Parshat Terumah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
What was the Mishkan?
While we typically translate the word as either a “dwelling place” for God’s presence or as “the Tabernacle,” the Torah actually defines for us quite specifically what the Mishkan was – curtains!
Similar to how “the Menorah” actually refers to the center of the candelabra, and the branches are called “kanei HaMenorah,” one portion of an edifice can ultimately give the edifice its name. (Think “Staples.”) (see 25:31-32)
The first proof to the idea that the Mishkan is defined by its curtains (the ones which serve as the draped-over ceiling/lowest roof layer) is “Make the Mishkan out of ten large tapestries consisting of twined linen, and sky-blue, dark red, and crimson [wool], with a pattern of cherubs woven into them.” (26:1)
The second proof is from verses 26:15,18, when we are told “Make upright beams for the Mishkan out of acacia wood.” Aside from being the walls of the structure, the beams’ purpose is to hold up the curtains which comprise the roof.
A third proof is in 36:13 as we watch the tapestries being sewn together to form two larger curtains, and the Torah describes the linking of the two curtains – “Fifty gold fasteners were made to attach [the sets of] tapestries together, and thus the Mishkan was one (unified).”
This is not to deny that the Tabernacle is referred to as the Mishkan many times over! But it is to note that the definition of the Mishkan, what makes or breaks the structure, is its covering.
There are many directions in which we could go from here. We could say that like the Mishkan, every Jew is mostly defined as a Jew based on his/her coverings. Are we modestly dressed? Do we wear the requisite head coverings proudly, unabashedly?
We could say that like the Mishkan’s cover, whose beauty was only seen by those who entered the Mishkan, the beauty of Judaism is most apparent to those who are on the inside.
We could say that just as a roofless house is useless as a house, a Mishkan without its version of a roof can simply not function as a Mishkan. How can God’s Divine Presence dwell within an edifice that is not enclosed? While this is not necessarily a recommendation for being insular, it does serve as a reminder that the Jewish people need to have our own house in order before we can worry about what others think about us, or how we are to be perceived in the larger society.
Of course we welcome friendship, tolerance, acceptance. But we have to recall that the fancy cover for the Mishkan was covered by another cover, a drapery of dark goat skins, reminding us that humility is the key ingredient in coming before God. Just as God wanted His house cover to be covered to not draw attention to the flashiness of its color and design, we must remember that any kind of drawing of attention, whether due or especially undue, is not our goal – unless the attention is aimed at being “Mekadesh Shem Shamayim” (sanctifying the name of Heaven).
May we merit to have God’s presence dwell in our midst. And may we allow the curtain covering to remind us of what the Mishkan really was – a covering that created the opportunity for God’s presence to be among the people.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
Holiday Pilgrimages are to Promote Humility
Parshat Mishpatim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
After nearly 50 mitzvot are described and demonstrated in Parshat Mishpatim, mostly related to damages and other person-to-person circumstances, the laws enter the realm of the holidays as we are told “Celebrate three pilgrimage festivals to Me each year.” (23:14)
This refers to the mitzvah of “Aliyah l’Regel” – going up to Jerusalem for the holiday – an obligation upon males during the Temple period. (While this mitzvah was incumbent on most males – see Sefer HaChinukh, Mitzvah 88 for exceptions – one wonders what holidays looked like in towns in Israel outside of Jerusalem, if all the men had gone to Jerusalem, with no ability to return home on the holiday… but I digress).
The Talmud in Rosh Hashana (16b) makes an additional claim in the name of Rabbi Yitzchak, “that every person needs to greet his rebbe on the holiday.”
Leaving aside the likely impossibility of being both “oleh l’regel” and visiting one’s rebbe (while the idea of visiting the rebbe is sourced to the book of Kings, perhaps it was more widely practiced during non-Temple times), the question that was asked by the Ruzhiner Rebbe (Rabbi Israel Friedman) was “What is the purpose of visiting the rebbe on the holiday?”
His answer was that just as there can be a righteous person “in his generation,” who might not be considered so righteous were the person to be found in a different era, there can be a person who is viewed as righteous in comparison to others in his vicinity. Some people are righteous in comparison to their neighbors, but were they to come in contact with other righteous people, they may come to see that their righteousness is really nothing to write home about.
Similarly, the Ruzhiner noted, there are people who are considered wealthy (and perhaps generous) in their own towns, but were they to see what the wealthy and generous of other towns achieved and accomplished, they’d see their own efforts were not very impressive. Their wealth is relative, in comparison to their unwealthy neighbors.
How does one prove to these individuals that their righteousness or wealth or generosity is not as impressive as it should be? To the scholar there is an easy answer: “Exile yourself to a place of Torah” (Avot 4). Once the scholar finds himself amongst other scholars, he quickly sees how much he doesn’t know, and how much more has been accomplished by his contemporaries and peers, and he is humbled as a result.
For the righteous and wealthy, the Ruzhiner said, the visit to the rebbe is the litmus test. When all the diverse individuals come to visit their common teacher, each one has the opportunity to meet true tzaddikim (righteous individuals), and truly wealthy individuals.
Being faced with this reality of seeing others who have surpassed one’s own efforts and accomplishments is what he viewed as the antidote to haughtiness.
Confidence is surely a good thing. But how many of us think we are the best at something? How many of us are so proud of our own accomplishments that we look down upon others who have not achieved what we have achieved? How many of us willingly face the reality that there are other people who are smarter, more successful, more wealthy, more generous, more righteous, more scholarly, more learned, more God-fearing?
While the logistics of either being “oleh l’regel” without one’s family or going to visit one’s rebbe without one’s family are too complicated for me to wrap my head around, I hope that on a conceptual level we can see how making such a pilgrimage, in either direction, was meant to help a person become grounded in the reality that the world is much bigger than however we see ourselves.
Sometimes we need to open our eyes and see beyond ourselves in order to draw ourselves back to the most basic and fundamental notions: we should always be improving, we have never ‘arrived,’ and the most important Jewish character trait we can display is our humility.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
After nearly 50 mitzvot are described and demonstrated in Parshat Mishpatim, mostly related to damages and other person-to-person circumstances, the laws enter the realm of the holidays as we are told “Celebrate three pilgrimage festivals to Me each year.” (23:14)
This refers to the mitzvah of “Aliyah l’Regel” – going up to Jerusalem for the holiday – an obligation upon males during the Temple period. (While this mitzvah was incumbent on most males – see Sefer HaChinukh, Mitzvah 88 for exceptions – one wonders what holidays looked like in towns in Israel outside of Jerusalem, if all the men had gone to Jerusalem, with no ability to return home on the holiday… but I digress).
The Talmud in Rosh Hashana (16b) makes an additional claim in the name of Rabbi Yitzchak, “that every person needs to greet his rebbe on the holiday.”
Leaving aside the likely impossibility of being both “oleh l’regel” and visiting one’s rebbe (while the idea of visiting the rebbe is sourced to the book of Kings, perhaps it was more widely practiced during non-Temple times), the question that was asked by the Ruzhiner Rebbe (Rabbi Israel Friedman) was “What is the purpose of visiting the rebbe on the holiday?”
His answer was that just as there can be a righteous person “in his generation,” who might not be considered so righteous were the person to be found in a different era, there can be a person who is viewed as righteous in comparison to others in his vicinity. Some people are righteous in comparison to their neighbors, but were they to come in contact with other righteous people, they may come to see that their righteousness is really nothing to write home about.
Similarly, the Ruzhiner noted, there are people who are considered wealthy (and perhaps generous) in their own towns, but were they to see what the wealthy and generous of other towns achieved and accomplished, they’d see their own efforts were not very impressive. Their wealth is relative, in comparison to their unwealthy neighbors.
How does one prove to these individuals that their righteousness or wealth or generosity is not as impressive as it should be? To the scholar there is an easy answer: “Exile yourself to a place of Torah” (Avot 4). Once the scholar finds himself amongst other scholars, he quickly sees how much he doesn’t know, and how much more has been accomplished by his contemporaries and peers, and he is humbled as a result.
For the righteous and wealthy, the Ruzhiner said, the visit to the rebbe is the litmus test. When all the diverse individuals come to visit their common teacher, each one has the opportunity to meet true tzaddikim (righteous individuals), and truly wealthy individuals.
Being faced with this reality of seeing others who have surpassed one’s own efforts and accomplishments is what he viewed as the antidote to haughtiness.
Confidence is surely a good thing. But how many of us think we are the best at something? How many of us are so proud of our own accomplishments that we look down upon others who have not achieved what we have achieved? How many of us willingly face the reality that there are other people who are smarter, more successful, more wealthy, more generous, more righteous, more scholarly, more learned, more God-fearing?
While the logistics of either being “oleh l’regel” without one’s family or going to visit one’s rebbe without one’s family are too complicated for me to wrap my head around, I hope that on a conceptual level we can see how making such a pilgrimage, in either direction, was meant to help a person become grounded in the reality that the world is much bigger than however we see ourselves.
Sometimes we need to open our eyes and see beyond ourselves in order to draw ourselves back to the most basic and fundamental notions: we should always be improving, we have never ‘arrived,’ and the most important Jewish character trait we can display is our humility.
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
Jewish Humility 101 = Learning from Non-Jews
Parshat Yitro
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One wonders why Yisro merited to have a portion of the Torah written essentially in his name (we are referring to what Yisro taught Moshe, not that a parsha is named for him). It’s true that to see how he recommended the judge hierarchy be established could be attributed as an honor to Moshe, and that Yisro’s reward is that he was honored by God, but it is also true that God could have honored him in a different way, without making it seem as if the nation of God were missing the ability to know how to make a multi tiered court system, until the priest of Midian showed them how to do it!
It seems that the reason is for God to show the Israelites of that generation, and of every generation, that there are intellectual giants among the nations of the world. Go out and learn from Yisro’s wisdom and advice! See the caliber of people he recommended serve as judges. There are people in the nations who can discern and share deep teachings.
The point in all this is to emphasize that Israel was not chosen by God on account of any superior intellect. The proof is Yisro! God chose Israel as a kindness and out of love for the forefathers.
This works particularly well as a message for those who assume that Yisro showed up before the giving of the Torah. This way it serves as a reminder to us that even though there are wiser people among the nations, God still selected us to be the recipients of the Torah. This is a reason for us to be grateful and praiseworthy of the Almighty, who chose us out of His kindness (for our burden to bear).
With only slight adjustments for clarification and to place in context, all of what you have read until this paragraph has been a translation of the words of Rabbi Chaim Ibn Attar (Or HaChaim HaKadosh) on Shmot 18:21. These comments are a very important reminder to the Jewish people to have tremendous doses of humility, and to never think we are better than anyone else. The election and selection of the Jewish people came about for two or three reasons: firstly, God loved our forefathers; second, God was kind to our people; and third, while all of humanity are God’s children, He viewed Israel as His firstborn (Shmot 4:22).
More than anything, this election put a burden on the Israelites and subsequently the Jewish people, to be held to a higher standard in morals, ethics, business, war, and to be the scapegoat of humanity for thousands of years (this last one was not the intent, but that is how things turned out).
Or HaChaim’s reminder is that the Jewish people are people like everyone else. The only thing that makes us different is that we were chosen to receive the Torah, which means that our knowledge of Torah, our understanding of Torah, our wealth of Torah and breadth in Torah, is more than everyone else’s.
So where does that leave us? It leaves us being grateful for our lot and portion, while acknowledging that the Jewish people are a cog in the wheel of humanity and human history. There is no question that our place has been significant. It is surely to the credit of our people, stemming more from the origins of Torah study, that we always valued education, and that we emphasized the need to read and write, and that it put many of us to advantages that others before modernity did not always have available to them.
But our first lesson was, there is much to be learned from others as well. If we could only take from the good the nations have to teach, we will be humbled, as we grow from the experience.
And who knows? Maybe such a mutual respect will give us the opportunity to teach others as well! If we play our cards right, our humility may be able to bring more people under the wings of the Divine.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
One wonders why Yisro merited to have a portion of the Torah written essentially in his name (we are referring to what Yisro taught Moshe, not that a parsha is named for him). It’s true that to see how he recommended the judge hierarchy be established could be attributed as an honor to Moshe, and that Yisro’s reward is that he was honored by God, but it is also true that God could have honored him in a different way, without making it seem as if the nation of God were missing the ability to know how to make a multi tiered court system, until the priest of Midian showed them how to do it!
It seems that the reason is for God to show the Israelites of that generation, and of every generation, that there are intellectual giants among the nations of the world. Go out and learn from Yisro’s wisdom and advice! See the caliber of people he recommended serve as judges. There are people in the nations who can discern and share deep teachings.
The point in all this is to emphasize that Israel was not chosen by God on account of any superior intellect. The proof is Yisro! God chose Israel as a kindness and out of love for the forefathers.
This works particularly well as a message for those who assume that Yisro showed up before the giving of the Torah. This way it serves as a reminder to us that even though there are wiser people among the nations, God still selected us to be the recipients of the Torah. This is a reason for us to be grateful and praiseworthy of the Almighty, who chose us out of His kindness (for our burden to bear).
With only slight adjustments for clarification and to place in context, all of what you have read until this paragraph has been a translation of the words of Rabbi Chaim Ibn Attar (Or HaChaim HaKadosh) on Shmot 18:21. These comments are a very important reminder to the Jewish people to have tremendous doses of humility, and to never think we are better than anyone else. The election and selection of the Jewish people came about for two or three reasons: firstly, God loved our forefathers; second, God was kind to our people; and third, while all of humanity are God’s children, He viewed Israel as His firstborn (Shmot 4:22).
More than anything, this election put a burden on the Israelites and subsequently the Jewish people, to be held to a higher standard in morals, ethics, business, war, and to be the scapegoat of humanity for thousands of years (this last one was not the intent, but that is how things turned out).
Or HaChaim’s reminder is that the Jewish people are people like everyone else. The only thing that makes us different is that we were chosen to receive the Torah, which means that our knowledge of Torah, our understanding of Torah, our wealth of Torah and breadth in Torah, is more than everyone else’s.
So where does that leave us? It leaves us being grateful for our lot and portion, while acknowledging that the Jewish people are a cog in the wheel of humanity and human history. There is no question that our place has been significant. It is surely to the credit of our people, stemming more from the origins of Torah study, that we always valued education, and that we emphasized the need to read and write, and that it put many of us to advantages that others before modernity did not always have available to them.
But our first lesson was, there is much to be learned from others as well. If we could only take from the good the nations have to teach, we will be humbled, as we grow from the experience.
And who knows? Maybe such a mutual respect will give us the opportunity to teach others as well! If we play our cards right, our humility may be able to bring more people under the wings of the Divine.
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
The Tragedy of Manipulation and Coercion
Parshat Beshalach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Parshat B’shalach touches many subjects, but none capture the attention of readers and Torah followers as do the events surrounding the splitting of the sea. I often wonder why films that depict the Exodus typically portray the splitting of the sea and Sinai, but completely skip Mara, Eilim, Manna, Rephidim, and the battle with Amalek (also Rephidim).
Films in particular love to portray battles – so why not depict the weakened and tired recent-slaves turn into a force to be reckoned with against the evil Amalek?
Obviously the stubbornness of Pharaoh and his army, to chase after Israel is a compelling story, especially in light of the plagues. But still, upon careful examination, we’ll see that even the so-called “compelling story” is not so compelling because the role, intent and level of participation of all the players in the tale is not so one-dimensional and, were it portrayed more accurately, would make for a very tragic tale of greed, human manipulation, and sacrifice for a silly king willing to lose every one of his followers to hold onto a warped sense of dignity that had already been destroyed.
“And the king of Egypt was told that the nation had fled, and so the heart of Pharaoh and his servants turned with respect to the nation and they said. ‘What is this that we have done in sending away Israel from serving us?’ And he set up his chariot and he took his nation with him.” (14:5-6)
Netziv is of the view that the “nation” Pharaoh “took” with him was only soldiers. Malbim shares that opinion and suggests that the 600 chariots Pharaoh brought with him, and whichever horses, were all that was left of Egypt’s horses, because all animals were killed in the 5th plague unless brought indoors by those who feared God.
But I wonder if we’re reading the verse correctly. Considering that when referring to the slaves that have departed from their land, through being sent away, they call them “Israel,” who is the “nation” which caused Pharaoh and his servant to turn their hearts? Why would the “fleeing nation” in verse 5 refer to Israel, who had been sent away? In the second verse, Pharaoh takes his own “nation” with him in pursuit of Israel. Did Pharaoh turn on his own people, looking to enslave them in place of the now missing Israelites? Were they forced to chase after the Israelites – after all, Pharaoh “took” them, perhaps against their will? Is it indeed a fact that “the nation” and “his nation” refer to two different groups?
The reality is that each time “ha’am” (the nation) appears in this portion of text (as opposed to in the first verse of the parsha), the context is vague.
While it is true that Ramban famously refers to the Egyptians’ chasing the Israelites into the miraculously split sea as an act of madness, one wonders if the madness is on the part of all the Egyptians who gave chase, or madness of their leader who ordered them into the sea. From the Torah’s depiction, the reason for the chase is not given, is certainly not clear, and one wonders what anyone, including Pharaoh intended to be the outcome of the pursuit. After all, when Israel left Egypt, there seemed to be a common conception that the Egyptians encouraged and may have even forcedly had them leave in a more expeditious timeline than Israel had intended. People who so convincingly want Israel out don’t turn around so quickly after 3 days of quiet and calm to reenslave them. Did they want to kill the Israelites? That is not even hinted to in the text, except in the fears of the Israelites, who came to their own conclusions without even a shred of diplomacy or a summary of Egyptian intent.
In fact, Alshikh notes that most Egyptians were not on board with whatever it was that Pharaoh thought to do in giving chase. The only reason anyone came along was that Pharaoh “took them” in the sense of kingly cajoling. When he arranged his own chariot and saddled his own horse, which “loyal follower” of the king would not follow suit? When a king does indeed lead by example, fighting in the front of the charge, his people will dutifully follow.
More specifically, the Mechilta explains, “He took them with words saying, ‘Kings usually follow their soldiers, but I will lead! Kings usually plunder for themselves getting first pickings, but I will share equally with all of you! Not only that but I will open a treasury and pay you all silver, gold, precious stones and jewels!’”
This man is either a masochist, a manipulative liar, a sadist, or a combination of any of these. He is very insecure, very impulsive, and he hides his manipulation tactics in the guise of giving people choices.
This is a very different storyline than a people being on board with the idea that Israel “fled” or “escaped” or “broke promises” and all agreeing that the freed slaves needed to be pursued for a shared destiny that is actually never made clear.
Will the true story please stand up? This is a tragedy for every Egyptian forced into the role of being Pharaoh’s stool pigeon, who sacrificed his life for what Pharaoh personally deemed “the greater good” of Egypt.
Which just goes to show – leaders are only as good as when they give others the wherewithal to make their own decisions of what’s best for their future. The Egyptians who drowned were under the persuasive powers of a man who did not really accept no for an answer, and who made people who knew better engage in a wrongful pursuit and senseless battle only for the sake of his own pride.
Freedom is what the Egyptians lacked. Had they had freedom, they never would have joined their crazed-up-king on a suicide mission against a God that had already defeated them. Because when one wants to live, no amount of money or promise of riches can truly convince someone to take a risk that is much easier to avoid when opting out, while walking between two miraculously suspended walls always has the clear possibility of drowning those caught between the water’s crossfire.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Parshat B’shalach touches many subjects, but none capture the attention of readers and Torah followers as do the events surrounding the splitting of the sea. I often wonder why films that depict the Exodus typically portray the splitting of the sea and Sinai, but completely skip Mara, Eilim, Manna, Rephidim, and the battle with Amalek (also Rephidim).
Films in particular love to portray battles – so why not depict the weakened and tired recent-slaves turn into a force to be reckoned with against the evil Amalek?
Obviously the stubbornness of Pharaoh and his army, to chase after Israel is a compelling story, especially in light of the plagues. But still, upon careful examination, we’ll see that even the so-called “compelling story” is not so compelling because the role, intent and level of participation of all the players in the tale is not so one-dimensional and, were it portrayed more accurately, would make for a very tragic tale of greed, human manipulation, and sacrifice for a silly king willing to lose every one of his followers to hold onto a warped sense of dignity that had already been destroyed.
“And the king of Egypt was told that the nation had fled, and so the heart of Pharaoh and his servants turned with respect to the nation and they said. ‘What is this that we have done in sending away Israel from serving us?’ And he set up his chariot and he took his nation with him.” (14:5-6)
Netziv is of the view that the “nation” Pharaoh “took” with him was only soldiers. Malbim shares that opinion and suggests that the 600 chariots Pharaoh brought with him, and whichever horses, were all that was left of Egypt’s horses, because all animals were killed in the 5th plague unless brought indoors by those who feared God.
But I wonder if we’re reading the verse correctly. Considering that when referring to the slaves that have departed from their land, through being sent away, they call them “Israel,” who is the “nation” which caused Pharaoh and his servant to turn their hearts? Why would the “fleeing nation” in verse 5 refer to Israel, who had been sent away? In the second verse, Pharaoh takes his own “nation” with him in pursuit of Israel. Did Pharaoh turn on his own people, looking to enslave them in place of the now missing Israelites? Were they forced to chase after the Israelites – after all, Pharaoh “took” them, perhaps against their will? Is it indeed a fact that “the nation” and “his nation” refer to two different groups?
The reality is that each time “ha’am” (the nation) appears in this portion of text (as opposed to in the first verse of the parsha), the context is vague.
While it is true that Ramban famously refers to the Egyptians’ chasing the Israelites into the miraculously split sea as an act of madness, one wonders if the madness is on the part of all the Egyptians who gave chase, or madness of their leader who ordered them into the sea. From the Torah’s depiction, the reason for the chase is not given, is certainly not clear, and one wonders what anyone, including Pharaoh intended to be the outcome of the pursuit. After all, when Israel left Egypt, there seemed to be a common conception that the Egyptians encouraged and may have even forcedly had them leave in a more expeditious timeline than Israel had intended. People who so convincingly want Israel out don’t turn around so quickly after 3 days of quiet and calm to reenslave them. Did they want to kill the Israelites? That is not even hinted to in the text, except in the fears of the Israelites, who came to their own conclusions without even a shred of diplomacy or a summary of Egyptian intent.
In fact, Alshikh notes that most Egyptians were not on board with whatever it was that Pharaoh thought to do in giving chase. The only reason anyone came along was that Pharaoh “took them” in the sense of kingly cajoling. When he arranged his own chariot and saddled his own horse, which “loyal follower” of the king would not follow suit? When a king does indeed lead by example, fighting in the front of the charge, his people will dutifully follow.
More specifically, the Mechilta explains, “He took them with words saying, ‘Kings usually follow their soldiers, but I will lead! Kings usually plunder for themselves getting first pickings, but I will share equally with all of you! Not only that but I will open a treasury and pay you all silver, gold, precious stones and jewels!’”
This man is either a masochist, a manipulative liar, a sadist, or a combination of any of these. He is very insecure, very impulsive, and he hides his manipulation tactics in the guise of giving people choices.
This is a very different storyline than a people being on board with the idea that Israel “fled” or “escaped” or “broke promises” and all agreeing that the freed slaves needed to be pursued for a shared destiny that is actually never made clear.
Will the true story please stand up? This is a tragedy for every Egyptian forced into the role of being Pharaoh’s stool pigeon, who sacrificed his life for what Pharaoh personally deemed “the greater good” of Egypt.
Which just goes to show – leaders are only as good as when they give others the wherewithal to make their own decisions of what’s best for their future. The Egyptians who drowned were under the persuasive powers of a man who did not really accept no for an answer, and who made people who knew better engage in a wrongful pursuit and senseless battle only for the sake of his own pride.
Freedom is what the Egyptians lacked. Had they had freedom, they never would have joined their crazed-up-king on a suicide mission against a God that had already defeated them. Because when one wants to live, no amount of money or promise of riches can truly convince someone to take a risk that is much easier to avoid when opting out, while walking between two miraculously suspended walls always has the clear possibility of drowning those caught between the water’s crossfire.
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