Parashat Sh'mi'nee, Leviticus 8:1-11:47

This week’s portion – Sh’mi’nee (literally, “the eighth,” as in “In the eighth day Moshe called Aaron) – continues last weeks’ main theme, which is the notion of proper worship through offerings.  While not the most fascinating stuff offered by the Five Books, this week introduces us to a profound notion in Judaism and one of its fundamental tenets – the idea of complete obedience.  

I. The Case of “Too Much of a Good Thing” – Then…

Can our religion tolerate “too much” worship?  Is there “too much of a good thing” in Judaism?  This week’s portion presents us with very clear answers to these classic theological conundrums. But before I present these answers (no, it can’t; and yes, there is – respectively) I want to introduce a term borrowed from the very-modern Hebrew: “Rosh Gadol” (or “Large Head”).

The term was invented – like many others in Israeli slang – in the army (the Israeli Defense Force, IDF).  What it means is taking responsibility above and beyond the order given by a commander. Thus, a private with “Large Head,” when asked to clean his weapon, would also check that his entire gear is properly maintained.  Similarly, a sergeant with large head, asked by his commander to check the unit’s gun cleanliness, would also go ahead and check their entire readiness for battle.  You get the drill. [Conversely, a sergeant with a “small head” would do exactly as told, never deviating right or left from the commands as given.]

So in this week’s portion, the sons of Aaron – Moshe’s brother and the first Chief Rabbi – are demonstrating Large Head.  After an extremely-detailed description of what their father has done during his offering ritual (including precisely what he did – and not do – with the calf’s blood, which portions of the calf he severed and which he did not, what portions where burned and where, which portions were washed, and many other details that were, one assumes, of great interest to someone at the time (Leviticus 9:8-22)) – a ritual well received by both God and men (“And fire came out before God and consumed the burned offering that are on the altar … and the entire People has seen the sights, and they were delighted, and they fell upon their faces” Id., at 24). So now it is the sons’ turn to do the same.

But instead of repeating precisely what their father has done, they preferred to exercise “large head,” picking it up a notch.  “Now the sons of Aaron Nadav and Avi’hu each took their pan, and they put fire in each, and they placed incense on it; and they have sacrificed it before God.” (Lev. 10:1).  So far so good. Or is it?  The text departs then sharply, moving from mere description of what the brothers have done to a harsh evaluation: “[They have offered to God] a foreign fire, which God never ordered them to.” (Id.)  As we have seen, however, those who exercise “large head” do exactly that: They don’t do exactly as ordered, but move a step forward “enlarging” their task – usually by demanding more of themselves and others.

But God’s response to such self-improving initiative is swift, and could not have been clearer: “And a fire came out before God, and it consumed them, and they have died before God.” (Lev. 10:2).  So goes one of the Five Book’s most famous stories, of how the sons of the Chief Priest – the two Priest-designated, the chosen sons – were executed for exercising a bit of “business initiative,” or free will.

At first, this harsh punishment seems like a tough sell.  The two, after all, have not committed a sin of the magnitude of the Golden Calf.  They did not even worship other gods. They did not turn away from God. In fact, they may be said to both recognize and obey the First, Second, and Third Commandments (“I am the Lord your God”; you shall not make any statue or mask; and “You shall not take the Lord’s name in vein,” respectively).   And yet they were executed immediately upon committing their act. Why?

The answer lies in the concept of blind and complete obedience – Na’asse Ve’Nishma (first we obey, then we listen [or question] the command).  This concept is fundamental to the understanding of the entire corpus of Torah’s teaching.  As a rule, Judaism despises dissenters.  As we shall see in the next Book in the series, the first indication of a real opposition to Moshe was also met with a deadly faith (the story of Korach and his party).  And we have yet to recover from the punishment – arguably, disproportional – imposed following the Golden Calf event, with more than 3,000 dead among the Israelites and killed by their own brethren (the Levites). 

To be sure, in terms of real-politik we could make the argument that the desert is not the best-suited venue for disagreement.  We can even agree that at least until they have settled in Israel, the Israelites had to unite around the leadership of Moshe, their well-recognized “slave of God.” 

