Parshas Vayakhel – About Creating

In the Torah, most of the people are either “major players,” so to speak, or minor mentions, people about whom we are given little more information than a name, a tribe, and, perhaps, a bit of lineage. There are, however, a few figures who are somewhere in-between, and one of those is Betzalel.

To understand the role of Betzalel, one must look at how Moshe describes him to Bnei Yisrael: “See, Hashem has singled out Bezalel, son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Yehudah, endowing him with a divine spirit of skill, ability, and knowledge in every kind of craft, and inspiring him to make designs for work in gold, silver, and copper, to cut stones for setting and to carve wood – to work in every kind of designers craft” (35:30-33).

With such a list of skills and talents, it is easy to understand how Betzalel is credited with producing every feature of the Mishkan. Indeed, there is an implication that this is so from the constant repetition of the use of the singular-third person in describing each item being produced. Reading these many verses of “he made this” and “he produced that,” it is easy to feel overwhelmed at his capabilities (just as it can when one is around people who are super-multi talented even in our own age). Herein, however, is one of the most beautiful lessons we can learn from the verses of Betzalel. He was capable of these mighty feats because he was talented, yes, but more so because he was dedicated, and, most importantly, he was acutely aware that his talents were granted to him by Hashem.

The skills divinely endowed to Betzalel alone are neatly listed in verses 31 through 33, but, in a most interesting construct, one final word is added in verse 34: “l’horos,” to teach or to give directions. In addition to all of the skills with which Hashem blessed him, Betzalel also had the skill of being able to show others how to do what he did. Several commentaries observe that it is not unusual for a person of great genius to have difficulty transmitting their natural talents, and so the ability to give directions was an additional gift from Hashem.

If Betzalel was such a one-man wonder, why did he need to teach? This question actually clarifies a curiosity: What were the responsibilities, or where was the credit for the work or the people listed as those with wisdom of the heart who had volunteered their skills and are noted as working on the Mishkan as well? This question becomes even more of a curiosity in applying it to Oholiav ben Ahasamach, who is always noted as Betzalel’s assistant, and who, along with Betzalel was endowed with the skills of engraving, weaving, embroidery, and the like. In pointing out that Betzalel was also granted a gift for teaching before mentioning how Betzalel and Ohaliav were given these additional understandings, it explains that Betzalel was responsible for honing the skills and directing the work of all the others.

If, in fact, it was a team of artisans who produced the necessities of the Mishkan, why does the Torah constantly reiterate that “he” made (or similar verbs) the items? Why is the singular conjugation used? Perhaps because without his talents, without his unique, divinely enhanced capabilities – the Mishkan could never have been completed properly. The individual artisans could not have accomplished the work at the necessary level.

More significantly, the other artisans seem to have had no jealousy of Betzalel receiving the credit. Perhaps this was because they came to offer their services to the building of the Mishkan with complete sincerity in the desire to serve Hashem. Or, perhaps it was because they were able to recognize that talent, both Betzalel’s and their own, was a divine gift and that without him they could not have succeeded, and they therefore had no need of individual acknowledgement. Their gift was equally important as his gifts.

This idea is particularly beautiful when one realizes that this week is also Parshas Shekalim, when we take an extra moment in shul to read about the bringing of the half-shekal in lieu of a head count. The count of the half-shekal - an equal amount provided by all men whether wealthy or poor, powerful or common – offers a meaningful parallel. In Hashem’s eyes, each of us has an equal value, which is to fulfill the unique roles that he gives us. Betzalel’s worth to Hashem is equal to the unnamed man who was filled with the desire to carve out the inspired designs.

It is human nature to want credit for one’s efforts, to want to be singled out – just a little, even – and acknowledged. It is also human nature to be able to put aside our ego’s needs when we know that we are working for the greater good or that our united efforts will lead to something glorious.

May we all work together for the glorious time of moshiach, bmheira byameinu

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to continued refuah shelaima for Rivka bas Golda and for a hope for peace and safety for those in the dangerous are of the Ukraine.

Parshas Ki Tissa – Removing Our Ornaments

Parsha Ki Tissa is best known for the narrative of the Chait Haegel, the Golden Calf, the infamous low point of Bnei Yisrael in the Midbar. Indeed, the aftermath of the creation of this false leader - for it was meant to replace Moshe, not Hashem – was terrible: Moshe broke the luchos (tablets), the Leviim drew arms against those who fully and truly sought to worship avodah zarah and slew 3,000 men, a plague struck the remaining nation, Moshe left them for another 40 days, and, most significantly, Hashem separated His Presence from the nation. From ultimate high to absolute low. Within all these dramatic events, there is an interesting set of verses that describe the reaction of Bnei Yisrael:

“The people heard this bad tiding, and they became grief stricken, and no one donned his ornaments. Hashem said to Moshe: ‘Say to the Children of Israel, You are a stiff-necked people. If I ascend among you, I many annihilate you in an instant. And now remove your ornaments from yourself, and I shall know what I shall do.’” So, the Children of Israel were stripped of their ornaments from Mount Horeb” (Shemos 33:4-6).

The order of the verses referring to ornaments is fascinating. In verse 4 it says that no one put on his ornaments, in verse 5 it says that Hashem told them to remove their ornaments, and in verse 6 it says that they were thus stripped of their ornaments. Additionally, one might immediately wonder what ornaments, since the men had given jewelry to Aaron in order to make the Golden Calf. There are several responses to this question. The simplest answer is that they gave Aaron their gold, but they still maintained silver, bronze, gems, stones, and etc from which ornaments could be made. In an interesting understanding of the passage, Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsh suggests that this is a reference to tefillin, since they are referred to as having been received at Mount Horeb (another name for Har Sinai), and because the term used for the ornaments is eidyam, which comes from the root for the word witness. Another suggestion, noted in the Gemara, is that the eidayim were two celestial crowns that each person received up on reciting naaseh v’nishma, we will do and we will hear.

In these three verses, a process is happening, and it is a process that we can learn from. Bnei Yisrael has just been informed that while Hashem will maintain His promise to bring them into the Promised Land and will help them drive out the other nations, Hashem has also announced that His Presence shall not ascend with them “lest I annihilate you on the way.” (33:4). The people realize just how badly they have erred, and they are ready to do teshuva (repent). This is the implication of their not donning their ornaments. They did not put on any false fronts, any masks. They did not decorate themselves so as to make themselves appear more “beautiful.”

Hashem witnessed that they were contrite, and He told Moshe to tell them to remove their ornaments, to finish the process. They might not have put on any ornaments, but now they needed to remove from themselves their belief in their “masks,” the ornaments they already wore. Most people put on a persona for the world. Whether this means brash confidence or a constant perkiness or a host of other emotions varies by individual, but the fact is that Bnei Yisrael was suddenly struck by the fact that the holiness that they believed they had attained through all that had occurred was still somewhat superficial, it had not been spiritually “deep” enough.

The final verse of the three begins with the word vayitnatzlu. It is translated as stripped (they were stripped of their ornaments), but it is interesting to note that this word shares the root of the word for rescue (best known for the word hatzala). The Israelites were stripped of their ornaments from Horeb. Perhaps this communal false front that they were stripped of, that they were saved from – that was the source that empowered them to commit the chait haegel – was a belief that in reaching Har Sinai and receiving the luchos, they were inherently at the peak of spiritual understanding. But, as would be proven in events to come, the Bnei Yisrael who followed Moshe out of Mitzrayim were still mired in the warped ways of the culture that had oppressed them. They were unable to reach deeper levels of spirituality because of all they had experienced prior to the Exodus. The repercussions of the chait haegel forced them to look at themselves, see themselves, and remove from themselves any false spiritual arrogance.

Hashem tells the people that if He were to go among them, He would destroy them. This is not a malicious statement. This is a statement of fact. The people believed that they were on a level of holiness that they had proven they had not yet attained, and Hashem’s Presence in their midst would be too great for them. When they took away their pretentions, however, Hashem would be able to judge them for who they truly were.

We, too, are mired in the galus (diaspora) cultures in which we live. It is almost impossible to read parsha Ki Tissa and not start to judge our ancestors, start to wonder how those who had witnessed such miracles could err so grandly. Do we have that right? Do we proceed through our lives with the ornaments of faith but not the midos (character traits) that are meant to go with it? The Jewish people are instructed to be an Am Kadosh, a holy nation, and if it is something that must be instructed then it is something that must be worked at and earned. Let us all work hard at removing our false fronts so that our collective true selves can bring us back to the intimate Presence of Hashem.

Parshas Tetzaveh: Object of Intention

The parsha of Tetzaveh is one of the parshiot that is laden with detail. From which fabrics to use to how to layer the different garments, Tetzaveh is all about the clothing of the Kohanim and the Kohein Gadol (priests and high priests). Among the descriptions of the special uniform of the Kohain Gadol, the Torah mentions the tzitz, the showplate that was strapped around the turban-like hat of the High Priest.

“And you shall make a showplate of pure gold, and you shall engrave upon it like the engraving of a holy seal: Holy to the Lord.” And you shall place it upon a cord of blue wool and it shall go over the cap, and it shall be opposite the front side of the cap. It shall be upon Aarons’ forehead, and Aaron shall bear the iniquity of the holy things that the children of Israel sanctify, for all their holy gifts. It shall be upon his forehead constantly to make them favorable before the Lord” (28:36-28). 

 

The idea of a gold plate sounds befitting for a high priest’s garb, particularly engraved with the words “Holy to Hashem.” Adornments to the head are important because of their visibility, and the Kohein Gadol should appear glorious and sanctified. But the third verse, pasuk 38, informs us that there was something far more significant about the tzitz, and it is easy to miss. After announcing that the tzitz rests upon Aaron’s forehead, the pasuk asserts that Aaron will bear the iniquity of the holy things that the children of Israel sanctify.

   

If you read that slowly, then you are probably slightly perplexed, or possibly assuming that something was typed incorrectly. (It was not.) The power of the tzitz when worn by the Kohein Gadol was to spiritually uplift that which Bnei Yisrael dedicated to Hashem – not to spiritually uplift Bnei Yisrael but the items that they brought!

   

Spiritual purity and impurity is a very complex concept, especially when applied to inanimate objects. A thing has no will and no intent. The person who owns the object does. Like certain forms of spiritual impurity, the intent of the possessor of an item can transfer to the item itself.

   

One might think that any object donated to the Mishkan or the Temple would have been given only with the best intentions; If not a heartfelt desire to connect to Hashem then at least an earnest will to fulfill a mitzvah. This is an ideal, but let's be honest about human nature. One can think of hundreds of situations when a good deed or a proper act has behind it a suppressed alternate emotion. This is not the person's primary motivator, although it can be, but rather those more subtle thoughts and emotions that a person usually refrains from speaking about.

   

For example, ideally everyone donated to the Mishkan with only the interest of building a dwelling place for Hashem. But, even voluntary offerings can come laced with alternative motives, such a desire to be seen making a donation or the urge to make certain that one gives more than one’s rival. Halevai (if it only could be) that we would not even consider that this would be an issue in the days of our Wandering in the Wilderness, and yet we know, from Parshas Naso, that having no competition in giving was one of the reasons the princes all brought the exact same gift to the Mishkan.

   

Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch explains that “avon,” the Hebrew word for iniquity used in 28:38, infers something crooked. He goes on to explain that, “The positive proclamation Kodesh l’Hashem that radiates from the forehead of the High Priest over the whole of the Sanctuay gives every object in the Sanctuary the positive function of being Kodesh l’Hashem. It can remove a misconception by which, in certain conditions, sacred objects could be affected.…” The tzitz rests on the forehead, the place from which ideas could, metaphorically, be said to radiate, and the High Priest’s forehead is now adorned by a declaration of sanctification.

   

What relevance can this have for us today? We have no High Priest, and we have no Sanctuary. What we do have are continual mitzvos that are meant to draw us closer to Hashem, just as making donations to the Mishkan did. And intent can still be of wavering purity. For example, when a mishulach (tzedakah collector) comes to the door and one does not really want to deal with them right now, whether that means it is financially difficult to assist or they interrupted something important, most people swallow their annoyance and find the means to overcome the initial negative voice. A good deed done, but was it done because one wished to fulfill the mitzvah, one wished to help a fellow Jew, or was it done because one did not want to be thought of as stingy or rude?

   

We are all human. Most of us will always have to work to balance our desire to connect with Hashem against that more selfish voice, the voice of the yetzer harah, that wants to "get ahead" or preserve our image or a thousand other ulterior motives. From the Tzitz, however, we are reminded that our intentions are so significant that they do not affect only ourselves and the people with whom we interact, but even the possessions in our care.