Parashat Va'Yakhel-Pikudey

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

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

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

I. God’s First Shabbat

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

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

2. What type of a day was the First Shabbat? Was it a like any other day? Recall that all the other six days ended with a similar concluding remark: “And there was evening and there was morning, hence the first [and then second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth] day was concluded.” But nothing like that appears in relation to the Shabbat. The length of that day is not clear at all.  In theory, since that Day has never end one may suggest that it is still in effect today! Moreover, one could argue that God “worked” throughout the six days – which, according to some commentators, lasted for thousands of years – and then stopped His “labor,” such that he has created nothing since then.  Is it possible that, from His perspective, this is still a Shabbat?  Since it has no discernable end as a “Day,” and since God purposefully hasn’t created anything since then, can we say we are still in a state of Godly Shabbat? 

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

Now God not only stopped working Himself on Shabbat; he also instructed us to do the same. This is important, as this is the first time that God instructed us to copy Him. In contrast, he never instructed us to re-create the heavens, part the sea, or perform any His many miracles. But He did require us to keep the Shabbat like He did. This is astounding, as this may be the only one of the 613 Mitzvot that apply equally to both God and Man. In this sense, the decree not to perform labor on Shabbat is a neat example of the well-known Talmudic verse: “Na’eh Do’resh – Na’eh Meka’yem” (“He who demands, should abide by his own demand first”; or, in other words, no one is above the law. If only our politicians could internalize this principle… ).

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

II. This Portion’s Shabbat

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

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

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

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

Thus, the Shabbat may be viewed as a right, but also as a duty; a prize, but also a burden; a well-deserved rest, but also a responsibility. Only once we comprehend the Shabbat in that way, we can fully appreciate its meaning and begin to understand its holiness.

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

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron      

  

Parashat Kee-Teessa

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

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

I. The Golden Calf and Notion of True Holiness

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

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

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

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

As we have already read, more than 3,000 years later, one of America’s greatest judges, Judge Learned Hand (what a wonderful name for a Judge!), expressed this very same idea in relation to liberty: “Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can save it; no constitution, no law, no court can even do much to help it.”

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

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

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

II. Moshe’s Incredible Dialogue with God   

Completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, after the ordering of killing 3,000 men of his own People, Moshe then turns to the only entity he can trust – God Himself. He seeks reassurance and moral support. And God does not let him down.  In one of the most fascinating descriptions ever to appear in writing, the text reports:

“And the Lord spoke to Moshe face to face, as one person speaks to another.” (Ex. 33:11)

But for Moshe at this time, even this amazing chain of events is not enough. He wants more. In one of the earliest revelations of Jewish chutzpa, Moshe dares to ask God for the ultimate prize:

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

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

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

But what about Moshe himself? How exactly is his request from God – to actually see Him – that different from his People’s? True, Moshe never built an image of God, and thus did not violate the first, second, and third Commandments as the People had done. But I am sure that were the People in direct and continuous communication with God the same way Moshe has been, they would have no need to actually build an image of Him, but rather simply ask God to show Himself – and that is exactly what Moshe did.

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

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

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron                

Parashat Te'tza'veh

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, too, will continue – and elaborate upon – those of last week’s. In light of several comments I received – (please feel free to comment on the Blog webpage) – I think such some elaboration is warranted. 

I. God’s Place in The World

Last week we discussed an extremely well-translated verse, which read: “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 would dwell within it.”] (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 omnipresent, throughout time immemorial. It is we, the limited humans, who need a constant reminder that God is always 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 – the constant glory of God.

This week’s portion further elaborates on this important point:

“And there [by the Tent of Meeting] I will hold 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 their God.” (Ex. 29:43-46).

This is a remarkable passage. First, it seems that not only readers of this blog, but also some earlier readers – and perhaps the divine author of the text itself – felt the need to further develop this idea, which was first presented in a short sentence last week. Second, what we have here is a direct connection between the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God who took you out from the Land of Egypt” – and the notion of God as residing in all places rather than only in those places commonly referred to today as the “holy places.” Indeed, in the deepest religious sense, these so-called “holy places” are merely symbols, a human reminder for the awesomeness of God. Indeed, a true person of faith doesn’t need them at all – he or she have God in their heart at all times, wherever they go (also note the third verse of the “Sh’ma,” instructing every Jewish person to worship God anywhere, anytime: “While sitting at home or walking on the road, while lying down or standing up.”)