But why such harsh punishment? Why death (both to Golden Calf culprits and the Sons of Aaron, and later to Korach and his party)?  My guess is that these initiative attempts were met with the ultimate punishment not so much for the rigid penal ideology behind them as much as for the lack of suitable alternatives.  Recall that Moshe is in the desert, leading a group of former slaves, and he need not only punish, but – more importantly – deter any future attempts of “large head,” of disobedience. In a larger sense, Moshe is trying to curtail any revelation of disagreement with him.  He has the law on his side – the law is what he says it is.  He also has the police with him – there is no separation of powers in the desert.  But, on the other hand, there are no prison camps in the desert.  There is no properly-functioning penal system.  Thus, to impose a crippling sickness on the dissenters (for example) would only slow everyone down.  In fact, any imposition upon the accused would immediately adversely affect the entire group. This is a huge incentive not to punish.  And yet a swift action is required, an action that is both deterring (to other people) and effective (to the people involved).   The only solution, it seems, is death.  [For Kant, however, such “reasoning” cannot pass.  But this discussion is beyond this post.]

II. … And Now

The problem is that today we are not in the desert.  We are not at our infancy as a people.  There is no urgent need – either from a security standpoint or otherwise – to unite around the leadership of a single person (and, in any event, no one seems to get close to the level of a True Slave of God).  Why, then, the Jewish religion – and almost every other religion, for that matter – is still so adamant to “kill” any revelation of dissent? To destroy any notion of disobedience, of free will, of “Large Head”? Just in recent months we heard about a woman Rabbi who had to relinquish her chosen title (“Rabba”) so it will not offend some male Rabbies. (see http://www.thejewishweek.com/news/national/beyond_rabba_rousing) But why? What is so wrong about a new female voice? What was so wrong about the writings of Baruch Shpinoza that led to his ex-communication (or “social death,” if you will) by his community, all for arguing in favor of a new vision of God? Was that so bad?

In my mind, it is that stronghold, this narrow vision of one-and-only-one interpretation placed by early Judaism that led to its inevitable breakup. It is this monopoly view that led to the foundation of other Jewish denominations, culminating with the creation of the largest group of Judaism today, that of Reform Judaism. Unfortunately, the leadership of that group is not even recognized by the self-proclaimed group of Orthodox Jews in Israel; thus, the orthodox would not even willing to call the Reform Rabbis “Rabbis.” And that, in my mind, is the biggest fracture in Judaism today, and perhaps the worst thing that may ever happen to a small (and historically persecuted) religious minority group like the Jewish people.  

And it all started with the killing of the two brothers for offering a fire to God, a fire God never asked for.  Is it too late to ask that we think it over?

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

           

     

Parashat Tzav (Leviticus 6:1-8:36)

This week’s portion, T’zav – literally, “[you shall] order them” – is a direct continuation of last week’s portion.  It is also read, this year, at the same time we all celebrate the holiday of Purim. My two short comments will therefore follow that format, respectively.

I. Jeremiah: Back to Basics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for the offerings.    

           

II. The Lessons of Megilat Ester 

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

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

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

Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.     

Shabbat Shalom & Happy Purim

Doron 

 

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

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

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

I. The Offerings – A Great Synthesis

In the past several weeks we have discussed the nearly insurmountable tension between the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God,” which requires us to worship a transcendent, impossible-to-see, hear, or feel divine entity  – and the all-too-human desire to worship something much more concrete (the Santa-Claus image of God, if you will).  This is the tension between the notion of a transparent God, untouchable, unimaginable, “which has no form, no shape, and no body,” and the almost irresistible impulse to see, feel, smell, hear, and taste the subject of worshiping.  We saw how this tension led the Israelites to commit what many believe to be their worst religious sin ever – the creation and worshiping of the Golden Calf; but we also saw how the same exact tension brought Moshe and God closer than ever.  How can this tension be resolved?

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

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

To be sure, not everyone share the Rambam’s pragmatic (and may I add, ingenious) insights. The offerings, say those critics, occupy way too much room in the Text, not to mention the rest of Halacha, to serve merely as a practical barrier to idol worshipping. (See, in particular, the view of the Ramban.) But I think that the Rambam is right precisely because of the large space dedicated to each and every detail of the offering’s work. We must recall that, in the religious sense, the entire five books of Moshe are nothing but a manual for servicing God properly. It is for that reason that the building of the Mishkan receives ten-fold the amount of verses that the entire creation of the universe. It is for that reason that every aspect of the providing the offerings is analyzed and described to such great detail. And finally, this is also probably the most effective way to assure continued allegiance to God; in other words, this is the insurance of the First Commandment – “I am the Lord your God.” Is there anything more important than that (from a religious standpoint)?

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

Ok, you may ask, so what is the substitute today, now that the entire edifice of the offering framework is no longer in effect? This is a tough question, and I have no good answer to that. I may, however, venture to offer some guesses. One possibility is that since there is no good substitute, many people – much more than ever in the history of Judaism – don’t follow the First Commandment; they no longer believe in God (at least not in the way meant by the Torah).  Another is that these days, Jews all over the world are in constant search for a satisfactory alternative to the actual work of offerings – alternatives like Zen Buddhism, spiritualism, all kinds of “isms” that are not included in the text – all in order to compensate themselves for the lack of using their sense; still, but nothing seems to satisfy them quite like the original. Finally, any visitor to a synagogue – a relatively new invention in terms of Judaism’s history – would easily observe the “physical” aspects of worshiping, from simply standing together as a community, to kissing the Holy Book to moving during the prayer, to special Aliyah, etc., etc. 

So much for understanding the offerings. 

II. When a Ruler Hath Sinned…

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

In that respect, the portion this week asks what should happen – more accurately, what kind of offerings should be made – “if” a member of the community (or even the community as a whole) unintentionally commits a sin (something along the lines of committing a “negligent criminal act,” in today’s legal parlance”). For example, the text reads “If the anointed priest would sin … “(Leviticus 4:3); and “If the entire congregation would sin . . .” (Id., 4:13); and “If one person would sin, erroneously . . .” (Id., 4:27).

However, when the text approaches the issue of when the ruler of the community would commit a similar, unintentional, sin, the term “if” suddenly disappears and is now replaced by “when”: “When a ruler has sinned  . . . erroneously”  (Id., 4:22) In other words, there is no question that the ruler would sin. There is no “if” here. Rather, the only question is “when,” and for that event we have a ready-made (religious) answer.     

This is very interesting. It shows us that not much has changed over the past 3,000 years (at least in terms of leadership).  Leaders have come and gone, and they have always sinned. They still commit sins today, and would probably sin as long as they would last. It is in the very nature of governing, of one person having too much power over other people. (Recall Lord Acton famous quote of 1887: “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts completely.”) Indeed, many years later, the Babylonian Talmud teaches us that we should not nominate a leader on the community “unless a can of worms is hanging from his back” (that is, unless there is evidence that he has performed many a sin before taking office), so whenever his title “alters his mind” (that is, whenever he begins to think of himself as above other people, or the law), the people should remind him: “look at your back.” (8 Bab. Talmud, Yoma, Page 25, 2). 

Here, again, we see Judaism’s ambivalent relation to – and deep understanding of – human nature.  On the one hand, our forefathers realized that leaving the entire role of leadership to God would create an “earthly” vacuum that the community would not be able to fill up – see the example of the Golden Calf.  The same Jewish leaders wanted to emphasize that no leader, not even Moshe himself who spoke to God face-to-face, is above ordinary human tendencies and behavior.  All those human leaders sin, the portion tells us this week, and therefore all should be treated with the same amount of suspicion. Only God does not sin, and only He should be worshipped. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

   

Parashat Pikudei, Ex. 38:21-End

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

I.                 Moshe and the Agency Dilemma 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shabbat Shalom.

Doron