Parashat Tzav & Passover, Leviticus 6:1-8:36

This week’s portion, T’zav – literally, [you shall] order them – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion.  It is also read just before we celebrate Passover. My two short comments, accordingly, would follow this format as well.

Jeremiah: Back to Basics

In many cases, when a principled debate erupts between two strong parties neither would tend to publicly yield their stand – even ever so slightly – for fear that this narrow waiver would start a snow-ball effect, ending in losing the entire debate.  That is one reason – among many – that the Middle-East peace negotiations have been stuck for so many years. This is also the main reason why all settlement negotiations in civil trials – either state or federal – are confidential. No one would know whether (or to what extent) a party was willing to let go of their clearly-stated stand.

Last week, I discussed in length the compromise that God (through Moshe) struck with the People of Israel, allowing them to worship Him through a series of well-orchestrated, highly detailed rituals that would enable them to satisfy their ever-lasting need to feel, see, smell, touch, and taste their worship.  I am talking, of course, on the rituals of offerings.

This week’s portion is a direct continuance of that compromise. God sets up, in great details, the exact manners by which He should be worshipped. The problem, though, is the fear that this kind of worship would become the center of the Emu’nah (the belief) in God, rather than a mere accompanying ritual to the belief itself, which is – and always has been – the epicenter of the Jewish faith.

Alas, that yielding – ever so slightly – towards the people’s needs may be what, ultimately, has led to eradication of the Emu’nah over the years.  And the people had to be reminded, time and again, that it is not the offering that matters, but rather the belief itself – back to the First Commandment (“I am the Lord your God”), back to the basics. To present this argument, allow me to quote (somewhat in length) from this week’s Haftara citing one of our greatest orators of all times, Prophet Yirmiyahu (Jeremiah):

            [And God said:] I have not spoken to your forefathers and I have not ordered them on the day I freed them from the land of Egypt to perform the sacrifices and about the offerings; for I have commanded them but this one thing: “Listen to my voice, and I shall be your God, and you shall be my people. And you shall walk in all the ways I have command and you shall be better for that.”  But they have not listened, nor have they lent their ear to me, and they have formed their own groups, following their evil hearts and instincts, and they went backwards instead of forward.  [And this is true] from the day your forefathers have left the land of Egypt to this very day.  And I have sent upon you all my slaves – the prophets – every single morning I have sent them; but they have neither listened to me nor lend me their ear, and they have stiffened their necks and became worst than their fathers. [Jeremayah 7:22-26]

To cap this wonderful recitation, Yirmiyahu reminds us (in one of his most famous statements):

            So said our Lord: Let not the wise man brag about his wisdom; and let not the brave man brag about his bravery; let not the rich man brag about his richness; for by this those who brag should brag: Find wisdom and know me, for I am the Lord who performs justice, law, and charity in the land – for these are the ones I have wished for. So said the Lord. [Jerrmiah 9:22]  

Indeed, Yirmiyahu brings us back to the basics.  And it’s good to be back. 

So much for the offerings.     

           

Passover – A Unique Read-Over Experience

For faithful readers of this blog, the reading of the Seder’s Hagaddah this year should be an interesting exercise in “selective re-readings.”  On the one hand, we will recite many of the stories we read – and discussed – in the opening chapters of Exodus. On the other, we will almost completely omit the role of Moshe and instead focus on the Lord and His many wonderful deeds in taking us out of Egypt.  Again deity replaces humanity with remarkable everlasting effect.

My wife had asked me why is it that the two do not converge – why is it that we don’t read the relevant portions of Exodus during Passover? I don’t know the answer to that (and I invite any reader of this blog to educate me on this issue); but I have long thought that there is an added value in reading things again – especially when it is edited in a different way – a few weeks later, to gain a different perspective.

But the Passover dinner should not only a trip down memory lane; it can – and should – also be a very personal, reflective journey into one’s own psyche.  Indeed, while the weekly reading is a collective effort (and so is this blog), the Hagadda orders us “in each generation and generation” to see ourselves is if we [the people] ­– each and every one of us, to be exact – have left the land of Egypt, the house of slavery, and became free (or, to quote a more modern prophet: “free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we are free at last.”)

So, ask yourself this while reading the Hagaddah this year: Have you walked the path towards freedom this year?

Shabbat Shalom & Happy Passover

Doron  

  

Parashat Va'yik'ra, Leviticus 1:1- 5:26

The first portion of the Third Book of Moses – Leviticus – is called Va’Yik’ra (literally, [the Lord] called on to [Moshe]). At first blush, this is one of the less intriguing portions of the cycle – most of it, if not all, deals in excruciating detail with offerings – offerings of all kinds, shapes, and sizes. For example, the portion tells us how to treat a sacrificed lamb, where to throw its blood, how to skin it, what to do with its pieces, where to put its head, what portions should be washed in water, etc., etc., etc. – (for some, ad noseam).

But a closer look would reveal a fascinating portion, a true synthesis of – and an ingenious solution to – the problems we discussed in recent weeks. On that, and on one other aspect of the portion that shows, once again, that not much have changed in the last 3,000 years I would like to speak shortly today.

The Offerings – A Great Synthesis

In recent weeks we discussed the great tension between the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God” – and the all-too-human desire to worship something concrete. Between the notion of a transcendent God, untouchable, unimaginable, “which has no form, no shape, and no body,” and the almost irresistible impulse to see, feel, smell, hear, and taste the subject of worshiping. We saw how this tension led the Israelites to commit their biggest sin ever, the Golden Calf; but we also saw how the same exact tension brought Moshe and God closer than ever. How can this tension be resolved?

Enter the offerings. A God-certified worshipping program, enabling the believing Jew to actually see, hear, smell, touch, and – yes – taste the fruits of his worship. It was the Rambam (Maimonides), of course, who first made this remarkable connection. He understood that such complete algorithm – or framework – of worshiping would contemporaneously show a great belief in God, and allow the believing worshipper to comply with their earthly needs.

Armed with this insight, we can now view again at these “dreary” verses, providing in great detail the exact manner in which we should be treating the animals we sacrifice. This way, and not another. The Torah’s way, and no other. Not our own Golden Calf; but the Torah’s way of sacrificing a calf. In that, the offerings fulfilled a very important role of a pragmatic barrier to idol worshipping: No more could the people complain that “our leader is lost”; here’s a way for them to continue and worshiping our Lord God with all their senses, whether Moshe is there or not.

To be sure, not everyone share the Rambam’s pragmatic (and may I add, ingenious) approach. The offerings occupy way too much room in the Text, not to mention the rest of Halacha, to serve as a simple barrier for idol worshipping, or so they claim. (See, in particular, the Ramban.) But I think that the Rambam is right precisely because of the large space dedicated to each and every detail of the offering’s work: This is probably the most effective way to assure continued allegiance to God; in other words, this is the insurance of the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God.” Is there anything more important than that (from a religious standpoint)?

[Keen readers of the blog would probably notice that such worshiping doesn’t appear, on its face, to be “Lee’shma” or “pure”; rather, it seems to be more “she’lo lee’shma” or “impure” form of worshipping. This issue is beyond this week’s blog post, but I’ll be happy to answer questions about it.]

Ok, you may ask, so what is the substitute today, when no offering work is still in effect? I have no good answer to that, but I may offer some clues. One possibility is that since there is no good substitute, many people – much more than ever in the history of Judaism – don’t follow the First Commandment; they no longer believe in God (at least not in the way meant by the Torah). Another is that Jews all over the world seek alternatives to the actual work of offerings – Zen Buddhism, spiritualism, all kinds of reforms – but nothing seems to satisfy them quite like the original. Finally, any visitor to a synagogue – a relatively new invention, in terms of Judaism’s history – would easily observe the “physical” aspects of worshiping, from kissing the Holy Book to moving during the prayer, to special singing, etc., etc.

So much for synthesis.

When a Ruler Hath Sinned…

The second point I want to mention touches upon the tension (and the complicated relations) between the Torah – a treatise that recognizes one, and only one, true leader – and the pragmatic human need for human leadership. [Sounds familiar? Indeed, it is simply a different aspect of the first point.]

The portion this week asks what should happen – more accurately, what kind of offerings should be made – “if” some unintentional sins were to take place. For example, “If the anointed priest would sin … “(Leviticus 4:3); and “If the entire congregation would sin . . .” (Id., 4:13); and “If one person would sin, erroneously . . .” (Id., 4:27).

However, when the text approaches the issue of the ruler of the community committing a sin – even erroneously – the “if” is being replaced with “when”: “When a ruler has sinned . . . “ (Id., 4:22) In other words, there is no question that the ruler would sin; there is no “if” here; rather, the only question is “when,” and for that event we have a ready-made (religious) answer.

This is very interesting. It shows us that not much has changed over the last 3,000 years (at least in terms of leadership). Leaders have come and gone, and they have always sinned. They still commit sins today, and would probably sin as long as they would last. It is in the very nature of governing, of one person having too much power over other people. Indeed, many years later, the Babylonian Talmud teaches us that we should not nominate a leader on the community “unless a can of worms is hanging from his back.” (meaning: unless there is evidence that he has performed many a sin before taking office), so whenever his title “alters his mind,” (meaning: he begins to think of himself as above other people, or the law, for example) the people should remind him: “look at your back.” (8 Bab. Talmud, Yoma, Page 25, 2).

Here, again, we see Judaism’s ambivalent relation to – and deep understanding of – human nature. On the one hand, our forefathers realized that leaving the entire role of leadership to God would create an “earthly” vacuum that the community would not be able to handle – see the Golden Calf. Then again, they wanted to emphasize that no leader, not even Moshe himself who spoke to God (almost) face-to-face, is above sin. They all sin, and therefore should be treated with the same amount of suspicion. Only God does not sin, and only He should be worshipped.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Va'yak'hel Piku'day Ex. 35:1-40:38

This week, it is time to rest.

The last two portions of the Book of Exodus, which are read together – Va’yak’hel and Piku’day – deal in general, like the ones before them, with the building of the Mishkan (in minute detail). But before the text ventures again into the measurements, materials, quantities, blueprints, and drafts, Moshe reminds us of God’s most important decree:

Six days you shall engage in labor, and on the Seventh Day it shall be holy to you, Shabbat [no work] Shabbaton [no work completely] to God it shall be; he who shall be engaged in labor would be put to death; and you shall kindle no fire in any of your dwellings on that Shabbat Day. [Ex. 35:2-3]

I want to talk today on the Shabbat. As a religious concept, it always fascinated me. I will begin with the first Shabbat; move to this week’s portion; and conclude with some lessons for today.

God’s First Shabbat

One of the most puzzling stories in the entire cannon is that of the First Shabbat. Here are some of my questions:

1. After creating the universe in just six days, God, on the Seventh day, concludes his work and stops working. In Hebrew, the text also means that on the seventh day God went on a strike; he made up His mind – in a rare glimpse into his decision-making process – that this Day is not fit for work. Why? What was so unique about that day that made it “unfit” to work? Was the world already perfect by this time?

2. And what kind of a Day was the First Shabbat anyway? All the other six days, to be sure, end with the concluding remark: “And there was evening and there was morning, the [first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth] day.” But nothing like that appears on Shabbat. The length of that day is not clear at all. In fact, one may suggest that this “Godly” Shabbat is still in effect today. Indeed, one could argue that God “worked” throughout the six days – which, according to some commentators, lasted for thousands of years (each) – and then stopped from His “labor,” such that he has created nothing since then. Is it possible that, from His perspective, this is still a Shabbat? Since it has no discernable end as a “Day,” and since God purposefully hasn’t created a thing since then, can we say we are still in a state of Godly Shabbat?

3. Finally, the very idea that God needs a “rest” is also baffling. According to a popular Shabbat song, God not only ceased working, but also “vacationed” on Shabbat (“Shavat Va’Yina’fash.”). Why would God need a vacation?

Now God not only stopped working Himself on Shabbat; he also instructed us to do the same. Note that He never ordered us to imitate anything else He has done – He never instructed us to re-create the heavens or the earth, or to part the sea, or to do anything else He has performed. Obviously, all His other demands – neatly encapsulated within the Ten Commandments, but generally spread over 613 Mitzvot – do not apply to Him. Yet the Shabbat command is the one that reflect the Talmudic statement: “Na’eh Do’resh – Na’eh Meka’yem” (He who demands, should perform first. [If only our politicians could internalize this one…]).

To summarize (and to paraphrase my favorite President of all time): Shabbat is a unique creature; it was made of God, by God, and for God, and it shall not perish from the earth.

This Portion’s Shabbat

It is accustomed to think that a rest at the end of a workweek is a reward; a prize; a kind of consideration for the hard work you put in during the week. That is the non-religious view of Shabbat.

But what some contextual commentators see as one of the earliest examples of advance social legislation, the paramount demonstration of how the Jewish religion value work and care about rest (not only of Jews, btw; the Shabbat decree applies to anyone and everyone working in the household – male, female, Jews and non-Jews alike, even animals – all are forbidden to work), is – as this week’s portion well demonstrates – something entirely different: The Shabbat is not meant for the worker, it was meant for God: “The Seventh Day shall be holy to you; Shabbat Shabbaton to your God.”

Therefore, while it is true that both religious and non-religious may enjoy the effect of the Shabbat in the same way – both don’t work – the understanding of the Shabbat to each is completely different. For the non-religious, it is the time to enjoy, drink, and do all those things that are not “allowed” during the week. For the religious person, the Shabbat means a Godly Restriction, which, if violated, may result in death; nothing less.

Thus, the Shabbat is a right, but also a duty. A prize, but also a burden. A well-deserved rest, but also a responsibility. Only once we comprehend the Shabbat in that way, we can fully appreciate its weight – and begin to understand why it is holy. We are doing every single Shabbat what God has done – and perhaps is still doing – during His own Shabbat. We are emulating God. We are resting not only because it is more comfortable, but because we were ordered to do so by God and for God; if we won’t, we may die (or, to be more realistic, the Jewish religion may begin to eradicate, and finally die).

Today’s Shabbat

Unfortunately, in Israel today many so-called “ultra-religious” people fail to understand the very nature and the importance of the Shabbat. For them, Shabbat is the day of the week in which they have to protest against non-Shabbat keepers, throw stones at them, curse the police, and in general violate the Shabbat in every way imaginable – only to prove, in their own mind, how “good keepers” they are of the actual Shabbat. But this understanding, as I have mentioned, is far away from the original, and truly Jewish, meaning of the day. Shabbat is not meant for you to look at your neighbors, let alone criticize them for not keeping the Shabbat. It is meant for you – for reflection, for enjoyment, for family time (and for prayer, of course; but that is true for all other days as well). But it is not meant for fighting. It is not meant for politics. It is not meant for arguing. We have the other six days to do that – plenty of time.

So when you celebrate the coming of the Shabbat this week, think about the fact that you are doing something holy, something Godly, something heavenly, something you were ordered to do, but probably would like to do anyway. Now you are ready to accept the Shabbat.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Kee-Teessa, Exodus 30:11-34:35

What a portion! This week’s portion – Kee Teessa (literally, “when you take [the number of]”) – contains several mega-issues, each of which would suffice for several blogs. But my space – and your patience – is limited, so I would restrict myself to only two, seemingly unrelated, issues: The story of the Golden Calf, and Moses’ incredible dialogue with God.

The Golden Calf and Notion of Holiness

In the past two weeks we discusses the issue of holiness, in particular as it erroneously attaches itself to earthly “things,” such as certain locations, man-made artifacts, and special buildings. This week, Moshe himself – the true “slave of God” and the only one to know Him face-to-face (as we shall see shortly) – pushes this idea (that there is nothing “holy” but God himself) to the very extreme. Moshe comes down from the Mountain with two stone tablets in his hands, both “inscribed with the finger of God.” (Ex. 32:18). To eliminate any doubt, the text repeats this point, emphasizing the fact that the tablets are God-made: “And Moshe turned over and went down the Mountain, and the two Tablets of the Testimony in his hand . . . . And the tablets are made by God, and the writing is the writing of God, inscribed unto the tablets.” (Ex. 32:15-16). In other words, nothing can be “holier” than these two tablets: hand-made, written, and prescribed by God Himself.

But what is the first thing that Moshe does with these “holy tablets” when he sees his People dancing around the Golden Calf? “And Moshe became enraged; and he hurled the tablets off his hands and he broke them underneath the Mountain.” (Ex. 32:19). Indeed, Moshe – the greatest believer of all times – knew full well that without faith, without obedience, without acceptance, the two stone tablets he is holding are just that – two stone-made tablets. So he breaks them. He breaks the holiest of holy objects. Since he realizes that holiness lies only at the heart of people; when it is no longer there – when people stop believing in God – not even God Himself can save it. More than 3,000 years later, one of America’s greatest judges, Judge Learned Hand (what a wonderful name for a Judge!), expressed this very same idea (although about liberty) when he said: “Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can save it; no constitution, no law, no court can even do much to help it.”

The story of the Golden Calf, to be sure, is considered one of the greatest sins-of-faith of all times. One commentator has equated the act of creating such an idol just below the Mountain of God to “a bride who is committing adultery inside her chuppa” [during her wedding ceremony]. It led to the first-ever documented civil war (or civil massacre, more accurately), where Moshe instructed the Levites to “Put your swords on your thighs, and pass along and back from one gate to another in our camp, and you shall kill – man would kill his brother, man would kill his friend, and man would kill his kin.” (Ex. 32:27) And indeed, the Levites did not hesitate to kill 3,000 of their brethren. To complete the punishment – for those who stayed alive – Moshe burns the calf, grinds it to powder, spreads it over the water (commentators are not sure where was this water found in the middle of the desert) and then makes the people of Israel drink it – gold and all. (Ex. 32:20).

This response – killing, admonishing, and forced-drinking – seems quite harsh, even for such a sin, especially if one takes into account the “mitigating circumstances”: First, people were concerned that Moshe simply disappeared – the person who led them each and every day suddenly was gone for forty days. But second, and most importantly, they wanted to actually see the “Israeli God who has brought us out of the land of Egypt” (Ex. 32:4); they didn’t mean to replace their God, just to actualize him.

But Moshe would have none of that; as we shall see later in the story of Korah, Moshe despises even the slightest notion of opposition. [Much like the Founding Fathers of this nation, btw.] 3,000 deaths were supposed to deliver that message; when they didn’t, Moshe made the earth “open its mouth” and actually “swallow” the opposition. More on that in the coming weeks.

Moshe’s Incredible Dialogue with God

Completely exhausted emotionally after the ordering of killing 3,000 men of his own people, Moshe turns to the only entity he can trust now, God Himself, for reassurance. And God does not let him down. In one of the fascinating descriptions ever to appear in writing, the text reports: “And the Lord spoke to Moshe face to face, as one person speaks to another.” (Ex. 33:11) But at a time like this, even that is not enough for Moshe. He wants more. In an amazing feat of early chutzpa, Moshe dares to ask God for the ultimate prize:

“And he [Moshe] said: Please let me see Your glory . . . . And God said: You will not be able to see My face, as no man may see Me and live.” (Ex. 33:18-20).

And so God proposes an amazing “compromise,” which I am not sure I’d be able to translate properly: “And God said [to Moshe]: Here is a place with Me; and you shall stand on the edge of the cliff; and as my Presence passes by, I shall put you in the cleft of that cliff; and I shall cover over you with my hand until I have completely passed; and then I shall take off my hand, and you shall see My rear end, but My face shall not be seen.” (Ex. 33:21-23)

Aside from the astonishing fact that this is the most human description of God ever to appear in writing – a description completely at odds with Mimonidas’ notion of “no form, no shape, no title” of God – this extremely difficult-to-explain passage is disturbing to me in a much deeper sense: Moshe (following God’s orders, obviously) just completed sanctioning his own people with the ultimate capital punishment – killing 3,000 of their members – for one sin: Their undying desire to actualize their God. For them – an assortment of former slaves who has been walking in the desert for months, and now are without a leader for nearly 40 days – the idea of a transcendent God, which has no form and cannot be comprehended by any of the senses, was just a bit too much. They wanted something they can see, feel, and touch. And for that they were punished. Severely. But what about Moshe himself? How exactly is his request from God – to actually see Him – that different from his People’s? True, Moshe never built an image of God, and thus did not violate the first, second, and third Commandments as his People did. But I am sure that had the People have the same direct line of communication with God as Moshe had they would not need to actually build a God, but rather simply ask God to show Himself, much like Moshe did.

And the lesson for today? It is not uncommon for today’s leaders to save their fiercest critique – and harshest words – to “sins” of others that, alas, they too are very likely to commit. So the next time you hear someone of authority telling you “you should never, ever, even think of doing something of that sort,” rest assured that they already have…

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron