Parshas Pekudai: Reflections on Accounting

This week's parsha, Parshas Pekudei, is the last parsha of Sefer Shemos and is mostly - well, almost entirely - focused on the completion of the pieces of the Mishkan and its assembling. Like all parshios, Parshas Pekudei is named for the first significant word in the parsha, and, as so often happens, there is important subtext to the use of this word.

“Eleh pekudei haMishkan…This is an accounting of the Mishkan…” (Shemos 38:21).

The word “pekudei” is strong and informative. The parsha opens with pasukim that specify exactly how Bnei Yisrael's donations were used in producing the pieces in the Mishkan. The Midrash, however, explains why the accounting happened at all. There were, it seems, actually people who suspected Moshe Rabbeinu of pocketing some of the gold and silver. Here was a man who had walked away from royalty, who had dedicated himself to the people, and who had spoken to Gd to beg for the lives of the entire nation! How could anyone possibly suggest that Moshe had misappropriated funds?

In the book “Rav Chaim Kanievsky on Chumash,” it is noted that Rav Chaim pointed out that the avnei zikaron, the remembrance stones” are written in Parshas Tetzaveh without a vav in the word zikaron (rememberance) but with a vav in this week’s parsha. When written without the vav, Rav Chaim states, “zikaron always indicates a positive remembrance: remembering a merit or a promised reward” (p. 439). The added vav, however, indicates that the remembrance has grown wider. “While the stones could still serve as a remembrance of their [Bnei Yisrael] merits, they could now also remind Hashem of their sins, if they proved unworthy” (ibid.).

The difference of Tetzaveh and Pekudei? The chait haegel (sin of the golden calf). We all understand, on some level, how terrible the chait haegel was. The chait was transformative - and not in a good way. Beyond losing the ultimate connection with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, we, the Jewish people, lost faith in ourselves. 

In a way, the chait haegel had an impact on Bnei Yisrael that is similar to the effect on all of humanity that came from Chava eating from the eitz hadas (the tree of knowledge of good and bad). This one act shifted the perception of everyone ever after. Prior to the eating of the fruit, humanity was able to perceive the world with innocence, without an inner yetzer harah. After they ate, however, Adam and Chava saw the world so differently that they could no longer look at each other without seeing nakedness. 

At Har Sinai, Bnei Yisrael reached an incredible level of kedusha. They were raised onto a spiritual level that should have made them see the world in a way that, well, to be honest, we today just cannot fathom. I imagine that they would have had a unique perception of Hashem’s din and rachamim. And when they set out to have Aaron make the egel, it is understood by our sages that they did so out of a desire to have a means of getting closer to Hashem because there were subtle insinuations of doubt of Moshe’s return. The whispers that Moshe had been gone too long were as insidious as the serpent making Chava doubt herself by showing her that the tree was safe to touch. 

The sin happened. The sinners were rebuked and also forgiven. Their understanding of the world - their place in the world - however, had shifted once again. Before the chait, Bnei Yisrael was focused on Hashem and connecting to Him, so Hashem could plan that the avnei zikaron were reflections of their merit. After the chait, however, Bnei Yisrael must live with the knowledge that they are capable of such sin and that their friends and neighbors are capable fo such sin. The only way that anyone could have accused Moshe of misusing the funds for the Mishkan was if they had had such thoughts themselves, and such thoughts could only have power if one doubts oneself and thus everyone else. 

When Bnei Yisrael committed the chait haegel, they broke more than Hashem’s trust; they broke their trust in themselves. The avnei zikaron would now be remembrances of both good and bad because Bnei Yisrael had removed themselves from the spiritual level of Sinai and returned to a more common level, a level on which they perceive both good and bad in themselves and in others. 

Taking it a step further (and out on one of my limbs), this is the level that allowed them to complain over and over in the wilderness. Bnei Yisrael no longer perceived Hashem’s din and rachamim as the Divine forces of the world but were now low enough to question even Hashem. This is how we today are capable of being angry at Hashem, even though true bitachon requires the recognition that everything that happens is, ultimately, for our own good. It’s still emuna. We still know that Hashem is the active force of the world, but we are not able to see it for what it is.

The accounting of Pekudei occurred because the people were now capable of doubt, of assuming ill of Moshe. That does not, however, make the accounting a bad thing. Am Yisrael resides in a world in which the other nations are constantly judging our nation, and we must learn from Moshe that even when there is no need to show our honesty, an honest accounting is always beneficial. 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas

Parshas Vayakhel – Teacher Talk

“Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” If ever there was a degrading statement that deserved to be disproved, it is this. Those who teach because they “can’t” make terrible teachers; and those who teach because they are inspired and wish to inspire others...well, you can judge.

As odd an opening as this might seem for a Dvar Torah, it is actually highly apropos for this week’s parsha, Parahas Vayakhel, which contains a fascinating verse on this subject: “And also the gift of teaching has He put in his (Betzalel’s) heart, both he and Ohalieb, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan” (Shemos 35:34). Moshe had just finished explaining that Hashem had filled Betzalel with all sorts of engineering and artistic knowledge so that he would be able to take charge of the building of the Mishkan, and yet it was noteworthy to mention that equal to all these gifts was the fact that Hashem had filled him with the ability to teach.

Teaching is not easy, especially if the subject being taught is one which the person teaching knows by instinct. If one is born with a natural musical talent, it can be challenging to teach someone who is less inclined to hear the music.

There is, of course, greater significance to this verse. The people are making the Mishkan. All the people who wish to participate in the process, all the people who want to contribute their efforts in whichever way they can, are going to come forward. But by including this detail - that Betzalel and Ohalieb have been given a talent for teaching in addition to engineering and artistry – Moshe is making certain that even those who are uncertain of their skills and talents can come and join.

Additionally, there is an important message for Betzalel and Ohalieb: Just because you have a natural talent, just because you may be the most talented, does not mean that you should do it all alone. Natural talent is a gift, a privilege… and, as we all know, with great privilege comes great responsibility. You must do things with your talent, and you must share your talent with those who want to learn.

This may seem a short and simple Dvar Torah, but it has many applications to life. The Mishkan was built by Klal Yisrael working together. The only way this happens if there is coordination and delegation, and Hashem made a statement of His expectation of that behavior by highlighting that a talent for teaching was gifted to them. Transmitting knowledge, be that Torah or science or the arts, requires its own significant capability, and it should not be minimized. But, also, we each must share our individual knowledge and talents so that we as a nation, as a people, can fulfill our role in this world.

I wish you all much hatzlacha in finding your own special gifts and finding the people with whom to share it.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshas Ki Sisa: Putting the Finery Aside

If you were to be given a pop quiz on all the immediate consequences of the cheit haegel, the sin of the golden calf, you would probably say that people died and that Hashem distanced Himself from the nation. Both of these are correct. Most people who learn parsha will recall that the Leviim strapped on their swords and meted out punishment so that “three thousand men fell from among the people” (Shemos 32:28). Furthermore, the people were struck by a plague, although the Torah does not give a specific count of how many died because of it.

The other primary consequence that is generally discussed is Moshe begging Hashem not to destroy the nation. Hashem agrees, but He also tells Moshe that He will send His malachim to help them as they go, “But I will not go in your midst, since you are a stiff-necked people, lest I destroy you on the way” (33:4).

If the second question on this pop quiz was to ask how jewelry is connected to the cheit haegel, there would, again, be little hesitation in responding: the men eagerly gave the family jewelry to Aaron to create the golden calf. Jewelry, however, is also significant among the consequences of the sin. It is written:

“When the people heard this harsh word [that Hashem would not go in their midst], they went into mourning, and none put on finery. Hashem said to Moshe, ‘Say to the Israelite people, “You are a stiff-necked people. If I were to go in your midst for one moment, I would destroy you. Now, then, leave off your finery, and I will consider what to do to you.”’ So the children of Israel divested themselves of their finery from Mount Horeb.” (33:4-6).

This small section of the Torah, so easily glossed over by the momentous actions occurring all around it, is rather intriguing. To break it down: Bnei Yisrael express their regret and despair by refraining from adorning themselves. Hashem responds by telling them to “leave off your finery.” They do so.

Just as a minor point, one might be asking what jewelry or finery was left. However, Aaron specifically asked for gold earrings, and there was plenty of other jewelry still left. There is, however, a question of the final verse specifying “their finery from Mount Horeb.” Some commentators explain this as jewelry they wore when they received the Torah while others believe that it refers to jewelry that represents receiving the Torah (for instance the idea that they each received a spiritual crown or set of crowns). It is significant that the Hebrew word used for this finery, as the Chabad website translates it, is “edyam,” the root of which appears to be ayin-daled, which also forms the word for “ed,” which means witness.

This section of verses is a fascinating example of the human propensity for self reflection. Hashem announces that He will not be travelling with the nation. The people assess themselves and recognize that they are not the same as they were at Horeb, they recognize their own spiritual failing and find a physical means of expressing this.

From that perspective, Hashem’s response is, need I say, endearing…like a parent who realizes the limit of his/her anger at the child and tells the child to go away so that he/she may figure out what to do. Pasuk hey (5) is Hashem’s reassessment of the nation based on their own self-assessment. The fact that they recognize their spiritual failing and accept the responsibility of it, and still want to fight for their relationship with Hashem – that is how Bnei Yisrael is stiff necked! That is why Hashem must “consider what to do to you.”

What did Bnei Yisrael leave behind? They left behind the divine glory that they were obviously not ready to own, that we are still, to this day, not ready to own. But that is significant.

Bnei Yisrael went from the 49th level of tumah to receiving the Torah and experiencing divinity in an extremely short period of time. They may have wanted to wear the finery of spiritual perfection, but now, after falling so far during the cheit haegel, they were able to realize – by themselves and approved by Hashem – that this was not where they were able to be. But the fact that they voluntarily removed this ideal from themselves demonstrated the very fact that they wanted the relationship.

Each of us is on a spiritual journey. Each of us wants to attain a real relationship with Hashem. But for those of us who sometimes wish to reach the level of relationship where we could just see an open miracle or two, or just know what Hashem has in store. or witness direct intervention, Shemos 33:4-6 reminds us that we accepted upon ourselves that this was too much, that this was a level on which we could not live. In doing so, that midbar generation removed perfectionism as a spiritual goal. Only Hashem is perfect. Humans cannot live on a perfect level. It is, rather, our stiff-necked journey of trying to get higher, to get closer, without giving up even when one falls, that is important.

Wishing you Shabbat Shalom

Parshas Tetzaveh: Spiritual Reflexology

Dedicated l’ilui nshmas Avraham Ephraim Beryl ben Yaakov Halevi, my father, may he rest in peace, whose Yahrtzeit is 14 Adar.

 What sets the kohanim apart from the rest of Bnei Yisrael? Today, many scientific minds might say that the answer feels like it might be solely DNA, the ancestral traits that lead back to a single progenitor. But DNA is a blueprint to the individual elements that make up a person. We now know that people can have genetic markers for a predisposition to be a morning person or to dislike cilantro. The DNA passed down to all of the male descendants of Aaron the Kohain does give them a distinctive trait; it just isn’t physical.

 Speculatively, one could say that the genetic make-up that came straight from Aaron is a unique connection to spirituality, which he was born with. But the fact that the role of the priests was initially intended to be fulfilled by the firstborn, and then it was designated to the Leviim, and then it was given to Aaron and his sons indicates that it was not something inherent that Aaron was born with but rather that there was some form of transformation…

 I will gladly state that everything that follows is purely speculative. In this week’s parsha, Parshas Tetzaveh, there is a detailed description of the specific ceremony of inauguration that Aaron and his sons were to undergo. They were bathed and dressed in their very unique garb and then anointed. Once Aaron and his sons were prepared, the following karbanos took place in this specific sequence: A bull was slaughtered, its blood was applied to the altar, its fat burned, and then, after the fats, the rest of it was burnt. Then two rams were brought forward. The first ram had its blood sprinkled, but then all of it was burnt for the raiach nichoach, a satisfying aroma spirit. The second ram, however, was the source of blood that was placed on the right ear cartilage, right thumb, and right big toe of Aaron and his sons. Afterward, the Torah states: “Take some of the blood that is on the altar and some of the anointing oil and sprinkle upon Aaron and his vestments, and also upon his sons and his sons’ vestments. Thus shall he and his vestments be holy, as well as his sons and his sons’ vestments” (Shemos 29:21).

 One of the things that stands out about this ceremony is the placing of the blood on the ear, thumb, and toe.  Actually, and quite interestingly, it was noted on Aish.com that the only other place this specific ritual is mentioned is in connection to one who has recovered from tzaras and must be ritually purified. In no other place in the Torah do we have a marked physical indication of attaining a different spiritual level, except, perhaps with the means of inaugurating the kohanim. What is the connection of one who has recovered from tzaras and Aaron and his sons on the verge of attaining the kahuna, and what does either have to do with one’s ear, thumb, and toe?

 There is an alternative medicine practice known a reflexology. Its critical act is to press on specific pressure points that activate natural healing and stress relief. What is fascinating is that reflexology focuses on three main body parts – the foot, the hand, and the ear.

 The person suffering from tzaras needed healing – spiritual to affect the physical. But why were the ear, thumb, and toe significant to the kohanim? The term healing is generally connected to the dismissal or cure of an illness, but, perhaps, when we speak of healing that is connected to the spiritual, we must think of it as a rectification. The person who suffers from tzaras goes through a process of ridding himself of a yetzer hara (not THE yetzer hara, but an active aspect of it) and therefore fixes something spiritually in order to rejoin the nation. Aaron and his sons needed to rectify their spiritual essence to be ready to take on their new roles. This rectification was a transformation that they then passed on to their descendants.

 The kohanim needed an immediate spiritual transformation, but the one suffering from tzaras had to do teshuva in order to undergo this ritual. We may not be able to become Kohanim, obviously, but we can learn the importance of understanding that attaining a spiritual transformation is our ultimate goal. The mefarshim note that the ear represents listening to Hashem, the thumb represents the hand actively performing mitzovs, and the foot represents going forth to do Hashem’s will. One should not wait to fall victim to the yetzer harah but should constantly strive to bring about their own spiritual transformation.

 Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

Parshas Teruma: The Bars of Bitachon

One of the most difficult things to achieve in life is true bitachon. Bitachon means trusting that Hashem is totally in control and that everything that happens to you in life is just as Hashem wanted it. These concepts are easy when we see situations of supreme hashgacha pratis, like being late for a bus that then gets a flat tire so that if you had been on it, you would have actually been late for work. In living regular life, however, bitachon is, for most people, a challenge. And the challenge is, quite often, just a question of self-awareness and thinking about Hashem – something we mortals often forget about.

Recognizing Hashem’s hand in our lives is all about perspective, but getting that perspective takes work. There is heavy spiritual lifting, one might say, because by the very design of this world, Hashem does not want His control, His planning, to seem obvious. Hashem created humankind with an aspiration for success so that we would have a natural instinct to strive for something – and what it is that we strive for is our bechira, our free choice, to choose.

This week’s parsha, Parshas Teruma, is all about the instructions for building the Mishkan. The commentaries argue about the significance of the Mishkan having rings on the feet and rings on the corners (and if this is an accurate understanding of where the rings go) as well as which staves were never removed. But the Meshech Chachmah, as noted in the Sefer Talelei Oros, says: “Ostensibly, the purpose of the poles was to carry the Ark, as the Torah specifically states (25:14), ‘To carry the Ark with them.” Nonetheless, this was all an illusion, as the Talmud (Sotah 35a) tells us, ‘The Ark carried its bearers.’ In actuality, the poles were required because God decreed in His infinite wisdom that the Ark should be carried in a manner which gives the outward but erroneous impression that the bearers are carrying it.”

This is the essence of the challenge of bitachon. We look at life and assume that the successes we see other people achieving are based on something we can calculate and imitate. In fact, their successes…as well as their challenges and their failures… are all suited to their specific neshamos.

One might say that human nature requires us to believe in the power of our own effort. This is true. The part of us that is tied to this world desires a sense of success. Our goal as Jews, however, is to connect our lives to the part of ourselves that is spiritual, and that part of ourselves, the Neshama, is strengthened by seeing Hashem’s hand in everything.

If Hashem determines on Rosh Hashana how much money each person will have in the year to come, why do people feel that if they just stay at the office several hours longer they will become wealthier? This is not to say that it won’t help one become more successful, but one becomes more successful because that was what was meant to happen.

Hashem instructed that the Ark should be carried in such a manner that human effort seemed necessary. Hashem arranged the world so that is seems as if human effort is required. And it is, but not for the reasons we imagine. The hishtadlus we do puts us in the places we need to be and provides us with the opportunities for elevation and connection to Hakadosh Baruch Hu.

Working on bitachon is something we have to do day in and day out – and not without success. Most of us have had moments… but the work is making those moments into our reality. It isn’t easy. It’s a lifetime of effort. Every moment of that effort, however, is step closer to Hashem.

I wish you all a good Shabbas and hatzlacha in all your hishtadlus. May the path to where you need to go be filled with simcha.

Parshas Yisro: Joining a Nation

The beginning of Parshas Yisro describes the arrival of Moshe's father-in-law and his wise advice to Moshe on how to set up a system of courts so as not to be overwhelmed. Hisbwisdom had a profound impact of the burgeoning nation, but Bnei Yisrael also had a profound impact on Yisro.

When Yisro and Moshe are reunited, Yisro states: “Now I know that Hashem is greater than all gods, yes, by the result of their very schemes against [the people]” (Shemos 18:11). This statement, according to the commentaries, describes why Yisro has chosen to convert, to join Bnei Yisrael. It was not the might demonstrated by the plagues or the awe inspired by the splitting of the Sea, but rather the precision of the plagues in their mida for mida (trait for trait) punishment of the Mitzrim.

The understanding that Yisro joined Bnei Yisrael is interesting unto itself, but it is also I threshing that he did not stay with Bnei Yisrael. “Then Moses bade his father-in-law farewell, and he went his way to his own land” (ibid 18:27).

We are all familiar with the discussion that tries to define the Jews. Are we a nation? A religion? A culture? A tribe? And the answer is yes. Each one of these terms has its own decisions and nuances that could be used to describe an aspect of Bnei Yisrael, but none relays a complete description.

This week, I became a Canadian citizen. I did not do so because I saw something inherently good about being Canadian (which, of course, there are things to list), and I was not required to give up anything particular to who I am (dude, multiculturalism!). I became a citizen because I have lived there for 16 years and wanted to vote.

If Yisro wanted to join a nation, he would have stayed. But Yisro was declaring himself part of something bigger. He was giving up his previous life - the gods he had explored, the common beliefs with his neighbors. He was taking on an internal change.

The famous statement made about not being able to stand in the place of a Baal Teshuva is perhaps even more so true of a convert for they are truly casting off the life they had heretofore built. Yisro knows he can't go with Bnei Yisrael, perhaps because of his great age, nevertheless, we know the Yisro, in his core essence, bring Bnei Yisrael with him - and for each of us, in our day to day life, when we are not in our community or our shul or our usual Jewish life routine - need to take this inspiration with us.

Parshas Ki Tisa – It’s Really About Bechira

The incident of the Golden Calf is one of the strangest narratives in the Torah. How could everything degenerate so fast? How could Bnei Yisrael go from hearing Hashem’s voice at Har Sinai to demanding that Aaron make an idol for them, and how could Aaron actually help them?  And one last question might be, why does it seem as if Hashem is surprised; couldn’t Hashem have sent Moshe earlier to correct their mistake?

The Chait Haegel, the incident of the Golden Calf, is a critical moment not just in Jewish history, but in the development of the relationship of Hashem and Bnei Yisrael. In some ways, one could say that it is a crucial narrative to understanding the concept of bechira, free will.

“And Hashem said to Moshe,” Go, descend, for your people whom you have brought from the land of Egypt have acted corruptly. They have quickly turned away from the path that I have commanded them; they have made themselves a molten calf! And they have prostrated themselves before it, slaughtered sacrifices to it, and said: ‘These are your gods, O Israel, who have brought you up from the land of Egypt.’ And Hashem said to Moshe: ‘I have seen this people and behold they are a stiff-necked people’” (32:7-9).

Why does Hashem tell Moshe as if Hashem had not known what was happening? After all, Hashem is omniscient. Hashem was aware of the actions of the people before they were fully aware of their own actions. The intent of the people is explained as the people’s panicking over a miscalculation of when Moshe would return, so all Hashem had to do was demonstrate that Moshe was fine or send Moshe down early. Instead, Hashem let the people run their course.

 Forty days earlier, Bnei Yisrael made a choice that, according to the Midrash, was not 100% a choice. At Har Sinai, Bnei Yisreal accept the Torah when they declared Naaseh v’nishmah, we will do and we will listen. But, according to the Midrash, they accepted the Torah with a mountain over their head, with a threat of destruction. Commentaries who discuss this midrash discuss its impact on the concept of bechira, free will.

 Receiving the Torah at Har Sinai was an exceptional moment in many, many ways. The very nature of the world was altered at that moment. The desert mountain sprouted flowers. Lightening was seen and thunder was heard (a poetic take on the text – sorry).  It was now the time to enter into the era of the Torah, and so, on some level, even bechira was suspended.

 Forty days later – forty days into having accepted the covenant with Hashem – the nature of the world was back in order. The people had full bechira, and, therefore, Hashem could not intervene.  And since the people acted of their own free will, Hashem could, and did, react to their choices (which, of course, put in motion so many other critical moments to the world, as it was designed).

 The Chait Haegel was Bnei Yisrael’s first great misstep, but – as all parents know – one has to let a child make mistakes in order for them to grow. Falling is part of learning to walk.

 There are many questions one might ask on the text of Shemos 32, both because one wants to understand how those who, only a little over a month before, had heard Hashem and accepted the Torah could cry our for and celebrate an idol and because the text itself is filled with fascinating nuances. And in this, too, there is a lesson.

 Life is not simple. No person and no people act from one singular motivation. Hashem is aware of all of the factors that impact each and every one of us, as an individual and as a nation. But Hashem leaves it up to us to choose our responses, to put our choices into action. We do not control the shape of the world, but we have been given the ability to take an active role in shaping our individual lives. 

Parshas Titzaveh - The Significance of Color

Small children often think, perhaps jokingly, that the lives of their parents or grandparents was once in black and white, like the old pictures. It is a cute joke or a sweet inquiry on the part of naïve children who believe that all grown-ups are old and color is a modern day invention. In some ways, however, thinking of the past as a monochromatic world is not limited to children. It is not just the fact that our own personal memories are more subdued than real life. The 21^st century feels bright and vibrant and pulsing with attention seeking behavior. Every step “forward” in technology feels like it changes the spectrum of the life we live. In 2019, there was an article about students at MIT creating “the blackest black,” and, in 2020, there was an article about students at Purdue creating the “whitest white”; we seem to believe that we actually have the power to create improved color.

 

And so it is that we often think of the ancient past in faded tones. We have a natural instinct to think of the men and women wandering in the dessert dressed in neutral tones, in grays and tans and beiges. Parshas Titzaveh, however, reminds us that the most spiritually elevated of our ancestors was swathed in lush color. The garments of the kohain gadol were not somber, but rather were richly worked with blue and purple, crimson and scarlet, and, of course, gold. The Choshen Mishpat was deliberately stones of different colors.

 

So what? It isn’t particularly revealing that they created color in the wilderness, that the Mishkan and the bigdei kahuna (priestly garments) were designed to be beautiful. What can we of the 21^st century learn from this? We aren’t building the Mishkan. We have token kibbudim (honors) for those we recognize as kohanim since we do not have the Beis Hamikdash. And we have no kohein gadol for whom to produce magnificent garb. Perhaps, however that there is a reminder of the basic Jewish value of embracing and creating beauty. This is not an aspiration of art for art’s sake or fashion for vanity, but art and clothing for elevation. Hashem wants us to emulate His ability to create. In many people, it is a driving force of their neshamos.

 

From an outside point of view, particularly in our “advance technological age” with its flashing lights and blackest blacks, the religious world looks austere. It looks old-fashioned and thus muted. In many ways, our own communities strive for that appearance as a contrast to the outside world. And it is a value of our nation to maintain a separate identity, a distinguished appearance that sets us apart and maintains our traditions.  

 

In some ways, however, our traditional communities have been creating their own blackest blacks and whitest whites. When we learn about the flash and color of the bigdei of the kohain gadol and the Mishkan itself, there is, perhaps, a reminder, that color is beautiful. Color brings joy and joy brings gratitude and seeing dignified, richly hued clothing, like seeing a glorious sunset or a beautiful rose, provides an opportunity to thank Hashem for the pleasure of sight.

 

In describing the clothing of the kahain gadol, Parshas Titzaveh also details the creation of the choshen, of the breastplate that bore twelve precious stones. Each stone represents a different tribe, and each stone had its own unique color and characteristics  - and it is interesting to note that some of the stones are multi-colored. The beauty of the Jewish people is our diversity within the same world, how there are “70 faces to the Torah.” We all share the same goal, the desire to serve Hashem and to elevate the world we live in, but how we do that is unique. Those unique shades of being, the colors of who we are, are what represent our people at its most elevated state.

Parshas Va’eira: Chaos and Wonders

We live in a complex world. We live in a world that is full of the unexpected, the unexplained, and, sometimes, the unimaginable. And while you might be thinking of rare birds or hidden desert waterfalls, of glittery bioflorescent microorganisms or something as bizarre as the blob fish (which is pretty wonderously ugly), the world’s wonders are far more than those we see in nature. There are wonders in world events. There are wonders in human behavior. And there are wonders in the our personal spiritual worlds as well. 

This weeks’ pasha, Parshas Vayera, is all about wondesr. It records seven of the ten plagues that assailed Mitzrayim. The makkos were truly wondrous. Each one was rife with power and symbolism. And each one sounds terrifying to live through.

The Midrashim make it clear that none of the plagues effected the Israelites. According to tradition, the water in Jewish homes stayed water, and the Mitzrim had to buy clean water from their own slaves. Similarly, the frogs went into every home in Mitzrayim, but not into the homes of Bnei Yisrael. Nor were the Children of Israel covered in lice. 

It is interesting to note, however, that the protection of the Israelites from the impending devastation is not mentioned by Moshe to Pharoah until the fourth makka, the plague of swarms of insects, when Moshe says: “And I will separate on that day the land of Goshen, upon which My people stand, that there will be no swarm of insects there, in order that you know that I am the Lord in the midst of the earth” (Shemos 8:18). 

Until the fourth plague, there was, perhaps, doubt among the Israelites as to what was going on in their world. After all, they had not lined up in support of Moshe. When Moshe and Aaron’s first attempt at talking to Pharoah failed, the Israelites’s lives were made more difficult. This certainly would not have fostered trust in their minds, so why would they believe that he would really be able to protect them. 

Imagine what it must have been like to be an Israelite during these 1st few plagues. Terrifying yet wondrous things were happening all around you. Yes, those beings afflicted were your tormenters, your taskmasters, and while it would have been wonderful to see them suffer, imagine the anxiety of waiting to see what effect this would all have on your life. 

Now add to the sudden chaos the fact that Pharoah’s necromancers were known to have powerful magic and that they had already demonstrated an ability to change water in to blood. They were also able to call up frogs from the Nile. This sort of magic was not foreign to them. Indeed, they even believed that they could create lice from dust; and it was only when they failed to do so that the threat of their abilities was truly muted (even though their blood and frogs were inconsequential compared to the actual makkos).

Mitzraym continued to descend into chaos, becoming a terrifying place. The Israelires were safe, but they could not have been unaffected. Many Israelites took Moshe’s path, but many did not. We know from tradition that only one fifth of Bnei Yisrael followed Moshe into the Wilderness. The other 80 percent did not, it seems, see or appreciate that Bnei Yisael stood apart. 

On Pesach we make declarations about “every generation.” This is reality. Every generation has to face times of strife and times of chaos. We do not live in a time of revealed miracles or miraculous plagues (Thank God) or unquestionable leaders. But the Jewish people now, as always, live on a path all of our own. When the chaos of the world seems overwhelming, look back at Mitzrayim. We aren’t promised a life without pain, a life withough fear, or a life without challenges, but we were promised, as a nation, that we would be set aside and protect. And so we are to this day. 

Shabbat Shalom

Parshas Pekudei - Doing It Exactly Right

Parshas Pekudei, the last parsha in Sefer Shemos, concludes the inspired undertaking of the building of the Mishkan. The parshiot pertaining to the Mishkan are vastly detailed, listing what was to be made, how it was made, that it was made, and now, in this parsha, how it was all to be assembled.

 

At the end of perek 39, Bnei Yisrael brought all that they had produced to Moshe, and it is written: “Like everything that Hashem commanded Moshe, so did the Children of Israel perform all the labor. Moshe saw the entire work, and behold!  - they had done it as Hashem had commanded, so had they done! And Moshe blessed them” (39:42-43).

 

It is an interesting order of statement.  Why does the Torah mentioned that they performed all of the labor and then describe what seems to be Moshe’s surprise that they had done it as Hashem had commanded?

 

One possible key to understanding Moshe’s reaction is the opening section of Parshas Pekudei. The parsha begins, “Eleh pekudei HaMishkan… These are the reckonings of the Tabernacle” (38:21). Shortly thereafter the Torah provides an exacting account of the gold and the silver that was collected from the people and how it used in the Mishkan. Commentators highlight this section as a demonstration of Moshe’s good character and as an example of honesty in business and being particular in one’s accounting.

 

Although Moshe’s apparent astonishment and the details of his accounting are not side by side, they are a fascinating comparison of expectations. The bar for Moshe is detailed diligence. The bar for Bnei Yisrael is that they actually fulfilled the commandments to the detail. This seems an interesting reflection of the frequent hashgafic discussion of the different definition of transgression for a Tzadik and a regular person. The small sin of a great man sometimes seems to have a far deeper consequence than the great sin of a common man. For instance, if almost any other member of Bnei Yisrael had hit the rock as Moshe did (in parsha Chukas), would the punishment have been as severe?

 

Pasuk 39:43 is praise for Bnei Yisrael. The word that translates as “behold” is Hinei, which echos back to Avraham’s famous declaration of “Hinneni, I am here,” at the outset of the Akeidah (and other places). In that instance, Avraham declares Hinneni as a demonstration that he is ready and willing to do Hashem’s will. Perhaps this is what Moshe understood when he saw that Bnei Yisrael had truly completed the task to Hashem’s specifications. Bnei Yisrael was ready, at that moment, to be fully compliant (as we say today).

 

This was significant because the process of creating the Mishkan was done through a chastised people. The building of the Mishkan was a direct result of the Chait Ha’egel, when the people had so quickly deviated from Hashem’s commandments because they thought they knew better how to calculate time. When Moshe sees that they have brought each thing “as Hashem had commanded,” he sees that they have attained a level of hinneni, of being willing to put aside their own will, their own creativity, in order to serve Hashem.

 

Jewish writing often discusses the yetzer harah and the yetzer hatov, which are translated as the evil inclination and the inclination for good. The word yetzer, however, comes from a verb that also means to create. Each of us has a deep-seated need to create our own path in this world. Even as most of us strive to do so on a good path, on the path dictated by the Torah, we know that this is not always easy. To follow the dictates exactly as Hashem has commanded is an incredible task that, as most Mussar sefarim will detail, is easily derailed by mankind’s unique ability to rationalize our behavior so that even when we believe we are doing right, our own subconscious will may lead us to perform the mitzvos as we see best and not necessarily to the exact, exact specifications of halacha.

 

Let us all learn from Moshe, from Bnei Yisrael, and from Parsha Pekudei how blessed those moments of true fulfillment of Hashem’s will can be.

 

Dedicated for continued besoros tovos/refuah shelaima for Rivka bas Golda, and with prayers for peace and comfort to those in the war zone.

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.

   

Parshas Yisro: Outside Advice

 The modern insularity of the traditional Jewish community is fascinating on many sociological levels. As pure as we often declare ourselves, there are not a few ways in which the outside world has influenced our traditional life, although we have often created weighty dispositions on why these are acceptable. Lengthy, indeed unending, debates could be had over whether this is good or bad, and why it is that in our most recent eras the Jewish people have become particularly wary of outside influence. At the same time, it is important to be honest with ourselves and recognize that sometimes good things come from unexpected places.

