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
Jan 29, 2021 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, the Israelites are finally freed of the long arm of Pharaoh. Prior to their freedom, they did acquire two very basic mitzvot: the brit milah – circumcision, and the Paschal sacrifice. Observance of Pesach and performance of circumcision are a statement of affiliation with G-d and Israel. Beyond basic affiliation, what’s next? How does a Jew get started on the path of Torah?
The very first place in which Israel learned new laws was in Marrah, Sinai Desert. The Torah states that there “He placed a law (chok) and a statute.” Rashi writes that the law or chok which was beyond comprehension (as indicated by the word “chok”) was the law of the red heifer, that it purifies the impure and defiles the pure. The statutes they learned were about the various laws governing civil matters, as indicated by the word “statute-mishpat.” There is also indication in the next section of the Torah that they knew about Shabbat at that time. Elsewhere, Rashi indicates that honoring the father and mother were also taught at this juncture.
What is the source for Rashi that Shabbat and honoring the parents was taught here? In the version of the Ten Commandments found in Deuteronomy, they indicate that these two laws were not new but had been taught elsewhere. Since the Torah states in our portion that some laws were taught, we deduce that the laws taught were those mentioned in the Ten Commandments as having been taught, namely honoring Shabbat and parents.
Rabbi Yehudah Amital of Yeshivat Har Etzion of Israel was once asked, “Rabbi, we want to start doing Jewish things. Where do we start?” He answered that our parshah today holds the solution. Our first step in our renewal as Jews should be to enhance our performance of basic laws, honoring the parents and other rational laws which we might think are not rituals, but which are in fact mitzvot. The second thing to do is a mitzvah which is irrational, such as shaatnez, not mixing linen and wool, or kashrut. The third thing to work on is adding meaning to our Shabbat, because Shabbos is at the center of what Judaism is all about.
The Torah tells us that the children of Israel went up from Egypt ‘chamushim’. (13:18).The Midrash explains that the word ‘chamushim’ comes from the root “chamesh”- five.” Only one-fifth (some say 1/500 or 1/5,000) of Bnei Yisrael left Egypt. Those who were rich and did not want to leave died during the plague of darkness. Another Midrash says: “Why did God appear to Moshe from a thorn bush? Because just as the thorn bush is the toughest of all trees, so the enslavement in Egypt was the toughest of all exiles.” R’ Yitzchak Arieli (author of Einayim La’mishpat) observes: It would seem from these sources that only a small fraction of Bnei Yisrael were enslaved in Egypt. However, for those who were enslaved, the enslavement was bitter indeed. Those who led a good life in Egypt did not want to leave, and, therefore, they did not merit leaving. Those who suffered in Egypt and did want to leave merited leaving. Even Datan and Aviram who had tried to get Moshe killed – after they lost their wealth [see Rashi to 4:19] and felt the pain of the exile -wanted to leave and so they merited leaving.
And so it is with every exile – those who want to be redeemed merit to return to the Land of Israel.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 21, 2021 | Torat Devorah
Pharaoh’s heart remains hardened, and he does not allow the Israelites to leave Egypt. Moses and Aaron go to Pharaoh, and tell him that God will send locusts that “will cover the face of the earth so that one will be unable to see the earth…” (Exodus 10:5). The Alshekh explains that the subject of the words unable to see the earth, are the locusts themselves. These locusts will cover the earth in such density, that they themselves cannot see what they are eating, as they can only see the other locusts around them. Normally, he explains, locusts descend on vegetation closely following the areas, which have seeded and have begun to sprout. In this case, arrival of the locusts will be sudden, and they will cover the whole country simultaneously. This, despite the fact that they will have little to feed on, namely only what the hail has left undamaged. Although they must be hungry, they will only consume what is left ‘lachem’ – to you. They will not touch what belongs to the Israelites, i.e. the province of Goshen. Instead of moving to greener pastures outside Egypt, they will invade the houses, starting with the palace of Pharaoh. The words ‘asher hishir habarad’ – which the hail has left – indicate that what had appeared to the Egyptians as relief at the time, had really been nothing but the preamble to death, as Pharaoh himself describes it in v.17. For the first time, Moses leaves the presence of Pharaoh and his servants without waiting for a response. The servants are so eager to forestall this plague, that they argue with Pharaoh even before Moses could leave the premises. Therefore, Moses and Aaron are recalled for negotiations.