 I am aware that this point may sound somewhat trivial to many an American Jew, or, for that matter, to any Jew who reside outside Israel. And yet this seemingly inconsequential concept may carry far-reaching implications, and perhaps more so today than ever before, for the Israeli Palestinian conflict. In particular, many regional conflicts, thousands of lives, and much pain could have been saved if only some middle-eastern leaders (yes, Israeli leaders among them) would have internalized this seemingly simple notion: It is not the place that is holly – only God is Holy; God does not reside in that place or another, He is everywhere.

Thus, one of the thorniest aspects of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict – the question of whether the Israeli Government should hold on to this or that place (which, presumably, is “holier” more than other places) becomes irrelevant. The places are not “holy” (although, to be sure, they may be of other significance; but that status – in contrast to “holiness” can always be negotiated).

Professor Yeshayahu Leibovitz, perhaps the most ardent follower of this concept and its most prominent advocate, did not hesitate to take this point to its logical extreme. On one occasion he dared calling Israel’s most sacred place – the Western Wall (known in Israel as the “The Ko’tel”) – a “Disco Kotel.” He was trying to make the point that worshiping a place, as opposed to worshiping God, is actually anti Jewish. He further explained that there was ever nothing “holy” about that particular wall (or any other wall, for that matter), and that it was definitely not worth the life of a single person, let alone the hundreds and thousands 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 remember now is that he called this “holy” place “a Disco.” But again, all that Leibovitz was trying to do is to underscore the same 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 two most 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, confidently reassures him in response: “You don't need a badge 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 “badge 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 or representations of your relationship to God, not “the thing in itself” (to borrow, for a short moment, from the greatest philosopher of all time). 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

This week’s portion – “Trumah” (literally, a donation) – describes God’s orders to Moshe on the issue of building the Tabernacle (“Mishkan,” literally, place of dwelling), a portable shrine to accompany the People of Israel in their desert travels to the Promised Land.

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 Jewish-American use of the term “Menorah” to describe the eight-branch lighting device for Chanukah is, unfortunately, 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 even the creation of humans – had received less than 40 verses in the entire Chumash, while the building of the Mishkan alone has received more than 400 verses (in other words, the Mishkan occupies ten times the amount of verses than the creation of the universe). 

Leibovitz considers that the ultimate proof of his view that the Torah is not a book designed 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. It is for that reason that the 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.

As usual, I would like to make two quick observations about 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 modern 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. Further, even if God have preferred, for some reason, some human participation He could have easily ordered Bet’zal’el Ben-Uri (or another early Leonardo) to perform the task directly rather than to seek the people’s help. (compare Ex. 31:2).

Yet God preferred neither to establish the Mishkan on His own nor to delegate the task to a single architect (after whom, by the way, the Israel Academy of Arts and Design is still named today - “Bet’zal’el”). Rather, God preferred a different mode altogether. He decreed 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 donate at all – should you decide not to donate you would not be penalized in any way (save, perhaps, some minor social scorn from your peers). Second, should you decide to donate, the measure of each contribution is voluntary – there is neither a minimum nor a maximum amount to the contribution. Each may donate “as generously as their heart allows.” (Ex. 25:2) The idea here is that the entire community would become partners in the erection of this edifice. Rather than a mere religious experience, it would also become a community 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 as generously as their heart allows; and this is the donation you shall take from them: gold, silver, and copper.” (Ex. 25:1-3)

[For those keen-eyed readers who may wonder where would a host of ex-slaves find gold, silver, and copper in the middle of the desert, please refer to the eve of their hurried exit from Egypt, where God instructed the then-slaves to “borrow” from their neighbors “objects of silver and objects of gold.”(Ex. 11:2)].

