Parshat VAYIKRa
by Rabbi Avi Billet
There’s a strange phrase that repeats itself several times in the parsha. “If a person sins… and does one of the commandments of God that one is [instructed] not to do” then a consequence follows. The consequence might be elaborated upon over several verses, or, as in the case, of 4:27, the consequence is preceded by the word, “v’ashem,” which means “and he is guilty.”
Wouldn’t the verse make more sense if it said “If a person sins and violates a commandment…” or just leave it at “If a person sins…” and then list the consequence? It almost sounds like the Torah is saying that if a person sins through doing a mitzvah, then there is a consequence! How could a person sin through doing a mitzvah?!
Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was known to look at the good of every Jew. One tale finds Reb Levi Yitzchak encountering a Jew who was smoking on Shabbos. The sinner refuted each benefit the rabbi ascribed to him. “You probably didn’t know it was Shabbos.” The man knew. “You probably didn’t know smoking is prohibited on Shabbos.” The man knew. “You must be smoking for health reasons.” No – that’s not the case.
Reb Levi Yitzchak turned heavenward and said, “Even when your children commit sins, they tell the truth!”
And yet, Reb Levi Yitzchak did not hold back in criticizing the Jew who is satisfied with a minimal connection with God. In his Kedushas Levi, Reb Levi Yitzchak looked at our verse in question and creatively explained the way the Torah depicts the sin of the individual. The more a person sincerely serves God, the more the person appreciates the tremendous disparity that exists between the great and Almighty God and the tiny human being.
But, as in our verse, when a person does one mitzvah and thinks this is an adequate form of serving God, even the one mitzvah is inconsequential. To put it more succinctly – there are mitzvot which people categorize as mitzvot “that I don’t do.” I have the mitzvot that I do, the ones I am comfortable with, the ones that work for me. But there are mitzvot that fall out of my comfort zone, so I never do them. Or, perhaps, I may do it once in a while.
Reb Levi Yitzchak said that the sin is not the doing of the mitzvah – though he questions whether the occasional trek into mitzvah-doing is worth anything, as opposed to a total commitment to mitzvoth. The sin is in having the attitude that “I have mitzvot that I don’t do” while still feeling that this incompleteness is a proper form of serving God.
Reb Levi Yitzchak lived in a different time. And while I don’t think his entire message is apropos today – it is certainly not applicable to Jews who know very little about Judaism – there is much introspection demanded of Jews who do know better, who claim to believe in God and who live observant lifestyles, but who opt out of certain mitzvot because “I don’t do those” or who focus on one mitzvah that does work (while ignoring many others) who still think, “I am serving God properly as a Jew.”
We live in a cynical society where the loudest people are anti-religion. Ironically, the religious population of the United States of America is one of the highest percentages in the world. For people who identify as religious Jews, it behooves us to never be satisfied with our personal status quo, and to continue to challenge ourselves to take more obligations upon ourselves, and to humbly add to our service of God, as we become increasingly aware of that disparity between ourselves and our Creator.
The sin Reb Levi Yitzchak reads into this verse is a sin of arrogance, a sin of minimal obligation and responsibility, and a sin of checking out of mitzvot based on external criteria.
Let us embrace our responsibilities and obligations, let us be humble, and let us increasingly get closer to God so that the verses in question need not apply to our own Jewish experiences.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Retaking the Gift of Shabbat
Parshat VAYAKHEL
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we read the parshas surrounding the building of the Mishkan, we are reminded of the fealty we, the Jewish people, are to have to Shabbat. The laws of Shabbat are derived from the proximity of the actual construction of the vessels and structures of the Mishkan to a reminder about Shabbat – both of which appear in Shmot chapter 35. Shabbat was also mentioned in last week’s Torah portion at the conclusion of the initial instructions for the Mishkan, in the “V’shamru” passage which is most famous because it is part of our liturgy as well (31:13-17)
It’s not only that Shabbat is a day the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are meant to rest to imitate God who “rested” on the seventh day after Creating. Shabbat is considered in the Talmud to be a gift that God gave to the Jewish people (Talmud Shabbat 10b). One who keeps or observes the Shabbat is considered to be attesting to God’s role in the creation of the world.
Hillel Halkin, a secular Jewish writer who lives in Israel, wrote an article several years ago entitled, “You don't have to be Orthodox to cherish the Sabbath,” which can be easily found through a Google search. The title almost says it all, though Halkin does a good job of explaining why he, as a secular Jew, cherishes the Shabbat and wishes (at least when he wrote the article) that other Jews could appreciate Shabbat more.
Former Senator Joseph Lieberman also wrote a book to this effect, offering Shabbat as a needed respite for all of humanity.
The Chofetz Chaim, whose rare image was recently uncovered in an old film reel from the 1920s, would describe the Talmudic sentiment of the gift given to the Jewish people like a groom giving his bride a present. If the bride returns the gift, it is a good indication that she does not want the groom and the match is as good as over.
His message was the same about Shabbat. If the Jewish people do not keep the Shabbat properly, they are essentially returning the gift to God, indicating they have no interest in the bond that unites the Jews to God.
It is a sad state of affairs for the Jewish people when the attitude to Shabbat outside of the religious Jewish community (however people define “religious”) is the way it is today. Halkin, for example, at least respects the Shabbat, even if he does not observe.
Some statistics from national polls of the last few years bear out the dire circumstances we face in terms of appreciation of this gift. A December 2012 Gallup poll said 41% of Jews say religion is important to them, while 65% said they attend religious services seldom or never. 22% of Jews have no religion at all. According to the Pew poll of 2013, 28% of Jews don’t believe in God, while 73% think being Jewish means remembering the Holocaust.
Those of us who love the Torah and cherish the Shabbat have a very big job ahead of us. So many Jews identify as Jewish for cultural reasons and on account of the ancestral heritage, without knowledge of a Torah, mitzvot, or any of the wisdom contained therein. Show an ignorant-of-Judaism Jew a Jewish library or Beit Midrash, and the eyes open up and the jaw drops at how much specifically Jewish knowledge and scholarship is out there. Sure they know that many Jews of the past were smart people. But the breadth of knowledge of rabbinic sages is what they hear about, if at all, from PJ library story books, which do not exactly come from a wellspring of Jewish tradition that goes back centuries or millennia. We have so much to offer, but despite all the efforts that are being made by those who reach out to lost or searching Jews, there is still a very long way to go in bringing Shabbat to the masses in a palatable way.
