Posts in Category: Divrei Torah
Achrei Mot
[Based on a dvar torah written by R’ David Silverberg on the VBM]
Parshat Acharei-Mot introduces the obligation of kisui ha-dam – covering the blood that spills out of birds or non-domesticated animals, when slaughtering them for consumption:
“And if any Israelite…who hunts down an animal or a bird that may be eaten, he shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth” (17:13).
A few approaches and explanations offered, with regard to the practice of kisui ha-dam:
1. The Rambam, in his Moreh Nevuchim (3:46), consistent with his general approach to mitzvot as intended to negate the pagan practices and beliefs of the ancients, explains the obligation of kisui ha-dam on the basis of the blood rituals reportedly practiced by the ancient pagans. The pagans considered blood to be food of the spirits, and therefore some sects would collect the blood of a slaughtered animal in a receptacle and eat the animal’s meat while sitting around the blood. By doing this, the pagans believed they were forging some sort of camaraderie with the “spirits,” because both the idolaters and the spirits would be feasting at the same time, on the animal and the animal’s blood, respectively.
The prevalence of this practice, according to the Rambam, gave rise to the Torah prohibition against eating blood, as well as to the prominent role of blood-sprinkling in the sacrificial process, which precluded the possibility of ritual gatherings around animal blood. The blood of birds and non-domesticated beasts, which, by and large, were not offered as sacrifices, had to be covered, so as to prevent ceremonial “spirit assemblies” near the site of spilt blood.
2. The Sefer Ha-chinukh (187) explains this obligation as aimed at preserving the refined character of the people. Should one grow accustomed to slaughtering animals and immediately proceed to partake of its meat as the blood remained exposed in a pool on the ground, he may develop a violent, heartless tendencies. Therefore, the Torah required covering the blood as a measure of self-respect and dignity.
Hashem therefore mandated that when the animal body becomes “part of” the human body – when a human being ingests the meat the animal – the “life” of the animal, represented by the blood, be distanced from the “life” – the internal soul – of the human being. The blood is mixed with earth, symbolic of its belonging to the same class as the earth, namely the source of the physical component of man (“The Lord G-d formed man from the dust of the earth” – B’reishit 2:7). The human being is thus reminded that the animal’s essence ranks together with the human’s external, physical existence, for only the human being possesses a unique divine strength and inspiration that elevates him above the rest of creation.
In trying to connect this to the upcoming Pesach holiday and a nice idea for the Seder, I was reminded of an idea I heard from Rav Moshe Taragin –
The Korban Pesach was a blend of being a Korban for Hashem, as well as food for us to consume on the night of Yetziat Mitzrayim.
What is the significance of the blood of the lamb that was to be applied to the doorpost? The simple reading is that it was a sign for Hashem to identify the Jewish homes.
The Gemara in Psachim mentions another purpose, and says blood on the doorpost was zrikas hadam. According to the general laws of karbanot, since a lamb is a domesticated animal, its blood is not covered, rather it is elevated by being sprinkled on the Mizbeach. The Korban Pesach was the first korban of an entire nation, but we didn’t have a Mizbeach! How could there be a sacrifice with no Mizbeach?? He answers that the first Mizbeach was the doorposts — the home. So the home is a specifically a place for serving Hashem. We don’t only serve Hashem in a synagogue or Beis Medrash, rather we also serve Him with family in the home. Clearly, the home and the family unit (immediate and communal) are key elements of Leil HaSeder.
At the moment of the Jewish people becoming the Jewish nation, we highlight the importance of our difference from the animal kingdom – and the ideal of being controlled by our neshamot, rather than our physical, animalistic composition – and we elevate our homes into a Mikdash Me’at and a place ofavodas Hashem. In trying to mimic that first Seder night, we hopefully turn our own homes on Pesach (as a model for the rest of the year) into a place for family gathering, divrei torah, avodas Hashem andsimchas yomtov.
Metzora
Vayikra 14:4
וצוה הכהן ולקח למטהר שתי צפרים חיות טהרות ועץ ארז ושני תולעת ואזב
The korban brought by one who speaks Lashon Hara is a unique one; a Metzora must bring, among other items, 2 birds to atone for his/her sin, however, only one of the birds is brought as a typical korban. The other bird is sent away in the field. No place else in the halachos of Kodshim is this sort of practice found (except something similar by the sei’ir l’azazel on Yom Kippur)
Rav Radinsky points out that in any action – good or bad – there are two critical elements:
Action and consequence. Often times, one can be a lot more significant than the other. For better or for worse…
In the case of Lashon Hara, there is a massive divide between the action and the consequence. The ma’aseh itself is nothing; speaking about someone else is a few moments of moving lips or typing on a keyboard. But the consequences/outcome can be devastating and permanent.
Once words are spoken we have no control over them. They are blasted out into the world and they can take on any form, go anywhere and be communicated to anyone.
The bird sent out into the field, represents the words that were spoken – words that we have no control over. The bird flies away and we don’t know where it will go; the same holds true for our damaging words.
There is a famous story about the Ben Ish Chai: A ba’al lashon hara came to him and said he wanted to do teshuva. The Ben Ish Chai replied, that if he wanted to do a tikkun of his actions, he should take a bag of feathers, scatter them in the wind, and then try to collect them all — ‘then you will have atoned for the Lashon Hara that you spoke’. Obviously this is impossible. The message is clear; it is lifelong mission to try and counteract the consequences of Lashon Hara. It is incredibly difficult to undue the effects of Lashon Hara. Atoning for the sin itself is fairly simple (just bring a bird as a korban), but to undo the outcome is impossible.
Based on an idea I saw by Rabbi Yochanan Zweig, I would like to humbly suggest another possibility regarding the purpose of the bird that is sent away. Rabbi Zweig notes that all human beings have positive and negative qualities, and when man speaks LH, he is focusing only on his victim’s negative qualities. Similarly, when one hears Lashon Hara, all the good qualities of the subject of the Lashon Hara, are eclipsed by the negative words being relayed. The speaker is essentially telling his listeners to ignore this person’s good qualities and instead focus on the person’s negative qualities. (Thus, as a midah k’neged midah, even one little patch of “infected” skin, renders the entire person a Metzora, who must leave the community until it is entirely gone. A tiny bit of negative has the devastating ability to ruin so much positive.) In this vein, perhaps the bird that is sent away represents the uncertainty or the lost potential for the victim of LH to be viewed in the future for his/her positive qualities. If Reuvein tells Shimon some juicy gossip about Levi, then Shimon’s view of Levi could be forever altered. Shimon may only know one thing about Levi, and it may be that one negative story he heard about him. Even if Shimon knows more than just that one bad thing Reuvein told him about Levi, he still may never look at Levi the same way.
The bird that is sent away in the field – likely never to return again – is that loss, suffered by the victim of the lashon hara, to be viewed by others in the future for his positive qualities. Undoubtedly, this person has good qualities, but they may never be visible to others, for the well has already been poisoned, so to speak. The perpetrator must acknowledge what he has set in motion. For had Reuvein not spoken LH about Levi, then Levi could have been known for his positive qualities. Instead, the speaker of LH chose to highlight his victim’s negative
Tehillim 34:13-15
יג: מי האיש החפץ חיים אהב ימים לראות טוב
יד: נצר לשונך מרע ושפתיך מדבר מרמה
טו: סור מרע ועשה טוב בקש שלום ורדפהו
13: Who is the man who desires life, and loves many days, that he may see good?
14: Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking guile.
15: Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it.
One way of understanding the well-known psukim above, is that Dovid HaMelech is saying that the person who desires life must avoid speaking evil words about his fellow man. Speaking about other is tempting; avoiding doing so is a struggle experienced by the vast majority of human beings. But as difficult as avoiding speaking LH can be, it is still so much easier to not speak the LH in the first place, than trying to rectify it once the words have been spoken. When LH is spoken, then one must pursue and chase after shalom — the consequences of Lashon Hara are so destructive that it requires more than simple atonement; it also requires constant and active pursuit of peace and harmony.
The goal for how to interact with our fellow man, is to avoid a lifetime of “chasing feathers,” and instead use our time, and incredible gift of speech, to constantly be increasing shalom in the world.
Tazria
The affliction of Tzara’at manifests itself in a number of different ways, one of which is referred to by the Torah as “Tzara’at noshenet,” or “old tzara’at.” (Vayikra 13:11). The skin becomes infected in the same manner as it does with standard Tzara’at, but in this case, a scab has begun forming within the infected area. The Torah declares such an infection as Tzara’at that had infected the skin earlier, and has since begun to slightly heal, thus accounting for the scab.
Based on a dvar torah written by R’ David Silverberg, Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l teaches an important lesson from this manifestation of Tzara’at. Upon seeing the growth of new, restorative skin, the individual is led to believe that the infection does not constitute true Tzara’at. After all, the affected area has already begun healing. The Torah, however, tells us otherwise. For any amount of time as the infection has not completely healed, it cannot be dismissed; the individual is a metzora. Tzara’at noshenet symbolizes a situation in which we find “bright spots” or mitigating factors within our faults. We sometimes take a look at our actions and parts of our personalities and find negative qualities, but we are tempted to excuse these deficiencies as soon as we can identify some alleviating factor, justification, or even a positive byproduct of these shortcomings. The Torah teaches us that an infection remains an infection even when accompanied by some healthy skin. Faults are still faults, even if we can find some good associated therewith. The task, therefore, is to spend time working on ourselves, mining the root causes of any negative qualities that persist, and act in a way that is always purely intentioned and properly carried out.
——–
Another interesting lesson learned from the laws of Tzara’at is found in Gemara Shabbos. Perek 13:45 in Tazria says:
וְהַצָּרוּעַ אֲשֶׁר-בּוֹ הַנֶּגַע בְּגָדָיו יִהְיוּ פְרֻמִים וְרֹאשׁוֹ יִהְיֶה פָרוּעַ וְעַל-שָׂפָם יַעְטֶה וְטָמֵא טָמֵא יִקְרָא
Gemara Shabbos 67a says:
וטמא טמא יקרא – צריך להודיע צערו לרבים ורבים יבקשו עליו רחמים
From the usage of “yikra”, the Gemara learns that when a person is afflicted with Tzara’at, the nation is to be made aware, and the people must subsequently pray for the afflicted individual.
Rav Shimshon Dovid Pincus references a concept in Gemara Brachos 12b (learned out from a passuk in Shmuel I):
כל שאפשר לו לבקש רחמים על חבירו ואינו מבקש – נקרא חוטא
Anyone who is able to ask for mercy for his friend, and does not ask, is called a ‘sinner’.
Being labeled a choteh/sinner is a rather serious thing. The importance of praying for a friend in need is underscored by the harsh outcome of not doing so. How interesting that specifically from the sin of lashon hara, which has the terrible potential to tear relationships and communities apart, chas v’shalom, we learn the requirement to pray for another; specifically an individual who committed the damaging act. We might think this is the last person who is deserving of collective prayer and concern, but in fact, it is just the opposite.
Given the enormity of the need to pray for the metzora, perhaps there is more than just one purpose for the collective prayer for this individual. The obvious reason to pray for the metzora so that he/she will be cured. Additionally, we pray not only for the “infection” of the skin to be physically cured, but also that the root cause of the lashon hara – jealousy, anger, insecurity, voyeurism, boredom, etc. – be cured as well. The cause of (and pervasiveness of) lashon hara, is obviously not isolated to this individual; everyone in the community is susceptible to fall victim to such pitfalls, and so the more we care about one another, the less likely we all are to speak ill of each other.
Furthermore, while the metzora must be taken outside the camp due to his/her transgression, ultimately our goal is not to exile a person indefinitely. There is a concept that every person in Klal Yisrael serves a special purpose, which only that individual capable of fulfilling. Despite the terrible sin of lashon hara that was committed, we pray for the person to be cured and rejoin the community, so that the community may once again be complete and benefit from all the positive qualities and value this person has to offer.