And these instructions – and that is the thrust of Portion today – form the very basis on which the entire profession (and science) of fund-raising stands today. From the “suggested donation” kindly asked for at the entrance to the Metropolitan Museum in New York City, to the “please support us” mass-mail solicitations received daily by millions across the United States; and from million-dollar contributions made by the likes of 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 is very much based on this Week Portion’s four tenets:

(i) The actual act of donation is voluntary; (ii) If you do choose to donate, the amount is a matter of choice, decided by how much “your generous heart allows” (to be sure, professional fund-raisers all over the world do everything in their power to ensure that your “generous heart” would “allow” you to donate the maximum amount needed for their purposes; still the principle remains the same); (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, it may 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 them 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, always?  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 these extremely serious questions in depth. I can provide, however, some of my thoughts on the matter. First, God fully understands (or, to take an agnostic view, the writers of the text fully understood) the need to balance between the “pure” form of belief in God – one which is correctly based solely on the First Commandment (“I am the Lord Your God”) as well as on the recognition of an omnipresent, though transcendental entity – on the one hand, and the all-too-human quest 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 religious groups both within and outside Judaism). 

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 also the fund-raising aspect of that same yellow band, which brings us back to our Portion of the Week).  Turning back to the Mishkan, having an actual place of worship for God – not just a notion of the image of God – 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 called “a place of dwelling” – exists, does not suggest that God actually resides there, or, more accurately, merely there; God is everywhere, but most importantly – God resides in the peoples’ hearts. That is the only true residence of God, and once God leaves that place none of the Houses of Worship, as beautiful as they may be, would ever be of help. [It was Judge Learned Hand who understood this principle in a different context, when he declared: “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

Parashat Mishpatim

This week’s portion – Mishpatim, or The Laws – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion. As you may recall, last week we read about how the Children of Israel received their Constitution – the famous Ten Commandments. Those majestic provisions painted in very broad brush strokes a picture of the actions the people should take – such as recognizing our One God, keeping the Shabbat, and respecting our parents, as well as some of those they should not – such as not to steal, to murder, or to covet. This week, we move from the constitution to the laws; from the general to the particular; and from the majestic to the (somewhat) mundane. But there is more here than meets the eye. 

As you may recall from last week, the Ten Commandments represented the idea of providing a unified code of conduct (and morals) to the people prior to any action, as opposed to a declaration of particular laws, per case, after a dispute has risen between (usually) two parties. Such an elaborate scheme of laws was quite a novel idea, and also, at least in part, probably a consequence of Moshe’s heeding his father-in-law's advice and departing from the role of a sole arbiter and judge of all cases and controversies. Now that other judges were in charge of running the legal system, they – and the people who were subject to their powers – were entitled to know (to quote Chief Justice Marshall from some 200 years ago) “what the law is.” And the law IS the great Ten Commandments, but it is also many more “small commandments,” dealing not only with the most egregious of violations (refusing to acknowledge God as the sole creator) or most heinous of crimes (murder), but with many every-day occurrences that require a legal solution. This is the issue of this week's portion – the many laws that will shape the behavior, both criminal and civil, of the Jewish community for generations to come.

There are many “legal” things to say about these laws, including their beautiful consistency, hierarchy, internal logic, and practicality. But I am afraid all this would be of little interest to the non-lawyer readers of this blog. Still, even without legal training one cannot escape a sense of awe when reading these ancient laws: how efficiently they were written; how much wisdom they reflect; how relevant many of them still are today (or, put differently, how little has changed in the past 3,000 years). 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, clothes, and conjugal privileges. (Ex. 21:10)

But today I want to focus not on the laws that haven’t changed, but on those that have. In particular, I would like to demonstrate how two laws, well-established in their day, have undergone a transformative change over the years and today are used for completely different purposes than those originally intended.

I. “An Eye for An Eye”

This week’s portion introduces, for the first time, the notion of “an eye for an eye” (Ex. 21:22-25; the term appears twice more in the Chumash; see Levit. 24:17-22; Deut. 19:16-21). It is interesting to note how this well-measured, carefully-calculated formula of compensatory damages turned over the years into the rallying cry of some over-zealot state prosecutors (primarily in some Southern states) who demand “justice” (euphemism for the death penalty) to the criminals they put on trial. Let me explain. First, let us see the context in which the term appears in this week’s portion. The “eye for an eye” term – sometimes referred to today as the “Talion” – appears in the context of a series of laws pertaining to physical altercations.