 This week, we read about Yisro, the father-in-law of Moshe. Yisro was a man of great accomplishment who was seen as a leader among his own people. According to the Midrash, he was once an advisor to Pharaoh and he was a man who had explored every system of faith that then existed. In the Torah itself, he is listed as a priest of Midian (Shemos 2:18). This man, this foreigner who worshiped an array of false beliefs, is named seven times in the first perek of this week’s parsha and referenced as Moshe/his father-in-law without his name another seven times. For those familiar with the idea that the Torah does not waste words, that is an exceptional number of mentions. Even more so, the entire parsha is called in his name.

 Yisro is best known for advising Moshe to set up a system of judges and not to bear the burden of administrating Klal Yisrael by himself. He came to Moshe, bringing Moshe’s wife Tzipora and their two sons, in the time between the crossing of the Yam Suf and the arrival of Bnei Yisrael at Sinai. Their reunion appears to have been one of great fanfare, with Moshe lavishing attention upon his father-in-law. During this time, Moshe recounts all that has happened and Yisro praises Hashem and acknowledges His power. The next day, Yisro witnesses how Moshe single-handedly sits as magistrate settling disputes among the people. Yisro’s great advice is to set up a layered system of judges so that Moshe only has to deal with the most difficult of cases, leaving him time for all of his other responsibilities.

 To be honest, and perhaps the perspective is warped by having lived in a society built upon the foundations of biblical law, this does not seem like some sort of particularly brilliant, unfathomable idea. Certainly, great empires, and even smaller fiefdoms of the time, had hierarchical systems. So why does the Torah make such a big deal about Yisro’s suggestion?

 There are several layers of answers. While it may not have been a unique concept in the world, it was advice from which all of Klal Yisrael benefitted, and for this reason it would be worth mentioning. Another reason so many pasukim are dedicated to this topic is as a lesson of hakaras hatov, recognizing the good; It is a reward for Yisro for the good that he did for Klal Yisrael.

 It might be, however, that Hashem wanted there to be a written record of how Klal Yisrael can benefit from others. Although the Midrash tells us that Yisro converted to Judaism, this is as yet to come. It is obvious that he has great sympathy for the Israelites, especially after hearing the details of their journey and the miraculous feats that brought them out of Mitzrayim. Yisro makes his suggestion to Moshe without any motive other than to benefit Moshe and Klal Yisrael, and his system is implemented even before the Jewish people receive the Ten Commandments at Har Sinai.

After centuries of persecution, the modern Jewish community is often loathe to let other people into their world. There are good reasons for this, especially in a time when so many popular mores and morals are antithetical to basic Torah values. From Parshas Yisro, however, we are given a clear message that good advice can come from without just as much as from within, and indeed, sometimes it takes an outside point of view to help us see our challenges.

 

This Dvar Torah is dedicated for. a refuah shelaims for Rivka bas Golda and liluy NIshmas Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef Hacohen

Parshas Beshalach - Life Patterns

 This week's parsha is Parshas Beshalach. It is an exalted parsha that captures some of the most important moments in the formation of the Jewish nation - specifically, the crossing of the Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds) and the singing of the great Shira (song). And yet, interestingly enough, it is also a parsha full of downfall and disappointment. All too often the Israelites balk at challenges both simple and exaggerated. 

One might think that when Hashem set down the Torah, He would have separated these events, and yet no sooner is it recorded in the Torah that Miriam lead the women in song then it is written how Bnei Yisrael travelled three days and were unable to find water. These two events are side by side in Shemos 15, verses 20 - 22. The rest of the parsha - two more perakim - follow a similar pattern: great wonder, discomfort and worry, distress, Divine resolution with great wonder, and repeat. 

If we are really honest with ourselves, much of what we read about inParshas Beshalach is beyond our understanding. Seas parting, water spurting from a rock hit by a stick, and manna from heaven all sound quite supernatural (as, indeed, they were in the purest meaning of the term). Nevertheless, many of us read the reactions of Bnei Yisrael with a "holier than thou" attitude of "Well, if I saw such miracles, I wouldn't complain like they did!"

The oft quoted "Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it," is a deep truth. The face is, sadly, that even those who know history well fall into familiar traps. The Torah in general, and Parshas Beshalach in particular, does not hold back in reminding us how easily we err - how almost natural it is for us to trip over our own feet. But it does this by also being completely open about the fact that the topography of life is hills and valleys, that life can be challenging. 

From singing for joy at their miraculous salvation, it only took 3 days for an undertone of complaint to begin. The Midrash says this was the Erev Rav, the add-ons who joined Bnei Yisrael as they left Mitzrayim. But even the most faithful must have been shaken when the war band of Amalik snuck up from the rear and attacked, when Bnei Yisrael survived because their leaders pushed themselves through the spiritual challenge. 

There are seventy levels of learning the Torah. We read it as history, as parable, as a rule book, as a book of doctrine...We read it as our national story, as our family's story, and as our personal story. The Torah does not smooth the edges. It is a book that tells us an aweful lot (well, everything, really) about real life. and real life is bumpy. Life is miraculous salvations followed by unexpected disappointments and continual repetitions of variations of the same. 

Perhaps the question is perspective. Do you perceive life as mostly bad with moments of good or mostly good with some moments of challenge? Perhaps it does not matter so long as when you are in those challenging moments you raise your hands upward and give Hashem the opportunity to lend you strength and at your height of joy you remember to raise your voice in praise and sing out those positive feelings.

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Rivka bas Golda and L'iluy nishmas Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef HaCohen.

Parshas Bo - Dark Times

This week’s parsha has much to unpack, but given the world in January 2022, this Dvar Torah will focus on Mitzrayim and Choshech, Egypt and Darkness. While darkness was the penultimate plague that punished the Egyptian people, choshech seems particularly significant to Mitzrayim.

 Mitzrayim is the Hebrew name for Egypt. Egypt is a place, a country on the Northern edge of Africa. Mitzrayim, however, is far more than a place. It is, according to Jewish tradition, like a state of mind. At the heart of the word is tzar, which means narrow, and tzara, which means trouble. The end of the word, is a pluralization, and the mem at the beginning is the preposition “from.” Mitzrayim, then was a place of narrow troubles.

 Mitzrayim was a terrible place for Bnei Yisrael. We faced almost complete physical and spiritual oblivion, and then came Moshe and the ten makkos (plagues). It is quite clear in all of Jewish learning that the Children on Israel were not affected by the plagues. They had water to drink when the Nile turned to blood. There were no frogs in their beds or lice on their heads. And, according to the Midrash, during the plague of darkness, they could see. Indeed, it is generally understood that during the darkness that was so oppressive that the Mitzrim could not even move, the Israelites followed the Divine command given by Moshe to go into the homes of their Mitzri neighbors and assess what silver and gold they had. They took none of it during choshech but went back to ask for it in the hours leading up to their departure.

 There is another significant Midrash about Mitzrayim that tells us that during the plague of darkness many Bnei Yisrael died. Shocking as this may sound since the plagues were meant to be part of the vehicle of redemption, these were the men and women who did not care enough about their natural heritage to take the risk of faith. These were the people who, even after sign after sign after sign, could not or would not believe that the Divine hand would protect them. These, according to the midrash, were a large majority of Bnei Yisrael. They had the ability to have light and vision, but they chose darkness.

 Just a few years ago, most people rejoiced in the idea that we were becoming a global economy. Commerce, culture, travel, and information knew no physical bounds. It seemed the best of times.  In just under two years, however, we are mired in the opposite, in what feels like the worst of times. The world has narrowed immensely. Travel prohibitions, supply shortages, and government regulations have pushed us back into the tzarim, into the narrow places.  Personal travails, negative media portrayals, and national devastation by a seemingly endless parade of unveiled scandals have made us aware of our tzaras, our troubles.

 In Mitzrayim, we were slaves. In Mitzrayim, we were loathed by the people around us. As the horrors of the plagues mounted, as life became more and more difficult for the Mitzrim but not for the Israelites the antipathy only grew. Yes, by the later plagues the Mitzrim were telling Pharoah to let the Israelites go, but it was from fear and anger and resentment. And then came choshech. Three days of unfathomable darkness. We cannot understand what that darkness was, physically, as it is not something anyone else has ever experienced, but we can certainly understand the metaphorical meaning of darkness.

 As noted earlier, the tzar of mitzrayim means both narrow places and trouble. Perhaps some of Bnei Yisrael were trapped in Mitzrayim spiritually. They were drawn to the taivas (desires), to the physicality, to the sexualities, to the idolatry, and etc, that were rampant in the culture of Mitzrayim. Others of Bnei Yisrael, however, were trapped in MItzrayim physically, by the slavery and their inability to pull themselves out of a place they knew was bad. These Bnei Yisrael suffered from tzaros, from troubles. When the plague of darkness came, those Israelites who were deeply connected to Mitzrayim were the ones who could not leave their narrow places, who could not envision living a completely different type of life, one dedicated to kedusha.

 It often feels like we are living in the worst of times. The last generation or two of North American Jews found it improbable to believe that anti-Semitism was still a real problem. And yet as the world has constricted, as political unrest and pandemic decline has made its impact, anti-Semitism is on the rise. The world has entered a period of darkness, a period of chaos and distress. And now we must realize the metaphoric statement that not all of us will emerge from the darkness.

 The Midrash specifies that only 1/5^th of Bnei Yisrael went out of Mitzrayim. That means that eighty percent of Bnei Yisrael died during choshech. Eighty percent of Bnei Yisrael, refused to metaphorically see the light, to choose to walk in the ways of their forefathers and live by the anthropological term “ethical monotheism.” Eighty percent of the people were stuck in the narrow confines. This idea does not help us understand why people we expect to be honest and good and holy do bad things, but perhaps it helps us put into perspective how times of darkness can shape the future.

 According to Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (I believe), when the Mitzrim came out of the darkness and saw that the Israelites had been able to move but none of their possessions had been taken, they became aware of the moral distinction of Bnei Yisrael. Let us clarify that – they became aware of the moral distinction of 1/5^th of the Israelite slaves whom they had loathed and oppressed. Because of this new awareness, they freely gave the gold or silver that the Israelites then requested because they were now aware of the harm they had done to them.

 Yetziyas Mitzrayim, the way in which Bnei Yisrael was removed from Mitzrayim, had purpose. Hashem could simply have changed the mindf-rame of the Egyptian nation just as He hardened the heart of Pharoah. Indeed, Hashem could have frozen the Mitzrim on day one and had Bnei Yisrael walk straight out of Egypt, taking the necessities as they left. But every part of Yetziyas Mitzrayim had purpose that echoes through the generations.

 In times of travail, in times when everything seems to be terrible, we are given a choice. We can choose to be like those Bnei Yisrael who were stuck in their narrow ways, or we can be like those Bnei Yisrael who knew that they were suffering but chose to see through the darkness. It isn’t easy. Imagine three days of walking about with many of your neighbors frozen and watching many of your brethren falling to their lack of faith. Hold strong my friends, for after the darkness comes freedom.

 This Dvar Torah is dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Rivkah bas Golda, and lilui neshama Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef HaCohen.