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

Parashat Te'tza'veh, Exodus 27:20-30:10

This week’s portion – Te’tza’veh (literally, “you shall order") – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion, that is an extremely detailed description of the instructions on how to build the Tabernacle (or Mishkan) and how to worship 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 – directly, not to the Blog (feel free to write to the Blog!) – I think such elaboration is warranted.

God’s Place in This World

Recall that last week I mentioned how precise the text was in clarifying: “And they [the People of Israel] would make me a sanctuary and I will dwell among them” [and not, as one may think “and I would dwell in there.”] (Ex. 25:8) God does not reside in one place, be it a traveling sanctuary or a permanent shrine; rather, God is everywhere, all the time. 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 further elaborates 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 for further explanation of 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 “holy" (or "sanctified”) places. Indeed, in the deepest religious sense, these “holy” places are merely symbols; the truly religious person doesn’t need them – he has God with him everywhere, at all times.

While this point may sound somewhat trivial (or even unimportant) to American ears, rest assured that many a war could have been prevented, and thousands of lives could have been spared, if only some middle-eastern leaders (yes, Israeli leaders in particular) could fully realize this point. It is not the place that is holly; it is God; He does not reside in that place, He is everywhere. The question, therefore, whether Israel should hold on to this place or that grave (which, presumably, are “holy” for some reason) becomes irrelevant once all leaders would truly internalize this point.

Yeshayahu Leibovitz, who, more than anyone else, advocated this point ad nauseam once “dared” calling Israel’s most holly place – the Western Wall (called in Israel: The Ko’tel) – a “Disco Kotel.” He explained that there’s nothing “holly” about it, and that "pile of stone" was definitely not worth the life of one soldier, let alone hundreds of civilians. But, as often is the case, his words were taken out of context, and all people can now remember is that he called this place a “Disco.” But all Leibovitz was trying to do is to make the same argument that God Himself (or the author of the last two portions) was making thousands of years ago.

For those who are seeking a more current angle – which are most of my readers, I'm afraid – let me suggest a quote from one of my favorite movies, A Few Good Men (1992). At the end of that 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 what would they do now that they have no unit, no core, and no honor. Lieutenant Kaffee, played by Tom Cruise, turns to him and explains: “You don't need a patch on your arm to have honor.”

The same is true for having God in your life. The relationship between you and God should not be dictated by wearing a “patch on the arm,” a “Yamukah" on your head, or even frequenting the nearest synagogue as often as you can. These are merely symbols to your relationship, not “the thing in itself” (to borrow for a short moment from the greatest philosophers 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, you shouldn't let anyone ever try to persuade you otherwise; but if you are not content, all the hours you will ever spend in shul, wearing Talit, Tefilin, and Yamukah, would be of no help at all. It is just between you and God.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Trumah, Exodus 25:1 - 27:19

This week’s portion – Trumah (literally, a donation) – deals with God’s decree to Moshe to build the Tabernacle – Mishkan (literally, the place of dwelling) – a portable shrine to accompany the People in their desert travels

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

I would like to make, as usual, two quick notes on issues the Portion raises.

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. (compare Ex. 31:2).

But God prefers another model altogether. He would like the building of the Mishkan to become a community effort. In His mind, “it takes a village” to build the 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, there is neither minimum nor maximum contribution suggested. Each may donate “as their heart orders them.” The idea here is that everyone will contribute to the extent they can – some more, some less – and will feel partners in a community that acted 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 for the entire industry and science of modern fund-raising. From the suggested donation at the Met Museum to the frequent “please support us” mail that you receive daily to the million-dollar contributions that the Bill Gates of the world bestow upon their favorite projects – the theoretical basis is always identical: (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); (iv) The fund-raising person would notify you exactly what kind of donation they want, although today that is, in the vast majority of cases, 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 abused for a variety of causes – for example, to perform the worst of religious sins – the construction of the Golden-Calf (Ex. 32:3 “And the People of Israel took off their gold rings and brought to Aharon.”) So one has to be selective in choosing their fund-raising projects.

So much for fund-raising.

Why Do We Need the Mishkan At All?

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, leading the way with a smoke pillar during the day and fire pillar at night? And how exactly is this Mishkan differ from the Israelites’ “worst sin,” the Golden-Calf?

Obviously, this post in not the right venue to discuss this extremely deep question. I will provide, however, initial clues for the answer. First, God understands (or, to take an agnostic stand, the writers of the text understood) the need to balance between the “pure” belief in God – that which is correctly based on the First Commandment (“I am the Lord Your God”), and on that decree alone – and the all-too-human need for actualization of everything transcendental, including God Himself (hence the so-called “white-bearded Grandpa” image of God, heavily promoted by some Christian sects). This exact balance also explains many things in our world today – for example, Lance Armstrong’s ingenious “yellow rubber bracelet” invention, which brought cancer-research millions of dollars, is a perfect example of balancing between the need to think about cancer-survivors and the 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.” (It also, to be sure, includes an aspect of fund-raising, to create a perfect match to our Portion). There are many other examples.

Second, God is keenly aware – and advices us to do the same – 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.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Mishpa'tim, Exodus 21:1 - 24:11

This week’s portion – Mishpatim, or The Laws – is a direct continuance to last week’s portion. As you may recall, last week the Children of Israel have received their Constitution – the famous Ten Commandments, painting in very broad brush-strokes all the things they should do – such as recognizing our One God, keeping the Shabbat, and respecting our parents – and some they should not – such as not to steal, not to murder, or not to covet.

As I have explained last week, this providing of one law to the entire people of Israel was quite a novel idea, and also (possibly) a consequence of Moshe’s heeding his father-in-law's advice and departure from his role as a sole arbiter of the people’s grievances. Now that other people were in charge of the day-to-day legal system, they – and the people they judged – deserved to know (to quote the American Supreme Court some 200 years ago) “what the law is.” And the law IS the Ten Commandments, but it is also many more “small commandments,” dealing not only with the most egregious of violations and heinous of crimes, but with many every-day occurrences that require answer. This is the issue of this week's portion – the many laws that will shape the behavior – both criminal and civil – of the community for generations to come.

There are many “legal” things to say about these laws, including their beautiful consistency, hierarchy, internal logic, and practicability. But I am afraid this will be of little interest to the non-lawyer readers of this blog. Besides that, however, what do strikes me, more than anything else, when I read this set of laws each year anew is how smart were the people who wrote them back then, and how relevant they still are today (or, put differently, how little has change). To take but a few of my favorite examples: “And bribe you shall not take, as bribe will blind the eyes of wise men, and contrive the words of the righteous ones.” (Exodus 23:8); “And you shall not wrong a foreigner (or non-citizen) and you shall not oppress them, as you yourselves were foreigners in the land of Egypt.” (22:20); and there are many more, including, most importantly, the first official recognition of a woman's right to be supplied with food, cloths, and conjugal rights. (Ex. 21:20)

Today I want to demonstrate how two laws, well-established in their day and well understood, have undergone a transformative change over the years – and today are used for something completely different than that originally intended.

An Eye for An Eye

This week’s portion introduces, for the first time, the notion of “an eye for an eye.” What is amazing to me is how this sensitive, carefully-calculated formula of compensatory damages turned over the years into the rallying cry of over-zealous state prosecutors, who demand “justice” (euphemism for death penalty) for the criminals on trial. Let me explain. First, let us see the context in which the term appears. The “eye for an eye” term – sometimes referred to today as the “Talion” – appears in the context of a series of laws pertaining to brawls. Before the talion we have two people fighting with each other, a person hitting their slaves – male of female, and (right after) a person injuring their slaves – taking out their eye or teeth. It is clear, therefore, that we are deep in the realm of tort law – that is, civil law – and not criminal law. The question is: what is the proper compensation for a damage occurring during a fight. And the case at bar is fascinating [in parens, my comments], Exodus 21:

“[22] When [two] men fight [both free men], and one of them [accidently?] hits a pregnant woman, and her child are [forced] out, and no other tragedy occurs, the penalty [for the hitting person] would be in the amount that the Husband of that woman determine on reckoning; [23] But if a tragedy occurs, then you [the hitting person] shall give life for life, [24] eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, arm for an arm, foot for a foot, burn for a burn, wound for a wound, and bruise for a bruise.”

It is clear, therefore, that the text made an attempt to cover as many incidents bound to happen when two men are fighting. This is a fascinating issue, then as today – the protection of fragile groups of victims (like minors, elderly, and pregnant women) who suffer due to violence in the community – and the biblical text provides a well-measured response, determining, first, that this kind of injury should be compensated; that is – these people are protected; and, second, the protection is complete – for every damage they have suffered, for every bruise, injury, or lost limb – to them or to the babies – they should receive the exact same worth.

Now to take this carefully-calculated compensation formula and turn it into the theoretical basis for (criminally) executing many an innocent victim – just because it “sounds good” (“The bible teaches us: Eye for an Eye. You, the jury, must give this man a taste of his own medicine; send him to death!”) – that is simply beyond me.

Kashrut Laws

Not too many are aware, but the entire corpus of the Laws of Kashrut (or dietary laws) stands on a single verse appearing in this week’s portion. [To be sure, there are many other verses relating to what a Jewish person may or may not eat; this one, however, is the lynchpin]: “Though shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk.” (Exodus 23:19).

This seemingly innocuous prohibition, which was prescribed – according to some of the commentators – in a direct response to other regional nations’ “special treat” during feasts (that is, the actual cooking of a young kid in its mother’s milk), was apparently designed to separate us from all other nations. We, the Jewish people, would not do such a thing. But then again, how would we know whether or not we’re cooking a lamb in his mother’s milk? Better to separate all lamb meals, and all milk meals, for a few hours. Better yet, better to separate all lamb meals, and all milk-product meals, for several hours – who knows, perhaps the cheese we're eating contain some of the mother's milk. To be completely safe, let us separate all meat-based products (not only lamb) and all milk-based products (not only milk) for several hours. Once we have done that, let us assure that those two groups of products will be consumed in the same dishes – two sets of dishes is warranted. And the washing of those dishes should be done in two separate sinks. Voila. And here we are, more than 3,000 years afterwards, with a very specific set of laws regarding the strict separation of meat and milk. Every single product that comes to our mouth is labeled: Is it milk? Is it meat? Is it Neither? Every single meal is carefully planned so it would not violate the other.

And all of this comes from a single verse – "Though shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk." Amazing.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron