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             

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

This week, it is time to rest.

The last two portions of the Book of Exodus, which are read together – Va’yak’hel and Piku’day – deal in general, like the ones before them, with the instructions for building of the Mishkan (in minute detail). But before the text ventures again into the measurements, materials, quantities, blueprints, and drafts, Moshe reminds us of one of God’s most important decrees:

Six days you shall engage in labor, and on the Seventh Day it shall be holy to you, Shabbat [no work] Shabbaton [no work completely] to God it shall be; he who shall be engaged in labor would be put to death; and you shall kindle no fire in any of your dwellings on that Shabbat Day. [Ex. 35:2-3]

I want to talk briefly today on the notion of Shabbat. As a religious concept, it has always fascinated me. As a social concept, I always found it extremely progressive. Thus, I will begin with the God’s Shabbat; I will then move to this week’s portion; and I will then conclude with some lessons for today.

I. God’s First Shabbat

One of the most puzzling stories in the entire cannon is that of the First Shabbat.  Here are some of my questions:

1. After creating the universe in just six days, God, on the Seventh day, concludes His work and desist laboring further. (Gen. 2:1) In the original Hebrew, the text uses the same terms that are used today to denote a strike, as if on the seventh day God went on a strike. After working continuously for six entire days, God decides that this is a special day, worthy of blessing but not work. But why? What was so unique about that day that made it “unfit” to work? Was the world already perfect by this time (as the text may suggest, id.) Why was it so important to denote that day? Does it have anything to do with the fact that prior to the first six days, every day was also (strictly speaking) a Shabbat? 

2. What type of a day was the First Shabbat? Was it a like any other day? Recall that all the other six days ended with a similar concluding remark: “And there was evening and there was morning, the [first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth] day.” But nothing like that appears on Shabbat. The length of that day is not clear at all.  In fact, one may suggest that this “Godly” Shabbat is still in effect to this day. Indeed, one could argue that God “worked” throughout the six days – which, according to some commentators, lasted for thousands of years (each) – and then stopped from His “labor,” such that he has created nothing since then.  Is it possible that, from His perspective, this is still a Shabbat?  Since it has no discernable end as a “Day,” and since God purposefully hasn’t created a thing since then, can we say we are still in a state of Godly Shabbat? 

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

Now God not only stopped working Himself on Shabbat; he also instructed us to do the same. Note that He never ordered us to imitate anything else He has done – He never instructed us to re-create the heavens or the earth, or to part the sea, or perform any other miracle. Obviously, all His other demands – neatly encapsulated within the Ten Commandments, but generally spread over 613 Mitzvot – do not apply to Him. Yet the Shabbat command is the one that best reflects the Talmudic statement: “Na’eh Do’resh – Na’eh Meka’yem” (He who demands, should perform first. [If only our politicians could internalize this principle, too…]).

To summarize (and to paraphrase one of the greatest, and most bible-savvy Presidents of all time): Shabbat is a unique creature; it was made of God, by God, and for God, and it shall not perish from the earth.

II. This Portion’s Shabbat

It is accustomed to think that a rest at the end of a workweek is a reward; a prize; a kind of consideration for the hard work you put in during the week. That is the non-religious view of Shabbat.

Most liberal commentators see the Shabbat as one of the earliest examples of advance social legislation in Judaism, as one of the paramount demonstrations of how the Jewish religion values work and cares about the well being of workers (not only of Jews, by the way; the Shabbat decree applies to anyone and everyone working in the household – male, female, Jews and non-Jews alike, even animals – all are forbidden to work). But from a textual perspective – as this week’s portion well demonstrates – the Shabbat, as a concept, seems to offer something entirely different: The religious decree of resting in Shabbat is not meant for the worker, it is meant for God: “The Seventh Day shall be holy to you; Shabbat Shabbaton to your God.” (Ex. 35:2)

Therefore, while it is true that both religious and non-religious may enjoy the effect of the Shabbat in the same way – both don’t work, or rest on that day – the understanding of the Shabbat to each is completely different. For the non-religious person it is the time to enjoy, drink, and do all those things that are not “allowed” during the week. For the religious person, the Shabbat means a Divine Restriction, which, if violated, may result in as much as death.  

Thus, the Shabbat is a right, but also a duty. A prize, but also a burden. A well-deserved rest, but also a responsibility. Only once we comprehend the Shabbat in that way, we can fully appreciate its weight – and begin to understand why it is holy. We are doing every single Shabbat what God has done – and perhaps is still doing – during His own Shabbat. We are emulating God. We are resting not only because it is more comfortable, but because we were ordered to do so by God and for God; if we won’t, we may die (or, to be more realistic, the Jewish religion may begin to eradicate, and finally die).     

 

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

Unfortunately, in Israel today several so-called “ultra-religious” people fail to understand both the very nature and the importance of the Shabbat concept.  For them, Shabbat is the day of the week in which they have to protest against non-Shabbat keepers, throw stones at them, curse the police, and in general violate the Shabbat in every way imaginable – only to prove, in their own mind, how “good keepers” they are of the actual Shabbat.  But this understanding, as I have mentioned, is far away from the original, and truly Jewish meaning of the day. Shabbat is not meant for you to look at your neighbors, let alone criticize them for not keeping the Shabbat. It is meant for you – for reflection, for enjoyment, for family time (and for prayer, of course; but that is true for all other days as well).  But it is not meant for fighting. It is not meant for politics. It is not meant for arguing. We have the other six days to do that – plenty of time.

So when you celebrate the coming of the Shabbat this week, think about the fact that you are doing something holy, something Divine, something heavenly, something you were ordered to do, but probably would like to do anyway.  Now you are ready to accept the Shabbat.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron  

Parashat Kee Tissa, Ex. 30:11--34:35

What a portion! This week’s portion – Kee Teessa (literally, “when you take [the number of]”) – contains several mega-issues, each of which may satisfy not one, but several blog posts. Alas, my space, as well as your patience, is limited; so I have to restrict myself this week to only two, seemingly unrelated, issues:  The story of the Golden Calf – perhaps one of the most fundamental examples in the long history of the relations between the People of Israel and their Lord God; and Moshe’s incredible dialogue with God – perhaps the most fascinating dialogue ever recorded.

I. The Golden Calf and Notion of Holiness

In the past two weeks we touched briefly on the notion of holiness, in particular as it is sometimes erroneously ascribed to completely earthly possessions such as certain locations, man-made artifacts, or other structures. This week, Moshe himself – the true “slave of God” and the only one who has spoken to Him face-to-face (as we shall note shortly) – pushes this idea (that there is nothing “holy” but God himself) to the very extreme.  Moshe comes down from the Mountain with two stone tablets in his hands, both “inscribed with the finger of God.” (Ex. 32:18). To eliminate any doubt, the text repeats this point, emphasizing the fact that the tablets are God-made: “And Moshe turned over and went down the Mountain, and the two Tablets of the Testimony in his hand . . . . And the tablets are made by God, and the writing is the writing of God, inscribed unto the tablets.”  (Ex. 32:15-16). In other words, nothing can be “holier” than these two tablets: specifically made, inscribed, and designed by God Himself.

But what is the first thing that Moshe does with these “holy tablets” when he sees his People dancing around the Golden Calf? “And Moshe became enraged; and he hurled the tablets off his hands and he broke them underneath the Mountain.” (Ex. 32:19). Indeed, Moshe – the greatest believer of all times – knew full well that without faith, without obedience, without acceptance, the two stone tablets he is holding are just that – merely two stone-made tablets.  So he breaks them.  He breaks the holiest of holy objects, for there is no holiness without a context of faith.  Since he realizes that holiness lies only at the heart of people, he also realizes that when it is no longer there – when people stop believing in God – not even God Himself can save them.  As we have already read, more than 3,000 years later, one of America’s greatest judges, Judge Learned Hand (what a wonderful name for a Judge!), expressed this very same idea in the very same manner by saying about liberty: “Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can save it; no constitution, no law, no court can even do much to help it.”

The story of the Golden Calf, to be sure, is considered one of the greatest sins-of-faith of all times.  One commentator has gone so far as to compare the act of creating such an idol just below the Mountain of God to “a bride who is committing adultery inside her chuppa” [during her wedding ceremony].  It also led to the first-ever documented civil war (or civil massacre, more accurately), which occurred following Moshe’s instruction to the Levites: “Put your swords on your thighs, and pass along and back from one gate to another in our camp, and you shall kill – man would kill his brother, man would kill his friend, and man would kill his kin.” (Ex. 32:27) Indeed, the Levites killed more than 3,000 of their brethren, without a slight hesitation.  To complete the punishment – for those who stayed alive – Moshe burns the calf, grinds it to powder, spreads it over the water (commentators are not sure where was this water found in the middle of the desert) and then makes the people of Israel drink it – gold and all. (Ex. 32:20). 

This response – killing, admonishing, and forced-drinking – seems quite harsh, even for such a sin, especially if one takes into consideration the “mitigating circumstances” involved:  First, people were concerned that Moshe simply disappeared – the person who led them each and every day and was visible throughout the day had suddenly left them, never to be seen for forty days.  Second, and perhaps most importantly, they wanted to actually see the “Israeli God who has brought us out of the land of Egypt” (Ex. 32:4); they didn’t mean to replace their God, just to actualize him – an “all-too-human” (to quote another favorite philosopher) characteristic. .

But Moshe would have none of that; as we shall see later in the story of Korah, Moshe despises even the slightest notion of opposition. [Not unlike the Founding Fathers of this nation, by the way.] 3,000 deaths were supposed to deliver that message; when they didn’t, Moshe made the earth “open its mouth” and actually “swallow” the opposition.  More on that in the coming weeks.

II. Moshe’s Incredible Dialogue with God   

Completely exhausted – both emotionally and physically – after the ordering of killing 3,000 men of his own People, Moshe then turns to the only entity he can trust – God Himself – for reassurance and moral support.  And God does not let him down.  In one of the fascinating descriptions ever to appear in writing, the text reports: “And the Lord spoke to Moshe face to face, as one person speaks to another.” (Ex. 33:11)  But for Moshe at this time, even that amazing event was not enough. Moshe wanted more. In an amazing feat of early chutzpa, Moshe dares to ask God for the ultimate prize:

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

And so God proposes an amazing “compromise”; unfortunately, it is not clear that God’s offer may be properly translated; it goes something along the following lines: “And God said [to Moshe]: Here is a place with Me; and you shall stand on the edge of the cliff; and as my Presence passes by, I shall put you in the cleft of that cliff; and I shall cover over you with my hand until I have completely passed; and then I shall take off my hand, and you shall see My rear end, but My face shall not be seen.” (Ex. 33:21-23)

Aside from the astonishing fact that this is the most human description of God ever to appear in writing – a description completely at odds with Mimonidas’ notion of “no form, no shape, no title” of God – this extremely difficult-to-explain passage is disturbing to me in a much deeper sense:  Moshe (following God’s orders, obviously) just completed sanctioning his own people with the ultimate capital punishment – killing 3,000 of their members – for one sin: Their undying desire to actualize their God. For them – an assortment of former slaves who has been walking in the desert for months, and now are without a leader for nearly 40 days – the idea of a transcendent God, which has no form and cannot be comprehended by any of the senses, was just a bit too much.  They wanted something they can see, feel, and touch. And for that they were punished. Severely.  But what about Moshe himself? How exactly is his request from God – to actually see Him – that different from his People’s? True, Moshe never built an image of God, and thus did not violate the first, second, and third Commandments as his People did.  But I am sure that had the People have the same direct line of communication with God as Moshe had they would not need to actually build a God, but rather simply ask God to show Himself, much like Moshe did.

And the lesson for today?  I am not sure; but perhaps I may offer a close analogy. It is not uncommon for today’s leaders to save their fiercest critique – and harshest words – to “sins” of others that, alas, they too are very likely to commit.  So the next time you hear someone of authority telling you “you should never, ever, even think of doing something of that sort,” rest assured that they already have….

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron               

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

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

I. God’s Place in This World

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

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

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

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

            II. God’s Place in Your Heart

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

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

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron