"The Fewest of All Peoples"

 

“The LORD did not set His love upon you, nor choose you, because ye were more in number than any people--for ye were the fewest of all peoples,” Devarim 7:7.

This verse, as the Torah cites, states that one of the reasons, if not the main one, as to why G-d elected Am Yisrael, gave them the Torah and declared them to be to be His “first born son,” which in Biblical times bore great significance, especially in matters of inheritance.  In a way, it is our smallness, so it seems, that has defined our essence.

In addition to providing the reason for choosing Am Yisrael, the verse is also a prediction, a form of prophecy. Judging by Jewish history, our tiny size is how it has always been and how, so it seems, it was always meant to be, and I doubt that there is a person who would not recognize the reality that Jews are indeed but a small sliver of humanity, a mere speck among the nations.

Before anyone jumps at me and claims that such “choseness” implies some kind of elitism, a religious or “racial superiority” (Mordechai M. Kaplan, Judaism as a Civilization), let me suggest that nothing could be further from the truth. Such an assertion would go against any of the highest ethical values and ideals prescribed by the Torah, which, according to tradition, is the word of G-d. Furthermore, lest some feel superior and conclude that since Yisrael was singled out, others were rejected, the prophet Amos, in an effort to curtail such arrogance, declared, “Concerning the whole family that I brought up from the land of Egypt: You alone have I singled out of all the families of the earth—That is why I will call you to account for all your inequities,” (Amos 3:2).

In my last article, I mentioned the Midrash which explains that G-d peddled the Torah among other nations that existed at that time. As the Midrash further states, they all refused. When He reached Am Yisrael, they responded unanimously, “we shall abide, and we shall listen,” (Shemot 24:3).

Israel Zangvill explains the matter of “choseness” most aptly. According to him, “It is not so much a matter of the chosen People as the choosing People.” This suggests a process of reciprocity. There are strings attached to the “choseness.”

The most important one is invariably linked to a telos, more precisely, a spiritual vocation.

According to Yehezkel Kaufmann, the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah perceived G-d’s choice of Am Yisrael as a means to a final end. The choice, which includes Torah, Shabbat, Mitzvot, sanctity of Life and service to G-d is for the purpose of teaching monotheism, removing idolatry, suppressing human arrogance, ending wars, violence, greed lust and building a better world for all humanity. This is clearly expressed in the directive mentioned in Vayikra (Leviticus) 19:2, “You shall be holy, for I the Lord, your G-d, am holy.” Prior to that, in Shemot 19:2, G-d instructs Moshe to speak to Am Yisrael and tell them: “you shall be to me a kingdom of priests.”

Our wise sages interpreted these two verses to mean, “You must consider yourselves part of the King’s retinue and emulate Him. Just as He is compassionate and merciful, so shall you be.” [Sifra (ed. Weiss), p. 86b]. This is the core of reciprocal holiness. Piety and becoming “G-d - like” requires the chosen to engage in imitatio dei.

Another reason for our minuteness being such an important factor in defining our Divine role rests in the message delivered by the annals of history.

Being so small in numbers, our Jewish People should have, according to laws of logic, history, and nature, disappeared either through persecution or assimilation. Our ongoing presence is a miracle. The fact that we have not only survived all the harsh onslaughts, past and present, but that we have also thrived, impacted, and contributed to world civilization is a living testimony to the existence of G-d and His Divine promise to Jews, in particular, and mankind, in general.

Shavua tov, Am Yisrael and a wonderful week to all.

The Ten Commandments

 

A bird’s eye view of the Torah will reveal to us that there are two sets of the Ten Commandments. One can be found in the Book of Shemot (Exodus), chapter 20, rendering the original version delivered by G-d to Moshe. The other, in the Book of Devarim (Deuteronomy), chapter 5, is where Moshe reviews the Torah and stresses its centrality and the centrality of the Ten Commandments in the life of Am Yisrael.

A closer look at the two texts will show some differences between their versions.

It is important to note that these differences are not merely semantical. Some have very practical implications. For instance, in the Book of Shemot, it states, “Remember the Shabbat.” In Devarim, however, we are required to keep, to observe the Shabbat and abstain from performing certain chores and tasks which may interfere with our rest, the main goal of Shabbat.

Likewise, the tenth commandment, in Shemot, instructs us not to “covet” that which is not ours and not engage in any act to obtain it. In Devarim, Moshe adds the word “desire,” which in addition forbids us from even, covertly, entertaining the thought.

Naturally, one may ask, if Moshe closely and accurately repeats the words of G-d, how did these differences emerge?

Some of them have specific explanations such as the well-known explanation of Chaza”l which states “remember and observe were required in one commandment.” (Babylonian Talmud, Shavuot Tractate, Leaf C, Page B). According to Chaza”l, at Mount Sinai, G-d said both words, miraculously, at once. Chaza”l further add that in documenting the Commandments in the Torah, one of each was selected each time.

Another explanation is given in the Midrash where it states that the two versions are in accordance with the two sets of the tablets that were given to Am Yisrael. The one appearing in Shemot is the one written on the original tablets which Moshe shattered after the sin of the Golden Calf, whereas the one in Devarim is the one carved on the second set given to Moshe when he went back to Mount Sinai to ask forgiveness for Am Yisrael.

Several years ago, I wrote an article where I suggested that the Torah and the Ten Commandments are a manual which is composed of two parts. One part is that which contains the Mitzvot for Am Yisrael only. The other is the moral code it preaches which is both for Am Yisrael and the world.

There is a Midrash that supports my assertion. That Midrash tells us that prior to Mount Sinai, G-d offered the Torah to all nations, and they rejected it, until He reached Am Yisrael who embraced it. On that basis, one may surmise that the original account of the Ten Commandments, in the Book of Shemot, was created for non-Jewish recipients, the nations to whom G-d proposed the Torah first, while the Devarim version was meant for Am Yisrael and Jews only.

This might explain why in Shemot, the commandment regarding Shabbat is to “remember” the Shabbat and in Deuteronomy, the requirement is to “observe” it. Additionally, in the Book of Shemot, the reason given for the requirement to remember the Shabbat is the creation of the world in six days whereas in Devarim, comes, instead, the story of the Exodus from Egypt which is pertinent to Am Yisrael only.

Another reason for the difference, I believe, lies with the fact that forty years have passed between the two versions. During that time, Am Yisrael which started its desert journey as former slaves, has matured, and possibly also become riper and readier to internalize G-d’s message and lesson. Moshe, the great teacher must have grasped it. He probably recognized that the lesson taught on Mount Sinai needed to be processed, and certain parts of it, perhaps, needed stressing, more than other ones, and, thus, edited some of the commandments in order to help facilitate the implementation and execution of the Mitzvot.

Whatever the reason for the differences between the two mentioned versions, one fact remains clear. Moshe understood that any lesson, especially one as important as that of the Torah, needs to be repeated and reinstructed or else no learning will be accomplished.

Shabbat Shalom to you, fellow Jews and Am Yisrael and a meaningful weekend to all

 

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 Art of Asking Questions

 

“The art and science of asking questions is the source of all knowledge.” – Thomas Berger
“A Wise man’s question contains half the answer.” – Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Last night was the first night of Pesach when Jews commemorate and celebrate our ancestors’ "Exodus" from Egypt, and the liberation from slavery. The “Seder,” is the festive meal that opens this especially important Holy Day, recalling, reminding, and educating our younger generation about the significant chain of events which preceded that momentous outcome. It is chronicled in the “Haggadah,” the book we read during that occasion.

I remember my childhood “Seders.” Being a curious child, I wanted to know everything about it. I sought to learn why the Seder plate had certain foods on it or why the table was arranged the way it was. I also wanted to know why we eat "Matzah," "Charoset," and other kinds of food which are consumed only on this night and this Holy Day. I was curious about some of the terms and the logic behind some of the customs. I was eager to learn why this night was different than any other night. In short, I had many questions.

“What a great question,” I remember my father commenting on some of my queries. “And another good one,” he would remark on others as he was caressing me with his soft eyes. “Don’t ever stop asking,” he kept encouraging me, “we learn about our world and our life by asking questions.”

As I grew older and delved deeper into the content of the “Haggadah,” I realized that it was not my wisdom or dexterity that prompted me to ask all those “good questions” which made my father so proud of me. Rather, it was the ingenuity of those who, so prudently, crafted the art of asking questions - the essence, and the fabric of the “Haggadah.” The way they outlined the “Seder” (order in Hebrew), sparked my strong sense of curiosity, and led me to ask those questions.