The talion appears as part two of a law with two possible consequences. (Think of Section 1 as the law, and small sections (a) and (b) as the consequences). (See Exodus 21, 22-25) The law, or Section 1, deals with the following incident: Two free men are fighting while one of them accidentally harms a pregnant women (who is not involved in the tussle) and causes her to give birth to one child or more. The first of two possible consequences here, or small section (1), is that both mother and child (or children) are fine. In that case, the sanction (civil punishment) for the violator is an undetermined amount of money damages to be sought by the woman’s husband (note: not by her) and determined by the magistrates.

The second possible consequence, small section (2) if you will, is far more severe. Here, some (unspecified) “disaster” has happened – either the woman was injured or died, or the children were injured or died – then, in that case, the amount of damages is no longer arbitrary; in that case, the payment would be exactly in the amount equal to that that has been lost:

“[22] When men fight, and they injure a pregnant woman, and her children have come out, and no other tragedy occurs, the penalty would be in the amount that the husband of that  woman would ask as determined by the court; [23] But if a disaster struck, 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, from the context of this specific remedy that there is no intention that the person who accidentally, unintentionally damaged – or even killed – a pregnant woman or her child would be executed, or would be permanently maimed in a barbaric manner. On the contrary, it is clear that all the text is trying to do here is to protect the right and bodily integrity of pregnant women who deserve a special protection of the law due to their (physically) precarious position. 

[This week alone, we heard of federal judges in this country who have yet to internalize this important lesson, denying a claim by a young mother who asked for her job back after being fired for breast pumping at the workplace; the young mother’s claim that she is entitled to a “reasonable accommodation” was denied by explaining that she was no longer pregnant and therefore not entitled to any protection of the laws. Other judges have recently denied the notion that pregnancy itself requires “reasonable accommodation” as it is a “disability”; and while I do not think that pregnant women are “disabled,” they definitely deserve a temporary protection of the laws as needing “reasonable accommodations,” even at the priced of being tagged, legally, as "temporary disabled."] 

In addition to pregnant women, the text also protects other fragile groups - such as slaves of both genders who are accidentally hurt as a result of two men fighting (an event as old as humanity itself – see the Cain and Abel story for the earliest documented incident). This is a fascinating issue, then as today – the protection, by regulation, of fragile groups of victims (minors, elderly, and pregnant women) suffering from violence caused by other members of the community; think of victims of a gang “drive by,” or a bar female patron who suffers from violence by two intoxicated guests. Most importantly, the biblical text provides here a well-measured response, determining, first and foremost, that such injuries should be compensated, even if accidental; and second, and no less importantly, that such compensation should be comprehensive – for any injury they have suffered, for every bruise, cut, or lost limb, either to them or to the babies, they should receive a full compensation covering that very same amount.

Now to take this carefully-calculated civil compensation formula and turn it into the theoretical basis for criminally executing many an innocent victim, some cases in a racially-biased manner – and all that just because it “sounds good” (“The bible teaches us: ‘Eye for an Eye, Tooth for a Tooth.’ You, the jury, must give this man a taste of his own medicine: Send him to the death chamber!”) – such a misuse of the biblical text is simply beyond me.

II.The Laws of Kashrut 

Not too many are aware, but much of 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 cook a young goat in its mother’s milk.” (Exodus 23:19).

This seemingly innocuous prohibition, which was prescribed – according to some of the more recent commentators – in a direct response to many a foreign 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, are ordered to refrain from doing such things.

How could that single verse spread into the powerful set of laws it is today?

Here is a quick thought exercise: We are not allowed to boil a young goat in its mother’s milk. There are two components here: the meat of the goat, and the milk of the mother. How can we be sure, while cooking the meat, that his mother’s milk – or traces thereof – cannot be found in the milk, or milk products, in which we cook that meat? The safe answer would be to eliminate any milk, or milk-based products, from the cooking process of the goat’s meat. But looking back at that meat, how can we be sure that that same meat – or traces thereof – are not to be found in other processed meat products? While the chances are not high, in order to be safe we better separate all meat-based products from any milk-based products.

Once we have done that, we have to also make sure that those two groups of products will never be consumed in the same set of dishes; therefore, two sets of dishes are warranted, one for each group (meat and milk products). Thus, 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, either “meat,” “milk,” or “parve” (which is neither).  And every single meal we eat is carefully designed so it will not step over the bounds of this single verse, appearing in a text written several thousands of years ago. Fascinating.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Yitro

This week’s portion – Yitro, named after Moshe’s father in law – is the great portion of Matan Torah, the constituting event of providing the Torah to Israel by God.  This is perhaps the most important, most defining moment in the young life of the People of Israel, this assembly of former slaves who are about to become the Chosen People. In fact, this moment is so potent and so dramatic that its effects are well felt among us today, more than 3,000 years after it occurred. From both a religious and historical perspective, the event of receiving the Jewish constitution straight from the hands of God could not be overemphasized in its importance.

This short post, obviously, is not the proper venue to adequately discuss the multitude of issues surrounding the Ten Commandments.  For example, “I am the Lord Your God” – the first commandment, constitutes for many (including Prof. Yeshayahu Leibowitz) not only the most important commandment but also a summary of the entire Torah in one sentence; for others, however (including one of Leibovitz’s preeminent students, Prof. Assa Kasher), “You shall have no other God but me” is the most pertinent Commandment to Judaism. Still others question the number ten with regards to the Commandments, while others ponder the exact identity of the Second Commandment – is it “You shall not have other God” (which may also be read as part of the First Commandment) or is it “You shall not make any sculpture or image”? Finally, debate abound as to the actual meaning of the commandment forbidding the act of “coveting”: Does “Do not covet” relates to the actual taking of other person’s wife and other property or the mere thinking of doing those? And if the latter is correct, how may such a restriction be enforced?

Despite the fact I cannot discuss those issues here, I do urge you to examine the text of the portion yourself and make an informed decision as to each. This is a fun process, and by following it you may understand better why this classic and sacred text has not lost its appeal over the thousands of years since it was first introduced.  

Today I would like to make two short comments on issues preceding the actual receiving of the Torah: The first is known as Yitro’s Advice, and the second relates to the preparation for the “Big Event.” 

I. Yitro’s Advice

Moshe’s father-in-law, Yitro, comes to visit him, accompanied by Moshe’s wife Zipora – famous for not being Jewish – and their two kids.  (Obviously, Moshe has not been in touch with his family for quite some time; this is but one of the earliest documented examples of a leader who gave everything to his People, including sacrificing his own personal life).  As the morning arrives, to the great astonishment of Yitro, Moshe is hard at work: 

“And on the next day and Moshe sat to judge the people, and the people have stood upon Moshe from the morning until the evening.”  (Exodus 18:13)

Yitro cannot hide his surprise: “What is this thing that you do to your people, why are you sitting on your own while the entire people gathers upon you from morning until evening?” And Moshe answers: “Because the people come to me to seek God; should they have a dispute they would come to me, and I will judge between a man and his fellow, and I would announce to them the laws of God and his Torah.” (Ex. 18:14-16). But Yitro is neither satisfied with the explanation nor does he mince words: “That is not right; wither away you shall – both you personally and the people that upon you, as the task you have undertaken is too heavy for you – you cannot perform all this by yourself.”   

At this point, most readers would tend to agree with Yitro: Why should Moshe perform this entire task on his own? Surely it would be better to have some help from others, wouldn’t it? Why, then, he did not think about it by himself? Most commentators try to ascribe Moshe’s behavior to the fact that at this point he is an extremely inexperienced leader who perhaps was very hesitant to delegate any of the divine authorities he was given by God. This makes much sense, in particular in light of the fact that in this fragile point of the People’s history no courts, no enforcement agencies, and very little legislative power are available to him. Thus, it fell upon Moshe and him alone to concomitantly announce the law (legislate), judge concrete cases (judge), and, should need be, enforce the decision (execute). This explanation serves as the conventional wisdom explaining Moshe’s preference of judging on his own in the desert. 

