Parshas Emor: Finding Meaning in the Holidays

Although we know that the names of parshios are based on the first significant word in the divided section, Emor – Say – is appropriate even for the second chapter, the section that discusses the Jewish festivals. In chapter 23, each of the holidays is introduced by the phrase: “Vayidaber Hashem el Moshe laymor, And God spoke to Moshe to say.” The phrase is used as follows: 23:1 - it leads to an announcement that the festivals designated as a holy convocation are about to be listed, Shabbas above all, and then Pesach (23:1-8). 23:9 – is a discussion and description of the bringing of the omer and the counting of the 50 days until the offering of the loaves on the 50th day, which is Shavuos. (23:9-21). 23:24 – introduces a short section only two verses long that tells the people of the holiday of the Shofar (23:24-25). 23:26 – is the description of Yom Kippur. (23:26-32). And 23:33 – instructs the Jewish people about Sukkos (23:33-36). After 23:33-26, the Torah states, “These are the appointed festivals of Hashem that you shall proclaim as holy convocations to offer”… and then lists the offerings.

It seems a neat and tidy package set off at the beginning and end by a firm declaration that these are the holidays. And yet, that it is not exactly neat and tidy because there are two strange discrepancies that completely ignore the “And God Spoke to Moshe to say” pattern. The first are verses 23:22-23, which is skipped in the above summary. The second are verses 23:39-43.

In the middle of the description of the holidays and at the conclusion of the instructions on the holiday of Shavuos, the Torah seems to interrupt itself to say: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not remove completely the corners of your field as you reap, and you shall not gather the gleanings of your harvest for the poor and the prostelyte shall you leave them. I am Hashem, your God.” As significant a mitzvah as this is, it is not a commandment specifically connected to either the seasonal mitzvah of counting the Omer (and the laws of what you can or cannot do with the Omer during that time) or the holiday of Shavuos. And with the addition of the last three words, Ani Hashem Ehlokeichem (“I am Hashem, your God”), it is almost as if these two verses were taken from parshas Kiddushim and dropped randomly into the description of the holy convocations during which special offerings were to be brought as part of the holiday celebrations.

The second incongruity is that the perek does not conclude with Verses 23:37-38 declaration that these are the appointed time. The perek continues on with a second description of the holiday of Sukkos, a description that includes the commandments of lulav and esrog and the dwelling in booths (sukkos) and is not introduced by “And God spoke to Moshe to say.” This subsection begins with a far more descriptive explanation of the time: “But on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when you gather in the crop of the Land, you shall celebrate Hashem’s festival…”

That these two sets of verses are the “exceptions to the rule” in Chapter 23 signifies, perhaps, that there is a connection. Both sections remind us that, ultimately, everything we have truly belongs to Hashem.

The mitzvah of leaving the corner of one’s fields for those in need to come and glean from is a mitzvah not only of tzedakah, but also a reminder of Hashem’s Dominion. That which we have is a blessing from Hashem, and we must share it with our brethren.

The holiday of Sukkos, particularly our dwelling in temporary huts, has a similar “theme” that is only established in this final subsection of the perek. When it is time to rejoice in the gathering in of the crops, leave your sturdy house and your fine possessions and come dwell under the sky so that you remember that the ultimate source of blessing is Hashem.

One can also see significance in the order of these two sections. Although Chapter 23 is primarily about days of not working and the sacrifices to be brought to the Mishkan or Temple, underlying it all is a hint toward the agricultural cycle of the year, and agriculture is a general reference to parnasa (income). We begin in the spring by celebrating ourselves as a nation, and, almost immediately, we are reminded of the importance of mitzvos bein adam l’chaveiro – of taking care of one another. We end the year reflecting on our relationship with Hashem, and are reminded that Hashem is the ultimate source. One might think that it should be the opposite. Indeed, because of the name Rosh Hashana, we often think of the holidays of the seventh month as the beginning of the year. So too, when we think about spirituality we often think that it starts with the mitzvos bein adam l’makom, the mitzvos between man and God. But in Judaism, the interpersonal mitzvos come first. We must recognize that Hashem gives us blessings so that we can emulate His care of others in order to be able to recognize our true relationship with Him.

Parshas Kedoshim - For Our Daughters

 Let's talk about Shabbas... again. On a casual basis, without researching or counting, it is quite possible to suggest that there is no other topic in the Torah that is so often repeated - except, perhaps, the prohibitions of idolatry - than Shabbas. Other mitzvos, which seem obscure but are also detailed and complex - like don't mix wool and linen, are given very brief "attention" from the Torah. But it often feels as if Shabbas is mentioned once, or more, in every parsha. In Vayikra 19, it is even mentioned twice, in both Vayikra 19:3 and 19:30.

In this particular Dvar Torah, the verse being discussed is 19:30. Before citing the verse, it is important - and interesting - to discuss the structure of this particular section of Vayikra's Parshas Kedoshim. Perak yud'tes (Chapter 19) begins with Hashem telling Moshe to command Bnei Yisrael: "You shall be holy, for holy am I, Hasham, your God" (19:2). Throughout the rest of the perak, every 1 to 5 verses are punctuated with the words Ani Hashem or Ani Hashem Ehlokeichem. Therefore, what is interesting about Vayikra 19:30 is not the verse alone, but also the verse to which it is attached: "Do not profane your daughter to make her a harlot, lest the land become lewd, and the land become filled with depravity. My Sabbaths shall you observe and My Sanctuary shall you revere - I am Hashem" (19:29 - 30).

Before a debate of modern mores on women's rights kicks off, let us please remember that 20th/21st century feminism is not the Torah's goal. In our day, it is the responsibility of every Jew to understand the Torah's values and live them in a modern context. Our current era is quick to rise and decry a perceived patriarchal tone without looking for a deeper purpose to the laws and going beyond how we know they were lived for thousands of years in less liberal societies.

Verse 29 could be read as a directive of family values. The word for profane is t'challel, which is the same verb as chilul Hashem, most often translated as a desecration of Hashem but is also understood as doing an act that causes others to devalue Hashem and Torah.

Throughout the Torah, there appears to be a great emphasis on teaching our sons - although one might debate the male noun/pronoun is also used for mixed gender multiples and the Torah does not waste words with he/she and his/hers. While most commentators discuss verse 29 in a context of not encouraging improper relations, one might be able to read it as a call for being particularly conscientious in our treatment of our daughters, particularly in their teenage years when a warning such as this seems most practical and when most would say our daughters are prone to be sensitive about how they are treated.

This idea is certainly a far leap from traditional understanding of this verse, however, it makes certain sense in connection with "My Sabbaths shall you observe and My Sanctuary shall you revere" (19:30). As is so often the case, Hashem is providing a cure even before the illness. Shabbos is when we spend the most time with our families. Guard the Sabbath to guard your family. "My Sanctuary shall you revere" uses the term mkadshei, my holy places. When we demonstrate reverence for places designated as holy, we can learn and remember that Hashem has provided us, we who live without a Mishkan or a Temple, with opportunities to turn our homes into mikdashei me'at, we must put reverence in our home so our homes can be filled with kedusha.

What about the phrasing of 19:29 that says "lest the land become lewd, and the land become filled with depravity"? This part of the verse only emphasizes the fact of how important treating our daughters properly is. Notice that the verse does not talk about daughters in the plural, but rather "your daughter." A daughter of Israel grows up, imertz Hashem, to be a wife and mother, as well as a plethora of other titles. In these roles of wife and mother, she is the critical transmission point of Klal Yisrael, and each daughter is significant from stopping the land from being filled with depravity.

One final thought - verses 29 and 30 are coupled and concluded with Ani Hashem rather than Ani Hashem Ehlokeichem. Although I have not, right now, sat and studied each section of Vayikra 19 to confirm this thought, it is interesting to ponder the distinction between the exclusion and inclusion of Ehlokeichem. We know that the Divine name Ehlokim reflects din, justice/law, and the Divine name Hashem reflects rachamim, compassion. The fact that Vayikra 19:29-30 concludes with just Ani Hashem is another subtle lesson. Observe the Sabbath, revere the holy places, and raise your daughters - raise the future homes of Klal Yisrael - guided by rachamim.

Parshas Tazria/Metzora – The Challenge of Identity

 Society has always, in one way or another, acknowledged the connection between one’s emotional well being and one’s physical well being. In Medieval Times (and, alas, far after the so-called Dark Ages), doctors treated people’s psychological unwellness by treating their “Humors” (bodily fluids). In more recent times, we know that stress causes ulcers, thyroid can cause depression, and etc. It is clear that our bodies and our minds are deeply entangled. And yet it is still incredibly difficult, at least for me, to understand the parshiot of Tazria-Metzora, of an “illness” of the soul being reflected by a physical ailment. (And I will certainly note that I think a big part of my challenge is having grown up with the English translation of it being leprosy and then discovering that leprosy was caused by a bacterial infection and learning that leprosy is really just a very bad translation.)

As one reads the parsha one learns about the physical appearance of the blemish, and, in truth, the idea of strange discoloration is something that most people can envision and understand. But what about the very strange situation described in Vayikra 13:12-17:

If the eruption spreads out over the skin so that it covers all the skin of the affected person from head to foot, wherever the priest can see—if the priest sees that the eruption has covered the whole body—he shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean, for he has turned all white. But as soon as undiscolored flesh appears in it, he shall be unclean; when the priest sees the undiscolored flesh, he shall pronounce him unclean. The undiscolored flesh is unclean; it is leprosy. But if the undiscolored flesh again turns white, he shall come to the priest, and the priest shall examine him: if the affection has turned white, the priest shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean.

“If a person’s entire physical being becomes covered in a blemish” - this isn’t Vitiligo, the slow process of pigmentation loss. It is, as the pasuk notes, an eruption of blemish. Having just been taught that this very type of blemish indicates a spiritual impurity, the Torah is now teaching us that an entire body covered in this very blemish is to be declared pure, and if a patch of regular skin appears, then he is impure. It is, one could say, a rather shocking and confusing passage. Shocking because it is hard to imagine one erupting in a blemish that could cover the entire body, and confusing because said person goes in and out of the state of pure and impure.

The process, as I understand it, is that it starts as an initial impurity that, after having been declared impure, quickly spreads over the entire body. Now that it is over the entire body, the kohain looks at it and declares that it is not an impurity, it is a skin issue. If it is everywhere, it is clean and the person is pure. However, once it has been declared pure, or shortly thereafter, it shifts again and retreats creating a patch of the person’s original skin. Now the kohain says “Wait a minute, it is not a skin issue, it is an impurity.” This can go back-and-forth multiple times. As long as it is completely one way or the other, the person is pure, but the patches shift the person back to impurity.

In a way, this speaks greatly to the question of identity, a topic that appears to be a hot button issue today but, in reality, has always been an important part of human nature. Think about the stories of kids in high schools (public) who went “Goth,” declaring that they were asserting their independence, but it was clear that what they were asserting was their group identity.

We all, as human beings, struggle with identity. When we figure out how to be completely our true selves, we are pure. However, when we let that niggling self doubt of our path enter our minds, we are no longer are pure selves. This does not mean we should not question ourselves, that we should not follow correction of a halachic or hashkafic path of Torah, that we should not be involved in constant growth and readjustment.

One could give an extreme example, such as allowing comments made during a religious debate to cause one to question Torah, chas v’shalom. Without proper care, that small impurity can worm its way into one’s sense of self, can make one doubt things that are known to be truths.

One could also think of the silly, more mundane moments when who we are and what we like is challenged by other people. For instance, a person like sardines and enjoy having them for lunch, but the guy at the next seat tells him that eating sardines is weird. One could respond, “Well, , that’s your opinion” and continue eating sardines. But, quite often one might, instead, begin to worry that he is doing something unacceptable.

This is very normal for human beings to do. Our goal, and one of the biggest challenges of being people of faith in an unfaithful world (to sound like a charming book cover) is that we need to have tenacity to hold on to our point of view, to our inherent identity. If we let a random, outside thought create a blemish, then we must stop and recalibrate ourselves all over again, to get to the point where we can once again know for certain who we are and what our purpose is. Is this a natural process - yes! Is it a challenging process - yes! Is there something we can do about it - yes! It is what our people have always done. We study, we learn, and when we worry about the first signs of a patch of impurity, we take it to our spiritual experts, and we ask them for guidance.

*What I write here now are purely my thoughts, with no commentaries or midrashim having been researched, although someone may find something similar somewhere I want it to be stated because it is just my unbacked up ideas.

Parshas Shemini: Avoiding Emotional Judgements

 When one studies Torah, one is not just learning about the history and laws of the Jewish nation. Studying Torah is about learning life skills on a range of levels. In Parasha Shemini, we have the opportunity to learn about the hazards of letting our emotions decide our judgement of other people’s actions, and we do this through Moshe.

Moshe had a temper. It's a fact that we don't often think about because… well because he is Moshe. He is the ultimate eved Hashem, and is even called out in the Torah for his great humility. And while that is true, it is also true that there are several references to him reacting in anger. Some people have, perhaps, read that statement and felt offended at the presumption of negative traits. On the contrary, the idea of Moshe having a temper attests to the fact that he had enough passion to lead our stiff necked ancestors. Even more importantly, in every case of anger that is expressed in the Torah, Moshe’s primary reaction is about the honor due Hashem or protecting the Jewish people (even from themselves).

In Parshas Shemini, Moshe's emotion are very complex. The Mishkan is finally ready to be inaugurated. In the midst of the elaborate santicifaction ceremony for which has prepared for days, Nadav and Abihu are struck down for bringing an unasked for offering. Their deaths must be overlooked so that the sanctification can be completed, so Moshe must help his brother and two nephews put off their reactions. Aaron and his sons go on to a series a specific offerings. But something seems to have gone wrong in the completion of the ceremony, at least according to Moshe, for the Torah suddenly states: "Moshe inquired insistently about the he-goat of the sin-offering for behold it had been burned! And he was wrathful with Elazar and Itamar, Aaron’s remaining sons" (10:16).

Hashem commanded very specific steps and sacrifices for the day that the Mishkan was sanctified. Several of the sacrifices were meant to be eaten by the kohanim, Aaron and his sons, including the he-goat of the sin offering. Why then, Moshe needed to know, did they burn it?

The Torah’s words that Moshe “inquired insistently” and “was wrathful” tell us that he was led by his emotions in his reaction. Perhaps Moshe saw this as the kohanim being unable to take and follow instruction, that they could not truly serve Hashem properly. More humanely, perhaps he was worried that Elazar and Itamar had also, like their brothers, performed the service improperly and that they too might die. However, as Hashem did not appear to react, as he had with Nadav and Abihu, Moshe’s strong actions speak of underlying emotion driving him forward.

To conclude the situation, Aaron stepped in and said: “Was it they who this day offered their sin offering and their elevation offering before Hashem? Now that such things befell me - were I to eat this day's sin offering would Hashem approve?" (Vayikra 10:19).

In stepping between Moshe and his sons, in declaring his role and responsibility, Aaron was also explaining to Moshe that the deaths of Nadav and Abihu had effected the inauguration, even without their stopping and reacting. Aaron, Elazar, and Itamar were all now in a state known as onen. It is the first stage of mourning - after the death but before the burial. An onen is very limited in the performance of mitzvot, even if they are kohanim performing a service in the Mishkan or Beis Hamikdash.

Being both onanim and kohanim, Elazar and Itamar could not participate in most of the offerings. As the Kohen Gadol (high priest), however, Aaron was allowed to perform the offerings. As for why two goats and the meal offering were eaten but one sacrificed goat was not, Aaron’s response implied enough to remind Moshe that the goats that were eaten were sacrifices ordered specifically for the inauguration and were therefore allowed to be consumed, whereas the he-goat of the sin offering was actually an offering of Rosh Chodesh and could not be consumed by an onen, even the Kohen Gadol. The first two could be offered by Aaron and eaten by the priests, the third had to be burnt whole since none of them were permitted to eat it.

When Moshe saw the sacrifices done differently than he had instructed, he reacts with emotion he grows irate with a holy passion to do Hashem’s will properly. He investigates and lays blame rather than asking questions. But in pasuk 10:20, after Aaron has defended his sons and explained the halachic nuances, Moshe is humbled - and here is the lesson to be learned. While the verse simply says "Moshe heard and it was good in his eyes," the Midrash tells us that Moshe declared that he had forgotten the law that Aaron had just retaught him.

Parshas Shemini is where Moshe recognizes the price of temper. Vayikra Raba points out that ''because Moshe became angry at Elazar and Itamar, he forgot the laws of mourning." It is interesting to note that we can know, from future incidents, that Moshe does not completely lose his temper. Indeed, according to many commentaries, he lost his ability to enter Eretz Yisrael because, in a moment of temper, he struck the rock rather than speaking to it to draw forth water.

Just as Moshe could have quietly apologized rather than declare that he had forgotten the law and thus humble himself before the people, the Torah did not have to include these details. But everything in the Torah is meant to help us grow as individuals. Right now, we are living in a time of great tension. People have many emotions quivering under the surface as they try to put on a good face. Let us remember to hold back out judgements on each others’ behavior because far too often there are facts we do not know and reasonings we may have forgotten.

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.