of the Torah? Are we ready to give up everything we have so that we can make that relationship with Hashem even stronger?
While I certainly hope we won't have to give things up in order to keep this relationship with Hashem strong, I do believe we can always be taking positive steps toward making our relationship with Hashem stronger.
We always talk about learning Torah and doing Mitzvot. In addition, let us commit to thinking about Hashem and talking about Hashem when we do these things, so we can bring home the idea that we are constantly working to maintain and improve our relationship with Hashem.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Menorah's Symbolism
For more on the Menorah's branches click here
Parshat Terumah
As the Torah is comprised primarily of laws and narrative, let us take a quick scan of Parshat Terumah to see where it fits in the scheme of the rest of the Torah. According to the Sefer HaChinukh, Parshat Terumah has three mitzvot in it – to build a Beit Hamikdash, not to remove the poles from the aron (ark), and the rules surrounding the placement of the "showbread" on the shulchan (table).
So much for "laws."
The narrative is confined to the specific instructions surrounding the creation of the one-time Mishkan that was never built again. We don't even see them building it here; those details are only shared with us in Vayakhel and Fekudei, which we will read in a few weeks.
Not much narrative to speak of.
As a result, most contemporary discussions of this parsha that go beyond the importance of "making a sanctuary to God" focus on symbolic interpretations of the mishkan and its vessels.
To focus on one example, the Sfas Emes writes of the beautiful symbolism embedded in the Menorah. With six branches and a centerpiece that counts as number 7, he says, it represents the week high"lighted" by shabbos. As the light of the Menorah represents the light of Torah, the Torah is read on shabbos to be a source of light for the six days of the week.
Many point out that the "menorah" itself is in reality only the middle candlestick, while the arms that come out are the "kanei hamenorah" – the menorah's branches. There are altogether 22 decorative cups on the menorah - 4 on the center candlestick, and 3 on each of the six branches.
22 represents the 22 letter alphabet God used to create the world and the Torah.
The 3 cups on each of the branches-representing-weekdays represent the forefathers and the three daily prayers they individually established. As the center candlestick represents the seventh day of the week, shabbos, its 4 cups represent the three prayers plus the addtional shabbos prayer of Mussaf.
Taking the idea a step further, he looks at the 22 phrase poem we recite on Shabbos, "El Adon," and says the first two and last two phrases (which are connected to one another through the "A't ba'sh" symbolism) together contain 22 words. Additionally, the letters of "a't ba'sh" (א"ת, and ב"ש) spell out the word "shabata" - שבתא – which means Shabbos in Aramaic. The eighteen remaining phrases, representing the eighteen remaining letters, represent the other days of the week, 3 letters per day, like the three cups of each branch.
For further detail and for deeper understanding, the Gerer Rebbe explains, one must seek clarification in the Zohar.
In his "Collected Writings, Vol. III," Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch presents an extensive study of symbolism in Jewish law and life. Regarding the menorah, he writes:
"The light in the center… is the goal common to all the other lights on the menorah. These lights, in turn, are borne by six branches. However, none of these has a separate base or shaft of its own. Rather, they all stand upon one base; they all have one root, and one shaft supports them all… the light in the middle is not only the ultimate goal of all the lights, which serves to unite them all, but also the starting point from which all the other lights emanate." (p. 218-219)
There is much more symbolism in this one-piece marvel of gold that we call "menorah" than meets the eye. But this is a good start.
7 represents nature, as Rabbi Hirsch writes of in his essays on tzitzit and bris milah, both of which take seven and elevate it to eight in their efforts to heighten spirituality by going above and beyond nature – taking it to the level of "supernatural."
If the candles indeed represent the days of the week, and the center candlestick is the glue that holds everything together, then we can certainly take the obvious step and declare that shabbos is what holds everything about what it means to be a Jew together.
It is not just about a physical image or manifestation, the menorah or its symbolism, as much as it is about what the menorah does practically. After all a candelabra's job is to give light.
Here in lies the quintessential symbolism. The Torah is the ultimate light, as it is the original source for just about all goodness that exists in the world. If holy light emanates from the branches of the menorah, it is a reminder to us that our days must be infused with the study of Torah. Ultimately the study of Torah is most beneficial when put it into practice in the most significant way, through the observance of shabbos.
May the Jews of the world recognize this beauty, and may we all merit to bask in the light of the menorah when we live to fulfill the mitzvot that are commanded in Parshat Terumah.
Parshat Terumah
As the Torah is comprised primarily of laws and narrative, let us take a quick scan of Parshat Terumah to see where it fits in the scheme of the rest of the Torah. According to the Sefer HaChinukh, Parshat Terumah has three mitzvot in it – to build a Beit Hamikdash, not to remove the poles from the aron (ark), and the rules surrounding the placement of the "showbread" on the shulchan (table).
So much for "laws."
The narrative is confined to the specific instructions surrounding the creation of the one-time Mishkan that was never built again. We don't even see them building it here; those details are only shared with us in Vayakhel and Fekudei, which we will read in a few weeks.
Not much narrative to speak of.
As a result, most contemporary discussions of this parsha that go beyond the importance of "making a sanctuary to God" focus on symbolic interpretations of the mishkan and its vessels.
To focus on one example, the Sfas Emes writes of the beautiful symbolism embedded in the Menorah. With six branches and a centerpiece that counts as number 7, he says, it represents the week high"lighted" by shabbos. As the light of the Menorah represents the light of Torah, the Torah is read on shabbos to be a source of light for the six days of the week.
Many point out that the "menorah" itself is in reality only the middle candlestick, while the arms that come out are the "kanei hamenorah" – the menorah's branches. There are altogether 22 decorative cups on the menorah - 4 on the center candlestick, and 3 on each of the six branches.
22 represents the 22 letter alphabet God used to create the world and the Torah.
The 3 cups on each of the branches-representing-weekdays represent the forefathers and the three daily prayers they individually established. As the center candlestick represents the seventh day of the week, shabbos, its 4 cups represent the three prayers plus the addtional shabbos prayer of Mussaf.
Taking the idea a step further, he looks at the 22 phrase poem we recite on Shabbos, "El Adon," and says the first two and last two phrases (which are connected to one another through the "A't ba'sh" symbolism) together contain 22 words. Additionally, the letters of "a't ba'sh" (א"ת, and ב"ש) spell out the word "shabata" - שבתא – which means Shabbos in Aramaic. The eighteen remaining phrases, representing the eighteen remaining letters, represent the other days of the week, 3 letters per day, like the three cups of each branch.
For further detail and for deeper understanding, the Gerer Rebbe explains, one must seek clarification in the Zohar.
In his "Collected Writings, Vol. III," Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch presents an extensive study of symbolism in Jewish law and life. Regarding the menorah, he writes:
"The light in the center… is the goal common to all the other lights on the menorah. These lights, in turn, are borne by six branches. However, none of these has a separate base or shaft of its own. Rather, they all stand upon one base; they all have one root, and one shaft supports them all… the light in the middle is not only the ultimate goal of all the lights, which serves to unite them all, but also the starting point from which all the other lights emanate." (p. 218-219)
There is much more symbolism in this one-piece marvel of gold that we call "menorah" than meets the eye. But this is a good start.
7 represents nature, as Rabbi Hirsch writes of in his essays on tzitzit and bris milah, both of which take seven and elevate it to eight in their efforts to heighten spirituality by going above and beyond nature – taking it to the level of "supernatural."
If the candles indeed represent the days of the week, and the center candlestick is the glue that holds everything together, then we can certainly take the obvious step and declare that shabbos is what holds everything about what it means to be a Jew together.
It is not just about a physical image or manifestation, the menorah or its symbolism, as much as it is about what the menorah does practically. After all a candelabra's job is to give light.
Here in lies the quintessential symbolism. The Torah is the ultimate light, as it is the original source for just about all goodness that exists in the world. If holy light emanates from the branches of the menorah, it is a reminder to us that our days must be infused with the study of Torah. Ultimately the study of Torah is most beneficial when put it into practice in the most significant way, through the observance of shabbos.
May the Jews of the world recognize this beauty, and may we all merit to bask in the light of the menorah when we live to fulfill the mitzvot that are commanded in Parshat Terumah.
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