 But I suspect something else may be at play here. Recall that Moshe was raised among royalty. Surely he hasn’t seen King Pharaoh sitting all day judging “small claims” between the people of Egypt. Surely he hasn’t seen the people of Egypt standing “upon their king” from morning until night, detailing their every-day disputes. Accordingly, he knew full well that the role of a leader is not to intervene in the most minute of controversies between people. In my mind, however, Moshe had a much larger agenda in his mind than simply judging the people’s “small claims.” Indeed, Moshe wanted to establish a unified system of theological law – the law of the Jewish God, of course – that he would both announce and apply in an equal manner throughout the ranks of this newly formed community.  This is why he did not want – or used – any other person for the arduous task judging, for the fear they would deviate from his message – despite the heavy toll it exacted on him.

But Yitro overcomes these somewhat ambitions goals by explaining to Moshe that he would spill the proverbial baby with the baby bath: “wither away you shall – both you personally and the people that upon you.” Hence arrives Yitro’s sound advice, which in essence recommended nominating judges of small claims (“for every ten”), judges of general disputes (“for every fifty”), judges of appeals (“for every hundred”), and quasi- Supreme Court judges (“for thousands”).  Moshe would remain as the ultimate arbiter, in case a hard issue of law is not resolves below him. (Until today, many legal systems worldwide operate in accordance with to this model precisely). 

What’s fascinating to me is the link – which I have not found anywhere in the commentaries – between this advice and the Ten Commandments. Indeed, most commentators consider the second and seminal half of this portion, the one dealing with the Ten Commandments, as important yet completely separated from the story of Yitro. To me, this is not merely a coincidence. In my mind, once Moshe had to abandon his “single model” of law – “the law is what I announce it to be every day” – he had to come up with a bold new concept; and that concept – not less bold than its predecessor – was the public announcement the entire code to all members of the community at the same time, so they would all – including the Judges – know what the law is, precisely.  This is precisely what let to the idea of announcing the Ten Commandments (as well as the special manner in which they were announced) in advance of future violation, as opposed to announce the law post-factu, after each case was decided.

I would be remise if I finish this comment without reciting the list of traits that Yitro recommended to be found in each of the judges that Moshe nominated. To this day, more than 3,000 years later, many a scholar are hard pressed to find a more succinct, elegant, and thoughtful set of requirements for a presiding judge: “You shall seek of the entire nation exceptional people, who fear God, people of truth, who despise greed.” (Ex. 18:21). It is for that reason that many judges around the world have these lines ascribed in their chambers.

II. The Preparation for Receiving the Torah

The second comment I would like to make today relates to the wonderful scene that preceded the actual Receiving of the Torah. The description of that event includes some of the most vivid, dramatic, and detailed accounts in the entire cannon.  You could almost think of yourself as a fly on the wall (or on a tent-post) in the Israeli camp, looking at these former slaves who are now ordered to prepare to the biggest event of their young life as a nation. Among others, they were ordered to wash their clothes (for the first time since they left Egypt); to keep away from the big mountain; to abstain from sexual relationship; and more generally to thoroughly prepare themselves – for the duration of three days – for the big moment.  And then the constituent moment itself finally arrives: “On the third day, as morning dawned, there were loud voices, and lightning, and a dark cloud descended on the mountain, and the voice of the Shofar came very loud – and all the people in the camp were very fearful.”  (Ex. 19:16; the beautiful description continues in the text itself).  

This preparation (and the exacting language in which it is described) is indeed special, and was probably meant to detract the people of Israel from their every-day hardships in the desert.  But in my mind it was meant to serve another important purpose, one that well serves the notion I discussed earlier. Now that Moshe is no longer available to every person as a judge on a daily basis, he wanted to guarantee that his (and God’s) law would still rule throughout; he was also adamant that this law should apply uniformly and equally to every member of the community. But in order to achieve such a feat something special was required; indeed, a simple declaration of the new divine law would probably not be very effective with a group of people who just witnessed God parting a sea for them to walk in, and then drowning the entire cavalry mission of the leading regional superpower. Hence, Moshe’s announcement of the new law required drama, panache, suspense, and anticipation (mixed with fear).  This was probably Moshe’s thought process, and the impressive result is beautifully presented to us today via the text of this week’s portion.

