Parshat Ki Seesaw
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Who doesn’t like the smell of freshly made popcorn? Many years ago I remember reading a comic book (I think it was Richie Rich) in which a character was looking to make a popcorn-smelling perfume, arguing that the aroma was so beautiful, he would easily be attracted to it.
At the time it seemed a sound argument. But it doesn’t take much thought to realize that while the popcorn smell is one thing coming from a bowl containing popcorn, it might not work in the same way when on a human. Though we certainly have the benefit of being able to try and fail.
Which leads us to a most interesting prohibition, Mitzvah 110 in the Sefer HaChinukh, to not measure out k’toret (incense) for ourselves nor to make an aroma that is exactly that of the k’toret. “Do not duplicate the formula of the incense that you are making for personal use, since it must remain sacred to God. If a person makes it to enjoy its fragrance, he shall be cut off [spiritually] from his people.” (30:37-38)
Not only is popcorn-perfume not recommended, k’toret-perfume is forbidden.
Can it be that some things are so holy they are exclusive to a specific time and place? What if I want to imitate holiness? What if I want to get closer to God?
The Midrash Rabba on parshat Terumah notes in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish that the world was not worthy to use gold. So why was it given to the world? For the sake of the Mishkan and Beit HaMikdash (the Holy Temple). Think about how much theft and murder has gone on in the history of the world over the acquisition of gold. Because people valued something which was meant for a specific purpose, wanting it for themselves. This is also one of the reactions to the misuse of gold in the making of the Golden Calf. You used it wrong there, now you'll learn how to properly utilize gold in the service of God!
Rabbi Yosef Bechor Shor comments on the k’toret rule that the same rule of non-proliferation applied to the anointing oils (Mitzvah 109 in the Sefer HaChinukh), because it is inappropriate to use things designated specifically for the king.
As Purim is this week, we'll take a brief aside to note this was one of the ingredients leading to Haman’s downfall in the book of Esther: his insatiable desire to be as close to kingly as he could get. When he told Achashveirosh that he wanted to be led through the town on a royal horse, wearing royal clothing and a royal crown, he was quickly put in his place. Mordechai, who ended up being dressed in those clothes, quickly returned to his clothes of mourning after the spectacle was over.
B’chor Shor continues: “The rabbis also instructed that a person could not imitate the shape of the Heichal (sanctum), nor a menorah of seven branches (rather make one of 6 or 8 branches), nor wear Shatnez (clothing that has both wool and linen) because the holy garments of the Kohanim contained Shatnez.”
Though aware of the prohibitions discussed here, it never occurred to me that the prohibition we have against wearing Shatnez might be because of the ingredients in the clothing of the Kohanim. Which came first – the instructions for these clothes or the Shatnez prohibition? B’chor Shor (citing the Rabbis) is suggesting the Kohanim clothes came first, and we are not allowed to imitate those ingredients in our clothes.
There is no prohibition against smelling the actual k’toret if one is near the Temple and the smell wafts along to one’s olfactory senses. But creating it just to know what it was like or to feel as if I’m there is prohibited.
It is true that there’s nothing like the real thing, but we are not always worthy or deserving of the real thing. There are more knockoffs of Dr. Pepper than any other soda. But none of them are the real “Dr.” except for the original.
We can talk about praying at home, or even making a minyan in one’s home. Of course there isn’t a prohibition! But comparing these kinds of services to the kind created in a synagogue, with a larger crowd, is an exercise in hyperbole. Even the reading of a Torah can only be done under certain conditions! Otherwise, we use a Chumash for our study of the holy text.
We certainly don’t have anything comparable to the Mishkan of old. Absent a Temple, the way we serve God and the trimmings of our lives that constitute holiness are much fewer than in the days of old. And while imitation is certainly a high form of flattery, in some cases it falls flat in comparison.
Let us aim for holiness where and when we can. And let us remember that some things are meant to be exclusively designated for one kind of use. We can certainly manage with the kinds of life and spirit affirming places and props that are available to us.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Who Carries the Torch of "Daily Offerings"
Parshat Tetzaveh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Anyone acquainted with the Torah reading we hear on Rosh Chodesh will find themselves in a familiar comfort zone as we read chapter 29:38-46. Some of the phrases and verses are duplicated in their entirety as the overall theme describes the daily “Tamid” offerings which are to be brought on the altar (Miz’be’ach), once its elements are put together and it is inaugurated.
Rashi notes on Bamidbar 28:6 that the reference there, about the “eternal burnt offering which had been brought at Sinai” and is to be mimicked, refers either to the offerings described in Shmot 24 while at the bottom of the mountain, or the offerings brought during the actual time of the dedication of the Mishkan (in Parshat Shmini). Whichever one is correct, that would suggest that the parallel language between Bamidbar 28 and our parsha is simply in the matter of instruction, while not necessarily describing the actual offering-as-brought.
Rabbenu Bachaye has a most insightful comment, following a teaching from the Talmud Chagigah 6b, which I think will prove to be most instructive and inspiring.
