Mar 12, 2021 | Torat Devorah
Parashat Vayakhel is one of the few instances in which the Torah reveals its attitude toward art and artistry, when it lists the abundant talents of Bezalel, the Tabernacle’s master craftsman. In Exodus 35:30, Moses speaks to the children of Israel and declares: ‘Behold, G-d has called by name, Bezalel the son of Uri, the son of Hur of the tribe of Judah.’ Bezalel is not simply appointed by Moses; he is called by G-d by name to supervise the construction of His Tabernacle. This “calling” indicates clearly that Bezalel is no ordinary artisan. Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald explains: ‘According to the rabbis in Tractate Sanhedrin 60b, Bezalel was only 13 years old when he was chosen to supervise the tabernacle’s construction. His tender age underscores the fact that his talents were not natural, but rather the result of a Divine gift. The Be’er Mayim Chaim maintains that the verse, “Lah’daht la’asot et kol me’leh’chet avodat ha’kodesh” (Exodus 31:1), which states that Bezalel was endowed with the talents that were necessary for all the “holy works,” implies that Bezalel’s talents were only valid during the time that he worked on the sacred “holy works”– the Tabernacle furnishings. In fact, according to the Gaon of Rogatchov (Rabbi Yoseif Rosen, 1858-1936) in his work Tsofnat Pa’aneach, as soon as the Tabernacle was completed, Bezalel’s talents vanished. Bezalel’s assistant, Oholiyav, however, whose talents were natural, did not lose his skills, and was able to pass them on to succeeding generations… In light of Judaism’s historic ambivalence towards art, the admiration in which Bezalel was held is particularly unique. In the Middle Ages, when art was dominated by the Christian church and almost all of art was of a religious nature and included many icons, any Jewish passions for artistry were surely diminished. Except for very personal art, almost all forms of art fell out of favor. Since the enlightenment and the emancipation, however, art has started again to play a more dominant role in Jewish life…Bezalel was not only unique because of his multiple talents and varied skills. In Exodus 35:34, after the Torah lists his many skills, it also says of Bezalel “Ooh’le’ho’rot nah’tan be’lee’bo,” that G-d gave Bezalel the ability to teach, to pass on his skills to others, to other artisans in his generation. Indeed, when we behold the beautiful contemporary artwork that emanates from Israel and from Jewish artisans in other locations, we feel moved to say “thank you” to Bezalel for transmitting that art form to others and keeping it alive.’
In Parashat Pekudei, when the Torah describes the construction of the Tabernacle, a specific phrase appears over and over – ‘as God commanded Moses’. Finally there is a total summary of the building (Exodus 39:33) “as God commanded Moses,” and Moses saw everything they had made (Exodus 39:43) and it was all “as God commanded Moses.” Why is this obvious fact stressed over and over? What is its significance? Rabbi Avi Geller explains that the Golden Calf was caused by the people’s inability to subdue their genuine understanding (of the need of a tangible reminder of God: the Golden Calf) to the revealed desire of the Creator (no graven images). Now that they repented for the sin of the Golden Calf, the artisans of the Tabernacle set aside their creative instincts, and followed the rules exactly “as God commanded Moses!”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Mar 5, 2021 | Torat Devorah
The Torah portion Ki Tisa deals with, among other things, the episode of the Golden Calf. In this episode, various contradictory viewpoints are expressed regarding what are appropriate characteristics of a leader, and also regarding the thorny question of the connection between a leader and the masses.
We already know from the beginning of the book of Exodus that Moses was not a man of words but rather heavy of mouth and tongue and had clumsy lips , while about Aaron it is said there that he says what there is to say . Because of this, G-d instituted Moses as the leader and Aaron as his spokesperson. This almost begs the question: Why this complicated solution? After all, it would have been much simpler to make Aaron himself the leader, especially since he was the firstborn and Moses the younger brother.
Many answers have been given to this question. One of the most to-the-point answers is that G-d wished to prevent the possibility that the masses of Israel would view Moses as a god. Therefore G-d purposely chose a leader for whom an imperfection would be obvious at first glance, and about whom it would thus be clear that he could not possibly be a god. Pharaoh was considered by the Egyptians to be a god, and Moses was going to overpower Pharaoh. What could be more natural than the conclusion that someone who is victor over a person who is considered to be a god, possessor of a boundless empire, is himself a god? Because of this problem, it was appropriate to have an imperfect leader, in order to demonstrate to the Israelites that it was not Moses who was victor over Pharaoh, but rather G-d. Moses himself is only flesh and blood, and, despite all his admirable qualities, only human, and even has a physical imperfection.
However, there is more to Moses being chosen as the leader over Aaron. The deep difference between the two of them is pointedly demonstrated in the episode of the Golden Calf. Here, it is made clear that Aaron, who fulfilled his role as long as he followed Moses’ orders, failed miserably when Moses was absent. The commentators who explain as follows are definitely correct: Aaron had no intention whatsoever toward worship of another god, rather, he wished to make a sort of seat for the true G-d. Further, Aaron did not rush to do even this. To the contrary, he first tried to buy time, hoping that the demanding masses would calm down. He suggested: Remove your wives’, sons’ and daughters’ gold earrings, and bring them to me in the hope that the people would not want to do this, or that it would take a long time and in the meantime Moses would return. But these things did not occur, and Aaron found himself swept along the tide of the events and the people’s demands. Even then he still attempted to find a compromise between the enthusiasm of the masses and what was appropriate. Thus, even after he made the Golden Calf and built an altar before it, he announced: Tomorrow is a holiday dedicated to G-d. He instituted a holiday from his own initiative; however, he thought that by doing so he could direct the people to the proper path. In order to remove all doubt from the masses, he announced that the holiday was for G-d. However, the people acted as they wished. But even when Aaron saw the immoral consequences of his efforts, he was not inspired to stand in the breach and rebuke the people. Perhaps in the depths of his heart he wanted to, but feared the masses, or perhaps he lost his head completely.
Professor Moshe David Her of Hebrew University explains: Moses is the exact opposite of Aaron. He recovers amazingly quickly from his astonishment at the report G-d gives him of the terrible news about the making of the Golden Calf. All of his hard work with the nation had just collapsed and crumbled in one moment, yet he reacts to G-d’s message, begging G-d to retract this intention. Indeed, his prayers are answered. Upon descending from the mountain, Moses made a decision on his own, without even asking G-d’s permission, and broke the Tablets of the Law, which were of G-d’s making and written by G-d. Similarly, Moses performs his other actions of his own volition (burning and grinding the Calf; punishing the Israelites). Yet at the same time he informs G-d that if G-d does not forgive the sin of the Israelites, Erase me from the Book which You have written. At no point in the episode did Aaron attempt to suggest that he himself would pay most of the price for what occurred. On the contrary, we have seen that he tried with his mumbled excuses to place the blame on the nation. This is a model of a weak leader, who went along with the people from the start, and who was not willing to take responsibility upon himself after the fact. Indeed, Moses is his complete opposite. He is capable of making decisions that are difficult, bold, painful and unpopular not only with the people but perhaps even with G-d. By the same token, he is always willing to take complete responsibility upon himself, not only for what he did, but even for something he did not to and which took place in his absence and without even his knowledge; he is willing to at any time to sacrifice his own life for the people.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 25, 2021 | Torat Devorah
When the Torah gives instructions about the building of the Mishkan, it usually uses words like “VeAsu,” “VeAsita” and “Taaseh,” which are fairly indirect commands all meaning “and make.” However, in our Parashah, different wording is used. For example, the Pesukim of “VeAtah Tetzaveh Et B’nai Yisrael VeYikchu Eilecha Shemen Zayit Zach,” “And you shall command B’nai Yisrael, and they shall take for you pure olive oil (Shemot 27:20), “VeAtah Hakrev Eilecha Et Aharon Achicha,” “And you, bring near to yourself Aharon your brother” (28:1), and “VeAtah TiDaber El Kol Chachmei Lev…VeAsu Et Bigdei Aharon,” “And you shall speak to all the wise hearted people…and they shall make the clothing of Aharon” (28:3) all use the more direct language of “VeAtah…,” “and you…”. Why does Hashem directly command Moshe regarding gathering oil for the Menorah, appointing the Kohen Gadol, and preparing the Bigdei Kehunah? What makes these tasks so important that Moshe is specified as the only one capable of performing them?
Rav Elchanan Sorotzkin says that since these three objects represent essential parts of Judaism, therefore Moshe, the leader of the Jewish people, needs to do them. The oil represents the light of Torah which is constantly bathing the world with its pure light. Just as the oil of the Menorah has to be sealed by the Kohen Gadol, a spiritual leader, to attest to its purity, so too the Torah has to be completely free of outside influences which might interfere with its purity. The Torah here is telling us that Torah learning should always be done under the supervision of a Torah leader of B’nai Yisrael.