We need the connection with God more than ever. We have to earn back His trust through our retaking His gift of Shabbat.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When we read the parshas surrounding the building of the Mishkan, we are reminded of the fealty we, the Jewish people, are to have to Shabbat. The laws of Shabbat are derived from the proximity of the actual construction of the vessels and structures of the Mishkan to a reminder about Shabbat – both of which appear in Shmot chapter 35. Shabbat was also mentioned in last week’s Torah portion at the conclusion of the initial instructions for the Mishkan, in the “V’shamru” passage which is most famous because it is part of our liturgy as well (31:13-17)
It’s not only that Shabbat is a day the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are meant to rest to imitate God who “rested” on the seventh day after Creating. Shabbat is considered in the Talmud to be a gift that God gave to the Jewish people (Talmud Shabbat 10b). One who keeps or observes the Shabbat is considered to be attesting to God’s role in the creation of the world.
Hillel Halkin, a secular Jewish writer who lives in Israel, wrote an article several years ago entitled, “You don't have to be Orthodox to cherish the Sabbath,” which can be easily found through a Google search. The title almost says it all, though Halkin does a good job of explaining why he, as a secular Jew, cherishes the Shabbat and wishes (at least when he wrote the article) that other Jews could appreciate Shabbat more.
Former Senator Joseph Lieberman also wrote a book to this effect, offering Shabbat as a needed respite for all of humanity.
The Chofetz Chaim, whose rare image was recently uncovered in an old film reel from the 1920s, would describe the Talmudic sentiment of the gift given to the Jewish people like a groom giving his bride a present. If the bride returns the gift, it is a good indication that she does not want the groom and the match is as good as over.
His message was the same about Shabbat. If the Jewish people do not keep the Shabbat properly, they are essentially returning the gift to God, indicating they have no interest in the bond that unites the Jews to God.
It is a sad state of affairs for the Jewish people when the attitude to Shabbat outside of the religious Jewish community (however people define “religious”) is the way it is today. Halkin, for example, at least respects the Shabbat, even if he does not observe.
Some statistics from national polls of the last few years bear out the dire circumstances we face in terms of appreciation of this gift. A December 2012 Gallup poll said 41% of Jews say religion is important to them, while 65% said they attend religious services seldom or never. 22% of Jews have no religion at all. According to the Pew poll of 2013, 28% of Jews don’t believe in God, while 73% think being Jewish means remembering the Holocaust.
Those of us who love the Torah and cherish the Shabbat have a very big job ahead of us. So many Jews identify as Jewish for cultural reasons and on account of the ancestral heritage, without knowledge of a Torah, mitzvot, or any of the wisdom contained therein. Show an ignorant-of-Judaism Jew a Jewish library or Beit Midrash, and the eyes open up and the jaw drops at how much specifically Jewish knowledge and scholarship is out there. Sure they know that many Jews of the past were smart people. But the breadth of knowledge of rabbinic sages is what they hear about, if at all, from PJ library story books, which do not exactly come from a wellspring of Jewish tradition that goes back centuries or millennia. We have so much to offer, but despite all the efforts that are being made by those who reach out to lost or searching Jews, there is still a very long way to go in bringing Shabbat to the masses in a palatable way.
We need the connection with God more than ever. We have to earn back His trust through our retaking His gift of Shabbat.
Friday, March 6, 2015
The Calling of Self Sacrifice (via the Kiyor)
Ki Tisa
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Towards the beginning of Ki Tisa, the Torah gives us the first depictions of the Kiyor, the washbasin that was to be used by the Kohanim before they engaged in any Mishkan service. So important is the act of washing the hands and feet, that the verb “rachatz” (wash) appears in every one of the four verses that describe this vessel, and the warning of “and they will not die” (as long as they are sure to wash) appears twice.
Let’s address three questions. First, why such a severe warning and punishment of death for not rinsing one’s hands and feet? Second, is there something to be learned from the overuse of the verb “rachatz”? Finally, why is the command for the Kiyor issued so far after all the other vessels of the Mishkan have been described? Was it an afterthought?
The Pesikta (Ki Tisa 30:21) summarizes the offenses that could bring about the Kohen’s death: doing the service while intoxicated, with a bare head, missing a garment, or not having washed hands and feet before doing the Mishkan service. The Mechilta answers our glaring question – this is a “Chok,” a rule which defies logic, which comes from the One Above, of how He wants His Mishkan to operate.
There is a debate as to how many spigots the Kiyor had. Rabbi Chaim Paltiel noted that the root “rachatz” appears four times, indicating there were four spigots, enough for Aharon, Moshe and Aharon’s sons to wash at the same time (based on Shmot 40:31). Oddly enough, Aharon had four sons at this time. Are we to infer from this opinion that two of his sons were fated to die, even before they entered the Holy of Holies (Vayikra 10:2)? (I wonder…) [see Zevachim 19b, and Rambam hilchot Biat Hamikdash 5:13, who says the four people were Aharon, Elazar, Itamar and Pinchas]
Ibn Ezra records the opinion of the ancient Rabbis, that there were two spigots. If this approach is true, our question of the fate of Aharon’s sons can be voided.
The Seforno explains that this vessel was not an afterthought, but its purpose does not align with the spiritual purpose of every other vessel. Each vessel had an element of Holiness, Kedusha, in its essence. Whether it just sat there (the Ark), or had a minimal function (the Table), was used daily (the Menorah), or more often than once a day (the large and small mizbeach), there was an element of Holiness in the existence of these items that the Kiyor lacked. On the other hand, the Kiyor’s simple function set the stage for all the holiness of the Mishkan to be carried out. It was the vessel which provided the water through which the kohanim could wash their hands to perform the services of the day.
The Chizkuni noted the placement of the Kiyor, that it was outdoors, between the Mishkan building and the Mizbeach, so the Kohanim could walk to it, and be sure to wash their hands before commencing with their service of the day. Oddly enough, they have to pass the Mizbeach before getting to the Kiyor! Wouldn’t it have made more sense for the Kiyor to be the first thing they bump into?
Perhaps a deeper appreciation for the role of the Kiyor can be understood when we consider the materials used for making the Kiyor. The Torah tells us in Shmot 38:8 that the copper for the Kiyor was a conglomerate of mirrors which were used by women in Egypt, as Rashi there explains, to beautify themselves for their enslaved husbands, to ultimately bring about generations of Israelite children so the nation could survive.
It would seem the message of the Kiyor is much deeper than we could imagine. Because it is a reminder to the Kohen as he approached the copper-mirror-Kiyor that he, as a servant of the people and as an agent on their behalf in the service of God, is sacrificing his uniqueness, in a sense, in order to fill a role, and fulfill a purpose on behalf of the people. He needed to walk past the Mizbeach, to see the place where sacrifices are burned, to remember why he showed up for work today. Then he could properly prepare himself when he washed his hands and feet.
The women in Egypt, at great sacrifice, did what they needed to do to assure the survival of the nation. Every individual who brings a sacrifice, who needs it to be offered properly by the Kohen is, in a sense, sacrificing oneself. The representing agents, the kohanim, therefore, also needed to embrace the notion of self-sacrfifice on a daily basis.
When one looks at oneself in the mirror, one has the opportunity to look deeply, and to ask oneself “Who are you? What are you? Are you worthy of this job you have? Are you worthy to represent the people? Are you worthy to bring about atonement for others?”
Sacrificing for others is one of the most incredible callings a human being can undertake. If the role is understood and that deep introspection is taken and internalized properly, like the kohanim who washed their hands and feet and were ready to serve, we hope all those who sacrifice of themselves for the klal can merit to serve in a manner that is clean, holy, and beneficial to all, in the service of God.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Towards the beginning of Ki Tisa, the Torah gives us the first depictions of the Kiyor, the washbasin that was to be used by the Kohanim before they engaged in any Mishkan service. So important is the act of washing the hands and feet, that the verb “rachatz” (wash) appears in every one of the four verses that describe this vessel, and the warning of “and they will not die” (as long as they are sure to wash) appears twice.
Let’s address three questions. First, why such a severe warning and punishment of death for not rinsing one’s hands and feet? Second, is there something to be learned from the overuse of the verb “rachatz”? Finally, why is the command for the Kiyor issued so far after all the other vessels of the Mishkan have been described? Was it an afterthought?
The Pesikta (Ki Tisa 30:21) summarizes the offenses that could bring about the Kohen’s death: doing the service while intoxicated, with a bare head, missing a garment, or not having washed hands and feet before doing the Mishkan service. The Mechilta answers our glaring question – this is a “Chok,” a rule which defies logic, which comes from the One Above, of how He wants His Mishkan to operate.
There is a debate as to how many spigots the Kiyor had. Rabbi Chaim Paltiel noted that the root “rachatz” appears four times, indicating there were four spigots, enough for Aharon, Moshe and Aharon’s sons to wash at the same time (based on Shmot 40:31). Oddly enough, Aharon had four sons at this time. Are we to infer from this opinion that two of his sons were fated to die, even before they entered the Holy of Holies (Vayikra 10:2)? (I wonder…) [see Zevachim 19b, and Rambam hilchot Biat Hamikdash 5:13, who says the four people were Aharon, Elazar, Itamar and Pinchas]
Ibn Ezra records the opinion of the ancient Rabbis, that there were two spigots. If this approach is true, our question of the fate of Aharon’s sons can be voided.
The Seforno explains that this vessel was not an afterthought, but its purpose does not align with the spiritual purpose of every other vessel. Each vessel had an element of Holiness, Kedusha, in its essence. Whether it just sat there (the Ark), or had a minimal function (the Table), was used daily (the Menorah), or more often than once a day (the large and small mizbeach), there was an element of Holiness in the existence of these items that the Kiyor lacked. On the other hand, the Kiyor’s simple function set the stage for all the holiness of the Mishkan to be carried out. It was the vessel which provided the water through which the kohanim could wash their hands to perform the services of the day.
The Chizkuni noted the placement of the Kiyor, that it was outdoors, between the Mishkan building and the Mizbeach, so the Kohanim could walk to it, and be sure to wash their hands before commencing with their service of the day. Oddly enough, they have to pass the Mizbeach before getting to the Kiyor! Wouldn’t it have made more sense for the Kiyor to be the first thing they bump into?
Perhaps a deeper appreciation for the role of the Kiyor can be understood when we consider the materials used for making the Kiyor. The Torah tells us in Shmot 38:8 that the copper for the Kiyor was a conglomerate of mirrors which were used by women in Egypt, as Rashi there explains, to beautify themselves for their enslaved husbands, to ultimately bring about generations of Israelite children so the nation could survive.
It would seem the message of the Kiyor is much deeper than we could imagine. Because it is a reminder to the Kohen as he approached the copper-mirror-Kiyor that he, as a servant of the people and as an agent on their behalf in the service of God, is sacrificing his uniqueness, in a sense, in order to fill a role, and fulfill a purpose on behalf of the people. He needed to walk past the Mizbeach, to see the place where sacrifices are burned, to remember why he showed up for work today. Then he could properly prepare himself when he washed his hands and feet.
The women in Egypt, at great sacrifice, did what they needed to do to assure the survival of the nation. Every individual who brings a sacrifice, who needs it to be offered properly by the Kohen is, in a sense, sacrificing oneself. The representing agents, the kohanim, therefore, also needed to embrace the notion of self-sacrfifice on a daily basis.
When one looks at oneself in the mirror, one has the opportunity to look deeply, and to ask oneself “Who are you? What are you? Are you worthy of this job you have? Are you worthy to represent the people? Are you worthy to bring about atonement for others?”
Sacrificing for others is one of the most incredible callings a human being can undertake. If the role is understood and that deep introspection is taken and internalized properly, like the kohanim who washed their hands and feet and were ready to serve, we hope all those who sacrifice of themselves for the klal can merit to serve in a manner that is clean, holy, and beneficial to all, in the service of God.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Saving the Most Important For Last?
Parshat Tetzaveh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The parsha ends with a seemingly out of place description of the commandment for making the small altar – the “mizbeach hazahav” – the golden, spice-burning mizbeach.
Considering that the commandment for most of the Mishkan’s vessels and priestly garments have been completed, and the second half of the parsha focuses so much on the consecration of the kohanim (priests), one wonders why the holdout for this vessel? It should have been listed alongside the commandments for its neighbors in the Mishkan, namely the ark, the menorah, and the table!
Not only is its placement alarming, but its function is also described in certain detail, while the function of every other vessel is limited to a passing verse in the midst of the focus on its construction. See, for example, 25:21 – “You place into the ark the testimony that I will give you.” And 25:30 – “It is on this table that showbread shall be placed before Me at all times.” For the menorah, nothing was mentioned in the commandment of its construction of how it was to function (though calling it a lamp and describing its oil cups does make it obvious). Though we do get a brief interlude about it at the beginning of Tetzaveh (27:20-21).
But all of this pales in comparison to this (30:7-10):
What makes this small altar unique is its role in the Mishkan, in contrast to the role of every other vessel. It is the indoor vessel with the highest usage traffic. And its function, much more than the static Aron (ark), and the used once-weekly Shulchan (table), and even the daily menorah, is much deeper than mere functionality or presence.
There is a debate as to whether the instruction for the Mishkan pre-dated or was a response to the sin of the Golden Calf. In either case, the depiction of Aharon as being the one to burn the spices on the small mizbeach – though it could have been done by any Kohen, except for on Yom Kippur – is very telling.
The Gaon of Vilna points out that all pieces of the Mishkan that were described beforehand need to be in place for God’s presence to rest on the mishkan, while the k’toret and the kesef hakippurim stand to bring about forgiveness for the Jewish people.
The k’toret and its base for functionality are listed last because it will remain most clearly in memory. Yes, the instructions for the mishkan are important. And we will see them followed to the finest detail. However, the need for God’s Divine Presence to rest on and in the Mishkan is only important so that the small mizbeach can achieve its goal of bringing atonement for the people. That is the primary function.
However, we must always remember the exortation of the prophet Yeshayahu 1:11 – when he said God is weary of sacrifices and even the smell of the flour offerings and k’toret, if they are meant to serve, in our own eyes, as replacements for good deeds, and for caring for one another.
Let us suggest, therefore, that the small mizbeach comes last along with a few details of its functionality in order to serve as a reminder to everyone of that service which is so necessary, when we are otherwise so close to God and we can look to the kohanim to give us the edge we need to achieve atonement for bad deeds – such as, perhaps, the Golden Calf. (Note the mention of Aharon, who was so significantly involved in the Golden Calf episode.)
Absent such a reality – of our being so close to God, yet so misguided – the k’toret mizbeach coming at the end serves as a different reminder to us, a reminder of what could be our ideal, were our living conditions different. If we merited to have a functioning Mikdash, the k’toret could serve as the medium for helping our forgiveness for our minor infractions come about.
But when the last item in our memory is a simple solution for atonement in a Mishkan we are not privileged to have, we are reminded that we have much work to do in order to achieve a rebuilding of such an edifice. As Yeshayahu recommends, “Wash, cleanse yourselves, remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes, cease to do evil. Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the robbed, perform justice for the orphan, plead the case of the widow.”
When we learn to do that, perhaps the k’toret will be able to serve in its idyllic fashion once again.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The parsha ends with a seemingly out of place description of the commandment for making the small altar – the “mizbeach hazahav” – the golden, spice-burning mizbeach.
Considering that the commandment for most of the Mishkan’s vessels and priestly garments have been completed, and the second half of the parsha focuses so much on the consecration of the kohanim (priests), one wonders why the holdout for this vessel? It should have been listed alongside the commandments for its neighbors in the Mishkan, namely the ark, the menorah, and the table!
Not only is its placement alarming, but its function is also described in certain detail, while the function of every other vessel is limited to a passing verse in the midst of the focus on its construction. See, for example, 25:21 – “You place into the ark the testimony that I will give you.” And 25:30 – “It is on this table that showbread shall be placed before Me at all times.” For the menorah, nothing was mentioned in the commandment of its construction of how it was to function (though calling it a lamp and describing its oil cups does make it obvious). Though we do get a brief interlude about it at the beginning of Tetzaveh (27:20-21).
But all of this pales in comparison to this (30:7-10):
“Aaron shall burn incense on [this altar] each morning when he cleans out the lamps. He shall [also] burn [incense] before evening when he lights the lamps. Thus, for all generations, there will be incense before God at all times. Do not burn any unauthorized incense on it. Furthermore, do not offer any animal sacrifice, meal offering, or libation on it. [Furthermore,] once each year Aaron shall make atonement on the horns of [this altar]. For all generations, he shall make atonement with the blood of the atonement sacrifice once each year. [This altar] shall be a holy of holies to God.”We’re talking about do’s and don’ts, we’re talking about Yom Kippur, we’re talking about daily activity, and the future. The copper Mizbeach gets no discussion in Terumah of its functionality as a sacrificial altar. Of course those details will be articulated in the book of Vayikra. And while the details of the k’toret will be more spelled out in next week’s parsha (not waiting until the book of Vayikra), it still doesn’t belong here. The parshas of Terumah and Tetzaveh focus on the commandments to build – not the details of how things are to function. Let us recall “Na’aseh V’Nishma.” We will build it, and then we’ll hear and learn how it is all to be used!
What makes this small altar unique is its role in the Mishkan, in contrast to the role of every other vessel. It is the indoor vessel with the highest usage traffic. And its function, much more than the static Aron (ark), and the used once-weekly Shulchan (table), and even the daily menorah, is much deeper than mere functionality or presence.
There is a debate as to whether the instruction for the Mishkan pre-dated or was a response to the sin of the Golden Calf. In either case, the depiction of Aharon as being the one to burn the spices on the small mizbeach – though it could have been done by any Kohen, except for on Yom Kippur – is very telling.
The Gaon of Vilna points out that all pieces of the Mishkan that were described beforehand need to be in place for God’s presence to rest on the mishkan, while the k’toret and the kesef hakippurim stand to bring about forgiveness for the Jewish people.
The k’toret and its base for functionality are listed last because it will remain most clearly in memory. Yes, the instructions for the mishkan are important. And we will see them followed to the finest detail. However, the need for God’s Divine Presence to rest on and in the Mishkan is only important so that the small mizbeach can achieve its goal of bringing atonement for the people. That is the primary function.
However, we must always remember the exortation of the prophet Yeshayahu 1:11 – when he said God is weary of sacrifices and even the smell of the flour offerings and k’toret, if they are meant to serve, in our own eyes, as replacements for good deeds, and for caring for one another.
Let us suggest, therefore, that the small mizbeach comes last along with a few details of its functionality in order to serve as a reminder to everyone of that service which is so necessary, when we are otherwise so close to God and we can look to the kohanim to give us the edge we need to achieve atonement for bad deeds – such as, perhaps, the Golden Calf. (Note the mention of Aharon, who was so significantly involved in the Golden Calf episode.)
Absent such a reality – of our being so close to God, yet so misguided – the k’toret mizbeach coming at the end serves as a different reminder to us, a reminder of what could be our ideal, were our living conditions different. If we merited to have a functioning Mikdash, the k’toret could serve as the medium for helping our forgiveness for our minor infractions come about.
But when the last item in our memory is a simple solution for atonement in a Mishkan we are not privileged to have, we are reminded that we have much work to do in order to achieve a rebuilding of such an edifice. As Yeshayahu recommends, “Wash, cleanse yourselves, remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes, cease to do evil. Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the robbed, perform justice for the orphan, plead the case of the widow.”
When we learn to do that, perhaps the k’toret will be able to serve in its idyllic fashion once again.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Strength of Clasps - Even When They Are Hardly Seen
Parshat Terumah
by Rabbi Avi Billet
We typically imagine that the “Mishkan” is defined by the beams that stood together to become its walls. After all, without walls, there is no building.
While a simple view of the Torah’s depiction of the Mishkan certainly refers to the overall structure – walls, contents, etc – as “The Mishkan” many times, there are times when the Mishkan itself is specifically described as being either the tapestries that covered the building or the result of the linking of the blue loops and the golden clasps. In 26:1 “make the Mishkan out of ten tapestries.” Several verses later - “And you’ll make fifty golden clasps, and you will combine the tapestries – one side to the other, at the clasps, and then the Mishkan will be one.” (26:6)
A building has walls and partitions and rooms, without which calls its value into question. But does the roof really hold so much sway that it can be “the” definition of the Mishkan – especially in a wilderness which is protected from the elements by the Pillars of Cloud and Fire?
These instructions are incredible because they essentially tell us that it is not walls which make a building, but tapestries which unite a Mishkan. For the Mishkan to be considered complete, 50 barely visible clasps need to hold together two large pieces of cloth. Why could they not just sew everything together – after all, each tapestry was made of five pieces that were sewn together?
Perhaps the clasps are very symbolic. It can’t just be invisible thread which unites the two sides of the Mishkan. There needs to be something of value – even if it is small and hardly visible – which unites the two sides, creating a whole.
If we think about it, it is amazing what the unity of fifty clasps can accomplish. Their union defines a structure that is so much bigger than the sum of its parts.
Which leads us to wonder, as we read this highly symbolic parsha, what elements of our lives share this quality.
For some people it is a profound respect they have for one another, as learning partners, as business partners, as teammates.
For others it might be their marriage commitment, or their dedication to family members even through all kinds of adversity.
While the people are represented by the tapestries, what parallels the clasps, and what parallels the oneness? The clasps are valuable because they are made of gold, but once the Mishkan is put together, due to the height of the walls of the Mishkan structure, the clasps are not very noticeable. They are also not meant to fall apart unless they are actively taken apart by human hands.
This becomes the challenge we all face in using the Mishkan as a model for us. The relationships we build and aim to maintain in our lives are precious. What unites us with others is far more precious than anything money can buy. Trust, honesty, love, family, commitment, belief in an idea… these are things we cannot assign value to, nor can we always see them. But we know they are there. And we know that while they sometimes seem so easily put together, human hands can just as easily pull them apart.
If we are to create oneness and unity with our loved ones and cherished friends, we must always bear in mind how priceless these relationships are. Some people are blessed that a clasp can hold them together through thick and thin, because the clasp doesn’t let go. Others need to always make sure that the clasp is still there keeping everything together. And the double check might come with a need to remeasure, readjust, retighten, to make sure all is in order. More maintenance may be required at constant intervals.
But hopefully the goal of the Mishkan can be our goal as well: that the combination of the tapestries through the unifying force of the clasps can create an entity that defines itself as a united whole forever. Amen.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
We typically imagine that the “Mishkan” is defined by the beams that stood together to become its walls. After all, without walls, there is no building.
While a simple view of the Torah’s depiction of the Mishkan certainly refers to the overall structure – walls, contents, etc – as “The Mishkan” many times, there are times when the Mishkan itself is specifically described as being either the tapestries that covered the building or the result of the linking of the blue loops and the golden clasps. In 26:1 “make the Mishkan out of ten tapestries.” Several verses later - “And you’ll make fifty golden clasps, and you will combine the tapestries – one side to the other, at the clasps, and then the Mishkan will be one.” (26:6)
A building has walls and partitions and rooms, without which calls its value into question. But does the roof really hold so much sway that it can be “the” definition of the Mishkan – especially in a wilderness which is protected from the elements by the Pillars of Cloud and Fire?
These instructions are incredible because they essentially tell us that it is not walls which make a building, but tapestries which unite a Mishkan. For the Mishkan to be considered complete, 50 barely visible clasps need to hold together two large pieces of cloth. Why could they not just sew everything together – after all, each tapestry was made of five pieces that were sewn together?
Perhaps the clasps are very symbolic. It can’t just be invisible thread which unites the two sides of the Mishkan. There needs to be something of value – even if it is small and hardly visible – which unites the two sides, creating a whole.
If we think about it, it is amazing what the unity of fifty clasps can accomplish. Their union defines a structure that is so much bigger than the sum of its parts.
Which leads us to wonder, as we read this highly symbolic parsha, what elements of our lives share this quality.
For some people it is a profound respect they have for one another, as learning partners, as business partners, as teammates.
For others it might be their marriage commitment, or their dedication to family members even through all kinds of adversity.
While the people are represented by the tapestries, what parallels the clasps, and what parallels the oneness? The clasps are valuable because they are made of gold, but once the Mishkan is put together, due to the height of the walls of the Mishkan structure, the clasps are not very noticeable. They are also not meant to fall apart unless they are actively taken apart by human hands.
This becomes the challenge we all face in using the Mishkan as a model for us. The relationships we build and aim to maintain in our lives are precious. What unites us with others is far more precious than anything money can buy. Trust, honesty, love, family, commitment, belief in an idea… these are things we cannot assign value to, nor can we always see them. But we know they are there. And we know that while they sometimes seem so easily put together, human hands can just as easily pull them apart.
If we are to create oneness and unity with our loved ones and cherished friends, we must always bear in mind how priceless these relationships are. Some people are blessed that a clasp can hold them together through thick and thin, because the clasp doesn’t let go. Others need to always make sure that the clasp is still there keeping everything together. And the double check might come with a need to remeasure, readjust, retighten, to make sure all is in order. More maintenance may be required at constant intervals.
But hopefully the goal of the Mishkan can be our goal as well: that the combination of the tapestries through the unifying force of the clasps can create an entity that defines itself as a united whole forever. Amen.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Community Problems - Simple Solution
Parshat Mishpatim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Being in touch with the various Jewish media outlets, which include newspapers, online magazines and blogs, one is never at a loss for conversation. Topics that appeal specifically to Jewish interests keep us all on our toes.
Last week I came across a few items that struck chords, mostly because they are all reminiscent of how Albert Einstein defined insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
The first item: the so called-Shidduch crisis, in which Jewish girls past age 22 are no longer considered a “good catch,” in certain Jewish communities, leading to a “crisis” of thousands of wonderful young women who simply can’t find husbands.
The second (though this one has a better chance of success with the talented Allison Josephs being the brains behind solution attempts): that people who leave the Orthodoxy of certain right-wing communities often drop all measures of religious life in lieu of finding perhaps a more centrist or even left-leaning halakhic lifestyle as an alternative.
The third: a study of where Orthodox singles who are engaged in amorous activity fit in the Jewish community.
The fourth: a viral video of Rabbi Jeremy Stern of the Organization for the Resolution of Agunot (ORA) insisting an 18-year get-withholder leave a maariv minyan at the YU Seforim Sale.
I believe that all of these are representative of problems which require a simple (though perhaps romantically naïve) solution: Follow what the Torah says!!!!!
A man whose marriage has ended has a commandment (see Maimonides mitzvah 222, and Sefer HaChinukh 579): write a get (or have it written), and hand it to your wife (Devarim 24:1). Your marriage together is over, demonstrate it through giving her a get and move on with your lives. That any rabbis support get-withholders, for any reason, is shameful. There will sadly be fights over money, property, child-custody. But the chaining of a woman to a non-existent marriage has zero halakhic validity.
The Torah tells us (Shmot 22:15) “If a man seduces a virgin who is not betrothed, he must pay a dowry and must marry her.” I don’t want to get into whether this is a punishment, penalty, or responsibility. The Torah does not say a crime has been committed – it tells us that an act has consequences. In the Jewish community, we look at the act of marital intimacy as a sacred connection that binds two people together in marriage. It is a stain on our singles community that society at large has infiltrated values counter to our values, in effect justifying bed-hopping. The Torah says if you went so far, it is time to marry one another.
I once heard a very experienced rabbi suggest that there is a singles “crisis” because the singles don’t follow the Torah – which says to get married. While the statement is an extremely sweeping generalization, at least with respect to marriage it has much truth in it.
The marriage commitment is not easy, and many people need help and guidance, even after they take the so-called plunge. There is a world of people who earn a living writing books, speaking, or counseling about how to improve marriage. God bless them. But the fact that people hold off, sometimes for 15 plus years after reaching marriageable age/maturity is a frightening statistic.
Of course there are people who “aren’t ready” or who “did not find the right person.” There are always exceptions, and there are always explanations. But for a man who is told “It’s not good to be alone,” (Bereshit 2:18) and who has a mitzvah to have children (#1, according to Sefer HaChinukh), there has to be a better way than dating every girl on the Upper West Side without finding one to marry. And it begins with education – towards marriage, commitment, communication – at a younger age.
I am choosing to address the remaining two items together because they demonstrate that the problems are only getting worse inside a community that digs its hole ever deeper without considering Albert Einstein’s wisdom.
I promise that the case from our parsha mentioned above did not come about because a shadchan introduced two people. They met on their own. They talked on their own. And the man seduced the woman, leading to his obligation to marry her. And while I certainly believe the act they commit together is only appropriate after chuppah and kiddushin, it is the way they met and communicated which seems to be a much more natural form of leading to marriage.
A system in which young people are not permitted to meet naturally and without chaperones, in which parents have so much say as to who their marriage-age children can date (without giving any credit or respect to the choices their age 20-something children might make on their own), in which the communication after a date is through a third party always, is not going to lead to people actually building a relationship and working their way – positively – through their differences. Going on five dates in 4 weeks doesn’t mean you’re ready to get married any more than dating someone for 5 years means you’re ready to get married. [Though to the 5-years people, what are you waiting for?]
Being ready for marriage means being ready to commit to a relationship both people will work at through giving to the other, and always putting the other person first. Of course, finding one another attractive, being able to communicate, and being able to have a good time together are important. And so are shared values. But the successful marriage focuses on the relationship building side - because without that, everything else can quickly fade away.
I believe the dating game example is a microcosm, one minor example, of what causes people who leave the religious community to abandon it altogether. People need to have choices. They need to be made aware that the halakhic system wears many hats, and that there is a place for everyone who respects it within its very wide spectrum. Nothing is only black and white. Grey, with reference to halakha, is a beautiful color.
May our community be blessed to see the beautiful rainbow that different approaches to serving God within the boundaries of halakha has to offer. As long as we understand that following what the Torah and halakha actually have to say is our baseline (not twisted to meet our pre-conceived ideas, but what it actually says) our community will be in a much better place in dealing with all of these issues.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Being in touch with the various Jewish media outlets, which include newspapers, online magazines and blogs, one is never at a loss for conversation. Topics that appeal specifically to Jewish interests keep us all on our toes.
Last week I came across a few items that struck chords, mostly because they are all reminiscent of how Albert Einstein defined insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
The first item: the so called-Shidduch crisis, in which Jewish girls past age 22 are no longer considered a “good catch,” in certain Jewish communities, leading to a “crisis” of thousands of wonderful young women who simply can’t find husbands.
The second (though this one has a better chance of success with the talented Allison Josephs being the brains behind solution attempts): that people who leave the Orthodoxy of certain right-wing communities often drop all measures of religious life in lieu of finding perhaps a more centrist or even left-leaning halakhic lifestyle as an alternative.
The third: a study of where Orthodox singles who are engaged in amorous activity fit in the Jewish community.
The fourth: a viral video of Rabbi Jeremy Stern of the Organization for the Resolution of Agunot (ORA) insisting an 18-year get-withholder leave a maariv minyan at the YU Seforim Sale.
I believe that all of these are representative of problems which require a simple (though perhaps romantically naïve) solution: Follow what the Torah says!!!!!
A man whose marriage has ended has a commandment (see Maimonides mitzvah 222, and Sefer HaChinukh 579): write a get (or have it written), and hand it to your wife (Devarim 24:1). Your marriage together is over, demonstrate it through giving her a get and move on with your lives. That any rabbis support get-withholders, for any reason, is shameful. There will sadly be fights over money, property, child-custody. But the chaining of a woman to a non-existent marriage has zero halakhic validity.
The Torah tells us (Shmot 22:15) “If a man seduces a virgin who is not betrothed, he must pay a dowry and must marry her.” I don’t want to get into whether this is a punishment, penalty, or responsibility. The Torah does not say a crime has been committed – it tells us that an act has consequences. In the Jewish community, we look at the act of marital intimacy as a sacred connection that binds two people together in marriage. It is a stain on our singles community that society at large has infiltrated values counter to our values, in effect justifying bed-hopping. The Torah says if you went so far, it is time to marry one another.
I once heard a very experienced rabbi suggest that there is a singles “crisis” because the singles don’t follow the Torah – which says to get married. While the statement is an extremely sweeping generalization, at least with respect to marriage it has much truth in it.
The marriage commitment is not easy, and many people need help and guidance, even after they take the so-called plunge. There is a world of people who earn a living writing books, speaking, or counseling about how to improve marriage. God bless them. But the fact that people hold off, sometimes for 15 plus years after reaching marriageable age/maturity is a frightening statistic.
Of course there are people who “aren’t ready” or who “did not find the right person.” There are always exceptions, and there are always explanations. But for a man who is told “It’s not good to be alone,” (Bereshit 2:18) and who has a mitzvah to have children (#1, according to Sefer HaChinukh), there has to be a better way than dating every girl on the Upper West Side without finding one to marry. And it begins with education – towards marriage, commitment, communication – at a younger age.
I am choosing to address the remaining two items together because they demonstrate that the problems are only getting worse inside a community that digs its hole ever deeper without considering Albert Einstein’s wisdom.
I promise that the case from our parsha mentioned above did not come about because a shadchan introduced two people. They met on their own. They talked on their own. And the man seduced the woman, leading to his obligation to marry her. And while I certainly believe the act they commit together is only appropriate after chuppah and kiddushin, it is the way they met and communicated which seems to be a much more natural form of leading to marriage.
A system in which young people are not permitted to meet naturally and without chaperones, in which parents have so much say as to who their marriage-age children can date (without giving any credit or respect to the choices their age 20-something children might make on their own), in which the communication after a date is through a third party always, is not going to lead to people actually building a relationship and working their way – positively – through their differences. Going on five dates in 4 weeks doesn’t mean you’re ready to get married any more than dating someone for 5 years means you’re ready to get married. [Though to the 5-years people, what are you waiting for?]
Being ready for marriage means being ready to commit to a relationship both people will work at through giving to the other, and always putting the other person first. Of course, finding one another attractive, being able to communicate, and being able to have a good time together are important. And so are shared values. But the successful marriage focuses on the relationship building side - because without that, everything else can quickly fade away.
I believe the dating game example is a microcosm, one minor example, of what causes people who leave the religious community to abandon it altogether. People need to have choices. They need to be made aware that the halakhic system wears many hats, and that there is a place for everyone who respects it within its very wide spectrum. Nothing is only black and white. Grey, with reference to halakha, is a beautiful color.
May our community be blessed to see the beautiful rainbow that different approaches to serving God within the boundaries of halakha has to offer. As long as we understand that following what the Torah and halakha actually have to say is our baseline (not twisted to meet our pre-conceived ideas, but what it actually says) our community will be in a much better place in dealing with all of these issues.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Moshe Goes 'El HaElokim' to Find God
Parshat Yitro
שמות פרק יט (ג) וּמֹשֶׁ֥ה עָלָ֖ה אֶל־הָאֱ-לֹקים וַיִּקְרָ֨א אֵלָ֤יו יְקֹוָק֙ מִן־הָהָ֣ר לֵאמֹ֔ר כֹּ֤ה תֹאמַר֙ לְבֵ֣ית יַעֲקֹ֔ב וְתַגֵּ֖יד לִבְנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל:
After arriving at Mt Sinai at the beginning of the third month, we are told in 19:3 that in going up the mountain, “Moshe went up to the Elokim” which is followed by “And Hashem called to him from the mountain…”
It happens every now and then that God’s name switches back and forth from Elokim to the Tetragrammaton, but each time requires an explanation.
Interestingly, Targum Yonatan translates the word Elokim here to mean “the top of the mountain.” In other words, Targum Yonatan seems to ignore that two names of God are utilized in the verse, preferring to tell us what happened – where Moshe went, and that God called to him after he arrived there.
Midrash Sechel Tov refers to the place Moshe went as “the place where the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence) is apparent on the mountain.”
שמות פרק יט (ג) וּמֹשֶׁ֥ה עָלָ֖ה אֶל־הָאֱ-לֹקים וַיִּקְרָ֨א אֵלָ֤יו יְקֹוָק֙ מִן־הָהָ֣ר לֵאמֹ֔ר כֹּ֤ה תֹאמַר֙ לְבֵ֣ית יַעֲקֹ֔ב וְתַגֵּ֖יד לִבְנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל:
After arriving at Mt Sinai at the beginning of the third month, we are told in 19:3 that in going up the mountain, “Moshe went up to the Elokim” which is followed by “And Hashem called to him from the mountain…”
It happens every now and then that God’s name switches back and forth from Elokim to the Tetragrammaton, but each time requires an explanation.
Interestingly, Targum Yonatan translates the word Elokim here to mean “the top of the mountain.” In other words, Targum Yonatan seems to ignore that two names of God are utilized in the verse, preferring to tell us what happened – where Moshe went, and that God called to him after he arrived there.
Midrash Sechel Tov refers to the place Moshe went as “the place where the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence) is apparent on the mountain.”
I believe there is much more depth hidden in the switchover of God’s name, because the moment which precedes Sinaitic Revelation is so significant, that God knew we would try our best to truly understand the events leading up to the grand finale.
Alshikh notes that even the phrase which tells us of Moshe’s ascent to “Elokim” uses a term that causes our eyebrows to rise. The Torah could have easily said “Vaya’al Moshe” (ויעל משה) which describes the verb of ascending “and he went up.” But the language used is “U’Moshe Alah” (ומשה עלה) – which implies an ascent much greater than a mere physical one. Moshe was elevated “el HaElokim.”
I don’t think it means to suggest that Moshe became God-like. But Moshe is clearly attaining a different status than any he may have had before. Alshikh describes the purity which Moshe achieves here as a “yitron gadol” – a much higher level than anything he had achieved before that time.
Moshe, as Rav Pinchas Horowitz explained in his “Panim Yafos” commentary, was elevated through the holiness of Israel. In 3:6, at the burning bush, he was afraid to look “towards the Elokim.” But now he had no problem – even going there before he was called. He achieved what the Kabbalists called “Yirah Elyonah” – a heightened level of reverence for the Almighty, perhaps because he was getting increasingly closer to the Divine.
Or HaChaim notes another connection to the burning bush, which took place on Har HaElokim (3:1), namely the fulfillment of the promise that “you will serve the Elokim on this mountain.” (3:12) And so the Or HaChaim goes out on a limb here (if I am understanding him correctly), suggesting Moshe actually received the Torah the last time he was here. But he had to leave it – he couldn’t just take it with him. No one would have accepted it.
And now that Moshe has seen the process of what he had been told at the burning bush unfold in the manner that it has, it reinvigorates his spirit. This is, after all, the ultimate sign that God gave him – that when you bring the people out of Egypt you will serve Elokim on this mountain – coming full circle.
Of course Moshe is excited. Of course he is getting closer to God. Of course he goes up early. Of course he is double checking that all is ready and perfect for this moment. Of course his ascent is not merely a physical climbing up a mountain.
What Targum Yonatan calls Moshe going up to “the top of the mountain” as a translation of “el HaElokim” is perhaps a metaphorical suggestion to us as to what we can achieve when we go to the top of the mountain.
It is not likely that anyone of us will see a burning bush or have a face to face encounter with God. But we have mountains to climb. And our goal of reaching el HaElokim can be achieved if we can let go of ourselves and allow ourselves to recognize the truth of the Torah and God’s role in giving it to us. In our pursuit of not just a physical ascent, but a spiritual one, we can relive Moshe’s Revelations at Sinai – in a private setting and in a public setting – as we demonstrate our binding and unquestioning devotion to the “God who took us out of Egypt, out of the House of Bondage.” (20:2)
Alshikh notes that even the phrase which tells us of Moshe’s ascent to “Elokim” uses a term that causes our eyebrows to rise. The Torah could have easily said “Vaya’al Moshe” (ויעל משה) which describes the verb of ascending “and he went up.” But the language used is “U’Moshe Alah” (ומשה עלה) – which implies an ascent much greater than a mere physical one. Moshe was elevated “el HaElokim.”
I don’t think it means to suggest that Moshe became God-like. But Moshe is clearly attaining a different status than any he may have had before. Alshikh describes the purity which Moshe achieves here as a “yitron gadol” – a much higher level than anything he had achieved before that time.
Moshe, as Rav Pinchas Horowitz explained in his “Panim Yafos” commentary, was elevated through the holiness of Israel. In 3:6, at the burning bush, he was afraid to look “towards the Elokim.” But now he had no problem – even going there before he was called. He achieved what the Kabbalists called “Yirah Elyonah” – a heightened level of reverence for the Almighty, perhaps because he was getting increasingly closer to the Divine.
Or HaChaim notes another connection to the burning bush, which took place on Har HaElokim (3:1), namely the fulfillment of the promise that “you will serve the Elokim on this mountain.” (3:12) And so the Or HaChaim goes out on a limb here (if I am understanding him correctly), suggesting Moshe actually received the Torah the last time he was here. But he had to leave it – he couldn’t just take it with him. No one would have accepted it.
And now that Moshe has seen the process of what he had been told at the burning bush unfold in the manner that it has, it reinvigorates his spirit. This is, after all, the ultimate sign that God gave him – that when you bring the people out of Egypt you will serve Elokim on this mountain – coming full circle.
Of course Moshe is excited. Of course he is getting closer to God. Of course he goes up early. Of course he is double checking that all is ready and perfect for this moment. Of course his ascent is not merely a physical climbing up a mountain.
What Targum Yonatan calls Moshe going up to “the top of the mountain” as a translation of “el HaElokim” is perhaps a metaphorical suggestion to us as to what we can achieve when we go to the top of the mountain.
It is not likely that anyone of us will see a burning bush or have a face to face encounter with God. But we have mountains to climb. And our goal of reaching el HaElokim can be achieved if we can let go of ourselves and allow ourselves to recognize the truth of the Torah and God’s role in giving it to us. In our pursuit of not just a physical ascent, but a spiritual one, we can relive Moshe’s Revelations at Sinai – in a private setting and in a public setting – as we demonstrate our binding and unquestioning devotion to the “God who took us out of Egypt, out of the House of Bondage.” (20:2)
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