TZAV- Growth Must be Personal

This week’s parsha, parshas Tzav, is a short portion that is both simple and complex at the same time. It is simple because it is detailed instructions on the performance of the karbanos (offerings) and on the dressing of the kohanim (priests). It is complex because, for most of us - particularly two thousand years since the destruction of the Temple, the details of the sacrificial service are almost impossible to imagine.

The name of the parsha, Tzav, is the first word of the second pasuk. (The first verse being the almost generic: “And God spoke to Moshe, saying…”) Tzav means command, and the verse states: “Command Aaron and his sons saying, this is the teaching of the burnt offering…” (Vayikra 6:2). The burnt offering burns upon the altar all night, and the instructions that follow are the performance of the morning service. Numerous commentators explain that the use of the word Tzav implies a command for zrizus, to make haste to do the mitzvah without delay. In this case, its performance, the beginning of which is described in the second half of the verse, is the start of the sacrificial schedule of the day since “the burnt offering itself [offered the night before] shall remain which it is burned upon the altar all night until morning, while the fire on the altar is kept going on it.”

One would expect the next verse to continue immediately into describing what the priest was meant to do with the remnants of the burnt offering, which It does, but with a brief interruption: “The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar” (6:3). The word used to indicate linen garment is mido bod, about which Rashi states: “This is what is elsewhere termed the ketones, the undercoat; and why then is it here called mido? To intimate that it must be made to his measure.”

Not only does the Torah interrupt the instructions for how to complete the burnt offering with instructions for how the priest must be dressed, but it adds in a subtle notation about how those clothing should fit. What is the lesson that we learn from this?

The most obvious lesson, one mentioned by several commentators, is about the importance of maintaining the dignity of the office. Even when going out to perform a mundane and potentially dirty task that is part of the avodah, one must present himself in the priestly garb. Furthermore, that garb, which represents the kahuna, the priesthood, must be properly fitted, which again is important to presenting the dignity of the individual priest.

One could also look at this subtle instruction for individually sized garb to be a comfort to the ranks of priests to come. Even raised as they were to know that as kohanim they had special privileges that came from their unique – and demanding – responsibilities, it could, perhaps, have felt daunting to imagine becoming one of a stream of kohanim each indistinguishable from the next by the clothing they wore. By using the term mido, there is an acknowledgement of the importance and necessity of recognizing each of the kohanim as individuals.

The term mida, which translates as measurement, is often used to describe a person’s character traits – both good and bad. While living according to Torah is, at its most basic, about following the laws set down by God, within every mitzvah one finds the means to improve one’s midos. Here in Tzav, as we are given a lesson about how each priest must have his own garb sized appropriately for him, we can also reflect on how each of us has our own God given personality, our own unique mix of midos designed by Hashem to dress our unique neshamos as we move into the world to do mitvos. If we find them too “tight” we can change them, if we find them too “loose” we can adjust them – that is the work of improving ourselves.

Soon we shall celebrate the seder. One of the most memorable, and complex, passages of the seder, is the listing of the four sons. Much has been written about this dialogue – about the stiffness of the question of the Wise son, the seeming harshness of the response to the Wicked son, the role of the Simple son, and the true character of the son Who Cannot Ask.

The four sons are broad characterizations, but they, too, are a comfort and a reminder at the Seder that in the Jewish world there is an acknowledgement that we are individuals, that we have individual needs. The four sons are not static. Each of us can, and most probably does, fit each of the categories at different times in our lives. Many of us have, and will, experience times when we are uncomfortable with the state of our role, with the place we are in, but the solution is here in Tzav.

The kohein must rise in the morning and dress himself in his made-to-measure garb and act with zrizus to begin the morning service. Each of us must take who we are, dressed in the midos that we have at that moment, and work with intention to become better people and to build a stronger connection to Hashem.

Parshas Vaykhel-Pekudei: Gathering a Mishkan Today

 This week we marked the strange anniversary of one year since the World Health Organization declared Covid 19 a pandemic. Many of us are restless to break free of the restrictions, and many of us are wary of not keeping those same restrictions. It has been noted by some how easily we all became so compliant that even the image of crowds gathered make some anxious. It is not, I think, far-fetched to say that for the Jewish community this forced separation has been particularly difficult. We are, after all, a nation that gathers.

This week's parsha begins with gathering: "And Moshe gathered all of the community of Bnei Yisrael and he said to them, 'These are the things that God commanded you to do them'" (Shemos 35:1). He then reiterates the laws of Shabbat, perhaps in what one might call a condensed mode : “Six days shall you do creative labor and on the seventh there will be for you to sanctify Shabbat to Hashem, all who do creative labor shall die. Don't kindle fire in your dwellings on Shabbat” (ibid. 36:2-3).

THESE are the things? It's two verses, two commandments, and then Moshe is telling them other words of God. It seemed a bit odd that the Torah includes such a long introductory phrase, almost a waste of words (chas v’shalom). “These are the things that God commanded you to do them.” Why wouldn’t the Torah just tell us that Moshe gathered all of Israel and said the Lord commanded you to work six days and… Instead we begin with "These are the things."

In the context of parshas Vayakhel-Pekudei, the two lines of the mitzvot of Shabbat are a preface to the far more encompassing process of building the Mishkan. It seems, perhaps, repetitive of Parshas Teruma and Tetzaveh, but what we see is each section begins with Moshe purposefully stating that these were the instructions from Hashem. We can infer that each of these pieces is a continuation of "These are the things."

We do not have a Mishkan today. We can't even really imagine what it was like to partake in the building of such a wonderful thing. If Hashem knew the building of the Mishkan was a one time event, why was it necessary to record the instructions and the carrying out of the instructions in such detail? If the Torah is not just a history book, but an eternal guide, then there must be things that we can learn and ideas that we can apply to our lives today in this description.

For instance, if one looks at the full details of the preparations of the Mishkan, one sees not just the enthusiasm of Bnei Yisrael - from which we can certainly learn about the right attitude toward avodas Hashem - but also an incredible representation of community working together. One might aregue with this statement that an inordinate amount of the work was done by Betzalel and Ohilab. While this is true, it is nevertheless a demonstration of community. Betzalel may have done the work, but his name is not highlighted throughout the description of what he did. In fact, his name is mentioned only 3 times in Vayakhel (and one time in Pekudei). The first time is in Shemos 35:5, Moshe announces that "The Lord has called by name Betzalel ben Uri ben Hur." He is then called by name in 36:1-2: “Betzalel and Ohilab and every wise hearted man whom God has imbued with wisdom and insight to know how to do, shall do all the work of the service of the Holy, according to all that the Lord has commanded. And Moshe called Betzalel and Ohilab and every wise hearted man… to approach the work to do it." Note how even in the 2nd and 3rd use of his name, Betzalel (and Ohilab) are mentioned but included as one of many. He is a man of extraordinary (literally stated God-given) talents, but he does not revel in fame and glory. He puts his skills to used for Hashem as part of the whole.

This year, Parshas Vayakhel-Pekudei is read on the cusp of Rosh Chodesh. We are heading into the month that celebrates freedom, and yet, this year, we are burdened with so many restrictions to our freedoms. Let us remember, however, that what we celebrate at Pesach is far more than the removal of our ancestors from the physical labor of slavery. As many a commentary or Dvar Torah has pointed out, Bnei Yisrael's journey was not actually to freedom as one would think of it today, but really to being ovdei Hashem, servants of the Divine will. As we mark this one year pandemicaversary, as we prepare for Pesach, we must continue to do the underlying work of "These are the things that God commanded you."

Six days shall you work and the seventh is for sanctifying Hashem. The work is the work of building the MIshkan; the work is the work of doing for the spiritual (and physical) well-being of the community. It might be interesting to think that if the work of the mMishkan is a communal creation of a space for the Divine that requires a unified effort, that we could learn here that Hashem desires that 6/7th of our efforts, of our strengths, are to be directed thus, and 1/7th to our personal avodas Hashem encompassed in the observance of Shabbat. When we build together the figurative community full of unity, that is the modern work of the Mishkan and then Hashem can dwell among us.

Just as we long to have all of our beloveds together for the holiday to be free of this pandemic, so should we work for that true communal spirit that is necessary for complete avodas Hashem. Nisan is upon us. Let us gather our spiritual strength and talent and put them forth for the benefit of our klal - whether physically together or distanced - and know that our truest freedom is just over the horizon.

Ki Tisa: How Individuals Make the Community

 The current state of the Western world seems to be a conflict between individual and collective identities. In the near past people were clamoring to be honored for their unique individuality, but this is now being overshadowed by identity-based groups demanding influence on both law and culture. It is a 21st century conundrum. Is one’s identifiable community more important than one’s individuality? Parshas Ki Tisa might offer an interesting philosophical outlook on how one’s unique individuality is actually meant to shape one’s community.

Ki Tisa begins with the pasukim (verses): “And God spoke to Moshe saying: When you take a census of Bnei Yisrael according to their numbers, they shall give each man an atonement for his soul to Hashem when counting them, so that there will not be a plague among them when counting them” (Shemos 30:11-12). Verse 12 is interesting in its variation between plural and singular: “THEY shall give EACH MAN an atonement…”

A census, by its very definition, is a measurement of a group of people. It is a necessary bureaucratic procedure. This makes the pasuk’s reference to a plague seem so out of place. How could counting lead to a plague? While we know that this consequence did, actually, occur – when King David took a census by head and the people were struck with plague as recorded in II Samuel 24, one could also understand the idea of plague in a more figurative way. What does a plague do? As we have noticed all too closely in our 21st century pandemic, “plague” affects a community with more than just death. It forces people to separate, to isolate, as they protect themselves and those closest to them. It Is notable, too, that the translation app on Google also translates nun-gimmel-phey as a stumbling block or a bump. Hashem is warning Bnei Yisrael of the potential negative ramifications of a mindless counting of bodies.

The interesting thing about the phrasing of this command is that while a leader is the one who requires the census and will make use of the count, the halacha mandates that the census is performed by the community – They shall give. This enforces the self-reflective nature of Klal Yisrael – how our community actions impact our individual selves and, perhaps more importantly, vice verse.

Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch has an interesting commentary on the implications of “Pekudei” and the significance of each individual’s mindset:

Pekudei Bnei Yisrael are all those who are thought of as Bnei Yisrael, in whom the idea Bnei Yisrael has a concrete bearer. At the moment in which anybody is counted lpkudei Bnei Yisrael, he learns to value himself as a ben Yisrael, the self-appreciative consciousness is aroused to see this idea of his nation incorporated in himself. Then, at that point, the important teaching is addressed to him:- Not by mere existence, by living for himself, has his nephesh, his personality, value and meaning, not by his just being there is he an integral part of the nation, his mere existence does not even give him the right to be there; only by giving, doing, something, is he to be counted, only by giving, doing, does he gain the right for the continuance of his existence, only by contributing his share in accordance with his duty does he obtain a justifiable position as a creature who has been crowned by God with Life, a justifiable position in the community of his nation. Only by contributing something may he be reckoned in the number of the Children of Israel.

This act of being counted by giving an atonement, by becoming a conscientious piece of the Klal, is important. Bnei Yisrael have generations of experience of being judged as a whole based on the behavior of individuals and being judged as individuals based on a perspective of the whole. Sometimes this is for the good and sometimes it is the path to disaster.

The intertwining of the individual and the klal is an idea encapsulated in the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem and the avoidance of Chilul Hashem (sanctifying God’s name and desecrating God’s name). Bnei Yisrael are representatives of Hashem in this world, and how each ben Yisrael (to borrow Rav Hirsch’s usage) represents the nation is significant. Thus we know that when we go out in public, our behavior is watched and judged according to us as individuals AND as a reflection of Klal Yisrael. If I am in a bad mood and lose my temper at a cashier, the cashier attributes that also the “the Jews.” And, on the other hand, when I go out of my way to return a lost wallet, my identity as a Jew is also noted. Each individual member of Klal Yisrael must remember that how they act is accounted to the whole.

Taking a census of the people by counting heads is prohibited perhaps to teach us that such an impersonal count would imply that their own individual actions don’t matter. Pushing to be part of a group without acting for the group is inclusion without merit of action. People grouped together simply because they share a character trait or live in a similar place are not a combination of unique pieces working to make a whole, they are just a group of people. They lack cohesion. They can and will easily shift and disconnect from one another. When, however, the individuals are actively involved in being a part of a community – of sharing the same values and working toward the same goal – this is the atonement that they give. This is how they are truly counted.

Our nation has been dispersed throughout the world, and the world is currently moving into one of its eras in which one’s peoplehood is seen as more important than the individual people. This is when we most must understand that our individual actions have a significant impact on our nation as a whole. When each of us “gives an atonement” – offers a part of ourselves, whether that means through money (tzedakah), time for learning, and/or holding back one’s natural inclinations toward a bad middah (character trait) – then we protect each other and are best able to help Klal Yisrael fulfill its role in this world.