A bird’s eye view of the “Haggadah” will reveal to us that it is laced with distinctive symbolic acts and food. It is not happenstance. They were deliberately created and aimed at raising curiosity, interest and stimulating inquisitiveness.

The directive to tell and retell the story of the “Exodus” is mentioned in the Torah. Moreover, it is provided in the form of a commandment weaving a hypothetical conversation between parent and child: “If your son asks you in time to come . . . you shall say to your son, ‘We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and G-d took us out of Egypt with a strong hand.’”  D’varim (Deuturonomy) 6:20-21. The wise rabbis understood that the telling over of the story of the “Exodus” is meant and should be in a question-and-answer format.

These sages, obviously, recognized that at the core of asking questions is the desire to know, learn and understand. Questions are the fuel of growth and the best way to gain deeper acumens. Asking questions is, in itself, a creative activity, perhaps the epitome of human creativity. The skill of asking questions is, according to Jerome Brunner, the ability to go “beyond given information.” It grants us the opportunity to examine issues from a different angle. The greatest inventors and scientists in human history, people such as Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein and many others asked fundamental questions which eventually led to their marvelous breakthroughs.  Philosophers and thinkers devote their whole lives to asking questions about the meaning of life, morality, truth, human behaviour and the divinity of G-d.

Realizing the significance and developmental benefits of asking questions and since the “Seder” is all about provoking questions, the sages have also instituted a few unique rituals to be performed at the Seder table for the mere purpose of arousing curiosity among children, teaching and triggering them to probe for answers. The very fact that we are doing something different, they discerned, will lend itself to an additional question, answer, and further growth.

What a great legacy and what a blessing it is to be part of it.
Happy and meaningful Pesach.

The Perpetual Desert Generation?

Two weeks ago, Jews the world over celebrated Pesach, the Holy Day marking our People’s Exodus from Egypt and embarking on our journey from slavery into freedom. For me, at least, it bears a very meaningful period in our Jewish timeline.

Unfortunately, this Pesach was quite a different one, one that we are not going to forget anytime soon. This year, it was celebrated in the shadow of Corona, serving as a reminder of the fragility of the fabric of our existence.

It is not just Corona, however, that served as a wakeup call for many. For some, myself included, this Pesach, unfortunately, presented, yet another proof that though we may have physically come out of bondage, mentally and emotionally, we are still drenched and perceptually bear the yoke of serfdom. We are still in the Sinai desert trying to make our way to the Promised Land.

Remember how our forefathers complained to Moshe on a regular basis during that time? Here are some examples.

Exodus 16:3 : “If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.”

In Exodus 17:3, we hear a similar gripe when they accuse Moshe of trying to kill them. This time, though, they add, “children and livestock,” thus making the accusations against him even more severe by including these two feeble and vulnerable groups. “Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?”

Later, in Exodus 32, when Moshe is away on Mount Sinai, receiving the Torah, the Yisraelites lose patience and continue with their complaints. Aharon, who is not well versed in the art of leadership, caves in and erects the golden calf.

This was going on for forty years when all that Moshe wanted was to deliver our People to their own Land and secure their future.

Fast forward a few thousand years. That brings us to the modern-day Jewish state of Yisrael.

Looking around me nowadays, I see members of a Nation and a country that I love so dearly. Although we have moved forward and are experiencing the opulence of the Age of Technology with its many conveniences, something that did not exist during the Exodus, attitude wise, not much seems to have changed. Our mindsets and reactions to serious issues has unfortunately remained pretty much the same. It pangs me to see that we are still doing what our forefathers did thousands of years ago during what should have been considered a landmark in our history.

We are still complaining precisely as did the Biblical desert generation.

When we could celebrate Pesach freely among family and friends, many Yisraelis preferred to do it on some remote exotic island. It is probably and most likely because they did not want to be in the company of salivating auntie Frida and blabbering uncle Maurice.

Now, we have an epidemic, rather a pandemic which forces us into a new reality. “Now” they told us, “you are relieved of the company of auntie Frida and uncle Maurice. In fact, we forbid you to spend any time with them.”

