Ki Tisa: Superficial Spirtuality

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 of Ki Tisa (Sh'mot 30,11-34,35) tells the momentous story of the sin of the Golden Calf. It happened while Moshe Rabbeinu was on Mt. Sinai learning the Torah that G-d was about to give Israel – and so Moshe didn't know about it until G-d told him: "Your nation has strayed quickly from the path that I commanded them; they have made for themselves a cast-metal calf" (Sh'mot 32,7-8). Moshe immediately prayed for the nation, and G-d "refrained from [punishing] the nation as He had said" (verse 14). However, when Moshe saw for himself how the nation was sinning so egregiously, he "became angered and threw down the Tablets [of the Covenant] and broke them" (verse 19).

How can we explain Israel's sin? The nation had merited to see with its own eyes amazing miracles and Divine leadership, including the Ten Plagues and especial providence at all times, as written, "G-d went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to guide them… and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light...” (13,21).

They also experienced, of course, the splitting of the Red Sea, a miracle so great that the Sages taught that those who experienced it were on a level even higher than prophecy: "From where do we know that even a maidservant at the sea saw what the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel did not see? As is written, “By the hand of the prophets I made Myself known in visions” (Hoshea 12,11), and “The heavens were opened and I saw visions of G-d.” (Yechezkel 1,1)" – whereas the Israelites saw Him even more directly than via a vision, singing afterwards in the Song of the Sea, “This is my G-d” (15,2).

The Sages explained this via a parable likening the situation to a human king who entered a province. He arrived with great fanfare - trumpets sounding around him, mighty warriors standing at his right and left, troops marching before and behind him. And yet everyone had to ask, “Which one is the king?” – because he was a human being like everyone else and was not distinguishable. But when the Holy One, blessed be He, revealed Himself at the Red Sea, no one needed to ask, “Which one is the king?” Rather, as soon as they saw Him, they recognized Him and sang out, “This is my G-d, and I will glorify Him" (Sh'mot 15,2). [Based on Mekhilta, B'shalach, section 1]

Returning to our question: How could it be that the Israelites were surrounded by miracles and ascending ever upwards to be worthy of the greatest occasion in human history – the Stand at Mt. Sinai – and then, at the last minute they fall into the grave sin of idol worship!

The answer is found in the fact that there was one tribe that actually did not sin and did not allow themselves to follow the masses. The Tribe of Levi stood steadfast in their loyalty to G-d: "Moshe… called, 'Who is for G-d?' And all the Levites gathered to him" (32,26). In recognition, G-d "differentiated the Tribe of Levi, to carry the Ark of the Covenant, to stand before G-d, to serve Him, and to bless in His Name up to this very day" (D'varim 10,8).

What gave the Levites the strength to remain loyal to G-d, in the face of the nation's deterioration? What was their secret?

The Rambam (Laws of Avodah Zarah 1) teaches how Avraham Avinu taught the world of the existence of the One G-d, and how Levi in particular stood out in this faith:

"Avraham began to proclaim to all that there is one G-d in the entire world and that it is correct to serve Him… He planted in their hearts this great fundamental principle, wrote texts about it, and taught it to his son Yitzchak, who also taught others and turned their hearts to G-d. [His son Yaakov also taught] others and turned their hearts to G-d, as well as all his children. He selected his son Levi as the leader [and] the head of the academy to teach them the way of G-d and observe the mitzvot of Avraham. Yaakov commanded his sons that the leadership should not depart from the descendants of Levi, so that the teachings would not be forgotten. This concept gave strength among the descendants of Yaakov and those who gathered around them, until there became a nation in the world that knew G-d. When the Jews remained in Egypt, however, they learned from the Egyptians’ deeds and began worshiping the stars as they did – but the tribe of Levi did not; they clung to the mitzvot and never served false gods."

Even King Pharaoh recognized that Levi and his descendants were the Jews' spiritual leaders and teachers, and therefore he did not enslave them: "We see this from the fact that Moshe and Aharon were able to come and go as they pleased… And it is customary for every nation to have teachers…" (Ramban's commentary to Sh'mot 5,4).

The faith and spirituality of the Levites were deeply implanted within them, as they were very connected with their forefathers' tradition, and dedicated themselves to learn G-d's path. They experienced G-d's miracles as did the other Israelites – but it was not these that gave them faith; rather, they had a very strong basis even beforehand. Therefore, even when the nation strayed off the path towards the "modern" idol-worshipping culture of the Egyptians, the Levites did not go with the flow but rather remained true to their principles.

The other tribes, however, were not yet strong enough in their faith to withstand the false ideologies of Egypt. When they saw G-d's great miracles, they were quite impressed, and even abandoned idol-worship for a time and "believed in G-d and in His servant Moshe" (14,31). But their faith was not firmly grounded in their fathers' traditions or in deep study of the way of G-d. Their spirituality was based primarily on the extraordinary miracles and wonders.

Therefore, when doubts began to arise regarding Moshe's return, and, as the Medrash teaches, the Satan showed them a kind of image of Moshe being carried in the heavens (Rashi, 32,1), they were influenced and became totally open to the new ideology of the “Golden Calf.”

Our holy Torah is teaching us here a critical lesson: In order for faith in Hashem to withstand passing ideologies and ism's, the younger generation must be grounded in Torah learning, firmly based on genuine tradition and love of the study of Torah.

Tetzave: Light Up the World!

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

This week's portion of Tetzave (Sh'mot 27,20-30,10) tells us of the final preparations for the dedication of the Mishkan (Tabernacle, the portable, mini-Beit Mikdash for use before the real Beit HaMikdash is built). These include the consecration of the sons of Aharon as Priests and the special sacrifices involved therein; the fashioning of the Priestly Garments; the daily Tamid altar sacrifice; and the construction of the Incense Altar.

The first two verses of Parashat Tetzave are a command to light the Tamid lamp in the Tabernacle: "You [Moshe] shall command the Israelites to [bring] you pure olive oil to keep the lamp constantly burning. Aharon and his sons shall arrange it [to burn] from evening to morning, before G-d, in the Communion Tent outside the curtain concealing the [Ark of] Testimony; a law for all generations."

Several questions present themselves, the answers to which can help us understand an important principle regarding the function of the Mishkan in particular and the People of Israel in general. 

1. Why is Moshe told to "command" Israel regarding the oil and the lamp, when until now he was simply told to "make" the various parts of the Mishkan, without a "command"?

2. Last week's Torah portion of Trumah featured the instructions to fashion the Mishkan and its utensils, and this week's portion deals mainly with the garments and other preparations. Why is this topic of preparing the Perpetual Light placed in the Torah precisely here, right in the middle? Why does it belong here?

3. In addition, this command appears elsewhere in the Torah (Vayikra 24,1-5), and immediately afterwards we read of the mitzvah to prepare the Lechem HaPanim (the Showbread). If the two are connected, why does the Torah not speak of the Showbread here as well, together with the command to light the Ner Tamid?

4. And speaking of the second command to light the lamp, in Vayikra, why does it say there that the lamps should be lit on a Menorah, candelabrum, while here in Tetzaveh no mention is made of the Menorah?

Let us provide one comprehensive explanation to answer these questions, beginning with this underlying fundamental regarding the Mishkan: After the Torah tells Moshe to build the Tabernacle's utensils (Ark, Table, Altar, etc.), but before the practical preparations for their use begin, and before the garments are made, G-d wants to inform us of the ultimate objective of the Mishkan altogether: It is nothing less than to light up the entire world!

This is why the Torah does not tell us here where exactly the light is to be placed, whether in a Menorah or not. That's not relevant yet. Before getting into all the details, G-d informs us: "Know and remember what the purpose of the Mishkan is: It is to illuminate the world."

This principle is very important to know before the Priests come to wear their special garments. G-d wants them to hear and internalize this message: "You are not receiving these unique clothes simply for their beauty. Your goal is to serve as My emissaries to light up the world." Only after the purpose has been made clear will it be appropriate to talk about how this is to be done, including the various details. But if the goal is not sufficiently clear, the Priests are liable to make various "mistakes," such as seeing their fancy garments as a means for personal honor and the like. In such a case, the b'gadim, clothing, will become bogdim, traitors. Only when the final objective is clear can one set out on the next step of the journey: "You shall make garments of holiness for Aharon your brother, for honor and beauty" (28,2). 

The Rashbam, one of the early Torah commentators (R. Shmuel ben Meir, of the 12th century), explains that the emphasis on a "command" to take oil for the Mishkan light is because "the language of 'command' always means that it is for all generations." That is, every generation must constantly know and remember what is the purpose of the Mishkan: to light up the world. 

This is certainly true for our generation as well. We must remember constantly our purpose, which is to bring light by magnifying and promoting G-d's name in the world. By continually reviewing, refining, and perfecting for ourselves what we are doing here in this world, we will be able to "dress ourselves" and set out to accomplish our various missions that stand before us, personally and nationally. Let us not fall into the trap of wearing various articles of clothing that betray and belie our very essence!

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.