From the fact that the reference is made to Sinai when describing these “daily” offerings, it would seem that after leaving Sinai, the Israelites did not bring these offerings at all until the final year in the wilderness!
The Talmud in Chagigah records the following: Rabbi Elazar teaches that the verse “which had been brought at Sinai” (Bamibdar 28:6) teaches that the rules for how the bring the daily offerings were taught at Sinai, but the offerings were not brought (at that time). Rabbi Akiva is of the view that they were brought, and they never stopped being offered daily. How do we reconcile this debate, in light of the verse in Amos 5:25 that describes how “you offered sacrifices to Me for 40 years in the wilderness?” Answer: The Tribe of Levi, who did not participate in any form of idolatry, took the responsibility to bring these offerings.
Rabbenu Bachaye concludes that even according to Rabbi Akiva, who says that the daily offerings had been brought through the 40 years and never stopped, this suggests that the overwhelming majority of the Bnei Yisrael did not participate in these daily offerings at all, but the faith was held together in the wilderness by the torch-carrying Levites who kept everything going.
This is not an insult to the Israelites of the wilderness. They also didn’t circumcise their boys during their wanderings. To my best recall, the only times rebuke is given for not following the law is over the Sabbath (when people went to collect Manna in Parshat Beshalach and the wood gatherer in Parshat Shlach), taking God’s name in vain (the blasphemer of Parshat Emor), and for otherwise not trusting God when a crisis arose (spies, Korach, water, a battle, etc.)
How observant were the generation of Israelites who left Egypt? We know very little of their lives during the 38 years that are skipped in the verse, from the time of Korach until the death of Miriam. And so, in simple terms, we don’t know. We know little to nothing about how the Mishkan functioned in the wilderness, beyond the “inauguration day” and the information discussed above about whether or not they brought daily offerings. There is further evidence that they didn’t even bring the Pesach offering during the 38 years on account of the non-circumcision!
But there are two things that carried them, and allowed for their children to merit the Promised Land. Those two things were A. an overwhelming respect for Moshe and the Torah he brought and taught, and B. Levites who were the Keepers of the Faith.
These two things must be ingrained in ourselves and our children. First, we must also have great respect, awe and reverence for the Torah, but we must also take it a level up and study in order to observe. Second, we must be the Levites of our generation. We can’t consign religion and religious practice to "the rabbis” – it is our responsibility to be the torch carriers.
With the right attitude towards our fellow Jews, if we are successful in these two areas, the Jewish people should be blessed to find ourselves united in at least one arena – valuing the Torah and observance of her laws.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Anyone acquainted with the Torah reading we hear on Rosh Chodesh will find themselves in a familiar comfort zone as we read chapter 29:38-46. Some of the phrases and verses are duplicated in their entirety as the overall theme describes the daily “Tamid” offerings which are to be brought on the altar (Miz’be’ach), once its elements are put together and it is inaugurated.
Rashi notes on Bamidbar 28:6 that the reference there, about the “eternal burnt offering which had been brought at Sinai” and is to be mimicked, refers either to the offerings described in Shmot 24 while at the bottom of the mountain, or the offerings brought during the actual time of the dedication of the Mishkan (in Parshat Shmini). Whichever one is correct, that would suggest that the parallel language between Bamidbar 28 and our parsha is simply in the matter of instruction, while not necessarily describing the actual offering-as-brought.
Rabbenu Bachaye has a most insightful comment, following a teaching from the Talmud Chagigah 6b, which I think will prove to be most instructive and inspiring.
From the fact that the reference is made to Sinai when describing these “daily” offerings, it would seem that after leaving Sinai, the Israelites did not bring these offerings at all until the final year in the wilderness!
The Talmud in Chagigah records the following: Rabbi Elazar teaches that the verse “which had been brought at Sinai” (Bamibdar 28:6) teaches that the rules for how the bring the daily offerings were taught at Sinai, but the offerings were not brought (at that time). Rabbi Akiva is of the view that they were brought, and they never stopped being offered daily. How do we reconcile this debate, in light of the verse in Amos 5:25 that describes how “you offered sacrifices to Me for 40 years in the wilderness?” Answer: The Tribe of Levi, who did not participate in any form of idolatry, took the responsibility to bring these offerings.
Rabbenu Bachaye concludes that even according to Rabbi Akiva, who says that the daily offerings had been brought through the 40 years and never stopped, this suggests that the overwhelming majority of the Bnei Yisrael did not participate in these daily offerings at all, but the faith was held together in the wilderness by the torch-carrying Levites who kept everything going.
This is not an insult to the Israelites of the wilderness. They also didn’t circumcise their boys during their wanderings. To my best recall, the only times rebuke is given for not following the law is over the Sabbath (when people went to collect Manna in Parshat Beshalach and the wood gatherer in Parshat Shlach), taking God’s name in vain (the blasphemer of Parshat Emor), and for otherwise not trusting God when a crisis arose (spies, Korach, water, a battle, etc.)
How observant were the generation of Israelites who left Egypt? We know very little of their lives during the 38 years that are skipped in the verse, from the time of Korach until the death of Miriam. And so, in simple terms, we don’t know. We know little to nothing about how the Mishkan functioned in the wilderness, beyond the “inauguration day” and the information discussed above about whether or not they brought daily offerings. There is further evidence that they didn’t even bring the Pesach offering during the 38 years on account of the non-circumcision!
But there are two things that carried them, and allowed for their children to merit the Promised Land. Those two things were A. an overwhelming respect for Moshe and the Torah he brought and taught, and B. Levites who were the Keepers of the Faith.
These two things must be ingrained in ourselves and our children. First, we must also have great respect, awe and reverence for the Torah, but we must also take it a level up and study in order to observe. Second, we must be the Levites of our generation. We can’t consign religion and religious practice to "the rabbis” – it is our responsibility to be the torch carriers.
With the right attitude towards our fellow Jews, if we are successful in these two areas, the Jewish people should be blessed to find ourselves united in at least one arena – valuing the Torah and observance of her laws.
Monday, February 12, 2018
Make For Yourselves Graven Images
Parshat Terumah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the more destructive qualities of any leader, teacher, mentor is being hypocritical. Anyone who looks up to someone else can be easily disenfranchised when they catch the person they admire engaged in hypocritical activity.
For example, a preacher who preaches of morality and ethics who commits adultery would be laughed out of town. A cardiologist who tells all his patients not to smoke, while he is a smoker, would seem to embody hypocrisy. A teacher of Judaism who teaches specific aspects of halakha in great detail, but is not observant of them him/herself would seem to be a bit of a phony. One who talks about the evils of lashon hora, and yet engages in it all the time, ought to look in the mirror and drop the “do as I say and not as I do” speech.
So what are we to make of the God who commands “don’t make any images, etc” who also commands to put Keruvim on top of the Ark, and Keruvim embroidered in the curtains of the Mishkan?
In Jewish Action Fall 2015, my colleague Rabbi Akiva Males wrote an article addressing the eagles on top of American flagpoles and the images of lions that artfully adorn many synagogues, noting that when you live in a world in which animals are not worshipped, these images are not forbidden. The lions are typically two dimensional – in painting or in carving – which also makes it less “real.” Eagles, as noted by Rav Moshe Feinstein, are not zodiac symbols and therefore don’t present a problem.
My shul has both an American flag with an eagle atop the pole, and an Israeli flag, with a star of David atop its pole. There have been individuals who have objected to these flags, the former arguing that an American flag doesn’t belong in a sanctuary, the latter being a chossid who objects to the flag of Israel, but by and large most people don’t pay any attention to the flags. Certainly the argument that “I don’t want to daven to a flag” is easily rebuffed with “so don’t direct your prayers toward the flag!”
But in the Mishkan we still have the challenge. Even though it is possible to “direct all services heavenward,” the fact remains that these images are there, and by divine command!
Rabbi Males’ points (which he attributed to admittedly greater scholars such as Rabbi Herzog, Rabbi Feinstein and Chatam Sofer) would easily address the Keruvim woven into the curtains. In this case, they’re more likely one-dimensional, so their existence shouldn’t raise any flags. Adornment is simply adornment.
But the Keruvim on top of the Mishkan are a different story! They were certainly three dimensional. And while they had the body of an angel and the face of a child, they were graven images made out of gold!
Chizkuni explains that the Keruvim are not made to be bowed to – they are for God’s domicile, an adornment at most. Further, the fact that there are two of them, and that they face downward towards the Ark and the Torah within it, plus the fact that they were only seen by the High Priest on Yom Kippur, all serve to indicate these are not the graven images God forbade.
Chizkuni also notes the seeming contradiction in some areas of Jewish life. For example, we are forbidden from doing constructive work on the Sabbath, and yet the Torah permitted the bringing of the Mussaf offering, the daily offering, and performing Brit Milah on the "day of rest." One may not have relations with one’s brother’s wife, but may if he does Yibum (levirate marriage after his brother dies childless). We are forbidden from wearing Shatnez (a weaving of wool and linen/flax), but are permitted to have Shatnez in tzitzit.
These examples are reminiscent of the statement Yalta made to Rav Nachman in Chullin 109b – “Whatever God forbade, He also permitted to us a corresponding item: Forbade blood, permitted liver; forbade ‘niddah,’ permitted ‘blood of purity;’ forbade cheilev (fats) of domesticated animals, permitted cheilev of wild (kosher) animals; forbade pork, permitted brains of shibuta (a kosher fish that tastes like pork); forbade girusa (a non kosher bird), permitted fish tongue; forbade a married woman, but allowed marrying a divorcee whose first husband is still alive; forbade a brother’s wife, permitted a yevamah; forbade a Cuthite, permitted the woman captured in war.” She then asked to taste something that tasted like milk cooked with meat, upon which Rav Nachman ordered to prepare an utter from a freshly slaughtered cow through roasting. The milk still in the utter is considered permissible, and will thus be “cooked” into the meat of the utter.
Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi compared the making of a golden image to the making of medicine. In the hands of a pharmacist, making medicine is a safe practice. In the hands of a non-pharmacist, those same life-saving medicines could be life-taking poisons. Similarly, when the gold images are made under God’s orders, they can be viewed as spiritual medicine, whereas when made by humans without God’s instruction, it is a rejection of God.
While I won’t make the stretch to suggest that decorations in our synagogues are directed by God, I don’t think it’s farfetched to take Yalta’s designation to one more example: Those who would like to have graven images can find them placed, in a decorative and permissive fashion, in our places of worship.
And while such images are meant to be decorative, as long as no one is taking them the wrong way, and is rather properly directing all prayers to our Father in Heaven, we are doing just fine.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One of the more destructive qualities of any leader, teacher, mentor is being hypocritical. Anyone who looks up to someone else can be easily disenfranchised when they catch the person they admire engaged in hypocritical activity.
For example, a preacher who preaches of morality and ethics who commits adultery would be laughed out of town. A cardiologist who tells all his patients not to smoke, while he is a smoker, would seem to embody hypocrisy. A teacher of Judaism who teaches specific aspects of halakha in great detail, but is not observant of them him/herself would seem to be a bit of a phony. One who talks about the evils of lashon hora, and yet engages in it all the time, ought to look in the mirror and drop the “do as I say and not as I do” speech.
So what are we to make of the God who commands “don’t make any images, etc” who also commands to put Keruvim on top of the Ark, and Keruvim embroidered in the curtains of the Mishkan?
In Jewish Action Fall 2015, my colleague Rabbi Akiva Males wrote an article addressing the eagles on top of American flagpoles and the images of lions that artfully adorn many synagogues, noting that when you live in a world in which animals are not worshipped, these images are not forbidden. The lions are typically two dimensional – in painting or in carving – which also makes it less “real.” Eagles, as noted by Rav Moshe Feinstein, are not zodiac symbols and therefore don’t present a problem.
My shul has both an American flag with an eagle atop the pole, and an Israeli flag, with a star of David atop its pole. There have been individuals who have objected to these flags, the former arguing that an American flag doesn’t belong in a sanctuary, the latter being a chossid who objects to the flag of Israel, but by and large most people don’t pay any attention to the flags. Certainly the argument that “I don’t want to daven to a flag” is easily rebuffed with “so don’t direct your prayers toward the flag!”
But in the Mishkan we still have the challenge. Even though it is possible to “direct all services heavenward,” the fact remains that these images are there, and by divine command!
Rabbi Males’ points (which he attributed to admittedly greater scholars such as Rabbi Herzog, Rabbi Feinstein and Chatam Sofer) would easily address the Keruvim woven into the curtains. In this case, they’re more likely one-dimensional, so their existence shouldn’t raise any flags. Adornment is simply adornment.
But the Keruvim on top of the Mishkan are a different story! They were certainly three dimensional. And while they had the body of an angel and the face of a child, they were graven images made out of gold!
Chizkuni explains that the Keruvim are not made to be bowed to – they are for God’s domicile, an adornment at most. Further, the fact that there are two of them, and that they face downward towards the Ark and the Torah within it, plus the fact that they were only seen by the High Priest on Yom Kippur, all serve to indicate these are not the graven images God forbade.
Chizkuni also notes the seeming contradiction in some areas of Jewish life. For example, we are forbidden from doing constructive work on the Sabbath, and yet the Torah permitted the bringing of the Mussaf offering, the daily offering, and performing Brit Milah on the "day of rest." One may not have relations with one’s brother’s wife, but may if he does Yibum (levirate marriage after his brother dies childless). We are forbidden from wearing Shatnez (a weaving of wool and linen/flax), but are permitted to have Shatnez in tzitzit.
These examples are reminiscent of the statement Yalta made to Rav Nachman in Chullin 109b – “Whatever God forbade, He also permitted to us a corresponding item: Forbade blood, permitted liver; forbade ‘niddah,’ permitted ‘blood of purity;’ forbade cheilev (fats) of domesticated animals, permitted cheilev of wild (kosher) animals; forbade pork, permitted brains of shibuta (a kosher fish that tastes like pork); forbade girusa (a non kosher bird), permitted fish tongue; forbade a married woman, but allowed marrying a divorcee whose first husband is still alive; forbade a brother’s wife, permitted a yevamah; forbade a Cuthite, permitted the woman captured in war.” She then asked to taste something that tasted like milk cooked with meat, upon which Rav Nachman ordered to prepare an utter from a freshly slaughtered cow through roasting. The milk still in the utter is considered permissible, and will thus be “cooked” into the meat of the utter.
Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi compared the making of a golden image to the making of medicine. In the hands of a pharmacist, making medicine is a safe practice. In the hands of a non-pharmacist, those same life-saving medicines could be life-taking poisons. Similarly, when the gold images are made under God’s orders, they can be viewed as spiritual medicine, whereas when made by humans without God’s instruction, it is a rejection of God.
While I won’t make the stretch to suggest that decorations in our synagogues are directed by God, I don’t think it’s farfetched to take Yalta’s designation to one more example: Those who would like to have graven images can find them placed, in a decorative and permissive fashion, in our places of worship.
And while such images are meant to be decorative, as long as no one is taking them the wrong way, and is rather properly directing all prayers to our Father in Heaven, we are doing just fine.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
Rule of Law to Help Abide by Law in the Land
Parshat Mishpatim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
According to the Sefer HaChinukh, Parshat Mishpatim has 53 mitzvot in it. Other than in similarly mitzvah-laden parshas (such as Re’eh, Shoftim, Ki Tetze, and possibly Kedoshim) it is hard to find a more random list of mitzvoth that are not overall thematically connected.
Considering the opening verse of the parsha, “And these are the laws you shall place before them,” (21:1) one wonders when Moshe told these laws to the people, on the one hand, and when they were told to him, on the other.
Ibn Ezra is of the opinion that Moshe’s father-in-law’s visit, as recorded in last week’s portion, actually took place well after the giving of the Torah, and even several months later – after the Mishkan (tabernacle) was built. As proof, he notes that Moshe had a court system set up (albeit a primitive one of one man), that Moshe’s tent was “lifnei haElokim” (before God), which meant next to the Mishkan, and that Torah law was the arena in which Moshe was presiding.
So how are we to understand the placement of the laws of Parshat Mishpatim? The end of the parsha, chapter 24, describes Moshe going up the mountain to be there for forty days. The chronology is extremely difficult to grasp, especially since at the beginning of Parshat Mishpatim Moshe seems to not be on a mountain, and the verse does not even clarify who is speaking. Of course, we assume God is speaking to Moshe, but the fact is that the text is vague.
Beyond the references to Sinai, much of the laws here seem ill-placed for wilderness living. Meaning, when one studies the book of Devarim, we find that many of the laws concerning actual living in the land are addressed for the first time. Which makes sense, as Moshe is then speaking to the generation that is about to enter the Promised Land.
But here, we have laws that relate to owning servants or slaves (depending on how the word “eved” is translated and understood), murder, kidnapping, destroying someone else’s field with fire, bestiality, Shmittah (the Sabbatical year). None of these seem all that relevant in the wilderness (are the Israelites committing murder? Kidnapping?) Do they even own fields? Are they enslaving their brethren, or engaging in witchcraft? And of course, they don’t yet live in Israel, which comes with its own set of mitzvoth which are dependent on living in the land! And they certainly don’t live amongst non-Israelites (unless one considers the “Erev Rav” as a group of non-Jews with whom they contend).
There is a popular debate between Rashi and Ramban as to the order of the Torah’s narrative. Ramban is of the opinion that the Torah is presented chronologically, while Rashi is of the view that it is not – “Ein Mukdam U’m’uchar BaTorah.” For many years I preferred the view of Ramban, but as I study more and more, I am convinced that Rashi’s contention is correct. There are too many holes in Ramban’s approach and perspective that make it impossible to accept that the Torah as presented is chronological every time.
So what are to take from the random assignment of mitzvoth? Of the placement of the teachings of these laws?
I think there is grounds to suggest that even insofar as the Torah’s narrative goes there was room for free will to have the history of the Israelites be different from how it turned out. In other words, had they not made and worshiped the Golden Calf (in whatever form they worshiped), things would have turned out differently. If the spies had reported directly to Moshe in parshat Shlach, history would have been different as well.
Parshat Mishpatim demonstrates a healthy optimism that certain laws associated with living in a diverse cultural environment, in which, for example, the Torah’s law is the rule of law, but Jew and non-Jew alike accept the Israelite authority in the living of the land, was not too far away in the immediate future. They truly thought they’d be in the land soon, and needed to live with each other, knowing property law, and with whichever non-Israelites might remain in the land, who needed to be contended with in a societal manner, under the rule of law.
We don’t expect the Torah-community of the Jewish people to be thieves, murderers, etc., but we recognize the possibility that people are flawed and can commit terrible crimes, or have normal monetary disputes which need to be adjudicated.
Just before writing this thought, I heard the news of the murder of Itamar ben Gal HY"D in Israel, and saw the security video of the cowardly, senseless attack. While the non-Jews who accept the authority of the State of Israel’s laws are welcome to live there, within the law there must be a way to eradicate the cancer of terrorism that plagues the minds of those who will randomly kill a lone figure standing innocently at a bus stop. Too many widows, widowers, orphans, and grieving parents. If there isn’t enough deterrence, which is what the Torah law is supposed to create, then the ordered society the Torah aims to create can never be fully actualized.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
According to the Sefer HaChinukh, Parshat Mishpatim has 53 mitzvot in it. Other than in similarly mitzvah-laden parshas (such as Re’eh, Shoftim, Ki Tetze, and possibly Kedoshim) it is hard to find a more random list of mitzvoth that are not overall thematically connected.
Considering the opening verse of the parsha, “And these are the laws you shall place before them,” (21:1) one wonders when Moshe told these laws to the people, on the one hand, and when they were told to him, on the other.
Ibn Ezra is of the opinion that Moshe’s father-in-law’s visit, as recorded in last week’s portion, actually took place well after the giving of the Torah, and even several months later – after the Mishkan (tabernacle) was built. As proof, he notes that Moshe had a court system set up (albeit a primitive one of one man), that Moshe’s tent was “lifnei haElokim” (before God), which meant next to the Mishkan, and that Torah law was the arena in which Moshe was presiding.
So how are we to understand the placement of the laws of Parshat Mishpatim? The end of the parsha, chapter 24, describes Moshe going up the mountain to be there for forty days. The chronology is extremely difficult to grasp, especially since at the beginning of Parshat Mishpatim Moshe seems to not be on a mountain, and the verse does not even clarify who is speaking. Of course, we assume God is speaking to Moshe, but the fact is that the text is vague.
Beyond the references to Sinai, much of the laws here seem ill-placed for wilderness living. Meaning, when one studies the book of Devarim, we find that many of the laws concerning actual living in the land are addressed for the first time. Which makes sense, as Moshe is then speaking to the generation that is about to enter the Promised Land.
But here, we have laws that relate to owning servants or slaves (depending on how the word “eved” is translated and understood), murder, kidnapping, destroying someone else’s field with fire, bestiality, Shmittah (the Sabbatical year). None of these seem all that relevant in the wilderness (are the Israelites committing murder? Kidnapping?) Do they even own fields? Are they enslaving their brethren, or engaging in witchcraft? And of course, they don’t yet live in Israel, which comes with its own set of mitzvoth which are dependent on living in the land! And they certainly don’t live amongst non-Israelites (unless one considers the “Erev Rav” as a group of non-Jews with whom they contend).
There is a popular debate between Rashi and Ramban as to the order of the Torah’s narrative. Ramban is of the opinion that the Torah is presented chronologically, while Rashi is of the view that it is not – “Ein Mukdam U’m’uchar BaTorah.” For many years I preferred the view of Ramban, but as I study more and more, I am convinced that Rashi’s contention is correct. There are too many holes in Ramban’s approach and perspective that make it impossible to accept that the Torah as presented is chronological every time.
So what are to take from the random assignment of mitzvoth? Of the placement of the teachings of these laws?
I think there is grounds to suggest that even insofar as the Torah’s narrative goes there was room for free will to have the history of the Israelites be different from how it turned out. In other words, had they not made and worshiped the Golden Calf (in whatever form they worshiped), things would have turned out differently. If the spies had reported directly to Moshe in parshat Shlach, history would have been different as well.
Parshat Mishpatim demonstrates a healthy optimism that certain laws associated with living in a diverse cultural environment, in which, for example, the Torah’s law is the rule of law, but Jew and non-Jew alike accept the Israelite authority in the living of the land, was not too far away in the immediate future. They truly thought they’d be in the land soon, and needed to live with each other, knowing property law, and with whichever non-Israelites might remain in the land, who needed to be contended with in a societal manner, under the rule of law.
We don’t expect the Torah-community of the Jewish people to be thieves, murderers, etc., but we recognize the possibility that people are flawed and can commit terrible crimes, or have normal monetary disputes which need to be adjudicated.
Just before writing this thought, I heard the news of the murder of Itamar ben Gal HY"D in Israel, and saw the security video of the cowardly, senseless attack. While the non-Jews who accept the authority of the State of Israel’s laws are welcome to live there, within the law there must be a way to eradicate the cancer of terrorism that plagues the minds of those who will randomly kill a lone figure standing innocently at a bus stop. Too many widows, widowers, orphans, and grieving parents. If there isn’t enough deterrence, which is what the Torah law is supposed to create, then the ordered society the Torah aims to create can never be fully actualized.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
His or Hers? The Role of Moshe's and Zipporah's sons in the Torah's Narrative
Parshat Yitro
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The parsha begins telling us that Yisro heard of what God had done for Israel in taking them out of Egypt. So “Yisro, father-in-law of Moshe, took Zipporah, wife of Moshe, after her having been sent. And her two sons – the name of the one was Gershom, for he said ‘I was a stranger in a foreign land.’ And the name of the one was Eliezer for the God of my father helped me and saved me from the sword of Pharoah.” (Shmot 18:2-4)
A few questions jump out at us. ‘Her’ two sons? Were they not Moshe’s sons as well? When was Eliezer born? Why didn’t the Torah tell us of the birth of Eliezer, in much the same manner it told us of Gershom’s birth? Why is each son called “the one” (ha’echad)? Shouldn’t it say “shem harishon Gershom… v’shem hasheni Eliezer” – the ‘first one’s name’ was Gershom, and the ‘second one’s name’ was Eliezer? We are told that Gershom was named based on something that ‘he said’ – referring to Moshe. But when it comes to the explanation for Eliezer’s name, the verse just goes into the explanation, without suggesting it was something that Moshe had said. Strange. And at what point was Moshe saved from Pharaoh’s sword?
The answers to most of these questions will not be found in the text of the Torah, which leads us to have to look to three sources: Midrashic and Talmudic literature, commentaries, and our own careful reading of the text to find hints from words, letters, and cryptic statements.
There is a wealth of debate over which child was circumcised in the hotel (Shmot 4:23-25), whose life was in danger in that episode, and what the significance of Zipporah performing the circumcision was meant to display.
In the varied Midrashim, there is a wealth of information trying to fill in gaps in Moshe’s formative years, as well as explaining the timeline of his experience when he finally got to Midian and Yisro’s house. One view has Gershom being born years before the Burning Bush. Another has Moshe being held captive by Yisro for 7 years, fed secretly by Zipporah, who became his bride upon his release. There is a point of view that agreements were made as to which child would belong to Moshe, and which would belong to Yisro’s family (though which child was dedicated for such agreements is debated).
Even the idea that Moshe had been saved from Pharaoh’s sword has conflicting Midrashim – one says Moshe’s neck turned hard as marble, another that an angel replaced Moshe, while the verse itself indicates Moshe ran away from Egypt and was never arrested. (2:15)
One of the side stories that can’t be overlooked in trying to put together the hints from the text is where Moshe’s tent was camped when Yisro arrived. Was he near the Israelites, or was he on the mountain? (18:5) What is going on when Aharon and the elders show up to eat with Yisro, “before God?” (18:12) Abravanel suggests Moshe went back to a place he had camped before in his shepherding days – remember that he had visited the Burning Bush when he was working as a shepherd for his father-in-law.
According to Abravanel and Alshikh, the names of the sons were to remind him of all the good he had done and grandeur he had achieved. “Gershom” reminded him of his humble beginnings. Alshikh says Eliezer recalls his being saved from Pharaoh, while Abravanel suggests the name is a reminder that Pharaoh did not have him killed over all the Makkos that he brought on Egypt. Of course, this latter note indicates either that Eliezer was named with a premonition, or that his name was changed when Yisro came to Moshe.
As far their being “her” sons, Alshikh says a man is attracted to a woman on account of her children. On the other hand, it could just be the way Yisro describes his daughter’s kids (as we all do!) – after all, they are referred to as Moshe’s (“his”) sons in verse 18:5. [Though the Mechilta suggests 18:5 actually refers to Yisro's own sons and wife!]
Alshikh suggests Moshe indicated gratitude for living in Yisro’s house through naming his first son Gershom, but that he also never outwardly explained the meaning behind Eliezer’s name. Alshikh assumes Pharaoh also ruled over Midian (many Midrashim link Yisro to Pharaoh’s court), so Moshe did not feel comfortable speaking aloud about being saved from Pharaoh.
Perhaps he didn’t feel that he had been completely saved until God told him at the burning bush that he could go back to Egypt, and would be protected in those journeys. As Eliezer was born around that time, he was named based on the new information Moshe had. (Malbim)
Malbim also suggests that each child’s birth brought with it a new turning point in Moshe’s life. Gershom brought fatherhood and appreciation for his new life in Midian to a whole new level. Eliezer’s birth was at the dawn of his leadership and shepherding the Israelite nation, ready to approach a king, turning Moshe into a new man. This is why each child is introduced with “the name of the one” – because each was unique.
Another view as to Eliezer’s “one”-ness is noted by Alshikh and Rabbenu Bachaye, based on a reference in Divrei Hayamim I 23:17 that Eliezer only had one son, Rechavia. The rabbis teach us (Brachos 7a) that Rechavia had over 600,000 descendants. Calling him “the one” just goes to prove the strength of his family’s multiplication in that from one person came so many descendants.
While the questions with which we began have all been addressed, a couple of thought questions remain. Where is Mt. Sinai – in the Sinai desert (as we know it), or in Midian (modern day Saudi Arabia)? How much was Moshe’s existence in Midian under wraps – was there really a threat from Egypt looming, was Yisro concerned about being caught for harboring a fugitive? And, most curious to me, is Yisro’s age. We know Moshe was 80 when he appeared before Pharaoh. We also know it was not uncommon in that era and region for a much older man to marry a much younger bride (see: forefather Jacob). The Midrash suggests Yisro was very old, having served in Pharaoh’s court before Moshe was born. But what if he was actually a contemporary of Moshe’s – same age? Wouldn’t that change the dynamic of their relationship?
The Torah’s narrative is not officially a history book. But we are to learn from the human stories, the relationships, the shared experiences. This is what gives richness to the Torah’s narrative portions, and connects with our humanity on a most personal level.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The parsha begins telling us that Yisro heard of what God had done for Israel in taking them out of Egypt. So “Yisro, father-in-law of Moshe, took Zipporah, wife of Moshe, after her having been sent. And her two sons – the name of the one was Gershom, for he said ‘I was a stranger in a foreign land.’ And the name of the one was Eliezer for the God of my father helped me and saved me from the sword of Pharoah.” (Shmot 18:2-4)
A few questions jump out at us. ‘Her’ two sons? Were they not Moshe’s sons as well? When was Eliezer born? Why didn’t the Torah tell us of the birth of Eliezer, in much the same manner it told us of Gershom’s birth? Why is each son called “the one” (ha’echad)? Shouldn’t it say “shem harishon Gershom… v’shem hasheni Eliezer” – the ‘first one’s name’ was Gershom, and the ‘second one’s name’ was Eliezer? We are told that Gershom was named based on something that ‘he said’ – referring to Moshe. But when it comes to the explanation for Eliezer’s name, the verse just goes into the explanation, without suggesting it was something that Moshe had said. Strange. And at what point was Moshe saved from Pharaoh’s sword?
The answers to most of these questions will not be found in the text of the Torah, which leads us to have to look to three sources: Midrashic and Talmudic literature, commentaries, and our own careful reading of the text to find hints from words, letters, and cryptic statements.
There is a wealth of debate over which child was circumcised in the hotel (Shmot 4:23-25), whose life was in danger in that episode, and what the significance of Zipporah performing the circumcision was meant to display.
In the varied Midrashim, there is a wealth of information trying to fill in gaps in Moshe’s formative years, as well as explaining the timeline of his experience when he finally got to Midian and Yisro’s house. One view has Gershom being born years before the Burning Bush. Another has Moshe being held captive by Yisro for 7 years, fed secretly by Zipporah, who became his bride upon his release. There is a point of view that agreements were made as to which child would belong to Moshe, and which would belong to Yisro’s family (though which child was dedicated for such agreements is debated).
Even the idea that Moshe had been saved from Pharaoh’s sword has conflicting Midrashim – one says Moshe’s neck turned hard as marble, another that an angel replaced Moshe, while the verse itself indicates Moshe ran away from Egypt and was never arrested. (2:15)
One of the side stories that can’t be overlooked in trying to put together the hints from the text is where Moshe’s tent was camped when Yisro arrived. Was he near the Israelites, or was he on the mountain? (18:5) What is going on when Aharon and the elders show up to eat with Yisro, “before God?” (18:12) Abravanel suggests Moshe went back to a place he had camped before in his shepherding days – remember that he had visited the Burning Bush when he was working as a shepherd for his father-in-law.
According to Abravanel and Alshikh, the names of the sons were to remind him of all the good he had done and grandeur he had achieved. “Gershom” reminded him of his humble beginnings. Alshikh says Eliezer recalls his being saved from Pharaoh, while Abravanel suggests the name is a reminder that Pharaoh did not have him killed over all the Makkos that he brought on Egypt. Of course, this latter note indicates either that Eliezer was named with a premonition, or that his name was changed when Yisro came to Moshe.
As far their being “her” sons, Alshikh says a man is attracted to a woman on account of her children. On the other hand, it could just be the way Yisro describes his daughter’s kids (as we all do!) – after all, they are referred to as Moshe’s (“his”) sons in verse 18:5. [Though the Mechilta suggests 18:5 actually refers to Yisro's own sons and wife!]
Alshikh suggests Moshe indicated gratitude for living in Yisro’s house through naming his first son Gershom, but that he also never outwardly explained the meaning behind Eliezer’s name. Alshikh assumes Pharaoh also ruled over Midian (many Midrashim link Yisro to Pharaoh’s court), so Moshe did not feel comfortable speaking aloud about being saved from Pharaoh.
Perhaps he didn’t feel that he had been completely saved until God told him at the burning bush that he could go back to Egypt, and would be protected in those journeys. As Eliezer was born around that time, he was named based on the new information Moshe had. (Malbim)
Malbim also suggests that each child’s birth brought with it a new turning point in Moshe’s life. Gershom brought fatherhood and appreciation for his new life in Midian to a whole new level. Eliezer’s birth was at the dawn of his leadership and shepherding the Israelite nation, ready to approach a king, turning Moshe into a new man. This is why each child is introduced with “the name of the one” – because each was unique.
Another view as to Eliezer’s “one”-ness is noted by Alshikh and Rabbenu Bachaye, based on a reference in Divrei Hayamim I 23:17 that Eliezer only had one son, Rechavia. The rabbis teach us (Brachos 7a) that Rechavia had over 600,000 descendants. Calling him “the one” just goes to prove the strength of his family’s multiplication in that from one person came so many descendants.
While the questions with which we began have all been addressed, a couple of thought questions remain. Where is Mt. Sinai – in the Sinai desert (as we know it), or in Midian (modern day Saudi Arabia)? How much was Moshe’s existence in Midian under wraps – was there really a threat from Egypt looming, was Yisro concerned about being caught for harboring a fugitive? And, most curious to me, is Yisro’s age. We know Moshe was 80 when he appeared before Pharaoh. We also know it was not uncommon in that era and region for a much older man to marry a much younger bride (see: forefather Jacob). The Midrash suggests Yisro was very old, having served in Pharaoh’s court before Moshe was born. But what if he was actually a contemporary of Moshe’s – same age? Wouldn’t that change the dynamic of their relationship?
The Torah’s narrative is not officially a history book. But we are to learn from the human stories, the relationships, the shared experiences. This is what gives richness to the Torah’s narrative portions, and connects with our humanity on a most personal level.
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