The next commandment to personally appoint the Kohen Gadol is symbolic of the appointment of Torah leaders from generation to generation within B’nai Yisrael. Since the Torah must remain unadulterated, its leaders must remain pure as well. This is evidenced by the Kohanim Gedolim who purchased their position during the late period of the second Beit HaMikdash, causing tremendous spiritual damage. These Kohanim were not appointed by people like Moshe, but by corrupt leaders who were not dedicated to Torah values. Here the Torah is highlighting the terrible outcomes that will occur if B’nai Yisrael’s Torah leaders do not remain committed to Hashem. Therefore, Hashem by asking Moshe, His most loyal servant, to appoint the Kohen Gadol, the precedent was set of keeping the leadership pure.
The last job assigned to Moshe is the preparation of the Kohen’s clothing. Just as Korbanot atone for our sins, the clothing of a Kohen atones for us as well. If a Kohen lacks the proper clothing, he is disqualified from performing the service in the Mishkan. This emphasis on the clothing teaches us the importance of wearing the proper clothing in our lives. We have to wear the clothes that identify us as Jewish: Kippah, Tzitzit, and Tefillin. If we don’t wear these, we disqualify ourselves from being able to properly learn Torah.
This parshah also includes the commandment of remembering Amalek – the nation that needlessly attacked B’nai Yisrael in the desert. Because of the attack, Hashem commanded us to eradicate the nation of Amalek both physically and mentally. The Torah conveys that Hashem will also eliminate the memory of Amalek from the world in the Pasuk, “VaYomer Hashem El Moshe Ketov Zot Zikaron BaSeifer VeSim BeOznei Yehoshua Ki Macho Emcheh Et Zecher Amalek MiTachat HaShamayim” “Hashem said to Moshe, ‘write this in the book and relay it to Yehoshua because I will erase the memory of Amalek from under the heavens” (Shemot 17:14).
Rav Nachum Mordechai Friedman asks that if God joins us in this endeavor to forget Amalek, why has it become so difficult to defeat Amalek and other nations similar to it? He explains that it is a two-sided agreement between God and us. Hashem will erase the memory of Amalek by physically destroying the nation and other similar nations only if we, the Jewish people, destroy the internal “Amalek,” our evil inclinations and Yeitzer HaRah. Once we destroy our internal bad, God can destroy our external and physical enemies.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 19, 2021 | Torat Devorah
The construction of the sanctuary – or the Mishkan – is related to us in this week’s parshah, along with all the elements that were to be placed within it. We read of the very famous statement of God to Moses: “Make me a sanctuary for me to dwell in” (Exodus 25:8). Abravanel prefaces his commentary to the Sidra with many questions, and among them the following: Why did the Almighty command us regarding the construction of the tabernacle saying ‘I shall dwell among them’ as if He were a circumscribed corporeal being limited in space, when this is the opposite of the truth? For He is nor corporeal, He is not a material force, and He has no relation to place. Of God it is said in Isaiah 66:1: “The heaven is My throne and the earth My footstool – where is the house that you may build for Me? And where is the place of my rest?” Solomon, likewise, said the following, regarding the building of the Temple: behold, the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I have built?” (I Kings 8:27). These are evidently statements that contradict each other. Abravanel’s response to his question (as recorded in Nechama Leibowitz ‘Studies in Exodus’) is that the Divine intention behind the construction of the tabernacle was to combat the idea that God had forsaken the earth, and that his throne was in heaven and remote from humankind. To disabuse them of this erroneous belief, He commanded them to make a tabernacle, as if to imply that He dwelt in their midst – which they should believe that God lived in their midst and His Providence was ever with them. This is the meaning of: “And I shall dwell amidst the children of Israel”, “who dwelleth with them in their defilement.” It is all a parable and allegory representing the idea of the immanence of His Providence and Presence. He commanded the installation of the laver and its base as if to warn them to “cleanse…remove the evil of your deeds”, the altar of the burnt offering, on which to burn your corporeal desires and evil impulses. The Temple contained the table, candlestick, and the altar of incense. These vessels symbolized the ministering to the King of the Universe, not that He – heaven forbid – needs any of these things. Their purpose was to implant in their souls that God walked in the midst of their camp.
The Torah tells us that the lid of the ark should be made of pure gold, and that out of the lid, those who construct it should fashion the cherubs. The Alskekh explains that as we know, the material blessings in this world comprise three elements, i.e. children (physical continuity), life and livelihood. Concerning the acquisition of the life aspect, the ark has already become a symbol to him who desires life, who devotes himself to the Torah, to secure life both in this world and in the world to come. The Torah now suggests what man should do in order to have children. After having studied Torah, his next task in life is to marry and raise a family. This family too is linked to one’s Torah study. The figures of the male and female cherub on the lid of the ark represented the union of man and wife on the basis of Torah. As the Talmud in Yevamot 63 states, he who marries, his sins are forgiven. Such a union is to be pure from sinful considerations as the purity of the gold, the kapporet – lid – is made of. The letters yud and heh in the words ish and ishah respectively, are represented symbolically by the length and width measurements of the kapporet when measured in terms of handbreadths, instead of cubits as mentioned in the Torah. This is a reminder that God must be part of such a union in order for such a union not to go up in aysh or flames –passion burning itself out, and leaving the marriage devoid of meaning. The intent when entering into the bonds of marriage is that one’s relationship becomes a spiritual one if the couple wish to ensure that their children will be like the cherubs and reflect the innocence and purity of their parents. When all these factors are present, the children’s faces will face the lid, and the parents need not fear that they will lose their children during their lifetime. On an interesting note, subsequent to placing the tablets into the ark, God will come to Israel. Shemot Rabbah illustrates the point: As long as a girl was merely betrothed, her fiancé would visit her daily in her father’s home. Once they had become married, the bride’s father would visit his daughter in the home of his son-in-law. Similarly here – Once the tablets were inside the Holy Ark, God would manifest himself among the Jewish People and Moses would no longer have to climb the mountain.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 12, 2021 | Torat Devorah
There is one verse in parashat Mishpatim that has great power because it encapsulates a great truth that the Israelites, in a manner unique among the ancient nations, taught. That verse is “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt (Ex.23:20).”
What is so powerful about this verse?
There is no one for whom we need have less responsibility than the stranger. The stranger, the unidentified Other, is to us a faceless being with absolutely no obvious claim upon us. We owe the stranger nothing, not bread and water, not friendship, not employment, not citizenship. The stranger, being not one of the people of our nation, can be objectified, ignored or mistreated, possibly even enslaved. In fact, who is it who becomes enslaved?
The very individual who has been robbed of his or her humanity. You can find within yourself the ability to enslave that person because to you he or she is not person at all, but something far less than human, perhaps even less than many animals. You have elevated to the status of humanity only those of your own group; everyone else, in effect, becomes potential chattel. At the very least, in this very natural way of looking at things, it is possible to see the stranger as an individual to whom you can do anything with impunity, because the justice system in your nation will not regard the stranger as anyone worthy of justice.
To these quite natural ways of acting, the Torah teaches us: No! The stranger is not an anonymous, identity-less Other for whom you have no responsibility, but rather a fully enfranchised human being endowed with the same attributes of those of our own group and nation and therefore deserving of the same humane treatment. The stranger becomes a stranger by title only, but the definition of the word becomes something radically different than before. We are commanded to allow the stranger the real human identity he or she possesses by virtue of, well, by virtue of being human.
And why is this so? What is the Torah’s primary justification of this state of affairs? Because we ourselves were once strangers in the land of Egypt? So what? In the land of Egypt WE were objectified and WE were enslaved, mistreated and abused. We were the faceless Other. It is out of the matrix of our own historical memory that we are commanded to remember what it was like to be in that reified condition. We are thereby obligated to work against the replication of that same set of facts at the time when it is OUR nation, when WE are the ones holding on to the reins of power. Our own memory of slavery obligates us to obliterate facelessness and turn the Other’s anonymity into identity to which we then have an absolute obligation.
The next two verses in our parasha are: “You shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan. If you do mistreat them, I will heed their outcry as soon as they cry out to Me” (Exodus 23: 21-22).Rabbi Philip Cohen explains: Like the stranger, the widow and orphan in the Torah are often identified as requiring our care. And so they do. Despite the fact that the class of people represented by the widow and the orphan are, in fact, often not treated well in society, their case is, I think, fairly obvious. Of course we should care for the widow and orphan. The stranger is a less than obvious case. We recognize the widow and orphan; they are our own people. The stranger is, well, the stranger is a stranger. We do not easily recognize this individual; this individual is remarkably easy to ignore or violate. Yet it is the wisdom of the Torah that it teaches us that we ought not to ignore this person, and we ought not to violate this person. We are obligated to give this person a face. When we overcome this tendency to dehumanize the Other, then we begin to understand what justice is in its deepest depths. There can be no more important message than this.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 5, 2021 | Torat Devorah
Rabbi Matthew Berkowitz, of the JTS, relates the following: “If one were asked to identify the most central parashah to Israelite identity and to Judaism, one would certainly point to Parashat Yitro, which describes the moment of revelation at Sinai. This experience transforms a band of former slaves into a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” For this reason, it is surprising that this is one of the few parashiyot carrying the name of a non-Israelite. Jethro (Yitro), the esteemed father-in-law of Moses, makes his substantive debut at the opening of this Torah reading. And while we often praise the advice he gives his son-in-law to delegate legal responsibilities, an earlier, more subtle comment often goes unnoticed: while Moses, in recounting the story of leaving Egypt, emphasizes the defeat of the Egyptians (Exod. 18:8), Jethro places his praise elsewhere—the deliverance of the Israelites (Exod. 18:1). How may we learn from Jethro’s words and wisdom?”
Professor Ze’ev Falk of Hebrew University elaborates: “Parashat Yitro expresses a striking alternative to that which appears in the Song of the Sea: “The nations hear, they tremble” (Exodus 15:14). Here, in this parashah, is described a positive relationship from the angle of non-Israelite nations toward ‘choosing’ Israel… Jethro emphasizes “all that God has done for Moses and the Israelites,” while Moses, in his telling of the narrative, underscores what “God has done to Pharaoh and the Egyptians.” For Jethro, the priority is that the Israelites were saved; for Moses, his emphasis is on the defeat of the enemy. This response is typical of one that has been saved from a life-threatening situation, delivered out of the hands of the enemy. It is out of his personal suffering that Moses narrates his story… even though Jethro’s question is simply with regard to their rescue. (Divrei Torah Ad Tumam, 155).
Mr. Berkowitz concludes: “While Professor Falk is psychologically astute in acknowledging Moses’s response, he is also exceedingly sensitive in underscoring the import of Jethro’s words and behavior. Defeat of the enemy is crucial, but more important is saving a nation entrusted with a sacred mission. Not only does Jethro bless the Israelite God for having rescued these lives, but he also offers sacrifices (Falk notes, too, that this is tantamount to making a covenant with the Israelites). Simple, wise actions and words by a non-Israelite compel Moses and us to eschew celebrating the destruction of another people and to look forward—affirming life and building (prefiguring the teaching that “one should not rejoice at the downfall of one’s enemy” (Prov. 24:17). Perhaps naming the parashah after a non-Israelite is a deliberate message from the Rabbis. Juxtaposed to the oppressive Egyptians, Jethro presents us with a caring and inspiring model, reminding us that relationships among Jews and non-Jews are a blessing to us and to the world.”
In the third month… that same day they came into the wilderness of Sinai (19:1)
A most puzzling thing in the Talmud’s account is the fact that on the first day of Sivan—the day on which the people of Israel arrived at the place where they would receive the Torah—“Moses did not say anything at all to them, on account of their exhaustion from the journey.” For six weeks the children of Israel had been eagerly awaiting the most important event in their history—their receiving of the Torah from G‑d. Our sages tell us that they literally counted the days (hence our annual practice of “counting the Omer” during the weeks that connect Passover to Shavuot). Does it make sense that on the very day they arrived at Mount Sinai they would do nothing at all in preparation for the great day? The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains: “At Sinai, the divine wisdom was revealed to man. Obviously, the human mind cannot attain the divine wisdom on its own—that must be given to it by G‑d Himself. So although G‑d instructed us to study His Torah, desiring that human intellect should serve as the vehicle by which we apprehend His truth, a crucial prerequisite to Torah study is the mind’s total abnegation of its ego. Only after it has voided itself of all pretension that it is capable of attaining the truth of truths on its own, can the mind become a “fit vessel” to receive it. In the words of the sages, “An empty vessel can receive; a full vessel cannot receive.” So the day on which “Moses did not say anything at all to them” was an integral part of their preparations for receiving the Torah. This was the day on which they undertook the most “exhausting journey” of emptying their souls of intellectual vanity and making themselves fit receptacles for the divine truth.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