Did it work? As some of you well know, we will be reading in short order (four weeks or so) about the story of the Golden Calf.  So the short answer, unfortunately, is “no.”  But is there a silver lining here as well?  I think there is. What do you think?

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron   

Parashat Be'Shalach

This week’s portion – Be’Shalach, roughly translated as “when [Pharaoh] sent [the People of Israel] away” – is extremely interesting in that it is extremely visual.  It essentially tells the story of the first days following the Exodus – the departing of Egypt; yet it is written more like a screenplay, a compilation of visual images, than a regular biblical story.  And thus, some of the most captivating scenes ever envisioned (and later attempted to be captured on the big screen by Cecil B. DeMille’s epic “The Ten Commandments”) are reported here in great detail:  The parting of the Sea, the drowning of all of Pharaoh’s cavalry, the “pillar of cloud” walking in front of the People of Israel during the day, and the “pillar of fire” by night, and many others. Indeed, it is for a good reason that our sages concluded, following this portion, that “what the lowliest of woman slaves had actually seen by that sea, even Prophet Ezekiel hasn’t seen in his grandest of visions.” 

But beyond its powerful imagery, this week’s portion is also unique in that it consists of a many a contradiction: On the one hand it contains some of the greatest revelations of faith of the People of Israel as well as of Moshe, God’s first (and only) slave. On the other hand, it also contains some of the most bitter revelations of disbelief, non-faith, and continuing complaints against God by the same people. This tension – of faith and non-faith, belief and disbelief – was wonderfully summed up (although in other context) by Israel’s first national poet, C.N. Bialik, in the opening lines of his famous poem, My Father:

“Odd were the ways of my life,

 and puzzlement ruled their direction,

Between the gateways of purity and vile 

have they constantly circled,

The sacrosanct constantly intertwining with the profane,

And the glorious with the loathsome wallowed …”

(My translation, obviously doing little justice to the sublime original).

Indeed, immediately following their experience as witnesses to some of the most beautiful visions of divine miracle ever observed by a human, the Children of Israel are quick to remind us of the mundane, frustrating, and – somewhat unbelievably – faithless lives of this recently-freed nation of slaves. My two short comments today would relate, first, to the notion of “how quickly we forget” (or its Latin cousin), and then – in close proximity – to the false notion of the requirement for “a proof of the existence of God.” 

I. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi . . . 

Right after God commits some of His most astonishing miracles – the parting of the sea, the drowning of the enemy’s cavalry, etc., etc. – we find the newly-freed nation, not surprisingly, in a very faithful mode: “And Israel has seen the wondrous hand which God laid upon Egypt, and the people have seen God, and they believed in God and in Moses His slave,” the text informs us  (Exodus 14:31).  Recall that the Father of our Nation, Abraham, also was first described as “believing in God” right after God showed him His power, promising Abraham that he would receive all the best in this world  (Gen. 15:6). 

But God usually doesn’t end there – believing in Him when things are good is easy; what happens when things don’t go so well? Well before the story of Job, God tests Abraham despite the textual testament that Abraham believes in Him, and asks Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son (Gen. 22:1).  Abraham’s belief is not shaken – perhaps even strengthened – by the ordeal.  God also tests Abraham’s descendants, the People of Israel, but this time with much less success.  The same people who just witnessed some of His greatest miracles are now threatening to soon stone His slave Moshe  (Ex. 17:4), and are quick to wonder “whether our Lord God is present among us or not” (Ex. 17:7).

Indeed, as the Latin saying goes, “thus passes the glory of the world,” or, in modern English usage, “how quickly we forget.”  But why is that? What caused the People of Israel to turn their back on God so quickly?

Of the many answers offered to this question, allow me to suggest a much less spiritual and much more mundane response: the people's change of heart stems, first and foremost, from the physical conditions in which they found themselves. Despite the fact that the People of Israel were slaves in Egypt – and thus used to hard labor in the hot desert sun – they were not used to walking in the desert.  As you may recall, they were walking the entire first night, and then – without mentioning any break – continued to walk onward for days. It also seems they did not have water with them, nor did they see any clear indication of a nearby water source.  Their first Divine test, therefore, their first test of faith, was a very concrete one: Fear of dying in the desert of dehydration, or placing their utmost faith with God: “And they went three days in the desert and they have not found any water” (Ex. 15:22); “And they were encamped in Rephidim, and there is no water for the People to drink” (Ex. 17:1).  Viewed in that light, it’s not completely facetious to assume that quite a few reasonable people – perhaps even some readers of this blog – would turn instantly atheist, even after such a show of miracles.  

But what is also fascinating is not merely the fact of the people’s rapid turn of heart, but rather the content of their grievances.  Only a short period has passed since these slaves complained (harshly) to Pharaoh of the dismal conditions of their employment: “Straw you failed to provide to your slaves, yet bricks you order us to make! Thus your slaves are being beaten. . .” (Ex. 5:16); only a short time has passed since God himself confesses to Moshe that He has “heard the crying of the Children of Israel that are slaving under Egypt” (Ex. 6:5), and already Egypt seems like Paradise Lost, a place they crave to return to: “How we wish we were dead at the hand of God [here in the desert; unlike] in the land of Egypt, where we sat by the pot of meat, where we have eaten bread until we were full – and now you have taken us all out to this desert to starve this entire congregation to death.” (Ex. 17:3).  But what is really happening here? How can their memory be so short?

One possible answer, while somewhat surprising, is by now well-researched and well observed. Economist and psychologists – mainly Kahnman & Tverski (the former received a Nobel Prize in economics for his research in this field) – remind us that we prefer what is available to us over things we have no familiarity with, even if the thing that is available is not beneficial to us. (Oversimplified, this is what they called the “availability heuristics” in their seminal 1973 article published in Science magazine.)  Thus, for example, we tend to prefer our known and familiar environment – even if we do not particularly like it – over venturing off to a new start, somewhere we have never been before. The quintessential paradigm here is – just like in the Bible – our workplace: Most people complain about their workplace, yet very few leave of their own accord.  Is that the “People of Israel” syndrome?  One might wonder.

  

II. Can We “Prove” that God Really Exists?

Here I want to make a very short, but crucial point on the great issue of Faith.  Many times, ever since the fourth grade, I heard a lot of people tell me: “If you prove to me that God exists, I will then – and only then – believe in God.”  Two things are wrong with that argument:  First, as we have seen in this week’s portion, “proof of God” has nothing to do with the notion of faith. Indeed, even when every person of Israel (including “the lowliest of woman slaves”) standing on the beach of the now-departed Red Sea have seen, in their own eyes, the glory and mighty of God like no one before or since, those same people turned away from this very God only days later, in a heartbeat, as soon as things went wrong for them. In contrast – and that is Prof. Leibovitz’s point – for many generations Jewish people who have never seen God or could have ever imagined that they would see him, not only believed in Him wholeheartedly but were willing to sacrifice themselves on “Kidush Ha’Shem” – for the sake of God. And they did so while reciting the Sh’ma, only not to become converts to another religion.   That alone goes to show that the correlation between the so-called “proof of His presence” and actual “faith” is anecdotal at best.

But on a deeper level, the sentence itself – “prove to me X, and then I will believe in X” is simply a non-sequitur.  If one chooses to believe in something, than they must relinquish any desire for proof that that same thing actually exists; otherwise, there is no room for belief. By the same token, if something is proven to you, you can’t be said to believe in it, since there is no room for “faith” once something is proven. At that point, you simply know, or are aware of its existence; you can no longer be said to “believe” in it.  Thus, you cannot believe that the computer on which you are now reading this blog exists; you know it does; similarly, you can’t know that the Patriots will win the upcoming Super Bowl on Sunday, though you may certainly believe in that (or not).

Indeed, belief and proof are mutually exclusive.  You either believe in something, or you have proof (know) it exists. For that reason, many scientists were – and still are – religious: They had (or even created) proof for many areas in their respective research fields, but they did not have (and would never be able to produce) any proof that God actually exists (or not, for this matter); therefore, they feel free to believe in Him. 

Accordingly, you may stop asking yourself (and others) for the proof of the existence of God in the world, and simply ask yourself that: do you believe in Him?

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron