Parashat Tzav (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, this year, at the same time we all celebrate the holiday of Purim. My two short comments will therefore follow that format, respectively.

I. 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 on the notions of sacrifices and offerings. But 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 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.    

           

II. The Lessons of Megilat Ester 

Megilat Ester – the most famous of all five Megilot, and thus simply named in Hebrew “the” Megila – is unique in many respects. First, God is never mentioned in the entire Megilah, and in fact He does not seem to play any role in it. That, in turn, led to the great argument of whether this book should be included within the 24-book Jewish cannon; and once it has been – why, and for what purpose. Second, the Megilah can be read as a feminist manifesto – queen who refuses her husband (the king)’s orders; a jewish woman who uses her charms to become a queen and then to influence the king, etc. – all great stories, but somewhat “foreign,” in their approach, to the rest of the canon. And finally, the notion of revenge by the Jewish people – killing 57,000 of “the people who hated them” (Esther 9:16) is also quite exceptional, at least in scope. These, as well as other phenomena, have led several scholars to question the “biblical” function of the Megilah.

Despite these legitimate concerns, I think the text itself may offer plenty of clues to suggest that the Megila is a part and parcel of the canon. For example, the very opening verse mentions “seven and twenty and a hundred” states (on which the king ruled); that same number happens to be the exact length, in years, of the life of Sarah, our first matriarch, which is mentioned in the opening verse of the portion bearing her name (Chayey Sarah). Similarly, the last verse in the Megila notes that Mordechai has turned into the “Mishne La’Melech” (Second-only to the King) – the exact same title, and the same rank, achieved hundreds of years earlier by Joseph in Egypt. Chapter 2 of the Megilah opens with the statement: “some time afterwards” (Est. 2:1) – the exact textual tool used to introduce two of Abraham’s most famous encounters with God (Cf. Gen. 15:1 and Gen. 22:1). And there are many other examples. To be sure, all those may be merely textual coincidences; then again, the odds for such frequent similarity are not that high.

Let us assume, then, that the beautiful story about the beautiful (and charming) Jewish woman, her smart uncle, and the turn of luck – is an integral part of the Jewish religion (without a question mark). What does it say about the Jewish religion? What does it say about God? Should we always mention Him explicitly to be reminded of His everlasting presence and affect on your life?

Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.     

Shabbat Shalom & Happy Purim

Doron 

 

Parashat Va'Yikra, Leviticus 1:1-5:26

The first portion of the Third Book of Moses – Leviticus – is called Va’Yik’ra (literally, “and [the Lord] has called on to [Moshe]”).  At first blush, this is one of the less intriguing portions of the entire 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 has changed in the past 3,000 years, I would like to comment shortly today.

I. The Offerings – A Great Synthesis

In the past several 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  – and the all-too-human desire to worship something much more concrete (the Santa-Claus image of God, if you will).  This is the tension between the notion of a transparent 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 what many believe to be their worst religious sin ever – the creation and worshiping of 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 any Jewish person of faith 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, in a whole new light. It is only in this way, says the Torah, and not another, that you may use your senses to worship. It is only the Torah’s way – there is no other. Not a Golden Calf, but the proper manner of sacrificing a real calf. In that, the offerings fulfill 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) insights. The offerings, say those critics, occupy way too much room in the Text, not to mention the rest of Halacha, to serve merely as a practical barrier to idol worshipping. (See, in particular, the view of 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. 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 that the entire creation of the universe. It is for that reason that every aspect of the providing the offerings is analyzed and described to such great detail. And finally, this is also 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 “for its own sake”; rather, it seems to be more “she’lo lee’shma” or “not for its own sake” 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, now that the entire edifice of the offering framework is no longer in effect? This is a tough question, and I have no good answer to that. I may, however, venture to offer some guesses. 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 these days, Jews all over the world are in constant search for a satisfactory alternative to the actual work of offerings – alternatives like Zen Buddhism, spiritualism, all kinds of “isms” that are not included in the text – all in order to compensate themselves for the lack of using their sense; still, 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 simply standing together as a community, to kissing the Holy Book to moving during the prayer, to special Aliyah, etc., etc. 

So much for understanding the offerings. 

II. When a Ruler Hath Sinned…

The second point I want to note on today relates to 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 we mentioned.]

In that respect, the portion this week asks what should happen – more accurately, what kind of offerings should be made – “if” a member of the community (or even the community as a whole) unintentionally commits a sin (something along the lines of committing a “negligent criminal act,” in today’s legal parlance”). For example, the text reads “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 when the ruler of the community would commit a similar, unintentional, sin, the term “if” suddenly disappears and is now replaced by “when”: “When a ruler has sinned  . . . erroneously”  (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 past 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. (Recall Lord Acton famous quote of 1887: “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts completely.”) 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” (that is, unless there is evidence that he has performed many a sin before taking office), so whenever his title “alters his mind” (that is, whenever he begins to think of himself as above other people, or the law), 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 fill up – see the example of the Golden Calf.  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 Pikudei, Ex. 38:21-End

This week’s portion, the very last in the book of She’mot (Exodus), is entitled Pikudey – literally “the records,” or, more accurately, the accounting – of the Mishkan (or Tabernacle). The portion teaches us two very important lessons: one, about accountability in general; the other, about the beautiful contrast between humankind and God when both complete their work. I take these two in turn.

I.                 Moshe and the Agency Dilemma 

Most of this week’s portion is dedicated to an extremely accurate – in fact, tedious at times – accounting of the materials used during the preparation of the Mishkan. Thus, we learn for example that the amount of gold used during the project was precisely 29 loafs and 730 holy shekels, and the amount of silver used was 100 loafs and 1775 holy shekels  - whatever those exact measures mean. (Ex. 38:24-25) We then continue to learn where, precisely, each of those loafs of gold and silver went and in what manner they were used during the preparation.  But why? Why is it so important to the text to provide such a detailed account of the contributions raised for the preparation of the Mishkan?

There are two answers to that question. The first is practical, and is self-evident today to every person entrusted with “other people’s money” (to quote Justice Brandeis). The other is religious, and is grounded in the understanding of the Torah as a book of faith. Let us take those answers in turn.

It is clear today to every person in charge of the use of the property of others – such as directors of not-for-profit organizations, trust fund mangers, and hedge fund magnets – that periodically, they must provide an accurate account to the property owners on what precisely happened with their money. For example, they must provide an account as to where was the money invested; has it yielded profit or loss; was it used for the purposes it was designed to serve; what portion of the money was used for what purpose; and so on and so forth. The reason for the need for such a report is the inherently human phenomenon known in economics as the “agency dilemma” and otherwise as the fear that someone you provide your money with would simply use it for his or her own sake rather than yours (or the purpose for which you gave the money for). Today, complex regulatory schemes require very detailed financial statements to prevent just that – and that makes perfect sense. But why the need to do the same at the time the text was written? Why did Moshe feel the need to provide such a detailed account, and why did the text include every line of it?

The answer provided by the Midrash shows at once that nothing has changed much since Dor Ha’Midbar (Generation of the Desert) and that baseless allegations need no good reason to exist. Indeed, the Midrash specifies that Moshe heard some people wondering how come he looks so healthy – fat, even – while walking in the merciless desert; “because he is drinking from our money, eating from our money” was the answer these people – called “clowns” by the Midrash – provided.  Once Moshe heard these – and other – vicious rumors, he immediately answered: “Once the project of preparing the Mishkan is completed, I will provide you with an exact account of your donations.” And, indeed, once the project was completed, the accounting begins – to the last shekel. Thus, even Moshe, the true “slave of God” and the most revered person in all of Judaism was not immune from the slander that comes with being in charge of the money of others; to prevent such slander, he provided an exact report – and thus we have the last portion of She’mot.

The second answer as to the extremely detailed account provided by this week’s portion is religious. As I have indicated several times in the past, the entire Chumash – the entire biblical canon, in fact – should be read not as a historical (or practical, or political) account of the Children of Israel, but rather as a manual of faith: a complete guide as to the correct and only way to believe in the Jewish God. Thus we see the incredible difference in size and detail between events that we see as cardinal – the creation of the universe, for example, which is given no more than 40 verses – and events that may mean nothing to a man with no faith – such as the creation of the Mishkan, which received more than 400 verses. Here, once the Mishkan is completed, we again see – in excruciating detail – where exactly the donations of the Israelites went; the reason is that the money went for a single purpose: the worship of God, not for any other. Accordingly, each loaf of silver, each shekel of gold should be accounted for – so we know exactly how they were used in the service of God. Not “agency dilemma,” but “God worshiping.” Two views of the same cathedral.

II.               On the Contrast Between Completing God’s Work and that of Man’s

When God concludes the creation of the entire universe, the text famously reports (in the original Hebrew): “Va’yaculu Ha’shamyim ve’ha’aretz ve’chol tze’va’am…” – “And the heavens and the earth and all their armies have been completed, and God has completed on the seventh day His work that He has performed…” (Gen. 2:1-2).

Similarly, the text reports on this week’s portion, upon the completion of the Mishkan’s work: “And all the work of (preparing) the Mishkan has been completed … And Moshe has completed the work.” (Ex. 39:32, 40:33). In the same vein, we find upon the completion of the first Mikdash (House of the Lord): “And Hiram completed to perform all the work for King Shlomo (Solomon) [for] the House of the Lord.” (I Kings, 7:40).

But while all three acts of completion are described in very similar fashion (all using the Hebrew term “va’ye’chal” – (and the work) “has been completed”), there is a fundamental difference between the completion of God’s work and that of its human counterpart. Thus, when God completes the creation of the universe, He cease from working and blesses the Seventh Day (Shabbat) and turns it into a holy day. In other words, He seems to enjoy the completion of His work, so much so, in fact, that He marks it such that humans would celebrate it every week for generations on end.

But when humans complete their work, something completely different occurs. Thus, when Moshe concludes his work: “And Moshe completed the work, and the cloud has covered the Tent of Meeting and the dignity of the Lord has filled the Mishkan; and Moshe could not have approached the Mishkan for the cloud is upon it and the dignity of the Lord fills the Mishkan.” (Ex. 40:33-35). Similarly, when Shlomo concludes his own work: “And when the priests have left the sanctuary, and the cloud fills the House of the Lord; and the priests could not have stand and served (the Lord) for the cloud, as the dignity of the Lord has filled the House of the Lord.” (I Kings 8:10-11).

We see, therefore, that – at least according to the Bible – every human creation is never designed for its own sake, but only as a tool to serve God. This is the religious meaning of human creation; it only exists for serving God. But even if we move away from this extremely religious reasoning, the text may still teach us a very valuable lesson: It is only God who may truly create something for its own sake; for us, humans, should always remember that our creations are meant to serve something – or someone – else, much larger than ourselves. In other words, even at times when we successfully complete the largest, most important projects of our lives, we should always remember to be humbled before God. To quote my favorite verse of the entire canon:

            He has told you, O man, what is good and what has the Lord demand of you: Nothing but the doing of justice, and the loving of charity, and acting modestly before your God. (Micha 6:8).

Shabbat Shalom.

Doron             

Parashat Va'Yakhel, 35:1-38:20

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 instructions for 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 one of God’s most important decrees:

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 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. Thus, I will begin with the God’s Shabbat; I will then move to this week’s portion; and I will then conclude with some lessons for today.

I. 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 desist laboring further. (Gen. 2:1) In the original Hebrew, the text uses the same terms that are used today to denote a strike, as if on the seventh day God went on a strike. After working continuously for six entire days, God decides that this is a special day, worthy of blessing but not work. 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, id.) Why was it so important to denote that day? 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, 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 to this day. 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 perform any other miracle. 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 best reflects the Talmudic statement: “Na’eh Do’resh – Na’eh Meka’yem” (He who demands, should perform first. [If only our politicians could internalize this principle, too…]).

To summarize (and to paraphrase one of the greatest, and most bible-savvy Presidents 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.

II. 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.

Most liberal commentators see the Shabbat as one of the earliest examples of advance social legislation in Judaism, as one of the paramount demonstrations of how the Jewish religion values work and cares about the well being of workers (not only of Jews, by the way; 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). But from a textual perspective – as this week’s portion well demonstrates – the Shabbat, as a concept, seems to offer something entirely different: The religious decree of resting in Shabbat is not meant for the worker, it is meant for God: “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 may enjoy the effect of the Shabbat in the same way – both don’t work, or rest on that day – the understanding of the Shabbat to each is completely different. For the non-religious person 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 Divine Restriction, which, if violated, may result in as much as death.  

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).     

 

III. Shabbat as Marked Today by (some in) Orthodox Judaism

Unfortunately, in Israel today several so-called “ultra-religious” people fail to understand both the very nature and the importance of the Shabbat concept.  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 Divine, 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 Tissa, Ex. 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 may satisfy not one, but several blog posts. Alas, my space, as well as your patience, is limited; so I have to restrict myself this week to only two, seemingly unrelated, issues:  The story of the Golden Calf – perhaps one of the most fundamental examples in the long history of the relations between the People of Israel and their Lord God; and Moshe’s incredible dialogue with God – perhaps the most fascinating dialogue ever recorded.

I. The Golden Calf and Notion of Holiness

In the past two weeks we touched briefly on the notion of holiness, in particular as it is sometimes erroneously ascribed to completely earthly possessions such as certain locations, man-made artifacts, or other structures. This week, Moshe himself – the true “slave of God” and the only one who has spoken to Him face-to-face (as we shall note 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: specifically made, inscribed, and designed 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 – merely two stone-made 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 the very same manner by saying about 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-of-faith of all times.  One commentator has gone so far as to compare 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 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 – man would kill his brother, man would kill his friend, and man would kill his kin.” (Ex. 32:27) Indeed, the Levites killed more than 3,000 of their brethren, without a slight hesitation.  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 consideration the “mitigating circumstances” involved:  First, people were concerned that Moshe simply disappeared – the person who led them each and every day and was visible throughout the day had suddenly left them, never to be seen for forty days.  Second, and perhaps 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 – an “all-too-human” (to quote another favorite philosopher) characteristic. .

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. [Not unlike the Founding Fathers of this nation, by the way.] 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.

II. Moshe’s Incredible Dialogue with God   

Completely exhausted – both emotionally and physically – after the ordering of killing 3,000 men of his own People, Moshe then turns to the only entity he can trust – God Himself – for reassurance and moral support.  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 for Moshe at this time, even that amazing event was not enough. Moshe wanted 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 still live.” (Ex. 33:18-20). 

And so God proposes an amazing “compromise”; unfortunately, it is not clear that God’s offer may be properly translated; it goes something along the following lines: “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?  I am not sure; but perhaps I may offer a close analogy. 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               

Parashat Te'za'veh, Ex. 27:20-30:10

This week’s portion – Te’tza’veh (literally, “you shall order them”) – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion, namely the extremely detailed instructions on how to build the Tabernacle (or Mishkan) and to serve God therein.  Accordingly, my own notes this week would also continue – and elaborate upon – those of last week’s. In light of several comments I received – (please feel free to comment on the Blog) – I think such elaboration is warranted. 

I. God’s Place in This World

Last week we read the extremely accurate verse, which succinctly summarizes God's place in the world: “And they [the People of Israel] would build me a sanctuary and I will dwell among them” [and not, as one may think “and I will dwell in there.”] (Ex. 25:8) God does not reside in one place, be it a traveling sanctuary or a permanent shrine. God, as we all know well, is everywhere all the time (omnipresent). It is we, the limited humans, who need a constant reminder that God is still among us. It is we who require an actualization of the transcendence of God. It is we who need to see, in our own eyes, what our minds at time refuse to acknowledge.

This week’s portion elaborate on this important point: “And there [by the Tent of Meeting] I will conference with the People of Israel, and it shall be sanctified by my honor; and I have sanctified the Tent of Meeting . . . And I have dwelled among the People of Israel and I shall be their God; And they shall know that I am the Lord their God who brought them from the Land of Egypt to dwell among them, I am the Lord your God.” (Ex. 29:41-46).

This is a remarkable passage. First, it seems that not only readers of this blog, but also much earlier readers – and perhaps the divine author of the text itself – felt the need to further explain this extremely crucial point. Second, what we have here is a direct connection between the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God who brought you from the Land of Egypt” – and notion of residing in places other than the so-called “sanctified” placed.  Indeed, in the deepest (religious) sense, these “sanctified” places are merely symbols; the truly religious person doesn’t need them – he has God in his (or her) heart at all times, wherever he goes (compare the first verses of the “Sh’ma”). And while this point may sound somewhat trivial to American ears, rest assured that many a war would have been prevented, and thousands of lives would have been spared, if only some middle-eastern leaders (yes, Israeli leaders too) could have internalize this point: again, it is not the place that is holly; it is God; He does not reside in that place, He is everywhere. The question, then, should the Israeli Government hold on to this or that place (which, presumably, are “holy” for some reason) becomes almost irrelevant once this seemingly trivial point is properly understood. Holiness exists in the hearts and minds of the people; it does not attach to a singular place.

Professor Yeshayahu Leibovitz, who, more than anyone else, advocated this point ad nauseam, had once dared to call Israel’s most holly place – the Western Wall (known in Israel as the “The Ko’tel”) – a “Disco Kotel.” He explained that there’s nothing “holy” about that particular wall, and that it was definitely not worth the life of even one person, let alone the hundreds of soldiers and civilians who were killed and injured over the years in the effort to “liberate” it. But, as is often the case, his words were taken out of context, and all people could remember was that he called this place a “Disco.” But all Leibovitz was trying to do is remake the argument that God Himself was making in the last two portions.

            II. God’s Place in Your Heart

For those who seek a more current angle – which is true for most of my readers, I guess – let me offer a quote from one of my favorite movies - A Few Good Men (1992). At the end of the film, after the two Marines were acquitted of the more serious charges (murder and a conspiracy to commit murder) but convicted of the lesser charge (conduct unbecoming a Marine Core soldier), one of them wonders aloud what would they do now that they have no more unit, no core, and no honor.  Lieutenant Kaffee, played by Tom Cruise, turns to him and confidently reassures: “You don't need a patch on your arm to have honor.”

I think the same is true for God. The relationship between you and God should not be directed by a “patch on the arm,” a “Yamukah or the head,” or the amount of time you spend in the nearest synagogue. While all those are important, they are, at the end of the day, merely symbols of your relationship with God, not “the thing in itself” (to borrow, for a short moment, from the greatest philosopher of all times). Those relationship, however, are determined by the degree to which you allow God to reside in your heart. If you are content with that degree, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise; and if you are not happy with that degree, all the hours you will ever spend in shul, wearing Talit, Tefilin,  and Yamukah combined, would be of no help to you at all. Such determination may only be made between you and God.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron        

Parashat Trumah, Ex. 25:1-27:19

This week’s portion – “Trumah” (literally, a donation) – mainly contains God’s decree to Moshe build a Tabernacle (“Mishkan,” literally, place of dwelling) – a portable shrine to accompany the Israelite in their desert travels.

God’s instructions on how precisely to build the Mishkan are extremely detailed, to the point of being tedious at times (see, for example, the ten verses dedicated to the building of the six-branch Menorah alone – Ex. 25:31-40; these verses also demonstrate that the American-Jewish use of the term “Menorah” to describe the eight-branch lighting device for Chanukah is simply misguided.) Yeshayahu Leibovitz, who loves to inquire deeply into such issues, notes that the creation of the entire universe – including all the planetary heavens, the oceans, mountains, living and growing things, and finally humans – had received less than 40 verses in the entire Chumash, while the building of the Mishkan alone has received more than 400 verses (ten times that). Leibovitz sees that as ultimate proof of his view that the Torah is not a book that is meant to provide us with information about the world; rather it is a book about Avo’dat E’lohim - the service of God, and that alone. That is why issues of that nature – as in instructions on how to precisely serve God – receive so much more attention in the text than issues of far less religious significance, such as the creation of the universe.

I would like to make two quick observations on issues raised by this week’s Portion.

I. The Basis of Modern Fund-Raising

(This section is lovingly dedicated to my wife, who taught me everything I know about fund-raising).

Surely God – who just parted the Red Sea, drowned the largest army in the region, provided food and water in the desert, and performed a host of other miracles – could have easily built the Mishkan by Himself. God needs no human assistance. In addition, even if God prefers, for some reason, human participation, He could have simply ordered Betz’al’el Ben-Uri to perform the task on his own. (compare Ex. 31:2).

But God prefers neither to establish the Mishkan on His own, nor to delegate the task to a single chosen architect (today, by the way, the Israeli Academy of Arts and Design is named after this talented artist, “Be’zal’el”). Rather, God preferred a different model altogether. He decides that the building of the Mishkan would become a community effort. In today’s parlance, God decided that “it would take a village” to build His House of Worship. And how may the community participate? Through voluntary donations. The donations are voluntary in two ways: First, there is no duty to participate at all; and second, the sum of the contribution is voluntary – there is neither a minimum nor a maximum amount to be contributed. Each may donate “as their heart orders them.” (Ex. 25:2) The idea here is that the entire community would become partners in working together towards a common project. And this is how the text describes God’s instructions to Moshe in the dramatic opening of this week’s portion: “And God spoke to Moshe and told him: Speak to the People of Israel and they shall provide me donations, from each person whose heart so moves him you shall take my donations; and this is the donation you shall take from them: gold, silver, and copper.” (Ex. 25:1-3). [To those keen-eyed readers who wonder where would the Israelites find gold in the middle of the desert, please refer to the eve of the Exodus, where God – who plans everything in advance – instructed the then-slaves to “borrow” from their neighbors “objects of silver and objects of gold.”(Ex. 11:2)].

And these instructions, believe it or not, form the basis of the entire industry (and science) of fund-raising today. From the suggested donation at the Met Museum to the frequent “please support us” mail solicitation received daily across the United States, from the million-dollar contributions made by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation to the basket passed every Sunday at churches nationwide – the theoretical basis for all those donations is identical and based on this Week Portion’s portion four tenets: (i) The actual act of donation is voluntary; (ii) If you do choose to donate, the amount is a matter of which “your heart should instruct you” (to be sure, fund-raisers all over the world would try to make sure that “your heart” instructs you the maximum figure, but the principle remains); (iii) The fund-raising person would notify you exactly what type of donation they prefer (“Gold, Silver, Copper”) although today, in the vast majority of cases, the most common form is a gift of money (as opposed to time, talent, or other resources); (iv) The donation is a part of a community effort to built together something that is bigger than any one donor can establish, and therefore beneficial to all – or at least a large part – of the community (if not to the world at large).

And while fund-raising may be used for the noblest of causes, religious or otherwise, they can also be mis-used (or abused) for a variety of purposes – for example, to construct the Golden-Calf against the clear wishes of Moshe (Ex. 32:3 “And the People of Israel took off their gold rings and brought to Aharon.”). Accordingly, one has to be extremely watchful in choosing their fund-raising projects – both then and now.

II. Why Do We Need the Mishkan in the First Place?

Beyond the method in which God preferred to establish the Mishkan, a far deeper question lies: Why do we need the Mishkan at all? Why do we need a House of Worship, when God is all around us, every single day, everywhere?  Even more concretely, at times when God was leading us through the desert using a smoke pillar during the days and fire pillar at night, why is there a need for a separate worship structure? And – perhaps the most controversial point – how exactly is this physical worship structure, the Mishkan, different from the Israelites’ “worst religious sin of all times,” the building of the Golden-Calf?

Obviously, this blog post in not the right venue to discuss this extremely deep question in depth. I will provide, however, initial clues for the answer. First, God understands (or, to take an agnostic view, the writers of the text well understood) the need to balance between the “pure” belief in God – that which is correctly based solely on the First Commandment (“I am the Lord Your God”) on the one hand, and the all-too-human demand for actualization of all things transcendental, including God Himself, on the other (hence the so-called “white-bearded Grandpa” image of God, heavily promoted by some Christian sects). This exact balance – between the transcendental and the actual – may also explain more modern events, such as the success of Lance Armstrong’s ingenious “yellow rubber bracelet” invention, which brought cancer-research millions of dollars in donations: Here, Armstrong succeeded in turning a metaphysical subject (the need to promote cancer research due to the actual risk that cancer presents to all of us), and the actualization of that thought through the carrying of a small yellow rubber bracelet reading “live strong.” (Note the fund-raising aspect of the yellow band, to create a perfect match to our Portion of the Week).  Turning back to the Mishkan, having an actual place of worship for God – but not an image of God Himself – represents a similar compromise, or balance, between the two extremes (pure transcendental belief versus actual worship of concrete gods).

Second, God is keenly aware of the difference between a House of Worship and the place where He actually dwells. As he instructs Moshe: “And they will make me a shrine, and I will dwell among them” (Ex. 25:8) That is, the fact that a shrine – even if it called “a place of dwelling” – exists, does not suggest that God is actually there, or just there; God is everywhere, but most importantly – in the peoples’ hearts. That is where God resides, and if He is missing from there, then none of the Houses of Worship, as beautiful as they may be, would ever be of help. [Compare to Judge Learned Hand’s beautiful oft-cited quote: “Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can save it.”] 

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron