Torah & more… תורה ועוד

Tazria must win the ‘most misunderstood Torah portion’ prize. The word itself is untranslatable, and it follows by laws of “purity” and “impurity”, two more concepts we don’t understand. Then it goes into sacrifices that the child-bearing mother must bring, and it tells us the waiting period for brining those is different if she had a baby boy or girl. By then we close the book tightly. That’s it! I’m done! I knew it! Torah is prejudice against women! Ancient people had issues! We are so more advanced! Moving on…
It’s tempting to use the “time” now and look into other issues: oh my, we’re nearing Pesach; let’s talk about that… but I couldn’t budge from the woman at the opening of Tazria. What in the world is “tazria”? “The opening verse is: isha ki tazria, meaning, when a woman… ?? The New International Version: “becomes pregnant”; hebcal and Chabbad websites: “conceived”; KJV (King James Version): “conceived seed” and I appreciate the honest struggle in the latter.
Tazria comes from zera, seed, and it is an active form of the verb (conjugated in hif’eel, if you care for Hebrew grammar). The woman here doesn’t “become pregnant” and she’s isn’t conceived which are passive as if things happen to her by ‘getting pregnant’. Perhaps the closest use of that verb is in Genesis 1:11-12 when on the 3rd day of creation G-d said: “Let the earth put forth herb yielding seed… (mazria zera)”, and we picture fruitful plants that sprout on and on. Further, to seed is an action we often think of as masculine: a man may “seed”, but a woman?
The rabbis had fun with it. They also brought into the conversation Jacob and Leah. It says about them:
“אֵלֶּה בְּנֵי לֵאָה אֲשֶׁר יָלְדָה לְיַעֲקֹב בְּפַדַּן אֲרָם, וְאֵת דִּינָה בִתּוֹ” – These are the sons of Leah whom she bore to Jacob… and Dina, his daughter”(Genesis 46:15).
In the Talmud, Brachot 60 the sages said: “If a woman seeds first, she bares a son” – and therefore, if a man seeds first, they have a daughter. Thus they connected the gender of the baby to who had orgasm first, (and I know people that swear by this “recipe” :). There are later discussions whether it’s true or not, and if not, what is the meaning of this gmara. Regardless, I like it because it implies the Talmud – as our Torah portion – thinks that the woman is not just something to be acted on; she “seeds”!
We then must touch on “purity and impurity”, also best left in Hebrew: tahor & ta-me. We cab bring the voices of Rabbi Se’adya Gaon who lived in the 10th century who says (roughly translated) that these stages bring a person close to grappling with their own limitations and temporary nature. To be tame met – impure by contact with a dead, is the most common, and it is awe instilling, but then, what about childbirth? Rabbi Beni Lau, nephew of Israel’s past chief rabbi, brings the words of midrash rabba comparing the woman to a home:
רבי אליעזר אומר: כשם שיש דלתות לבית, כך יש דלתות לאשה,
זהו שכתוב: “כי לא סגר דלתי בטני” (איוב ג).
רבי יהושע אומר: כשם שיש מפתחות לבית, כך לאשה ,
זהו שכתוב: “וישמע אליה אלוהים ויפתח את רחמה” (בראשית ל).
רבי עקיבא אומר: כשם שיש צירים לבית, כך יש צירים לאשה ,
זהו שכתוב: “ותכרע ותלד כי נהפכו עליה ציריה” (שמואל א’, ד’).

Like a home, she has doors, Rabbi Eliezer plays on a verse from Job; she has openings – and the word for open shares its root with “keys”(petach – mafte’ach),s ays Rabbi Yehoshu’a, and she even has “hinges” like a house, says Rabbi Akiva, because in Hebrew, hinges and labor pains is the same word (tzirim).
What does it mean? It means that childbirth is equated with a person leaving home. The processes described in this portion acknowledge that while this is a very happy occasion, it is accompanied with incredibly strong emotions as the fullness turns to emptiness; the wholeness – to a separation. There is a danger that the for the woman who has been such an integral partner in G-d’s creation in the highest sense possible, this will be accompanied by further feelings of separation, not just from her baby but from the divine and hence the need to create opportunities to come back and draw near via the korban (sacrifice, from karov, to approach, get close).
The same journey happens to us every spring: after being indoors, we venture outside again; it happens to us with Passover and any personal exodus we might experience. The Torah nods at us as if saying, it’s ok to be apprehensive; it’s ok to feel all the complicated feelings you have; keep going.
Shabbat Shalom.

Shmini or “8th” (“eighth”) is the only Torah portion named with a number (not to be confused with “Numbers”, the forth book of the Torah and its opening portion). In this week’s parasha we read about the inauguration of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) when Aaron and his sons begin to officiate as priests and the divine Presence comes to dwell in the sanctuary.

Shmini includes also the tragic death of Aaron’s two elder sons when they offer a “strange fire before G-d, which He commanded them not”. Aaron is silent in face of this tragedy, on what should have been the most joyous and respectful day of his life. The mikveh (a pool of water with specified qualifications for ritual purity) is mentioned and the kosher laws are spelled out: Land animals may be eaten only if they have split hooves and chew their cud (but not either); fish must have fins and scales; a list of non-kosher birds is given, and even a (fascinating) list of kosher insects, all detailing the permissible and forbidden animal species for consumption.

Idol worshipers and Monotheists, Buddhists, Barbarians and Westerners alike, we all have fashioned some dietary system. The fact that each culture has so many rules and customs around food clearly implies that there is something about eating which is much more than a mere physical activity. One of the first biblical instructions is to not eat from the tree of knowledge between good and evil (Genesis 2:16). Simply picking a fruit turns from a physiological act to an expression of morality’s limits and has serious consequences.

The message continues following the flood, which changes forever human’s relationship with the animals (many hold that prior to the flood humans – and animals – were vegetarian); through the prohibition against eating even certain parts of an animal (Genesis 32:33) and the mitzvah not to mix meat and milk (Exodus 23:19). Then we come to this week’s parasha.

Is there any relationship between the consecration of the Mishkan, this extensive list of animals and the Torah portion’s name? Possibly. Let’s take another look at the word “shmini”: The root of the word “eight” – shmone – is Sh.M.N. We use the same letters to make words like sha’men and shemen, fat and oil respectfully. According to the MaHaRal of Prague, the number “seven” – sheva, stands for “just right” (like the seven days of the week). With the same letters we make words like “save’a” – satiated (but not over-eating!). Marriage celebration lasts 7 days and is accompanied with 7 blessings, while during times of mourning we sit “shiv’a” – 7 days. Seven stands for the natural manner in which life flows, while eight stands for the little extra, that which s beyond, the supernatural. In its shape it symbolizes eternity. It can remind us of our ability to get a glimpse of another dimension.

The eighth day as a concept isn’t a new: It’s the day of brit mila (covenant of circumcision), marking the above and beyond relationship between G-d and His people. It’s also reminds us i Shmini Atzeret, a holiday at the end of Sukkot, adding one more day, which as Rashi and others say, is “like being with a King and father who wishes to keep his children near a little longer”, above and beyond.

But the first time there is an 8th day ever according to our teachings is the day following the completion of creation. That very original first “8th day” is the first chance we have to be active partners with G-d in the creation. The Mishkan is considered as incredible as creation. Walking into it was like stepping into a different existence, but instead of a world that G-d created and people joined later on, this is a structure that the Children of Israel built, and upon its completion, invited G-d into it, on the 8th day.

The 8th day has thus become symbolic of our role as partners in Creation; in how we treat our environment, animals and humans. It is an eternal invitation to take a positive role in tikun olam, in making the world a better place, in our interactions with all those we touch, far and near.

Shabbat Shalom.

“I have nothing to wear” probably was not one of the things the priests of the Tabernacle used to say in the morning. As we learned earlier in the Book of Exodus, they had carefully designed, beautiful clothing that was full of splendor and symbolism.

This week we find out they even had special clothing for taking out the garbage: “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 has consumed the burnt-offering on the altar, and he shall put them beside the altar” (Leviticus 6:3).

The Tabernacle was closed to the public at night because sacrifices were brought only during the day. But before a new day began, the priest got up early to take out the ashes from the sacrifices left on the altar, reminding us that we can’t start a new day, a new endeavor, while the old “stuff” is still around, smoldering.

There was also a special place to dump the ashes, because regardless of whether trash is physical, intellectual, emotional or spiritual, there needs to be a dedicated place where it can be safely deposited. Only then can we turn around and welcome the new day, fresh and clean.

The Torah portion of Tzav brings us more instructions regarding the sacrifices, this time directed specifically to Aaron, the high priest, and his sons, who were the ones to carry out the sacrificial system. They had to know how to offer each sacrifice. However, they did not have to know why it was brought. This caused major challenges later on, when the sacrifices became a meaningless routine, and the prophets criticized it. But this system did demonstrate how Judaism values straightforward action. Looking at the Ten Commandments, we see they all have to do with how we behave — not what we think, how we look, where we’re from, etc.

A familiar joke comes to mind about two friends, Joe and Mo, who meet in the street. “Which way is the bridge?” asks Joe. “Here, hold these,” says Mo, handing over two giant watermelons he’s been carrying. Then he throws his hands in the air, saying, “I don’t know!”

Speaking with our hands might seem like funny behavior, and yet it is important to note how important this type of action is to how we express ourselves and tell others who we are and what we believe in.

The sacrifices of the Tabernacle seem light years away, but if we read about them carefully (and yes, it’s not easy), we can find some fascinating aspects and even core values we still share and wish to emulate today.

The root of the Hebrew word for sacrifice, korban, is related to karov, “to come near.” The Torah is adamant that one cannot have a close relationship with anyone, including God, without a “sacrifice,” without giving up something. According to the Torah, we can’t get connected and committed to anything just by receiving. We must give of our own.

The altar at the Tabernacle, and later at the Temple, contained an ongoing fire, and the text tells us: “veha’esh al hamizbe’ach tukad bo” — “and the fire upon the altar shall be kept burning within it” (6:2-5). On the surface it seems simple: The fire needs to be burning at all times on the altar, similar to the ner tamid, the eternal light, above the ark in shuls. However, the same verse also can be read “and the fire upon the altar shall be kept burning within him.” Namely, within the priest’s heart.

To serve God and the community properly, the priest must have a fire of devotion, commitment and service within him. He must be passionate about his calling, but as we all know from home barbecues, tending a fire is an art. The Torah asks us to be cautious with any fire: the one of the altar, and the one within us. Wherever we are, we need to find that balance in our lives.

Shabbat Shalom.

Zadok the Priest and the Temple Dedication. From Henry Davenport Northrop, “Treasures of the Bible,” published 1894

This article is also in the j weekly:

http://www.jweekly.com/article/full/71038/torah-03-14-14/

Leaning against the stone railing of my balcony, I saw him disappear into the crowded streets beneath me, his head still slightly stooped, but his step lighter as if planted with renewed hope.
I held my hand up to shadow my eyes, the bracelets on my wrists jingling softly. The setting sun gently dried my tears, sparkling on my cheeks, and the evening wind played with my dark hair, falling down my back, a beautiful contrast to the royal blue satin chosen for me this morning. In the distance the mountains loomed dark, their pointed peaks decorated with bright snow, while in the valley below the almonds and pistachios already blossomed in white and pink.
The city swayed like a pile of colorful snakes. People rushed through the alleys before night fall covers everything with a heavy blanket. They carried cages with chicken, led goats tied with a rope. Children sloshed through puddles from the recent rain, tossing small stones to the adults’ discontent. Stallholders had already collected their goods, loading the remaining ware to carts and in bags of colorful fabric on the backs of small donkeys. Many of the women had straw baskets on their heads laden with rice, lentils, dried fruit, and vegetables. They walked in pairs and small groups, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. Some families already spread their mats on the cobble-stoned street for the night’s rest. The smell of cumin and cardamom rose and mixed in the air like incense, flying, lying.
Huddled inside my cashmere scarf from the evening chill as the moon rose in the east, almost full, I heard a long, lone ood string vibrating from afar.
“I’ll be in my room”, I heard her, “if you just need anything … “
I nodded, wiping my eyes again with the back of my hand.
“Thank you”.
I mouthed a little smile, nodding over my shoulder without turning back. A bird spread its wings to roost at the top of the tall palms leading to the main gate. The scent of burning oil reached my nose now.
“Good night your majesty,” she said, curtsying in the hallway.
“Good night”.
I took another deep breath. Everything was still, and oh, how I missed my mother in these moments. My mom was the most beautiful woman in the city, and my uncle was madly in love with her. But she opted for his younger brother who was handsome and talented and promised her the moon. Sadly, he died in a strange accident when his workshop caught on fire shortly after I was conceived. My uncle told my mom that he’d care for her and her baby, once I was born, but I believe she couldn’t bear the thought of living without her beloved man, and died at my childbirth, as if completing her mission upon my delivery. Every year, I celebrate my birthday and her memorial day. I think of how brave she was, following her heart. Will I be able to ever do that?
Loud voices and clanking glasses reached my ears from the courtyard. Two servants dragged a wooden wine barrel from the cellar. Another, almost frightened, carried a thick book. I sighed with relief. Whatever it is, the king would be busy again tonight, and I can finally rest from the long day.
Life in the palace was hectic. My schedule included endless meetings with the many who roamed our courtyards, enjoying luxury banquets, and thinking they are a critical part of the kingdom which extended from India to Ethiopia.
But today… it started out as usual. I sat with my girls, laughing, as always, in the center. They threaded pretty beads in my hair, rubbed oil on my feet, fixed my gold earrings, tied the silver sandals up my thigh, decorated my flower parasol. I have to look my best. Everybody knows I was chosen for my beauty, and when I’m called, everybody will stop in their tracks and look. At me.
But suddenly, I was rushed to the window. It turned out that he’d been waiting for me all morning! Why was he not more careful? It is forbidden for anyone to know about us! I could see his silvery curls adorning his head like a crown, surrounding his high forehead and tanned skull; his all-knowing gaze was smoldering. I heard the screams and the guards trying to calm him unsuccessfully. I peeked and noticed, in horror, the shabby clothes and worn, torn gray robe, sackcloth and ashes on his head, walking restlessly by the gate, refusing to hear nothing of it.
Ashamed, I sent Hatach to bring him new clothes, a light cotton shirt and matching, white embroidered pantalones. He refused to accept my gift. He will not leave until he conveys his message. It’s an emergency.
When the sun reached its zenith and the girls went to eat in their kitchen, Hatach brought in my lunch, carrying porcelain bowls of steaming stew with saffron rice and vegetables on a platter, his canvas shoes shuffling along the marble corridor. I learned to recognize his footsteps, the limp. The king did not want him; too old and unfit, but because of complicated family relationships he avoided firing him and sent him instead to be a eunuch for the women.
“He says the situation is very difficult,” Hatach whispered, looking over his shoulder, and out loud said, “Here’s your lunch, your majesty.”
“Thank you,” I replied politely as I was taught, then whispering back, I asked, “Do you have more information?”
“I hope this dish pleases you” he said. He looked around again and pulled out a small note from his pocket. “Here” he whispered, “He says to tell you this, and insists you go over there” he nodded towards the chambers, “without any delay”.
“Indeed, the food looks excellent, as always,” I replied loudly trying to buy some more time. “You know that if I go there without an invite, he’d kill me!” I mumbled through my clenched teeth. “I haven’t been summoned for thirty days, and suddenly I should just show up? In the inner chamber? And then what?” I looked up questioningly. The king’s personal guards were a crew of four thousand men of the nobility, carrying sharp spears. Any stranger who approached without permission was killed immediately. It happened to Vashti. I would be no exception.
He shook his head. “I will convey that to the chef”, he said officially, and added, whispering “I told him. Here, read,” he said bowing, glancing to check the hallway.
“But, I can’t! You understand me, don’t you?” The fine parchment laid folded, untouched in my lap. “He’s the one who made me promise not to tell anyone! I have to keep our secret! And so do you “, I looked up at him, pleading.
His eyes met mine in silence.
I sighed and rolled open the note, finding my uncle’s familiar handwriting, angular and excited: “Think not for a minute that you shall escape in the king’s house, and be better off than all the Jews. For if you hold your peace at this time, relief and deliverance will arise to the Jews from another source, but you and your father’s house will perish; and who knows whether you have not come to royal estate for such a time as this?’”
I read the text again and again, closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Who knows. Really, who knows. Is that why it all happened just so? Images passed before me…
“Thank you for lunch,” I said out loud,” Please come back later to get the tray, and please, let the girls know I need my rest and have no desire to go out to the gardens.”
He bowed again and left.
Sometime later I got up and went out to the balcony where I stood, gazing at the changing colors and sounds, praying and crying, praying and crying. It’s night, dark and quiet now. The storm has subsided. I have a plan. And whatever happens, happens.
I can hear Hatach’s footsteps in the yard, his trailing robe, rushing to me with my uncle’s blessing. He’s also made sure my favorite delicacies have been prepared. He already knows that this is the last meal I would eat for the next three days.

The House of the Rising Sun
You might recall this famous folk song sung by its most successful commercial version, recorded in 1964 by the English rock group The Animals. The song was a number one hit in the United Kingdom, the United States, Sweden, Finland, Canada, and even Israel. And it turns out not only I can still fumble its cords (especially if you wait long enough for me to arrange my fingers…), but this was the first song Tony Blair, previous primeminister of the United Kingdom learned to play on his guitar too.
The song’s origins are unclear: Musicologists say that it is based on the tradition of broadside ballads of the 18th century and that English emigrants took the song to America where it was adapted to its later New Orleans setting. Alan Price of The Animals has even claimed that the song was originally a sixteenth-century English folk song about a Soho brothel. Honestly, I never much paid attention to its words, but looking at it again this morning for the purpose of making sense here, I learned that it’s actually a warning song about life gone wrong, advising the listeners to do things differently moving forward, and “not to do what I have done”.
Tomorrow, the “House of (rising) Sun”, Israeli Beit Shemesh, is going to vote for its mayor. Again. The last elections, this past fall, were deemed fraudulent when dead people came with valid ID cards to vote for the incumbent candidate. After a bitter debate, Israel’s Supreme Court is sending Beit Shemesh back to the polling booths. Tomorrow.
Short of what Wikipedia tells me, I don’t know Moshe Abutbul, the Be’er Sheva born politician and current mayor, who became charedi later in life. On the other hand (and especially considering I’m only 29 years old ), it’s been almost 40 years since I met Eli Cohen, Beit Shemesh mayoral candidate. It seems that in spite of a slightly receding hairline, the kid who grew up in the city he’s always called home hasn’t changed much: an idealist at heart with a winning smile, he used to volunteer for the fire department and Magen David Adom as a teen; he took one of the lead roles in the local theater play showcasing Beit Shemesh (of the 70’s!), went on to be an officer in a combat unit and continued to work for the Jewish people via shlichut with JAFI and senior leadership in the organization.
The elections tomorrow are accompanied by a feeling of dread: Over the last years, Beit Shemesh has become a stronghold for the extreme charedi groups, while the old-timers of the city, many of whom love Judaism and its “masoret beit aba” (home traditions), serve in the army, and pay taxes have been pushed against a wall. Tomorrow the city gets to decide: Which will it be?
There are no clear evidences that the original House of the Rising Sun ever existed, but this pivotal battle over the House of the (rising) Sun at Beit Shemshe is in many ways a battle over everything Israel is, can and should be. What will be the echoing cords of tomorrow’s elections?

Beit Shemesh mayoral candidate Eli Cohen at a final press conference

There is no good way to say it: most of the Book of Leviticus should be skipped. Yes, it includes “love your neighbor as yourself, but much of it makes for hard, unpleasant reading which is mostly irrelevant anyway. All the sacrifices, blood and gore? Why would our sages prescribe this as the first book for little children to learn?

We ended the Book of Exodus with the Mishkan completed. Professor of Kabala, Nadine Shenkar writes that the Mishkan was an architecturally amazing structure, representing a microcosm of the world and offering “a meeting between Heaven and earth that doesn’t happen here or there, but rather, in the middle…” Just like leaves, flowers and fruits on a tree, says Shenkar, don’t get their nourishment from the rain directly, but it must pass through the root system, flowing from the bottom up, so do we have to get our spiritual nourishment through the physical elements around us. Shabbat for example, is the most physically satisfying (also the one we work hardest for) and therefore, the most spiritual.
The Mishkan had to be a most physical structure as did everything that happened there, but we are told that initially, G-d’s glory in the form of the cloud rested on it so tightly, that there was no room for anyone. Even G-d had to “shrink”(whatever that means -) and make room for us. At the same time, when Moses was invited in, he was overwhelmed. When he wrote about this encounter, his humility wanted to write this as a chance encounter, rather than a dedicated meeting. After all, how could G-d Almighty Himself invite a human to meet at The Tent?? In Hebrew, he wanted to write vayikar (happened) rather than vayikra (He called). The midrash tells us that they compromised on a small alef at the end of the word vayikra, both teaching us the importance to make room for something else in our life. The Tent – ohel moed – is indeed known as the “Tent of Meeting”, and in order to meet, both parties have to come together. Moed also indicates dedicating time, and having a joint destiny (yi’ud).

The Book talks about our lofty connection with G-d, but delves into the most physical aspect that can be: detailed descriptions of animal sacrifices. Poor animals! We can see the picture: the farmer dragging his goat up the hill; the animal, sensing where it’s going, resentful, bleating; the priest waiting at the entrance, taking the struggling creature, trying to calm it but also knowing his task. Top this “barbaric” picture with the current politics surrounding the Temple Mount and the issue of bringing sacrifices becomes more and more unpopular.

But the Torah, quietly and persistently, stands and rejects our modern attitude. For one, it reminds us where meat comes from. It’s not a sealed package in the freezer compartment, not much different from the fruits and veggies in the other aisle. It was a live creature. There is no special blessing for eating meat. It’s a compromise, a necessity, it has a different impact and should not be taken lightly. More important, when brought as an offering, we have to understand “sacrifice”. In Hebrew, korban comes from karov, to come near. The Torah tells us that there is no way to come near to anything without giving up on something. The easiest place to see it is between parents and children. A baby doesn’t do much for the parents except cry, wake them up at night, ask for food, and then ignore them. What creates the bond (in very broad strokes) is the parents’ giving, not receiving. The children in turn, love, give and care to their kids. Visa vie the parents, they are commanded to “honor”. In our modern age, we got it all wrong: being a consumer society, we have the illusion that the more we get, the happier we are, but it turns out it’s about what we give, like St. Francis’s famous line: “in giving we receive”.

As much as it cares about all living things, the Torah here is largely concerned with the person bringing the sacrifice, not the animal, and the text is clear: “adam ki yakriv”- should a person wish to come near to G-d, he needs to give up on something. Giving up on nothing doesn’t create a relationship. And the person wishing or needing this closeness because of growing distance (through a transgression or just because) must give up a part of their animal nature, whether the part of himself that was stubborn, obstinate and fiery (like the bull), followed the herd thoughtlessly (like the sheep), or flippant (like the bird).

And the kids learning Leviticus? Maybe they too open with learning about the need to give, so the journey from childhood to adulthood moves one from natural, dedicated selfishness to learned, developed, dedicates service, awareness and care for another, so in a few portions “love your neighbor as yourself” will make sense. 

My teary friend told me that while helping her husband find a document on his laptop, she came across more than 850 porn clips. Yes, she knew he “is a man” and might have watched “one or two here and there long ago” but 850 were hard to stomach, especially the bestiality rape and other painful images.
When confronting him, he said: “850? Are you making this number up?” And: “I made a mistake: I shouldn’t have asked for your help in the first place”. And then: ”You’re overreacting. You have issues”.
Looking it up on google (“porn and relationships”) just made it worse. She described it “like walking into an endless battered women shelter”. It went on and on, about the husband who’s blaming his wife for his behavior; the confusion and the shattered self-esteem, the demolished joy and loss of security and trust in the relationship; the trade of intimacy and love making for rough bed-conquests, and on and on. I was overwhelmed just listening, so I opened my own search: what does Judaism think about…
Let’s see if we can take a detour and come back, yes, via this week’s parasha.
Pekudei seems to repeat again the last stages of the building of the Mishkan. Most commentators look at it as a “count” of the materials, but the question is, why? We’ve already counted it all before, and the current parasha count is incomplete!
Rav Hirsch (19th century) tells us (maybe warns us-) that translating pekudei as “counting” is wrong. The root for lifkod, P.K.D. is never used in conjunction with plain numbers and counting “stuff” (in contrast with lispor and limnot), only with remembering people. We see it when G-d “remembers” (pakad) Sarah and she conceives (Genesis 21:1); when Joseph tells his brothers that “G-d will indeed remember them” (pakod yifkod), asking to be buried in the Land of Israel (Genesis 50:24), and when G-d says to Moses, “go tell the elders that I have indeed remembered you (pakod pakadeti)… taking you to a land of milk and honey” (Exodus 3:16-17). Next we find the word “mifkad”, a national census which appears in the beginning of the Book of Numbers. Interestingly, the count in the beginning of the Book of Numbers is identical to the one mentioned here- 603,550 men, 20 years old and up. And how are those included in the census called? “pkudim”, the ones who are being “counted”, “remembered”. Likewise, in Modern Hebrew, the same root is used in the IDF: “lehitpaked” is what the commander says when the soldiers count themselves; “nifkad” is an AWOL (absent without leave, namely missing, uncounted) soldier. Pikadon – is a deposit in the bank, and on the other hand, meaningless sex can be referred to as a mispar, just a number.
Why do we count? A mother goose “counts” her eggs, and can detect changes in their numbers. We count our baseball cards, stamps, pets, jewelry, and little fetishes we collect. Basically, we count things we care about to make sure ‘it’s all there’. We count time: when is Shabbat, how many days is the omer, how long till I graduate. We don’t look at our families and say, ‘I have “about” 2 parents alive’. When we daven (pray) we count 10 so we cant say kadish (prayer for someone who passed away). We do this because we value each person as a whole, unique world, made in G-d’s image, yet at the same time, during the Mishkan count, people were counted by bringing “half a shekel”, indicating a whole which is part of a great puzzle. We are part of a bigger picture and our actions are not isolated. We count every person because every person counts, and you can see where I’m going with this.
When we see that nothing matters about a human being (and yes, often a woman), not if she is kind or loving or talented or educated or interesting or successful or hurt or pained; when people are dehumanized, used and reduced to a combination of selfish pleasure object \ beast, it’s ok to “overreact”. Just a little.
In a way, it’s like being pulled back to go to Egypt, where we can “enjoy” bondage, inhumane treatment, and animal worship. Or, we can muster the strength to keep going onward to the Promised Land, where we can grow up in a partnership with people and G-d. The last word (2 words) in the Book of Exodus is “bechol mas’ehem”, throughout their journeys. This is when the cloud will cover the People and protect them. Everything will be provided, but the Torah is adamant: Going back is not an option.

Shabbat Shalom.

Disconnecting to Connect: Vayakhel 1
Finally, the biggest miracle is in this week’s Torah portion! Not the Exodus and not the Splitting of the Sea; not the Manna raining from the Heavens and not even the Giving of the Torah. Why would any of those be miracles? They were all made by G-d, and by definition, He can do anything. The real miracle is when we do something special, something out of the ordinary, and here it comes, almost lost, almost unnoticeable within all the details, but after two and a half Torah portions with instructions how to build the Tabernacle, we’re about to actually begin the project. And the miracle? The Children of Israel are listening! They are following directions! Amazing. And now, boring or not, we’re going to hear about it all over again, except now it’s not going to be as a commandment but as an action.
Moses gathers all the people in order to start constructions: “And Moses assembled all the congregation of the Children of Israel, and said unto them: ‘These are the words which Hashem has commanded, that you should do them” (Exodus 35:1)… We can feel the excitement. Everyone is approaching, hammers, needles and other tools and materials in hand, all ready, finally! Then Moses continues: “Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you a holy day, a Sabbath of solemn rest to Hashem”… Wait, aren’t we building? What is Shabbat doing here??
Shabbat is mentioned a few times throughout the Torah. It says we should “keep it”, “remember it” but how do we know exactly what to do, what not to do? Many of the rules regarding Shabbat are deduced from this section. Moses, by telling the people to work 6 days and dedicate Shabbat as a holy day to Hashem davka here, places Shabbat before all Mishkan related work. That means that anything to do with the construction of the Mishkan is not allowed on Shabbat, giving us the list of 39 melachot, or creative activities.
But there is another way to understand this parasha’s opening: Moshe assembled everybody to build the dwelling place for G-d, and so – this is what they are doing. Shabbat is not a deviation from the topic but part of it. As Rabbi Joshua Heschel said, Shabbat is in time what the Mishkan is in space. In times that we don’t have the physical structure, the wooden planks, colored cloths and golden layered ark, we will still have a “space for G-d” in our midst. Back in Exodus 25:9, we were told: “And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them”. The Mishkan, tells us Moses here, is one way to build G-d a sanctuary, a physical way. Another way is to have Shabbat. Like the Mishkan, Shabbat is a place to enter where where can disconnect from the daily routine and connect back to G-d.
This & That: Vayakhel 2:
“Dy Vehoter” is a common expression in modern Herew. It means – there is enough and too much. I‘ve never given much thought to its origin or deeper meaning until one day I found it in this week’s Torah portion: “For the stuff they had was sufficient for all the work to make it, and too much” (Exodus 36:7). Kudos to Mechon-Mamre for excellent translation, and for resisting the temptation to make sense out of a verse which doesnt. Because, how can there be “sufficient stuff” and “too much (stuff)” all at once?
“Enough” – means, it’s just right, while “too much” means a surplus, so which way is it?
This happens in many other Jewish issues. When asked which way is it, this or that, the answer is often, Yes. Namely, both alternatives, but only when they appear together. Neither option alone would be correct, and in some case, accepting only one half might be even heretical. Instead, we’re asked to hold on to two seemingly contradictory ideas at the same time. Examples?
Early on, we’re taught that humans are made in G-d’s image and from dust. Which way is it? Yes. Abraham is given the blessing to be like the stars in the heaven and the sand of the sea. Which way is it? Yes. And this week, “enough” and “too much”. Which way is it? You guessed it. Yes.
Let’s examine what each adds to our understanding of our place in the world, for that is the Torah’s purpose to begin with. So, if we say (in this case, the material brought for the construction of the Tabernacle), we have enough, “enough” means the amount we have is just right. That means, that without the gift of any one of us, the Tabernacle will be lacking. Wow. That can be a source of pride, and even power: see, without me, this could not be done! Oohh! I’m so great! Everything hinges on me!!
Comes the other half of the verse to balance things out: Sorry, there is too much. Too much? What does it mean “too much”? Does that mean that this project could have been done without me?? Oohh, what a disappointment! I might not be needed!
These are the two conflicting messages one has to hold simultaneously: Yes, you’re needed; No, don’t let that get to you. Yes, you’re one and only; No, don’t think you’re more important than someone else. There is “dy vehoter“.
Acquiring Wisdom: Vayakhel 3
How does one become wise? Read book, google info, listen to elders? The Torah tells us something interesting about acquiring wisdom: “And Moses called Bezalel and Oholiab, and every wise-hearted man in whose heart G-d had put wisdom”…. (Exodus 36:2). This theme repeats again and again in these sections of building the Mishkan, the idea that G-d gives wisdom to those who have wisdom. Well, that does not seem fair! Shouldn’t She give wisdom to those who don’t have it?? How do you get wisdom if you’re already supposed to have it?
One of the first verses in the morning prayer is: “resheet chochma – yir’at Hashem” – “the beginning of wisdom is (to be in) awe of G-d”(Psalms 111:10). This is then juxtaposed with another idea that “everything is in the hands of Heavens except the awe of Heavens (G-d)” (Babylonian Talmud, Brachot 33:3). From that we learn, that there is a foundation to wisdom which is up to us. We are like a gardener that needs to till the ground before sowing. Some work is on us before we can expect the gift of wisdom.

Shabbat Shalom!

The sounds of a party reached Moses’ ears, descending from Mt Sinai. Approaching, he caught a glimpse of a Golden Calf glistening in the sun but after 40 days up there, learning Torah with G-d Himself and harmonizing with the angels, he was in such a high spiritual place, nothing fazed him. He knew just what he had to do: Carefully, he handed the precious two tablets to Joshua, his ever devoted servant, and with a smile, tapped Aaron on the shoulder. “Hey, Bro, what’s happenin’?”
“Nothing much”, replied the older brother, catching his breath and whipping his sweaty forward with the sleeve of his priestly garment, “A small celebration. The peeps missed you so much!”
“Well”, says Moses, still smiling, “I do appreciate the effort and the gesture; it’s beautiful. But, ahem”, he clears his throat and pulls Aaron to a secluded area where they can speak privately, “to tell you the truth, I’m not 100% comfortable with it. Do you mind if we pencil in a time to talk about it some more? How’s next Tuesday between the morning and afternoon offerings? Thanks. And thanks for taking care of things while I was away. I tell you, Sinai? That was something!”
If by now you’re scratching your head, having no idea where is this story in our scriptures, rest assured: It’s nowhere. I made it up as the “politically correct” alternative to Moses’ famous angry outburst, smashing the tablets, grinding the golden statue into the drinking water and killing some of the key participators, and I’m curious, do we like this soft spoken, very controlled, all smiles Moses better?
The sages are very critical of Moses’ anger: Rambam (Maimonides, 12th century) says that “anyone who is angry is like worshiping idols”. He is quoting the Babylonian Talmud (Shabbat 105) which says: “the one who tears his garments in anger, breaks his vessels in anger and scatters his coins – in anger, should be viewed in your eyes as an idolater”. Reish Lakish, famous sage and leader of the 1st-2nd century, is quoted to say: “anyone who gets angry, his wisdom departs from him”.
What is idolatry? I see it as a statement about priorities; about putting G-d first, and all else – second. Us getting angry means we put our ideas of what supposed to happen before what G-d caused. We express distrust that this – whatever this is – is what meant to be, what is best for us, what G-d wills. We are ungrateful to life’s gifts. We “want” a better outcome, another option, a different god, and all that can be viewed as idolatry. And the wisdom departing? That is a consequence, not a punishment because when we’re consumed with anger, there is no room for anything else inside us, and any clear, constructive thought, just evaporates.
And yet.
A few days ago, we went to see the movie “Her”. Briefly, set in the Los Angeles of the slight future, the story follows Theodore Twombly. Heartbroken after the end of a long relationship, he is delighted to meet “Samantha,” a female voice (a flat and expected “oh honey” female voice) of a computer operating system. Soon, their relationship “deepens” and they “fall in love”.
As is evident from the critics, some who rave about it and some who walk out 15 minutes into it, this is simultaneously an excellent, thought-provoking and most aggravating film. It raises questions about love and “coupleship”, and looks into who we are, where we’re going to and what can become of us in this tech-driven age. Not to ruin the movie for you if you haven’t seen it, let’s just say that eventually, the prince and Samantha don’t live happily ever after. In spite of her seeming sophistication (guessing in advance how to arrange his thousands of emails, unable to sleep “thinking of him” etc etc), the bottom line is – she doesn’t have toes. It’s great fun to talk to her (especially when she says everything he wants to hear -) but when he discovers she also “talks” to another 800,000 some people at the same time, 6000 some of whom she is in love with, sleeping with a blinking square, half the size of one’s iphone, seems less and less like a good idea.
And the point (now that I ruined the movie for you after all)??
Yes, anger can be dangerous and it should be treated, like all fire, with much care and caution. It’s really too bad Moses broke the tablets, but we need to make peace with who we are as humans, because the alternatives are much worse.

“And you shall command the Children of Israel…” this is how this week’s reading begins, rather than in the usual “and G-d spoke to Moses saying”…
This is the only portion throughout the Torah since Moses’s birth where his name is not mentioned even once, and as we can imagine, 3000 years of careful text exploration, didn’t miss this seemingly minor detail.
Accordingly, Moses’s name is not mentioned this week because of happened during the sin of Golden Calf (coming up next week).  G-d told Moses that he’s had it with this People, and that He and Moses should start from scratch with another nation which they can run as they wish. Moses begs and asks G-d to rethink this idea. ‘After all, says Moses (in a much more Biblical language), who is going to want to be Your People if every time they mess-up, You go crazy and annihilate them all? No great PR, dear G-d! I prefer that if you have to punish someone, or give up on someone, why, you might as well erase me from Your book, just don’t harm them’. Thus, because he said, “erase me from Your book” (Exodus 32:32), there is one Torah portion where he is not mentioned. This portion usually falls in the beginning of Adar, and even though, according to tradition, we are extra joyous when the month of Adar begins, we also recall a sad day, for during this month we commemorate Moses’ birthday and the day he died (7th of Adar, coming up this Friday).
As usual, some see the fact that Moses is missing from one portion as a “punishment” or as a “lesson”: Moses too should be careful with his words, and not say serious things “stam” (for nothing). But there are those who see it as a compliment: Moses asked G-d “please erase me”, and G-d, like a generous King who loves his minister dearly – listened to his request, and metaphorically, gives him His pen and lets him “scribble” as he wishes. And the greater lesson? That the same words can produce opposing commentary, and still, call it Torah and keep it for thousands of years.
And yet, another commentary: Last week, we read Truma, the section about collecting donations and gifts, and Moses’s name is mentioned numerous times. But this week, we talk about distribution of the funds, and when it comes to distributions, there might be suspicious and accusations so it’s better for leaders to avoid this. Moses, too, was cautious and stayed away…
“And you shall command”… Last week we saw how each person brought something to the building of the Mishkan, the mobile Temple. People brought gold, silver, crimson cloth, acacia wood, and maybe Moses was saddened for not bringing anything. But we’re taught (in Pirkei Avot 4:3) that “there is no person who doesn’t have a time and no thing that doesn’t have a place” (where he/it can shine and contribute). Therefore, G-d says to Moses, ‘just because you don’t bring “stuff” like everybody, doesn’t mean you don’t have a special gift to give. Your gift is your teaching. “You shall command”. And the proof that this is a better gift? One day, the Mishkan will be gone but the Torah that you Moses have taught, remains forever’.
The name of this parasha, “Tetzave” is indeed related to command and thus, mitzvah; but it is also related to tzavta, Aramaic word for “togetherness”, and tzevet, modern Hebrew word for “team”. Maybe to teach us that there is a connection between the mitzvoth and our togetherness?
Either way, these were just 2 words from this week’s portion so much is left (hint in pictures below). Join us this Shabbat at our home for Chamin & Chavruta to continue our learning.
Shabbat Shalom!