Parashat T'zav

This week’s portion, T’zav – literally, “[you shall] order them” – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion. My notes, fittingly, would also continue the discussion we began last week.

I. Back to the Basics with Jeremayah

Last week we introduced the beautiful synthesis presented by the offering of sacrifices: On the one hand, the People of Israel were ordered for the first time in history to be completely obedient to a God that has no shape, form, or other sensory presence; on the other hand, those same people – a band of former slave, let us recall – had also a very strong urge to see, hear, smell, touch, and feel the God they worshipped. Enter the sacrifices – a limited but well-defined form of worshiping allowing all Jewish people to be involved with all five senses during their service.    

This week’s portion is a direct continuation of that idea. Again we see how the text sets up, in great detail, the exact manners by which God should be worshipped. But while the idea of a synthesis through the sacrifices – first brought up by Maimonides – is certainly impressive, it may also overlook a serious issue. There is a fear – particularly in Judaism, though in other religions as well – that this exact form of worship will ultimately replace the very substance of the faith; that the center of the Jewish Emu’nah (faith in God) would become the way by which we observe God rather than the mere belief in Him. Indeed, once the people were allowed to succumb to their earthly desires, even ever so slightly and under control, what would prevent them to think that this is the essence on which their entire Emunah rests? What would make them forget that presenting the sacrifice is merely the demonstration of their belief rather than the belief itself? How could such fears be alleviated?

Enter this week’s Haftarah. Here, the prophet Yirmiyahu (Jeremiah) eloquently explains how to prevent any misunderstanding as to what is important, and what is less important, in Jewish Emunah:

            So said the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel: For I have NOT spoken to your forefathers and I have NOT ordered them on the day I freed them from the land of Egypt on the notions of sacrifices and offerings. Rather, 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 commanded 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 true 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 previous generation. [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.

Shabbat Shalom,

 

    

            Doron 

 

Parashat Va'Yikra

The first portion of the Third Book of Moses – Leviticus – is called Va’Yik’ra (literally to call, as in “and [the Lord] has called on to [Moshe]”).  At first blush, this is not one of the most intriguing portions – most of it deals, sometimes in excruciating detail, with the issue of how to present an offering – usually in the form of a slaughtered animal – to God. Among others, the portion describes what parts of the animals should be offered and which parts should not, what to do with the blood, how to skin the animal, what to do with the internal organs, and so on and so forth – not exactly the material that makes exciting reading.

And yet a closer look would reveal a fascinating portion, offering a true synthesis of – and an ingenious solution to – the issues we discussed in recent weeks.  On that, and on one other aspect of the portion that shows, once again, that not much has changed in the past 3,000 years, I would like to comment shortly today.

I. The Offerings – A Great Synthesis

In past weeks we have discussed the nearly insurmountable tension between the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God,” which requires us to worship a transcendent, impossible-to-see, hear, or feel divine entity  – on the one hand, and the all-too-human impetus to worship something much more tangible (the so-called “Santa-Claus image of God,” if you will) on the other.  This is the tension between the notion of one transcendental God, untouchable, unimaginable, “which has no form, no shape, and no body” (Maimonides), and the almost irresistible impulse to see, feel, smell, hear, and taste the subject of our worship.  We saw how this tension led the Israelites to commit what many consider their worst religious sin ever – the creation of the Golden Calf. But we also saw how the same tension led Moshe himself, to ask God specifically for a more concrete communication form. How could this tension be resolved?

Enter the offerings.  A God-certified worshipping program, allowing any Jewish person of faith to actually see, hear, smell, touch, and – yes – taste the fruits of his or her worship.  It was the Rambam (Maimonides), of course, who first made this remarkable connection. He understood that only such comprehensive framework of God worshiping would contemporaneously demonstrate a great belief in God, and allow the believing worshipper to comply with their earthly needs. Moreover, the Rambam emphasizes that worshiping in this particular way – through presenting of offering in the ways detailed by the biblical text – would create an insurance program against worshiping other gods in similar ways. 

Armed with this new insight, we can now re-examine the same “dreary” verses in the text that explain in great detail how to treat the animals we sacrifice. Now we can understand why those verses are so exact. Now we can appreciate why those verses, while seemingly dealing with mindless details of animal internal parts and blood residue, are actually dealing with the most important part of our faith – how to properly worship our God. Only in that way could we really appreciate this opening portion of the Third Book of Moshe. 

To be sure, not everyone share the Rambam’s pragmatic (and may I add, ingenious) insight. The offerings, say those critics, occupy too much room in the Text, not to mention the rest of Halacha, to serve merely as a practical barrier to idol worshipping. It therefore must be treated as an end by itself, rather than a means to an end. (See the Ramban view, in particular). 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. We must recall that, in the religious sense, the entire five books of Moshe are nothing but a manual for servicing God properly. It is for that reason that the building of the Mishkan receives ten-fold the amount of verses than that of the entire creation of the universe. It is for that reason that every aspect of providing of the offerings is analyzed and described to such great detail. And finally, this type of practice is also probably the most effective way to assure continued allegiance to the Jewish God, or, in other words, to make sure that the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God” – is followed closely. Is there anything more important than that from a religious perspective?

[Keen readers of the blog would probably notice that such a form of worship may not appear, on its face, to be “Lee’shma” or “for its own sake” alone; rather, it seems to be more “she’lo lee’shma” or “not for its own sake.” This issue is beyond this week’s blog post, but I’ll be happy to answer questions about it.]

Ok, you may say, this is all good and well; but the practice of sacrifice offering has been eliminated nearly 2,000 years ago with the destruction of the Second Temple. Now what? This is a tough question, to which I can offer no complete answer. I may offer some guesses, however.  One possibility is that since there is no good substitute, many people – much more than ever in the history of Judaism – no longer completely follow the First Commandment; they no longer believe in God (at least not in the way meant by the Torah) and do not follow His commands. Another possibility is that these days, more than ever before, Jews all over the world are in constant search for a satisfactory alternative to the actual work of offerings – alternatives like Zen Buddhism, spiritualism, yoga, and other practices not mentioned in the biblical text, all in an attempt to compensate themselves for the lack of using their senses during worshiping. And while the search is still ongoing, it would be safe to assume that none of the alternatives are as satisfying as the original prescribed in the text. But that same search symbolizes that even today the tension between a transcendent God and our earthly desires is far from resolved. Finally, it is possible that the answer to this question simply lies with us, with the “here and now” form of practicing Judaism all over the world. Any occasional visitor to a Synagogue would not be able to miss the physical aspects of worshiping – from the actual coming together to stand in a place of worship, to kissing the Torah scroll, to the opening and closing of the arc, and so on and so forth. This, perhaps, is the best substitute we can offer to the original form of worshiping. 

So much for understanding the offerings. 

II. When a Ruler Hath Sinned…

The second point I would like to comment on today relates to yet another form of the tension we mentioned earlier, with a slight twist: This time the tension is between the Torah as a treatise that recognizes one, and only one, true leader and the pragmatic human need for human leadership (rather than merely divine authority).

In that respect, this week’s portion deals with several instances where the possibility of committing a sin or an error is plausible. Thus, for example, it instructs us what to do – or, more precisely, what type of offering to present – “if” a member of the community unintentionally commits a sin (Leviticus 4:27); or “if” the entire people commit an error, a result of which is a violation of one of the biblical laws (Id. 4:13); or “if” the Anointed Preach himself has sinned against God, even through no fault of his own (Id., 4:3). The text, in other words, recognizes that these instances may or may not occur. If they do occur, however, the text provides the remedy. 

When the text arrives, however, at the subject of a sin committed by a lay leader of the community, the possibility that he or she would make even an unintentional sin against God is no longer conditioned; the term “if” disappears and is replaced by the ever present “whenever”: “Whenever a ruler has committed a sin (against God) . . . without intention”  (Id., 4:22) In other words, there is no question that any human ruler would sin. There is no “if” here; the only question is “when” this would happen.

This is a very interesting insight by the text. It shows us, once again, that not much has changed over the past 3,000 years (at least in terms of human leadership).  Leaders have come and gone, and they have always sinned, either intentionally or not. They still commit sins today, and would probably sin as long as they would rule. Indeed, one could argue that the tendency to sin lies at the very heart of governing, in the very nature of the situation in which one person has power over others. As Lord Acton famously noted in 1887: “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Similarly, the Babylonian Talmud teaches us that we should never choose a leader over our communities “unless a can of worms is hanging from his back” (that is, in free translation, unless there is clear evidence that he has many a skeleton in his closet). The idea was that whenever his title and office “alter his mind” (that is, whenever he begins to think of himself as above other people, or above the law), the people would be able to remind him: “look behind your own back,” and thus restore his good behavior. (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 alone would create an “earthly” vacuum that the community would not be able to fill (See the Golden Calf example). The same Jewish leaders wanted to emphasize that no leader, not even Moshe himself who spoke to God face-to-face, is above ordinary human tendencies and behavior.  All those human leaders sin, the portion tells us this week, and therefore all 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'Yakhel-Pikudey

The last two portions of the Book of Exodus, which are read together – Va’yak’hel and Piku’day – continue the discussion of building the Mishkan (Tabernacle). But before the text ventures again into the exact measurements, materials, quantities, blueprints, and drafts required for the project, Moshe reminds us of  The Shabbat, one of God’s most important decrees, which applies equally to the building of the Mishkan as well as to any act of labor performed on the seventh day. And so says Moshe:

During the first six days of the week you shall be engaged in labor, but on the Seventh Day – which shall be of holiness, Shabbat [no work] Shabbaton [no work completely] for God – anyone engaged in labor shall be put to death; and you shall light no fire in any of your dwellings on that Shabbat Day. [Ex. 35:2-3]

I want to talk briefly today on the notion of Shabbat. As a religious concept, it has always fascinated me. As a social concept, I always found it extremely progressive. Finally, as an Israeli who moved to the United States, I was always curious to see the differences in keeping the Shabbat. Accordingly, I begin my discussion today with a short note on God’s own Shabbat; I then move to discuss this week potion’s Shabbat; and I conclude by offering some lessons for Shabbat as it is practiced today.

I. God’s First Shabbat

To me, one of the most puzzling and fascinating stories in the entire bible is that of the God's own First Shabbat.  Here are some some of my queries: 

1. After creating the entire universe and all living beings in merely six days, God decides, on the Seventh day, to conclude His work and to rest. (Gen. 2:1) (Incidentally, in the Hebrew original, the term used to denote God’s decision not to work is “Ya’Yishbot,” which roughly means that on the Seventh Day God went on a strike.) In other words, after working continuously for six entire days and nights, God arrives at the conclusion that a special day should be set aside for rest. But why? What was so unique about that day that made it “unfit” to work? Was the world already perfect by this time (as the text may suggest)? More broadly, why was it so important to denote a special day for rest? Does it have anything to do with the fact that prior to the first six days, every day was also (strictly speaking) a Shabbat? 

2. What type of a day was the First Shabbat? Was it a like any other day? Recall that all the other six days ended with a similar concluding remark: “And there was evening and there was morning, hence the first [and then second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth] day was concluded.” But nothing like that appears in relation to the Shabbat. The length of that day is not clear at all.  In theory, since that Day has never end one may suggest that it is still in effect today! Moreover, one could argue that God “worked” throughout the six days – which, according to some commentators, lasted for thousands of years – and then stopped 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 anything 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. This is important, as this is the first time that God instructed us to copy Him. In contrast, he never instructed us to re-create the heavens, part the sea, or perform any His many miracles. But He did require us to keep the Shabbat like He did. This is astounding, as this may be the only one of the 613 Mitzvot that apply equally to both God and Man. In this sense, the decree not to perform labor on Shabbat is a neat example of the well-known Talmudic verse: “Na’eh Do’resh – Na’eh Meka’yem” (“He who demands, should abide by his own demand first”; or, in other words, no one is above the law. If only our politicians could internalize this principle… ).

To summarize, paraphrasing a great biblical scholar: Shabbat was made by God, for God, and of God, and it shall not perish from the earth.

II. This Portion’s Shabbat

It is accustomed to think that the decree to stop working at the end of the week represents a reward, some sort of prize, or a mini-consideration for the hard work one performed during the week. While completely valid, this is the non-religious view of the Shabbat.

Another plausible view of the Shabbat, espoused by many liberal commentators, considers it to be one of the earliest examples of advanced social legislation, taking into account the needs of the employees over their employers. It also well demonstrates, according to these same commentators, how the Jewish religion well balances between the paramount value of work (also considered highly by other religions, such as protestants) and the well being of the people who perform it. In that respect, it is important to note that the duty – not option – to give employees a rest day should be exercised by any Jewish employer towards any employee, no matter their religious affiliation.

Alongside these well-established views stands a more basic view, the religious view. According to that view – as this week’s portion clearly demonstrates – the Shabbat, as a concept, is meant neither for granting a prize nor for advancing egalitarian values; rather, the Shabbat was meant to serve one purpose, and one purpose only: it is a holy day, marking the fact that God – not man – has ceased working on that day. “The Seventh Day shall be holy to you; Shabbat Shabbaton to your God.” (Ex. 35:2)

Therefore, while it is true that both religious and non-religious Jews may enjoy the effects of the Shabbat in the same way – both would not work, and both would rest on that same day – the understanding of the Shabbat to each is completely different: From a non-religious perspective that Shabbat was meant for us: This is our time to rest, enjoy, go out to drink with friends, and more generally do all those things that are not “allowed” to us during the week. For the religious person, however, the Shabbat means a Divine Restriction, marking God’s completion of His working Week. Moreover, a violation of the Shabbat decree may mean, for a religious person, a serious sanction – all the way to death.

Thus, the Shabbat may be viewed as a right, but also as 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 meaning and begin to understand its holiness.

Indeed, we, the People, are having every single Shabbat the exact same way God has experienced it many years ago during His own Shabbat. We are emulating God. We are resting not only because it is more comfortable but because we are instructed to do so by God himself. And if we won’t keep the Shabbat, while it is no longer likely that we ourselves would die, it is more than likely that Judaism itself will begin to.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron      

  

Parashat Kee-Teessa

This week’s portion – Kee Teessa (literally, “when you take [the number of]”) – contains two of the most important, celebrated, and noted stories of all of Jewish history. The first is the story of the Golden Calf, perhaps one of the best illustrations of the complicated relationship between God and the People He has chosen. The second is Moshe’s exceptional dialogue with his God – perhaps the most fascinating conversation ever recorded between a human and God.

Today I will present both the conventional wisdom relating to these two stories, which are seemingly disconnected, and another view, offering a possible – though controversial – connection between the two.

I. The Golden Calf and Notion of True Holiness

In the past two weeks we touched briefly on the notion of “holiness” in Judaism, in particular as it is often erroneously ascribed to earthly possessions – such as buildings, places, and other man-made artifacts – rather than, as it should be ascribed, only to God Himself. This week, Moshe – who perhaps understands this notion better than anyone before or since as he often speaks to God face-to-face (as we shall see shortly) – brings it to a whole new level in a very dramatic and memorable fashion.

Coming down from the Mountain after being with God for over 40 days, stone tablets in hand, Moshe does not hesitate to break those very tablets at the sight of his own people dancing before a golden calf: “As soon as Moshe came near the camp and saw the calf and the dancing, he became enraged; and he hurled the tablets from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.” (Ex. 32:19).

Now it is worth repeating that those two tables were no ordinary stone blocks; rather, they were inscribed with God’s writing. Indeed, the text takes pains in explaining that “the tablets were the product of God’s work, and the writing was God’s writing inscribed unto the tablets.” (Ex. 32:16) In other words, nothing could be “holier” than these two tablets, which were specifically made, inscribed, and designed by God Himself. (Thought experiment: Imagine the tablets are found today, safe and sound, in the sands of the Sinai Desert. Could one even imagine the repercussions of the mere suggestion to break them, made by any religious leader?)

Yet Moshe never hesitates to shatter these same tablets. How could that be? How can the greatest believer of all time refuse to acknowledge the “holiness” or “sanctity” of these tablets? The answer is simple: Moshe knew full well that without faith, without obedience, without acceptance, the two stone tablets he is holding are just that – merely two desert-stone tablets.  So he breaks them.  He breaks the holiest of holy objects, for there is no holiness without a context of faith.  Since he realizes that holiness lies only at the heart of people, he also realizes that when it is no longer there – when people stop believing in God – not even God Himself can save them. 

As we have already read, 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 in relation to liberty: “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 towards God ever committed by the People of Israel. In fact, one commentator went so far as comparing the act of building this idol under the very Mountain of God to that of “a bride who is has committed adultery inside her Chuppa” [i.e., under her wedding canopy, during her nuptials]. Further, the act of sinning against God also led to the first-ever documented civil war (or civil massacre, more accurately), which occurred following Moshe’s instruction to the Levites: “Put your swords on your thighs, and pass along and back from one gate to another in our camp, and you shall kill – your brothers, your friends, and your family members.” (Ex. 32:27) Indeed, the Levites killed more than 3,000 of their brethren, without the slightest hesitation.  To complete the punishment – for those who stayed alive – Moshe burned the statue of the calf, ground it to powder, spread it over the water and made the survivors drink it – ashes and all. (Ex. 32:20). 

This set of punishments – mass killing, admonishment, and forced-drinking – seems quite harsh, even for such a sin, especially if one were to take into account the “mitigating circumstances” involved:  First, the People of Israel were genuinely concerned about Moshe’s  whereabouts; indeed, most thought he simply disappeared, as the person who led them every single day and was visible to them at all hours of the day was simply not seen for days, then weeks, even a month. (cf Ex. 24:18 and 32:1) Second, and perhaps most importantly, by creating the statue they – or at least one may argue that they – did not want to remove themselves from God, but quite the opposite – to get closer: “And [the People of Israel] have said [after the calf was completed]: This is the Lord of Israel, who has brought us out of the land of Egypt” (Ex. 32:4). In other words, one may argue that they didn’t mean to replace their God, just to actualize Him – an “all-too-human” trait (as Nietzsche might have described it).

But Moshe would have none of that; he is interested in neither mitigating factors nor in hearing other explanations. In fact, as we shall see later in the story of Korah, Moshe, as a leader, despises the very notion of organized opposition. [Not unlike the Founding Fathers of this nation, by the way.] Indeed, the act of killing 3,000 members of this newly formed band of people was supposed to deliver that message clearly; when it didn’t, Moshe made the earth itself “open its mouth” and “swallow” the opposition.  More on that in the coming weeks.

II. Moshe’s Incredible Dialogue with God   

Completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, after the ordering of killing 3,000 men of his own People, Moshe then turns to the only entity he can trust – God Himself. He seeks reassurance and moral support. And God does not let him down.  In one of the most 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 for Moshe at this time, even this amazing chain of events is not enough. He wants more. In one of the earliest revelations of Jewish 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 still live.” (Ex. 33:18-20). 

And so God proposes a “compromise,” which cannot be properly translated, unfortunately. Loosely explained, the text continues to say: “And God said [to Moshe]: Here is a place of My choosing; 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 own hand until I have completely passed you; and then I shall take off my hand, and you shall see My rear end, as My face shall not be seen.” (Ex. 33:21-23)

This description is nothing short of astonishing: it is the most human description of God’s figure ever to appear in writing – a description that is seemingly completely at odds with Maimonides’ notion of “no form, no shape, no title” of God. Moreover, this extremely difficult to explain passage is disturbing in a much deeper sense. Let us try to recall the context in which we are: Moshe has just ordered the killing of 3,000 of his own people. The reason for this order was a sin they committed against God: Their undying desire to actualize God, rather than to continue adhering to the transcendental notion according to which God can no longer be seen, heard, or touched. Indeed for those people – an assortment of former slaves who have been walking in the desert for months, and now are without a leader for nearly 40 days – the idea of believing in a God that has no form, no substance, and no attributes may have been simply too much to swallow.  All they wanted was something they can see, feel, and touch. And for that they were punished. And severely so. 

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 the People had done. But I am sure that were the People in direct and continuous communication with God the same way Moshe has been, they would have no need to actually build an image of Him, but rather simply ask God to show Himself – and that is exactly what Moshe did.

I am not suggesting that Moshe should have been punished in the same way his People were. But I do suggest that a better understanding of the great sin of the Golden Calf, alongside Moshe’s own actions immediately thereafter, would allow us a better view of the actions taken thousands of years ago in the heat of the desert sun. 

And the lesson for today?  I am not sure; but perhaps I may offer a close analogy. It is not uncommon for today’s religious leaders (of all stripes) to save their fiercest critique – and harshest words – to “sins” of others that, alas, they too are very likely to commit, if not already have committed in person.  Accordingly, the next time you hear someone of religious authority ordering you “not to ever, ever, even think of doing something of that sort,” rest assured they have already done so …

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron