Teruma: Who's in the Center?

Condensed from an article by Rav Azriel Ariel, Rabbi of Ateret in the Binyamin Region, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The ongoing debate in Israel over judicial-system reform has exposed the chasm between the modern liberal outlook and the traditional Jewish worldview. The core of the dispute lies in a fundamental question: Who is in the center – mortal man, or G-d?

A religious worldview places G-d at the center of life, and man's role is to actualize his identity as a “servant of G-d.” This is known as Theo centrism. The liberal worldview, on the other hand, demands the opposite: free human autonomy, or anthropocentrism, wherein the human being is at the center; he gets to choose a religious life if he feels that it enhances his quality of life and advances the values that he has chosen to commit to. According to this latter view, no absolute value stands above "man," and certainly no value exists for which human life may be compromised.

Is it possible to build any kind of bridge, even a narrow one, between these two polar opposites?

Rav A. I. Kook, the great visionary of the 20th century and first Chief Rabbi of the modern Jewish population in the Holy Land, can help us. In his article Daat Elokim, he does not accept the conception that G-d is simply our "boss" or "master," nor does He turn to man only from "above;" He is rather also present within us, here "below."  

Our belief that we were created in the image of G-d means that we meet up with the Divine attributes imbued in our soul. Our "love" for G-d is not just a longing for the exalted, but also "solidarity" with a Being that has positive attributes that are similar to those we find in ourselves. That is, we love Hashem our G-d precisely because we love ourselves, and we admire in Him the greatness of character that we find in ourselves. Our faith and trust in Him is not detached from the faith and trust we have in ourselves and the strengths with which He imbued us.

We're Not Passive
As religious Jews, we are not totally passive vis-à-vis G-d. Rather, when the Torah warns us against saying and feeling, "My successes are due to my own strength" (D'varim 8,17), this is only if we say it boastfully. Actually, we should have this sentiment, and we should recognize our strong points – but only as something that was granted us by G-d: "Remember that Hashem is He Who gave you these abilities" (verse 18). The "I" and the "Infinite" are not in constant conflict; in truth, the latter is revealed, partially, in the former.

But still, this is not the total answer to our question; that would be too easy.

One who senses within him the aspiration for goodness and holiness that exists in his soul, need not live with a feeling of conflict between his personal autonomy and G-d's word. Yes, there is surely a measure of a clash – but only as inner tension within him, between two conflicting voices in his personality. The believer does not perceive G-d's commandments as something that coerces and represses him, but rather as "instructions" [from the same Hebrew root as the word Torah] as to how to actualize himself in a balanced manner. He views it as guidance that gives the appropriate space to both the physical and the spirit, thus raising the entirety of his personality to a life of deep meaning and satisfaction.

Is this a realistic option? In principle, yes – but not always in practice. It is actually a vision for the future, as the Prophet Jeremiah foretold in G-d's name: "I will place My Torah in their midst and inscribe it upon their hearts." There will then be no need for external coercion, "for all will know Me, from their young to their elderly" (Jeremiah 31).

It's Already Starting
In several of his writings, Rav Kook states that this "future vision" is already beginning to be actualized: "In early times, the general 'mind' of mankind was less developed, and its desires were more barbaric – and therefore the Divine vision was entirely devoted to rejecting the wayward 'intellect' that was subject only to animalistic urges…" But now, he continues, the world has been becoming more refined: “The world's refinement … has greatly purified the human spirit, so that even though this purification has not yet been completed, still, much of [man's] thoughts and the natural striving of his will are, of themselves, directed toward the Divine good” (Orot HaKodesh II, p. 545).

This does not at all mean that the time has come to place the individual in the center and rely upon his identification with the word of G-d in his inner character. There are still "many parts of the spirit of knowledge and human will that have not yet been refined," and which are therefore still dangerous because of the presence of "many remnants of barbarism." This is because the illusion that we have reached the "complete rectified state [causes] every abomination and deceit to be masked by a shining wrapping."

The liberal demands recognize the change in the human spirit; but on the one hand, the time for their implementation has not yet arrived, and on the other hand, "when the pure tradition and religion come to subdue this refined element, they will not succeed." We must acknowledge the tension within us between the old ‘religious’ voice and the new ‘liberal,’ moral, and instinctively-natural voice, and manage it in a manner suited to our generation.”

The practical implementation of this understanding stands at the basis of Rav Kook's classic work, Lights of Repentance. He writes there: "The primary repentance, which immediately illuminates the darkness, is that a person returns to himself, to the source of his soul - and he then will return to G-d…"

"I Will Dwell Within Them"

This concept is found in the beginning of this week's Torah portion of Teruma (Sh'mot 25,1 - 27,19): "They shall make for Me a Sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst." On the face of it, the command appears to reflect the "old" religious conception demanding that G-d's word be placed in the center and man's personality be shunted aside. Many commentators, however, note that the verse actually renders Israel, not the Sanctuary, the ultimate goal: "I will dwell in their midst," not "in its midst."

That is, the function of the Sanctuary is much greater than simply finding a place for the Divine Presence. It is rather to bring G-d to dwell within us, in our hearts. This will then bring peace between the two bitter rivals – Judaism and liberalism – with the understanding that in the center stands "the G-d that is within each person."

Hopefully, this insight will help lower the flames a bit in the sharp clashes that we see today between different sectors of the nation. 

Shekalim: The Half-Shekel – Then and Today

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This coming Shabbat is known as Shabbat Shekalim, because we will read aloud – as we do very year before Rosh Chodesh Adar – the passage of the Shekalim (Sh'mot 30,11-16), in addition to the regular weekly portion of Mishpatim. The Shekalim passage deals with the half-shekel that every Jew was called upon to donate annually for the Temple service.

In the coming days, we will certainly be flooded with advertisements and announcements calling on all of us to fulfill the "remembrance of the half-shekel” – zekher l'machtzit hashekel – by donating to various important institutions. Undoubtedly this will provide us with opportunities to fulfill the important mitzvah of charity. Let us first, however, recall the original mitzvah and what it involved.

When the Holy Temple stood, the communal offerings, such as the daily Tamid and Musaf sacrifices, were purchased with communal funds. The half-shekalim were donated during the course of the month of Adar, and each year, from Nissan through Adar, only the shekalim of that year were used; the funds were not carried over from one year's communal offerings to the next, but were rather used for other Temple needs. As the Mishna teaches, announcements were made throughout the land to remind everyone to fulfill the mitzvah of donating their share. Today, in commemoration of those proclamations, we read the shekalim passage from the Torah.

Even from distant lands, almost wherever Jews lived, they would contribute the half-shekels to the Holy Temple. With great self-sacrifice, Jews from all over the world would send, or bring, the sacred funds. Sometimes they had to cross deserts and hostile territories, where bandits would attack their caravans in an attempt to seize the chests of money, and the pilgrims would have to fight fiercely to protect the Temple funds.

Several centuries ago, half-shekel coins of pure silver somehow spread throughout the Jewish world, and it was claimed that these were coins from the Temple period. Many Jews, with great longing for the rebuilding of the Temple, spent large sums of money to obtain such a coin. It was later discovered, however, that the coins were forgeries; their value dropped, of course, but the inner yearning for the great and holy Beit Mikdash remained unchanged.

In the last generation, several half-shekel coins were discovered in archaeological excavations in the area of the Temple Mount. More recently, a half-shekel was even found in soil that had been removed by the Muslim Waqf from the Temple Mount in its attempts to destroy any vestiges of the Holy Temple. The discovered coin was minted during the time of the great Jewish revolt against the Romans that led up the exile and destruction some 1,950 years ago.

The Torah states in the Shekalim passage that G-d told Moshe, "This they shall bring: a half-shekel of the sanctuary standard." Rashi explains that the word "this" indicates as if Hashem was pointing out to Moshe a coin of fire and saying, "This is what they shall give."

We know of another Sanctuary vessel that G-d pointed out to Moshe in this manner, and that was the Menorah. This was because the Menorah was very complex, and G-d had to make it Himself for him. But a coin is not so difficult to fashion; why did G-d have to point it out to Moshe - and in a format of fire, to boot?

The answer is that this is precisely the profundity of the mitzvah of the half-shekel. It is a mitzvah based on silver, which is the basis for all physical and material human existence – but when it is donated to the Holy Temple, it becomes a spiritual fire that ascends and raises up.

During this period of the year, when we read about the half-shekel and remember it with charitable donations, let us pray that will be privileged – this very year! – to fulfill this mitzvah not only in "memorial" form, but in actual practice: giving a half-shekel to our genuine Beit HaMikdash, in all its glory upon its speedy rebuilding, Amen!

Mishpatim: Can We Have Both Truth and Peace?

by Rav Hillel Mertzbach, Rabbi of the Yad Binyamin Central Synagogue, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Following the Majority

In this week's Torah portion of Mishpatim (Sh'mot, chapters 21-24), we are taught many Torah laws, including many having to do with courts and civil law. Verse 23,2 reads as follows:

"Do not follow the majority to do evil; do not speak up in a trial to pervert justice; follow the majority." Perhaps because there are different ways of translating this verse, the commentary of Rashi rings very true: "The Sages of Israel have [various] derivations on this verse, but the wording of the verse does not fit in well with them…"

The basic difficulty is that the verse appears to contradict itself. First it says that one must maintain what appears to him to be the truth, even if the majority does not agree with him. That is, he must not follow the majority if he believes they are doing the wrong thing. But the verse then concludes that even in precisely such a situation, he must follow the majority!

Individuality or Collectivism?

I heard from my good friend Rabbi Sar'el Rosenblatt that the verse must be understood as referring to two different stages in a person's development. One must begin by thinking carefully about an issue, then coming to a conclusion, and then expressing his truth – even if he finds himself in the minority. If you conclude that the others are mistaken, then speak up and struggle for the truth!

However, when it comes to actually deciding on the course of action to be taken, and you have not succeeded in convincing them, then there can be no choice but to accept the majority opinion.

In the world of ideas, absolute truth has a place of honor. But in the world of deeds and practicality, we must function democratically, where the minority bends itself to what the majority determines.

Mordechai's Two Hats

The happy Purim month of Adar is about to begin (this Tuesday and Wednesday). Let us look at how Mordechai HaYehudi acted throughout the Purim story. On the one hand, the story begins with Mordechai angering the wicked Haman, by being the only one who refuses to bow down to him: "Mordechai would not bow and would not bend" (Esther 3,2). 

As detailed in the Talmud (Megillah 19a), this was exactly what raised Haman's ire against the entire Jewish populace. That is, Mordechai was the only one to act this way. All the other servants of the king, not only the Jewish ones, bowed to Haman, because they realized the danger of not doing so. But Mordechai felt that it was forbidden to do so, and the Sages recount that he argued about this with the other members of the Sanhedrin (Great Court). They said to him: "Do you not realize that by refusing to bow, you could cause us all to be killed!" He said, "I cannot do otherwise; I am a Jew!"

They said to him, "But you know that your own forefathers bowed down to Haman's forefather, when Yaakov and his sons met up with Esav [Parashat Vayishlach, B'reshit 33)." Mordechai answered, "Yaakov's youngest son Binyamin was not yet born then, such that he did not bow down – and I am descended from Binyamin… Just like he did not bow down, neither will I!"

We see here that Mordechai insisted on taking an extreme position, even at the expense of endangering all of Israel, because he reasoned that it would be a desecration of G-d's name to bow down to Haman. He fulfilled what he felt was "do not follow the majority to do evil."

On the other hand, later on, we see that Mordechai changed his tune. The final verse in Esther reads: "For Mordechai the Jew was second to King Ahashverosh, great among the Jews and accepted by most of his brethren, seeking the good of his people and speaking peace for all of their descendants."

Mordechai underwent a transformation of sorts, from an independent thinker and doer, to one who was accepted by most – not all, as the Talmud notes pointedly – and seeking peace for all.

Youth and Maturity

This can also be likened to personal human development. In our youth, we are often romantic, demanding what appears to be justice, truth and ideals. But as years pass, we generally see life more calmly and are open to accepting that there are other opinions. As adults, we no longer adopt only "Do not follow the majority for evil!" but rather understand that practically speaking, things must be accomplished according to the majority opinion. Thus, peace will be achieved.

Nor can it be any different. If we would run directly to "peace" without first clarifying what is the truth, then even peace will not be able to be achieved.

We learn from here that we must contain a duality: On the one hand, we must recognize the absolute truth, and so build our personality - and from there we must reach containment and acceptance of and by the majority, which will lead to seeking and speaking peace.

An Eye for an Eye

This message is taught elsewhere in Parashat Mishpatim as well. The Torah states that if one maliciously causes another to lose his eye, for instance, he must be punished by losing his own eye: "An eye for an eye" (21,24). The Oral Law, however, determines that this is meant only to show the severity of the incident, but that in reality, the offender must simply pay money in compensation. That is to say, the absolute truth is that causing one to lose an eye must ideally cost the perpetrator an eye, but in the practical world, this cannot be the case.

In conclusion, we are not at liberty to give up on the truth, nor may we cede peace. It is incumbent upon us to begin with the truth, and from their make our way to peace. As in the words of the Prophet Zechariah (8,19): "The truth and the peace – you must love." truth will lead to peace.

Yitro: Honor Your Parents – and Yourselves!

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion Yitro (Sh'mot, chapter 18-20) features the actual Giving of the Torah to Israel on Mt. Sinai and the text of the Ten Commandments. Let us discuss the fifth commandments, "Honor your father and your mother," and the reward we are promised for its fulfillment, "so that you will live long on the land that Hashem your G-d gives you" (Sh'mot 20,11).

The Ten Commandments are the fundamental guidelines of all the mitzvot of the Torah, and actually include within them all 613 mitzvot of the Torah. Rashi states this in his commentary to Sh'mot 24,12, and Rabbeinu Saadia Gaon explains how each and every mitzvah is derived from G-d's words to us at Sinai.

Why was this commandment of honoring our parents chosen to be the only one of the ten whose reward is specified? The rewards for the other nine are, by design, not outlined here!

Another question is why is "long life" the reward for this mitzvah? Again we turn to Rav Saadia, who lived over 1,000 years ago, and who explained as follows: It is because sometimes, we find that parents live for a long time, and actually become a burden of sorts on their children who seek to honor them. Therefore, G-d set "long life" as the reward for this mitzvah, meaning that we must honor our parents as we live together with them – and if perhaps you feel distress over their lives, you must understand that it is actually your own life about which you are troubled. (This is one explanation among many.)

But let us return to the main question: What is it about the mitzvah of honoring parents that its reward is spelled out in the Ten Commandments, unlike the other nine?

What We Learn from First-Fruits

Let us turn to the mitzvah of Bikurim: bringing the First Fruits of one's field to the priests in the Holy Temple. The Torah says that you must bring them to the "priest who will be in those days" (D'varim 26,3): Rashi explains that this tells us that no priest is ineligible to receive the Bikurim. Rather, you must give them to whichever priest you find serving in the Temple.

In my article "Bringing Bikurim Without Calculations," I cited various commentators' opinions regarding why one might not want to bring the Bikurim to a given Cohen. I added that upon deeper reflection, we find that there are in fact various calculations that one could have regarding which Cohen to give to or not: This one is not scholarly or righteous enough, this one he never talks to, while the other one is a friend of his… But the bottom line is that the holy Torah understands our hearts, and knows that a person is willing to give to Hashem whatever He commands – but not necessarily if it goes to another person. In such a case, he has all sorts of calculations…

This is why the Torah says, "The first of the fruits of your land, bring to Hashem your G-d" (Sh'mot 23,19), and tell him, "I have said today to Hashem your G-d…" (D'varim 26,3) – Bikurim must be brought as if they were going straight to Hashem; rise up above all your petty calculations!

Rav Yehonatan Aybeschutz, in his Yaarot Dvash, states clearly that if a person comes to ask about his slaughtered chicken or cow, and the rabbi tells him it is not kosher and must be thrown out – the man will do so with no hesitation. But if he has a monetary dispute with another man and is found liable to pay him, he will be quite upset – especially at the judge! And the reason is because he has no problem giving to G-d Who gave us the Torah, but when it comes to paying a man, that is much harder because of the jealousy involved.

And this brings us back to the mitzvah of honoring our parents, where possible resentment at giving to others can apply most significantly. Our Sages describe the great difficulty of observing this mitzvah properly with the words of R. Yochanan – both of whose parents died before he ever got to know them. He actually said, "Fortunate is the man who did not see his parents" – because, Rashi says, it is impossible to honor them properly enough.

Making Sense

The Arukh HaShulchan writes that honoring one’s parents is categorized among the "rational commandments," and in fact has spread to the nations of the world. Even those who deny the Torah are careful with this mitzvah, because it makes sense. Yet we, the people of Israel, must observe it not because of its logic – but because G-d commanded us to do so! This, he writes, is a fundamental concept in all the mitzvot of the Torah.

And yet, though it is an understandable and compelling mitzvah to anyone with a modicum of understanding, it comes at a great cost. We must nullify our own needs in order to properly give to our parents what they need, especially as they grow older and infirm – and it is therefore frequently natural to seek excuses why not to perform it as best we can.

This is why the Torah tells us that we must do it, "in order that your days be lengthened." This mitzvah is the only one of the Ten Commandments in which one must give something to another – and not just once, but throughout his life: As the Gemara tells us, "One must honor him in his [the parent's] lifetime and also after his death" (Kiddushin 31b). Again, the Torah understands how we think, and therefore emphasized that when one gives to his parents, he is actually giving himself as well: "… in order that your days be lengthened on the land." This removes the instinctive difficulties involved in giving others, as explained above, and it becomes much easier to properly fulfill this mitzvah.

This explains why the Torah wrote the reward for this mitzvah here in the Ten Commandments – because it is actually not just a reward for its fulfillment, but rather an intrinsic part of the very reason why we are commanded to perform it with the expectation that we will do it correctly. This is not a "mitzvah with its reward alongside it," in the words of the Gemara - but rather a "mitzvah with its reward inside it!"

Honor your parents, for this means lengthening your days!

Beshalach: Tu B'Shvat and the Complaints Against the Manna

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The story is told of an emissary from our Holy Land who went to a Jewish community abroad, hoping to persuade them to make Aliyah. He began by reprimanding them for remaining in the Exile, but he soon saw that he was getting nowhere with them.

So he changed his tune and said, “Let me ask just one thing of you: Make sure that when you sanctify the Sabbath with Kiddush every week, use only wine from Israel, and emphasize to your children that this is wine from our Holy Land.”

The Jews accepted his request, and the emissary returned to Israel. Years passed, and the members of that community gradually made Aliyah to the Land. They told that emissary: “You should know that it was the wine from the Land that ignited our hearts with love for our Land, to the point that we all came to live here!”

Which of course raises the question: What was it about the wine that caused such a profound transformation in those Jews, to the point that they arose and immigrated to Israel?

We can explain this on two levels. Most simply, the very fact that they spoke about the Land and experienced it over a long period led them to develop a connection to it.

But it can also be explained on a deeper, more intrinsic level: By actually drinking the wine of the Land of Israel, the Land was infused into their blood and soul, and they could no longer live without it – and so they arose and made Aliyah. In truth, this is a manifestation of a fundamental point in the way we serve G-d in Eretz Yisrael. The Land's sanctity works on us, raising us up even when we don't sense it openly. As Rabbe Nachman of Breslov taught (Likutei Moharan 129):

Our Rabbis taught that whoever dwells in the Land, is without sin… for it is a land that "consumes its inhabitants" (Bamidbar 13,32), meaning that one who dwells there is 'consumed' by it and his essence becomes the Land's holy essence.

Tu B'Shvat Fruits

This also touches on the great virtues of eating the fruits of the Land of Israel, as we will do this Monday, on Tu B'Shvat, the 15th day of the month of Shvat – known as the New Year for Trees, a special date for commemorating the holiness of the Land's fruits. They are on a higher level even than that of the Manna in the desert, as the Radvash HaTzuf (19th-century) wrote in his Shaar HeHat'zer:

"When the Land of Israel was in a status of complete holiness, with the Holy Temple standing tall, the sanctity of the fruits of the Land, and their taste, were greater even than those of the Manna… And it is well-known that eating the Manna purifies a person, for the Israelites in the desert were forced to eat the Manna in order to purify their bodies so that they could receive the holy Torah. The Manna also had other wondrous virtues, as is known. This can teach us of the great holiness we attain when eating the fruits of Eretz Yisrael."

On the other hand, regarding one who eats non-kosher foods the Torah states, “You shall become defiled (v'nitmeitem) by them,” and the Sages expounded in a play on words: “You shall become dulled (v'nitamtem) by them.” This tells us that forbidden foods dull a person’s heart; food truly becomes part of a person’s body, and therefore unwittingly influences him spiritually.

And if this is true for forbidden foods, then holy foods such as the fruits of Eretz Yisrael sanctify - and also physically raise up - a person’s body, even if he does not consciously understand all the deep ideas "hidden" within the foods.

This can help us resolve an interesting question regarding the story of the manna in the desert. In this week's Torah portion of B'shalach [from Sh'mot 13,17 through the end of Chapter 17], we read of the gift of the manna the nourished the Israelites through their 40 years crossing the wilderness. In general, they appreciated the manna – except for two places, when they complained bitterly.

The first time was related in Parashat Behaalot'cha (Bamidbar 11), when the people claimed that the food did not provide enough variety. They didn't complain that the manna was bad, but only that they wanted meat and vegetables as well. The second incident was in Chukat (Bamidbar 21), when they said that the manna itself was no good.

What in fact happened those two times that made Israel suddenly complain? Forty years of manna, and only twice did they have problems with it – why?

Based on what we explained above, the answer becomes clear: The Land of Israel. In the second incident, the Israelites had reached the border of the Holy Land, warring with the Canaanite King of Arad in the Negev and capturing its cities. But then G-d commanded them to turn towards the land of Edom and to enter Eretz Yisrael from a different place. Right then - verse 21,4 - the people began to lose it. They complained about the manna – precisely because they had been briefly in the Land, were automatically raised up spiritually by its holiness, and were, accordingly, no longer suited to eat the lower-level manna.

A similar thing happened in the first case: The nation complained about the manna, albeit to a lesser extent – right after they began preparing for their trip into the Land. Moshe had just declared, "We are going to the place that G-d said He will give us!" They were truly about to leave, but there were a few delays. Since they were "so close" to entering the Land, something about it raised them up to a level of its holiness – causing them to resent the manna, which as stated, could not serve the same role as the holy fruits of the Land.

Of course, even with all these explanations regarding the subconscious influences of the Land's fruits, it is clear that one who consciously understands these matters and openly experiences them, is on an even higher level. As such, the highest level is to actually live in the Land, eat of its holy produce, and study in depth the virtues of Eretz Yisrael and its fruits.

May we merit on this Tu B'Shvat, and throughout the year, to "eat of its fruits, to be sated with its goodness, and to recite blessing upon it in holiness and purity" (as we say in the after-blessing for the fruits of the Land)!