Moses, prior to the departure of the Israelites from Egypt, tells the people: “Speak now in the ears of the people, and let every man ask of his neighbor, and every woman of her neighbor, jewels of silver and jewels of gold (Exodus 11:2). Later on in the parshah, we read that the Israelites did Moses’ bidding. The Torah states (Exodus 12:35-36) that they asked “…the Egyptians for silver and gold jewelry and clothing, as the Lord had made the Egyptians favorably disposed towards the people they let them have what they asked for. Thus they despoiled the Egyptians.” Nechama Leibowitz elaborates and comments that had this deed constituted the private initiative of the Israelites, who had been enslaved, exploited and downtrodden for two centuries. They had been accustomed to the taskmasters’ blows and the casting of their children into the river. Had it been related that they were incapable of taking advantage of the tidings of redemption because of “shortness of spirit and hard work,” that they went and did what they did, despoiling their oppressors and persecutors, no explanation would have been called for. The Torah describes the generation of the wilderness without any idealization, with all its slave mentality, ingratitude, lack of faith and longing for the fleshpots.
In this too, they would have been true to form. But this is not what is related here. On the contrary, Leibowitz reminds us that we are told that the deed they committed was not the fruit of their initiative, but was in response to an explicit, Divine command, transmitted through Moses. In the verse in 11:2, Rashi enlightens us regarding the true significance of one small Hebrew word appended to the Divine expression of command; a word not usually found in the context of orders and precepts. He refers the word na, an expression of request corresponding to the English “please” and usually translated as “I pray thee,” but here rendered by the word “now”. Rashi comments as follows: Na in this context is an expression of request – please keep on reminding them, so that the righteous man, Abraham, should not say that God kept his promise of afflicting the Israelites (Gen. 15:13), but did not fulfill his promise that “afterward shall they come out with great substance” (IBID, 14). Leibowitz concludes that at this early stage in Abraham’s time, the redemption was coupled with the forecast that the Israelite nation would go forth “with great substance.” Therefore, one must regard this transaction ( of taking the Egyptians’ jewels and possessions), not as the spontaneous, impulsive action of runaway slaves, but the deliberate implementation of a predetermined Divine plan, neither unforeseen nor unexpected.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 15, 2021 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah we read of Hashem hardening Pharoah’s heart, as the Torah states : “Va’ani Aksheh Es Lev Pharaoh…”(7:3) Many commentators ask why the ‘bechira chofshit’ – the free choice- of Pharaoh was taken away from him. Rashi explains that it was clear to Hashem that the teshuva – repentance of Pharaoh would not be b’lev shalem (sincere). If Pharaoh would have been given the choice, he would have attempted an insincere teshuva. At that point, to punish him would seem unfair to the world, yet such a teshuva would still not exempt him from punishment. Therefore, Hashem removed his free choice so that the world could recognize the truth and wonders of Hashem. Rashi further notes that in the first five plagues, the Torah says that Pharaoh himself hardened his own heart. Only in the last five makot is it written “Vayechezak Hashem es lev Pharaoh” – “Hashem hardened the heart of Pharaoh.” Rabbi Mayer Lichtman explains that perhaps Rashi is saying that the proof that there wouldn’t be sincerity with Pharaoh’s teshuva or with the idolatrous nations in general is from the first five makot. Pharaoh had a good opportunity to change his wicked ways with the lessons and blows dealt to him and Mitzrayim in the first makot. By hardening his own heart – he proved his intention – his lev shalem was to hurt the Israelites. It was not for some economical or political excuse – it was a hatred that ran deep in his heart. When Hashem hardened his heart during the last five plagues, it was merely a result of Pharaoh’s own hardening during the first makot. If Pharaoh would have done teshuva during the final makot, it would have been heartless and meaningless.
Generally, the difficulty of making the right choice lies in one allowing the logic of mind to overcome the desire of the heart. When one continuously makes the correct choices, his heart moves to the right place. When one truly knows or is inclined to listen to the Dvar Hashem, it becomes more effortless to do what is right. As we grow in spirituality the test of bechira changes to higher levels. As Jewish people who have accepted Hashem’s Laws, we should all be able to try and comprehend the punishments doled out to Egypt and other nations, and try to elevate our hearts to serve Hashem as best we can.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