——
One final thought, going back to the beginning of the parsha which speaks about circumcising a baby boy on the eighth day from birth (Vayikra 12:3). I was tasked this week with trying to explain the merits of having a ritual circumcision to a Jewish co-worker of mine who is expecting his first child in a few months. Hopefully I was successful, but it reminded me of a story once read about Rav Chaim Berlin. Rav Chaim would often read Shir HaShirim on Chol HaMoed Pesach, and when he came to the 15th passuk in the first chapter, year after year, he would burst into tears. The verse reads:
He was once asked why that passuk caused such an intense response. In short, he said that when he was the rav in Moscow he was approached by a Jew to perform a circumcision for his son. This Jew had made a living selling Christian items, had zero affiliation with other Jews in Moscow, and could be killed if it was ever discovered that he was Jewish. Rav Chaim went to the home, which was filled with Christian relics and had no semblance of anything Jewish. A few days later, Rav Chaim asked that the father come see him to tell him how the child was doing. Rav Chaim asked the father why he was moser nefesh to perform a Bris Milah. The father broke down and said although he was no longer a practicing Jew, and that it seemed unlikely that his newborn son would ever be exposed to much Judaism, he at least had a chance to be connected to Judaism, because he grew up in a Jewish home. The father didn’t want to deprive his son of the opportunity to be a proper member of the community should the son decide to do so someday in the future.
Rav Chaim said that from this he understood the seemingly redundant wording in Shir HaShirim and how that connects to doves. Chazal explain the repetition of, “You are fair,” by saying that the first one refers to before we sin, and the second one refers to after we sin. What is the fairness/beauty after the sin? The answer is found in the next words, “Your eyes are as doves.” A dove, unlike other birds, will never fly so far away from her nest that she can’t navigate her way back. A Jew has this quality, that even when he sins and “flies” far from the Source (no matter how big/small the sin or how near/far he wanders), hopefully he is never too far to find his his way home, and hopefully when he does find his way back, (perhaps similar to the metzora who we are to pray for and whose return to the community we eagerly await) he is greeted with open arms.
Shmini
V’hitkadashtem refers to the actions we, on earth, take by avoiding such foods.The seemingly redundant v’heyitem kedoshim indicates that Hashem adds an extra level of help from above. He helps us further achieve the status of kadosh, to be more like Him, and we are specifically called kadosh. It becomes our essence.
After commanding us not to eat animals and bugs that crawl on the earth, the Torah offers a seemingly overly aggressive and punctuated reasoning:
Tehillim 81:11 (which we say every Thursday) says:
| אָנֹכִי ה’ אֱלֹהֶיךָ הַמַּעַלְךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם הַרְחֶב פִּיךָ וַאֲמַלְאֵהוּ | I am the Lord your G-d, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, open your mouth wide, and I will fill it. |
Tzav
[Based on various ideas found on Yeshivat Har Etzion’s VBM, and other sources. In writing this dvar torah, a number of lessons (perhaps more than usual) came to light that I wanted to remember for myself. As with anything I write and share through this medium, any and all mussar is purely for my own self.]
Parshat Tzav begins with the mitzvah of Terumas Ha’Deshen, the early-morning sweeping by the Kohen of the ashes that had amassed on the altar from the burning of the animals from the previous day’s sacrifices.
| ג וְלָבַשׁ הַכֹּהֵן מִדּוֹ בַד וּמִכְנְסֵי-בַד יִלְבַּשׁ עַל-בְּשָׂרוֹ וְהֵרִים אֶת-הַדֶּשֶׁן אֲשֶׁר תֹּאכַל הָאֵשׁ אֶת-הָעֹלָה עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ וְשָׂמוֹ אֵצֶל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ | 3 And the priest shall put on his linen garment, and his linen breeches shall he put upon his flesh; and he shall take up the ashes where the fire had consumed the burnt-offering on the altar, and he shall put them beside the altar. |
| ד וּפָשַׁט אֶת בְּגָדָיו וְלָבַשׁ בְּגָדִים אֲחֵרִים וְהוֹצִיא אֶת-הַדֶּשֶׁן אֶל מִחוּץ לַמַּחֲנֶה אֶל מָקוֹם טָהוֹר | 4 And he shall put off his garments, and put on other garments, and carry forth the ashes outside the camp unto a clean place. |
Q1: What lessons can be learned from this practice of tidying up the Mizbeach?
Q2: Furthermore, Rashi notes that the word MIDO (3rd word in passuk 3, above) teaches us that the Kohen had to always wear garments that fit him properly; his clothes had to be properly measured to fit his proportions. What is the significance of this word/concept, and why is it being taught here, of all places?
1. To begin, the Sefer Ha-Chinuch offers perhaps the simplest approach, that the Terumas Ha’D-deshen serves a strictly aesthetic function. It is only appropriate that the altar, upon which offerings are brought to Hashem, should remain clean.
2. The Chovot Ha’Levavot suggests that it is meant to humble the Kohen as he begins his day of avoda. Understandably, a certain level of pride was associated with the holy service, an exclusive privilege of the Kohanim. As he begins his service in the morning, the ‘attending’ Kohen must perform what might appear as a demeaning task – clearing the Mizbeach of ashes – which would serve to remind the Kohen, that while he was performing sacred activities throughout the day, he is still flesh and blood – a man chosen to represent his fellow men. He serves Hashem, but he also serves the people’s interests, and has to clean up after himself, so to speak, thus reassuring the people that the Kohen was ‘one of them’.
3. Lessons of humility can also be learned from the specified garb required of the Kohen who was performing the Terumas Ha’Deshen . As noted above, the Torah decides to teach the halacha that the Kohen must wear properly fitted garments in this section of Terumas Ha’Deshen. As is often the case, the Torah introduces a law in a context where we would have least expected it to apply. At first glance, this essentially custodial work seems too undignified a task to obligate a Kohen to adhere to the same strict dress code as when he performs his other ritual services. Furthermore, the Kohen performed this ash sweeping in the early morning, when no other human was around to see him doing the sweeping; so if he’s sweeping ashes, in the early morning, when no one is looking, why not just wear an old pair of sweatpants? Why must he wear perfectly fitted clothing, and the same type of clothing he wears when he’s performing the ‘important’ service?
I think the lesson is twofold:
- (a) Sometimes the Torah’s perspective differs from our intuitive perspective, and it is theTorah’s perspective that ultimately matters. Despite our inclination that sweeping ashes isn’t particularly noble or glorious, the Torah considers this sweeping to indeed be virtuous and meaningful. It ranks on par with the other Temple rituals, and thus it requires the same respectable appearance. The same holds true not just for the act of sweeping but for the ashes themselves, which must be disposed of properly and from which no benefit may be derived (as discussed in Gemara Me’ila 9a). Despite what we might ordinarily think about a heap of ashes (which is probably not much), the Torah ascribes value to such ashes, obligating a proper handling and dignified disposal of them (thus the Torah’s wording ofv’heirim es ha’deshen = the Kohen “shall take up/uplift the ashes”, instead of just ‘clean’ the ashes).
We must mold our perspective based upon our objective, unbiased understanding of the Torah’s instructions, rather than insisting upon our own predisposed value judgments. (This concept brings to mind one of the lessons learned from Moshe personally taking on the responsibility of digging up Yosef’s bones in Parshat B’shalach as Bnei Yisrael left Egypt – a seemingly menial, lowly task, which Moshe proudly embraced and regarded as a tremendous privilege.
- (b) Even though no other human would see the Kohen, so there was no issue of chilul Hashem, the Kohen still had to wear dignified attire because he was serving Hashem. Service of Hashem of any kind requires a respectful manner of dress, which helps keep us in the proper mindset. How much more applicable when we are representing and serving Hashem, and others can see us…
4. Rav Meir Goldvicht suggests that removing ashes symbolizes the primary prerequisite to hashra’as Ha’Shechina – the resting of the divine presence among Bnei Yisrael, which is one of, if not the, most important function of the Mishkan. Practically speaking, removing ashes cleared space on the surface of the Mizbeach. Symbolically, in order for Hashem’s presence to reside among the Jewish people, we must clear and create space for the Shechina. Rav Goldvicht illustrates this point by drawing a fascinating analogy to human relationships, particularly marriage. Marriage means bringing somebody else into one’s life, which necessarily means making space for somebody else, and lowering one’s self-serving demands so that one can share his/her life with another person.
It is no coincidence that Chazal say that the Shechina resides in the home of a harmonious marriage. If the husband and wife have mastered the art of “making space,” of taking less for themselves, so that they can give more to the other, then they can also experience lives filled with and imbued with Hashem’s presence. Hashem ‘cannot’ enter our lives if we do not make space for Him – (speaking to myself alone) a timely lesson in this age of constant media bombardment and potential for distraction. If we don’t make time or carve out room for Hashem and His expectations (kovea itim la’torah, for example), then we can’t expect to feel a closeness with Him.
This is the meaning of the statement in Gemara Sanhedrin 7a: “When the love between my wife and I was strong, we were able to sleep on the blade of a sword.” In other words, neither of us took up space; each one giving space to the other… “but when our love was not strong, there was not enough room for us to lie together even in a bed of 60 amot.” The less territorial a person acts, the more influence he can have. The more space a person tries to take at the expense of his fellow, the smaller his influence.
Rav Goldvicht further suggests that this theme may underlie the famous Mishna in Pirkei Avos 5:5, that during the times of the Beis Hamikdash, “omdim tzefufim u’mishtachavim revachim” – the people in the Temple courtyard would “stand crowded but bow comfortably.” The plain meaning is that despite the crowded conditions in the Temple courtyard when the entire nation visited the Mikdash, when it came time to bow, everyone miraculously had plenty of room to comfortably bow on theground. Taking it one step further, Rav Goldvicht suggests, this miracle alludes to the theme of “making space.” When people crowd in the Temple, and they are prepared to confine themselves to a limited space in consideration of others, then “mishtachavim revachim” – everyone is able to serve Hashem properly. The more adept we become at insisting on less for ourselves, being mevateil our kavod, and offer more to others, the more meaningfully we can bring the Shechina into our lives.
5. Finally, I would like to suggest that the concept of clearing away remnants of korbanot/service to Hashem, is a lesson in derech eretz regarding religious worship. We are absolutely supposed to immerse ourselves in avodas Hashem, but that is no excuse to behave in such a manner that would inappropriately infringe on others. We shouldn’t be ashamed of our religious practice, but we also shouldn’t ignore basic etiquette that should be afforded to others. We need to strike a balance; to act as Torah-observant Jews, while also being me’urav im habriyot. The Kohen performed the Avodah, and the Kohen had to clean up the remnants from it; not someone else. Not a Levi or a Yisrael. The Kohen.As we practice our Judaism, it is our responsibility to do so in an orderly and appropriate fashion, thereby creating a Kiddush Hashem, and hopefully performing the given mitzvah in the fullest and most shaleim way possible.
Vayikra
Vayikra 2:11-12:
| יא כָּל-הַמִּנְחָה אֲשֶׁר תַּקְרִיבוּ לַה’ לֹא תֵעָשֶׂה, חָמֵץ כִּי כָל שְׂאֹר וְכָל דְּבַשׁ, לֹא תַקְטִירוּ מִמֶּנּוּ אִשֶּׁה לַי-ה-וָ-ה | 11 No meal-offering, which you shall bring to the Lord, shall be made with leaven; for you shall make no leaven nor any honey, smoke as an offering made by fire unto the Lord. |
| יב קָרְבַּן רֵאשִׁית תַּקְרִיבוּ אֹתָם לַה’ וְאֶל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ לֹא יַעֲלוּ לְרֵיחַ נִיחֹחַ | 12 As an offering of first-fruits you may bring them unto the Lord; but they shall not come up for a sweet savor on the altar. |
Pekudei
| לו וּבְהֵעָלוֹת הֶעָנָן מֵעַל הַמִּשְׁכָּן יִסְעוּ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּכֹל מַסְעֵיהֶם. | 36 And whenever the cloud was taken up from over the tabernacle, the children of Israel went onward, throughout all their journeys. |
| לז וְאִם לֹא יֵעָלֶה הֶעָנָן וְלֹא יִסְעוּ עַד-יוֹם הֵעָלֹתוֹ. | 37 But if the cloud was not taken up, then they journeyed not till the day that it was taken up. |
| לח כִּי עֲנַן ה’ עַל הַמִּשְׁכָּן יוֹמָם וְאֵשׁ תִּהְיֶה לַיְלָה בּוֹ לְעֵינֵי כָל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּכָל מַסְעֵיהֶם. | 38 For the cloud of the LORD was upon the tabernacle by day, and there was fire therein by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel, throughout all their journeys. |
He learns this from 2 places: (1) the Torah tells us in passuk 36 that the cloud would only rise when it was time for Bnei Yisrael to travel to their next destination. If the cloud were replaced by the fire every night, then it would have to move from its spot, and it only did so when it was time to embark to the next location. Bnei Yisrael, however, didn’t travel every night! Thus, it must be that the cloud stayed in place every night and became a large fiery pillar. (2) Additionally, he quotes from later in the Torah, in Bamidbar 9:15-16, which describes how the Annan and Amud/Mar’eh Aish functioned:
| טו וּבְיוֹם, הָקִים אֶת-הַמִּשְׁכָּן, כִּסָּה הֶעָנָן אֶת-הַמִּשְׁכָּן, לְאֹהֶל הָעֵדֻת; וּבָעֶרֶב יִהְיֶה עַל-הַמִּשְׁכָּן, כְּמַרְאֵה-אֵשׁ–עַד-בֹּקֶר. | 15 And on the day that the tabernacle was reared up the cloud covered the tabernacle, even the tent of the testimony; and at evening there was upon the tabernacle as it were the appearance of fire, until morning. |
| טז כֵּן יִהְיֶה תָמִיד, הֶעָנָן יְכַסֶּנּוּ; וּמַרְאֵה-אֵש לָיְלָה. | 16 So it was always: the cloud covered it, and the appearance of fire by night. |
| יז וּלְפִי הֵעָלוֹת הֶעָנָן, מֵעַל הָאֹהֶל–וְאַחֲרֵי כֵן, יִסְעוּ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל; וּבִמְקוֹם, אֲשֶׁר יִשְׁכָּן-שָׁם הֶעָנָן–שָׁם יַחֲנוּ, בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. | 17 And whenever the cloud was taken up from over the Tent, then after that the children of Israel journeyed; and in the place where the cloud abode, there the children of Israel encamped. |
The Netziv doesn’t say this explicitly, (so this could be entirely incorrect) but I believe that there is an underlying message being conveyed here. The protective cloud and the intense flame were not just from the same source (Hashem – the source of everything), but it was exactly the same “object”. At times the Mishhkan was covered by a cloud and other times by fire. The Midrash in Pekudei notes that Bnei Yisrael rejoiced when they saw the cloud and were in fear of the consuming flame in the evening. At times we feel Hashem’s love and benevolence; and then there are times, lo aleinu, when we feel scared, confused and engulfed by flames. It is the same Hashem who controls both.
The last 2 words of the Sefer, tell us that this Annan / Aish was with Bnei Yisrael “bCHOL mah’seihem” = in ALL their journeys. The Netziv points out from the Torah’s use of KOL that Hashem was with them not just for the travels initiated by Hashem, but through all their travels and sojourns; through the positive journeys and encampments and the negative ones, Hashem was with them. Says the Netziv, at every stop the purpose of the Annan / Aish was fully intact and “tamid”.
The night can be dark and frightening, but, b’ezras Hashem, we can maintain emunah at night and find comfort in the morning.
Vayakhel
[Based on a shiur given by Rav Moshe Taragin]
The first perek of Parshat Vayakhel can be roughly broken into 3 sections:
1. Psukim 1-3: Moshe gathers the entire nation and discusses Shabbos.
2. Psukim 4-20: Moshe speaks to the entire nation and gives them instructions on gathering items for the Mishkan and what would need to be built. (end of Rishon)
3. Psukim 21-35: The actual Mishkan process begins; details of the actual logistics and carrying out of the instructions for constructing the Mishkan.
An easily “overlooked” passuk is verse 20:
| כ וַיֵּצְאוּ כָּל עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל מִלִּפְנֵי מֹשֶׁה | And all the congregation of the children of Israel departed from the presence of Moses. |
…Obviously Bnei Yisrael were not going to be doing the actual building in the exact same place where the instructions were given. In order to gather the materials for the Mishkan and execute the instructions, they would first have to physically leave Moshe’s tent! It seems like a very technical passuk – they had to leave Moshe’s tent in order to go get the items for the Mishkan – so why do we need it? What is message of vayeitzu kol adas B’nei Yisrael?
Rav Taragin offers 3 possible answers:
1. Eagerness and Relief: The Midrash says the exit was a combination of eagerness and cathartic joy that they were brought back into Hashem’s and Moshe’s good graces after the Cheit Ha’Eigel. No more mask on Moshe – he was now accessible and communicative with them.
The Midrash says: “k’shenisbasru Yisrael b’mechilas oso ha’avon, samchu simcha yeseraih v’yatzu b’zrizus” — When Bnei Yisrael heard that they were absolved of the sin [of the Golden Calf], they had tremendous joy and exited with fervor/excitement. They channeled their relief and joy into positive, creative energy. There are moments in life we feel we’ve been spared or been granted something magnificent. We take this new-found relief and joy and try to use it to propel ourselves to new heights.
2. Unity, attained (2 types): Encountering Hashem is experienced most acutely through the collective. We are most effective when we are together (hence the gathering of ALL of Bnei Yisrael to build the Mishkan, and the concept of a minyan, importance of community, b’rov Am hadras Melech, etc.). But there are two ways of becoming a collective unit:
a) Unification by a skilled leader: During and after the Cheit Ha’Eigel there was a great deal of disunity among the nation; disunity between Shevet Levi (non-transgressors) and the rest of Bnei Yisrael, between the women (also non-transgressors) and the men, the consequences of the killing of Chur, etc. The incredible strength of Moshe’s personality, was that he was able to unite the entirenation. This occurs in the first 19 psukim of Perek 35. And then comes verse 20…
b) Unification through realization of commonality and shared goals: Verse 20 says that Bnei Yisrael left “mi’lifnei Moshe” – they all departed from the presence of Moshe. That is to say, they all decided to go out together “despite” Moshe, so to speak. The project assigned to them of building the Mishkan, created a unified spirit. With this goal in mind, they no longer needed to be held together quite so firmly by the strength of an individual. (This should not be taken as a diminishing of Moshe, chas v’shalom, rather a commentary on how Moshe “put them back together” and gave them a collective mission, which allowed them to move forward as a unit). The internal unity of common interest and agenda is arguably stronger and more enduring than unity borne out from the imposed charisma of a leader.
3. Empowerment to the people (through building): The Torah’s inclusion of Bnei Yisrael walking away from Moshe is a metaphor for taking their newly acquired sense of power and purpose, which was just bestowed upon them:
Bnei Yisrael needed Moshe more than ever in Parshat Ki Tissa and the Golden Calf episode. Part of why Moshe’s name is absent from Parshat Tetzaveh is to contrast it with his towering presence in Ki Tissa, where he “defies” Hashem’s threats, davens relentlessly, doesn’t eat drink or sleep on Har Sinai, he comes down the mountain with his face is shining brightly, etc. He achieves tremendous heights at a time Bnei Yisrael needed him in the worst way.
How do you deliver self-respect back to the people, in an empowering way, without fostering a dependence and a feeling that only the great Moshe could build a house for Hashem? How do you make them not feel small and ashamed?
Moshe appoints Betzalel and Ohaliav. He empowers all men and women to contribute toward the Mishkan and assist in its construction. He activates people, giving them autonomy, and important roles, thus gives them back their dignity and confidence. This is especially critical for a ba’al cheit – to not suppress a sinner in his/her fragility and futility.
Moshe downgrades himself, in a sense, taking a less central role in building the Mishkan, and empowers the nation. He takes a shattered people and rebuilds their unity and allows them to recognize and exercise their talents and confidence, which sustains itself long after they’ve “departed” and walked away from the presence of their leader. THEY build the Mishkan, and this is one of the crowning achievements of Moshe Rabbeinu. After the nation’s most damaging collective sin, he is able to do what is needed to prop them back up to re-assume the role of the Chosen people of HKBH.
Obviously, there are many links between Shabbos and the Mishkan. I would like to suggest that this last idea connects to the first section of the chapter, regarding the observance of Shabbos: We are instructed in psukim 1-3 to work for 6 days, to stop on the 7th day because it’s kodesh, and not to kindle a flame on Shabbos.
The Chasam Sofer explains that when the passuk states, “Six days you shall do your work”, it is teaching us that it is our duty during the six days of the work week to kindle a flame of devotion to Hashem by engaging in Torah study and serving Hashem with fervor… “But the seventh day shall be holy for you, a day of complete rest for Hashem”– so that come Shabbos, this flame of spiritual fervor will blaze on its own. The Torah concludes: “You shall not kindle fire in any of your dwellings on the Sabbath day.” The Torah is telling us not to wait until Shabbos to kindle this flame of spiritual fervor; rather, begin to kindle this flame during the six weekdays. We can’t expect to gain the full potential of d’veikus with Hashem that Shabbos is supposed to bring, unless we make Hashem a part of our lives during the rest of the week. L’havdil, we would never rush into the palace of a king of basar v’dam having given no thought to the visit, so kal vachomer we shouldn’t show up to the palace of the Melech Malchei Hamlachim, without making proper hachanos.
Every day we say at the end of davening, “hayom yom X b’shabbat.” On a daily basis we try to draw down the kedusha of shabbos, but really it’s a two-way street; ouractions during the week influence our Shabbos, and an ideal-Shabbos will hopefully influence our week. By properly utilizing the 6 other days of the week, we have the power to make the occurence of Shabbos even greater.
This is true as we prepare in the days leading up to Shabbos, and certainly on Shabbos itself. The central commandments of Shabbos are Zachor and Shamor. I think that they reflect the power of what Hashem did during the first 7 days of Creation and every day since, on the one hand, and what we are empowered to do with our observance of Shabbos, as well:
Zachor: Stopping to remember that Hashem created the world for 6 days, and then rested. It is a commemoration of what Hashem did during the 6+1 days of Creation, which we try to emulate. There are countless aspects of the world to marvel at, and so much about the power of creation to inspire us, yet there is also something wonderful about taking a day to stop creating. So we try to remember this and the lessons of Creation. It seems to me, however, that this is slightly more passive than Shamor. The 7th day of the week is going to come no matter what; Shabbos occurs regardless of our remembrance. But its mere occurrence is only one piece of Shabbos.
Shamor: Our active role in observing and enjoying Shabbos. As we say, Yismichu b’malchuscha, Shomrei Shabbat v’korei oneg am mekadshei shevi’i — we are given an active part in sanctifying Shabbos, just as Hashem and Moshe gave Bnei Yisrael a key role in the construction of the Mishkan. Shabbos is about so much more than eating, taking naps and being mindful of all the things we can’t do. We are empowered to elevate the day of Shabbos through our actions (teffila, Talmud Torah, appreciation of what we have, dibuk chaveirim, etc.) and observance, and hopefully merit to use each passing week to enhance the week to come.
Ki Tissa
After the description of the making of the Golden Calf, the Torah says that B’nei Yisrael offered sacrifices, and then “the nation sat to eat and drink, and they [then] got up to revel” (32:6).
The Midrash in Shemot Rabba 41, takes note of the word “vayeishev” (“sat”) used by the Torah in this context. While this term is itself innocuous, and there is certainly nothing criminal about “sitting”, the Midrash observes a pattern of the use of this term in Biblical narratives involving cardinal sins:
- The story of Migdal Bavel began when the people “settled” (“vayeishvu”) in the Shinar Valley (Breishit 11:2).
- In the story of the sale of Yosef, just before they sold Yosef as a slave, the Torah says the brothers “sat [or returned] to eat bread” (“vayeishvu le’echol lechem” – Breishit 37:25).
- The Torah introduces the tragic story of Ba’al Pe’or – where BNY engage ritually and sexually with the women of Moav – with the words, “Vayeishev Yisrael ba-Shittim” (“Israel settled in Shittim” – Bamidbar 25:1).
Here, too, in the context of the Golden Calf, we find the perpetrators “sitting” to eat. The Midrash thus makes a statement, “Wherever you find ‘sitting,’ you find an offense [takala].”
Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains that Chazal detected within this term a connotation of complacency and comfort — an improper sort of menucha
Beyond the word’s narrow definition of a sitting position or settlement in a certain geographic location, the root verb י.ש.ב also alludes to a general sense of ease and contentment with one’s self. (Obviously, the word is not a blanket statement for complacency or always related to something negative. See a Yeshiva and Yishuv Ha’aretz, etc.)
The Midrash warns that feeling too content with one’s achievements and spiritual condition can often lead to wrongful behavior. Religious devotion requires a certain degree of restlessness and unease, constant ambition and desire for growth and advancement. He quotes from Mishlei 15:24:
אֹרַח חַיִּים לְמַעְלָה לְמַשְׂכִּיל לְמַעַן סוּר מִשְּׁאוֹל מָטָּה
The path of life goes upward for the wise, that he may depart from the nether-world beneath.
The Vilna Gaon, in his peirush on Mishlei, explains that a human being is called aholeich (walker), who must ascend from level to level, and if he doesn’t go up, then he will not stay in place, but actually go down.
Chazal saw within the pattern of “vayeishev” a warning against feeling toocomfortable. While we must certainly take pride and satisfaction in what we’ve achieved, we must also be concerned about what we have yet to achieve. If we fall into the trap of “vayeishev,” of staying comfortably in place without looking to reach higher and improve further, then we are prone to fall.
I think it’s interesting to note, that in each of the 3 instances listed by the Midrash, the “sitting” that took place, took place before the maiseh. Only in Cheit Ha’Eigel, did BNY sit after the sinful act of creating the Golden Calf.
[I encourage any and all suggestions for another idea as to the relevance, if any…]
Perhaps the Golden Calf differs slightly from the other 3 examples because of BNY unifying, but for a severely improper purpose, and something that emerges from looking at the sequence of events:
The people had Aharon create the Golden Calf, Aharon then delays by saying they will make a holiday on the following day (thus creating a break in the action), BNY arose the next morning, “sat” to eat and drink, and then got up to worship:
וַיַּשְׁכִּימוּ מִמָּחֳרָת וַיַּעֲלוּ עֹלֹת וַיַּגִּשׁוּ שְׁלָמִים וַיֵּשֶׁב הָעָם לֶאֱכֹל וְשָׁתוֹ וַיָּקֻמוּ לְצַחֵק
And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt-offerings, and brought peace-offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to make merry.
The Ramban says on the passuk, that BNY sat as one in honor of the Eigel, presumably learned from the singular verb “vayeishev ha’am” instead of the technically correct, “vayeishvu.”
So what emerges, is that (i) the people were united as one, but for a terribly misguided reason, and (ii) during the pause, between creation of the Calf and the worship of the Calf, no one thought about turning the ship around. Their pause, and their lack of use of the pause, was critical. Their complacency, in this instance, was one of being so steeped in what they were doing, that nobody thought to re-evaluate their actions when given the chance.
The sin of the Golden Calf is probably the greatest and most costly collectively-perpetrated sin of the Jewish people. We went from being “k’ish echad b’lev echad” – as Rashi explains on the passuk “vayichan sham Yisrael negged ha’har” before receiving the Torah on Har Sinai – to being in the same one-ness for the exact opposite – for Avodah Zarah.
The contrast between the two was so terrible, that Hashem was ready to destroy us. Similarly, by Migdal Bavel, the people were also joined together, to build as one (as the Torah says: vayehi kol ha’aretz safah echad u’devarim achadim), and Hashem actually did destroy that entire generation. Unlike the Dor Haflagah, fortunately the BNY had a Moshe to plead with Hashem on their behalf, and avoid complete destruction.
Furthermore, in addition to Moshe’s teffila of the 13 Midos HaRachamim, the atonement for the Golden Calf was also the collection of the half-shekel for the Mishkan in next week’s parsha, Vayakhel. Part of the reasoning behind the half-shekel and Terumah for the Mishkan, was that Hashem wanted us to act, and not be passive, and to give, and not complain; but the actions taken and objects donated, had to be for a rightful purpose. We became builders of a Divine Sanctuary for the Shechinah to reside – instead of builders of a golden idol or a towering structure aimed at piercing the heavens.
In Vayakhel, the people come together for the correct purpose: to learn about Shabbos, to give their possessions, and to build a Sanctuary. They even give so much that Moshe has to put a halt to the giving, in 36:5-6.
When we shake off complacency, to join together and spring into action with the proper goals in mind, then we become worthy of the gifts of Shabbos, true cheirus, a Mishkan and hashra’as HaShechina.
Tetzaveh
[based on Rav Shimshon Pincus ztl: Tiferes Shimshon]
One of priestly garments, worn by The Kohen Gadol, was the Me’il (robe), described in Shmot 28:31-35. This magnificent robe had 72 gold bells on it, separated by alternating pomegranate-shaped tassels of t’cheilet, purple and scarlet wool.
There are many beautiful explanations offered for the purpose and deeper meaning behind the bells, the pomegranates, the robe’s design, and its function to atone forLashon hara, etc. (discussed in some detail below.)
Using the Ramban’s explanation for the Me’il, Rav Pincus writes about an importantyesod… The Ramban explains that the Kohen Gadol wore this garment as a way to announce himself, so to speak, to Hashem before he went into the Kodesh, the holier parts of the Mishkan. He was asking for “permission” of Hashem to enter the Kodesh and perform his priestly service.
Why did the regular kohanim not wear the Me’il? Because there is an added level of approval needed for the highest leader. Such a role cannot be undertaken by just anyone. Such a person needs to ask permission and receive verification of his worthiness for the task.
Rav Pincus points out, however, that on Yom Kippur in the Kodesh HaKedashim, theMe’il was not worn; it was not one of the 4 articles of clothing worn by the Kohen Gadol on this holiest of days, per Vayikra 16:4.
The question begs — when the Kohen Gadol went into the holiest place of all, he no longer needed to introduce himself?? Of all times – when the Kohen Godel went lifnay v’lifnim, representing all of Klal Yisrael and pleading with the Master of the Universe for atonement – we would think that asking for permission to enter would be mostappropriate!
The greatest concentration of Torah in the world was in the Kodesh HaKedashim, since the Aron and Luchot HaBrit were housed there. The lesson, says Rav Pincus, is that Talmud Torah is available to anyone. No matter a person’s background, no matter a person’s level of observance – Torah is always available. We don’t need someone “closer” to Hashem than us to make an intro. No “hookups” needed. Noreshus needed, and no need to ask “permission” to access Torah. Anyone asher yidvenu libo can tap into the infinite lessons of Torah.
To quote Rav Pincus, and roughly translate –
את כתר התורה כל אחד יכול ליטולו ולשימו עטרה על ראשו
Everyone is capable of taking the crown of Torah and placing it as a crown on their own head.
——
I believe this yesod connects with another lesson learned out from the Me’il…
As mentioned above, The Gemara in Erachin 16a states that the robe atoned for the sin of Lashon hara; Hashem said, “Let a noisy object [the bells] atone for the act of making noise [Lashon hara].”
How so? What’s the connection?
I believe there are a few related ideas to help explain.
Rav Moshe Alshich prived an explanation for the Torah’s description of the arrangement of the bells and pomegranates. The bells and pomegranates were placed in alternating fashion: a bell, followed by a pomegranate, followed by a bell, followed by a pomegranate, and so on. Yet, the Torah speaks of the bells as being placed in between the pomegranates. Even though each pomegranate was surrounded by two bells, just as each bell was surrounded by two pomegranates, the Torah nevertheless chooses to specifically describe the bells as being surrounded by pomegranates.
The Alshich explains that the Torah here alludes to the great value of silence. The stress in the passuk is the siginificance of the pomegranates surrounding the bells — Megilla 18a teaches: “mila b’sela mashtuka b’trin” = a word is valued at one sela (coin) and silence is worth two (sela’im). Rashi explains: If one were to buy a word for one coin, it would be worth it to pay two coins for silence. For every measure of speech, one should have two measures of silence. The Torah thus emphasizes that each bell – each sound that a person makes – must be surrounded by two silent pomegranates.
To this point, often times Lashon hara is just noise; audible information to just fill space; For example, Reuvein speaks Lashon hara about Shimon. Reuvein’s real goal was not to speak against Shimon to ruin his reputation; he spoke Lashon hara because the silence was too bothersome, or because he couldn’t think of something better to say at that moment. He had some juicy news to share with his peers that he used it to gain some attention and popularity. Most people, when they speak about others, actually care little about the one they’re speaking against. They doing it for themselves — with an eye toward improving their own image and popularity, rather than (and carelessly inconsiderate of) the resulting damage to their fellow man. So as not to seem dull, we often engage in conversation that isn’t particularly profound, but fills the empty space.
This idea of guarding our speech by keeping our lips tightly closed, and only talking when we have something important to say, is even symbolized in the physical shapes of the bells and pomegranates of the Me’il. The bells with the ringers inside resemble an open mouth with a tongue. The pomegranates resemble a mouth tightly shut. Each golden bell was surrounded by a pomegranate on either side to remind us of our responsibility to think twice before we speak. In this way, we atone for the sin of Lashon hara.
Finally, the Gemara in Zevachim 18b explains that the term used for the simple garments worn by the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur – Michnisei Bahd, Ketonet Bahd, Mitznefet Bahd, Avneit Bahd – were linen garments, learned out from a passuk in Yechezkel; Bahd = Pishtim = Linen.
As stated above, the absence of the Me’il from the Kohen Gadol’s garb when he entered the Kodesh HaKedashim on Yom Kippur, teaches us that no permission or access code is needed to tap into Torah. There is, however, (at least) one prerequisite for Talmud Torah and D’veikus with Hashem, and that is humility. This is signified by the Bigdei Pishtim – the simple, white, linen clothing, which were the only clothing allowed to be worn when encountering the Luchot.
I believe humility connects to the lessons of avoiding Lashon hara in that a humble person has no designs to put someone else down by spreading Lashon hara; he has no desire to one-up or overtake someone else. Instead he thinks – ‘I am so far from perfect myself, so who am I to speak ill of someone else??’ The Torah’s punishment for Lashon hara is tzara’at, not to cause him pain, but to humble and lower him in his own eyes and in the eyes of others. In fact (thanks to an internet search), Erachin 15b says that the remedies for speaking Lashon hara are Torah study and humility.
A few years ago, Rav Moshe Weinberger shlita, in his Shabbos Shuva derasha, noted that pishtim (linen) has the same letters as sefasi (lips). The Kohen Gadol, as an extension of Klal Yisrael, comes to Hashem offering just the teffilos of his lips. Lips of his, and the collective lips of Klal Yisrael, that were hopefully employed for good things throughout the preceding year. Lips that know when to stay closed, and lips that know when to be used for Talmud Torah, teffila, and redifas shalom.
Humility and proper treatment of others, are key ingredients to help ensure the fulfillfilment of our daily request of: Hashem sefasai tiftach, u’fi yagid tehilasecha.