The Eighth Day

 

                                                                 “And it came to pass on the eight day, that Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel…”

This week’s Parashah (Torah portion) is called “Shmini” (The Eight), Leviticus 9:1 through 11:47. It addresses various topics. Among them, it relates the tragedy that befell Aharon’s two sons.

 The issue I wish to address in this article is the one concerning the consecration of the Mishkan (God’s dwelling place).

The seven days in which Moshe performed all the necessary tasks preparing for the consecration of the Mishkan are over. On the eighth day, he summons Aharon and his two sons to, officially, pass on to them the scepter of priesthood.

I want to share with you, dear readers, a different perspective on this subject, one that the titular name evoked in me.

Years ago, I saw a French movie called “The Eighth Day.” It unfolds the story of a professional man, named Harry who becomes a workaholic. The money he earns affords him the pursuit of many materialistic gratifications. Harry drives a nice car. He buys a spacious and beautiful house full of precious items. Unfortunately, it is devoid of warmth or inviolability. It is just a house, not a home.  His family nucleus begins to disintegrate. His wife leaves him taking their two daughters and he becomes a recluse and very unhappy.

It is at one of his most difficult moments that Harry meets and befriends Georges, a young down syndrome man. Georges becomes his spiritual director. He guides Harry through a healing process. He helps him slow down and teaches him the importance of appreciating the natural world around us. Eventually, Harry reunites with his family and they live happily ever after.

Unfortunately, as is the case with most down syndrome victims, Georges dies at a young age. As the angels are carrying his soul to heaven, the narrator recounts the story of the creation in Genesis day by day. “And on the Sabbath, G-d rested,” he tells us, “looked at his world and thought ‘what is missing in my world?’ So,” the narrator concludes, “on the eight day, He created Georges.”

The eighth day, mentioned in this Parashah, derives its name, “Shmini,” from the very first verse which states: “And it came to pass on the eight day, that Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel…” On this day, The Mishkan is consecrated.

Unlike the narrative presented in the movie that I mentioned above, on the Seventh Day of creation, when G-d rested, he had already known what was missing in His world. He had already known what had to occur on the Eight Day. For six days He had been working on creating a world for us, humans, a perfect dwelling place, a world to satisfy our physical needs and existence. G-d, in his wisdom, did not want us to end up like Harry in the story above. He knew that the physical universe He had created was just a house. It needed to become a Home, a place that would include a spiritual dimension, righteousness and morality, a place where we, its dwellers, would be blessed with an appreciation for the gifts of life bestowed upon us by Him.

What was, therefore, needed to be formed on “The Eight Day” was a dwelling place for G-d, among us. It would have been the missing piece, the one that would make His creation complete.

 Naturally, some may argue that G-d, the omnipotent, could have, himself, created “the Eight Day” merely by speaking, just as he had done on the previous six days. Why, then, didn’t He?

In order to answer this question, let me take you back to the Book of Shemot (Exodus), more specifically Chapter 25 verse 8, where G-d tells Moses, “Then have them make a sanctuary for me, and I will dwell among them.” The task of building a dwelling place for G-d, not only amidst them but in them, in their heart, is upon Am Yisrael. ( I refer you to an article I wrote on the subject last year: https://wingnsonawildflight.blogspot.com/2020/02/terumah-building-tabernacle-within-us.html)
Only then would the world be the Home that G-d had intended it to become for us and through us, for humanity.

"The Eight Day" in G-d’s plan, therefore, is the day on which the Tabernacle, which Bezalel, who was blessed with the wisdom of the heart designed and which Am Yisrael together contributed to and jointly built. It is the day in which the spiritual universe, which G-d had planned for us to built for ourselves, bonded and merged into one with the physical world that He had set up in Genesis.

 It is our duty to ensure that the Eighth Day and what it stands for remains an inseparable part of the rest of the week. We need to preserve it as G-d had intended it to be, not just a “house” but a “home,” as well. It is the only means to heal and restore that which has become, in the words of the late Lord Rabbi Sacks, “a fractured world.”

Shavua tov

The Perpetual Flame

“The fire must be kept burning on the altar continuously; it must not go out.” Leviticus 6:13

Fire is one of the five elements of nature. It is probably the most fascinating one of them. One cannot avoid being attracted and mesmerized by its dynamics and power when watching it. Along with its symbolism, fire has steered mankind since the dawn of civilization. It has been used in  social, religious and sacred rites. It is a wonderful gift which can cleanse, purge, and empower us, inspire, and enrich us. Unfortunately, when unbridled, it can also harm us. It can consume and turn into ashes anything that stands in its path.

Fire and its role in conducting the affairs of the Mishkan, mainly with regards to the rituals of the various sacrifices, is one of the central themes in this week’s Parashah, Tzav. Many of the various sacrifices were mentioned in last week’s Parashah. However, while there, it discussed the laws that concern the persons who bring the sacrifice, in this week’s Parashah, the commands are relegated to the Cohanim (priests), namely Aharon and his sons.

G-d instructs Moshe to command (Tzav) them and pass on to them the decrees, duties and rights concerning the ceremonies and rituals of sacrifices. The central tool around which most of the chores and services in the Mishkan take place is’ as we learn, the altar.

Part of the directives of conducting the work of the Mishkan, focus on the Esh Hatamid, the eternal fire, which was constantly burning on the altar of the Mishkan. The flame signifies the altar's incessant task: even when no sacrifice is offered, the altar is always on a “stand by” mode, ready to perform its mission.

In his  book “Likutei Torah,” the Lubavitcher Rebbe, states that the altar is akin to the heart of a Jew. Rabbi Elimelech, similarly, describes every Jew as an altar and their sanctity as akin to the eternal flame. Just as the altar should have the perpetual fire, he claims, so within every Jew, there should always be a burning desire to aspire to as close to being holy as possible. Just as the Cohanim needed to ensure that the altar fire never extinguishes, so do we, Jews and Am Yisrael, need to engage in the service of Hashem so that our inviolability does not get quenched.

I beg to differ with these views. Every Jew is not just “an altar.”

A few weeks ago, I addressed the directive to build a Mishkan for G-d. In my article entitled, “Terumah" – Building a Tabernacle Within Us,” I suggested that when G-d instructed Moshe to command Bnei Yisrael to build a Mishkan for him, that He “also meant a spiritual Tabernacle, one that will create a permanent dwelling place for Him not only in their camp but also in their heart, in their soul. G-d wants to dwell “in them” not only among them. He wishes to be part of their essence.”

In my view, G-d wants us to have a Mishkan within us, to be, ourselves a Mishkan, a sanctuary, a vital and spirited entity that is cloaked in holiness: “For you are a Holy Nation to the Lord, your G-d. Out of all the peoples on the face of the earth’ the Lord has chosen you to be his treasured possession” (Devarim 14:2). And just like the Eternal fire that burns in G-d’s dwelling place among us, so should an eternal vibrant flame burn within us, in our Mishkan.

 The word “holy” in Hebrew is the same root as dedication. It denotes loyalty and a concerted effort try and reach higher levels of existence, the spiritual kind and what Rabbi Berel Weil refers to as “nobility of purpose. A holy nation,” he states, “… is a nation that is able to retain its unique identity. It cannot be swallowed up by the prevailing and ever changing majority cultures that will always surround it.”

The Eternal Flame that burns on the altar of our individual Mishkan is the fervor, the passion with which we will continue to guard, protect and continue to adhere to our noble Jewish values, Torah moral code and ethics, our wonderful tradition and our designated role in History, that of being “A Light unto the Nations.”

This Flame within us will be the Pillar of Fire which will illuminate our Life’s path and help us remain, in the words of Rabbi Weil, “a Holy Nation in every walk of life, at Home and at the marketplace, in the halls of government – and certainly in the treatment of others.”

Wishing everyone Shabbat Shalom with every blessing for abundant health.