And what do some do in response? Yes, they complain, as did the desert generation. .

The Yisraeli Health Ministry issued some extremely strict guidelines in order to stamp out a virus that has claimed many lives. These directives have one goal and one goal only. It is to secure the health well-being of Yisraelis (a tactic which, by the way, proved itself as remarkably effective).

And how do we react? You guessed right again. Just like them.

We keep complaining while some still refuse to cooperate and to adhere to the instructions.

I could come up with some more examples to prove my point. But you do get my gist, don’t you?

For a nation, a People that has been through so much in history, witnessed so many miracles, saw devastation and renewal, death, and rebirth we, Jews have much to be grateful for.

But hey, if we follow the logic of Cohen’s quote above, I guess the question that is begging to be asked is, if we drop our complaints, would we still be Jewish?

Happy Independence Day, Medinat Yisrael and Am Yisrael.

When Does A Belief Become Part Of A Nation’s Historical Timeline?

The following article was written by Tal Gilad a Yisraeli journalist. It was translated into English by Bat-Zion Susskind-Sacks

It seems that there is no point anymore in addressing the question as to whether there was an Exodus from Egypt or not, since this issue and any opinion about it is affected mainly by agenda. Those who despise anything related to religion / faith (or in fact loathe anything other than Macchiato) qvell in the yearly opportunity to mock the entrenched myth, and whoever is for Bibi is also for Moses. For some reason, the two go hand in hand/ Yes, of course it is a generalization and I know that also on the Right there are those who scorn faith and currently hold haughty rational positions. That’s ok.

I have no doubt that the Exodus from Egypt did take place since we have no reason to believe it did not. What is unusual in a story about a People which wanders from one place to another? Had I wanted to invent an impressive myth about our origin, the last thing that would have jumped into my mind would be to describe us as a bunch of nebechs who had run away from their masters and on the way did some ugly deeds as the Tanach tells us. It would have been far more exciting to tell how the first Man fought an evil dragon but during the battle bumped into a bush which tore off his foreskin. And while he was hurting and bemoaning, a voice came out of Heaven and said: “Oh, Man, do not cry and do not despair, for this circumcised one will become a great nation.” A rain of children started to pour from Heaven and they became the People of Yisrael who overcame the dragon. And since then, we perform circumcision to commemorate the victory and we eat Matzot because the First Man broke the dragon’s head with a wooden board.

We can invent a hundred stories like this, per day. And indeed, there are plenty of such stories in other people’s mythologies.

The Exodus from Egypt does not fulfill the criterion of an unfounded tale. Remove the parts with miracles, if you wish, or reduce the number of people to a mere few thousands, still what is unreasonable about it? “There is no archaeological evidence.”

There is evidence,, however, it cannot be connected, with any certainty, to the Exodus from Egypt. Archaeology is a young discipline. About Egypt, in general, there is still much that is unknown. “No skeletons.” A skeleton erodes and crumbles in a matter of a few decades. What we find, occasionally, are a million years old fossils, lucky skeletons which were surrounded by conditions that allowed them to mix with the minerals and thus survived. Otherwise, the whole planet would be covered with human and animal skeletons.

The story of the Exodus from Egypt is detailed, long and filled with ups and downs and unpleasant details. Were it just a Harry Potter story, no one would have celebrated it every year, actually twice, Pesach and Sukkot. It is fair to assume that not everything happened exactly as told but its nucleus sounds entirely realistic.

Even the Egyptians had a somewhat incensed version of the story of the Exodus. Manetho, an Egyptian historian on the 3^rd century, B.C.E., claimed that the Children of Yisrael are the Hyksos, foreign rulers who were expelled out of Egypt in the 16^th century B.C.E. In ancient Egypt, “The lepers’ libel,” which claimed that the Children of Yisrael were forcefully banished since they were lepers, was circulated, Yuck.

Ok, let us leave a typical narrative of “no way have I lost,” the kind we  hear from our surrounding nations who continue to assert their victory even without their teeth and withn their head is stuck downward in a barrel. The fact is that the narrative refers to that tale. 

In Hebrew there are quite a few words which originated in ancient Egypt, including the name “Moshe (Moses)” which simply means “son.” The suffix, “messes” was commonly used in in ancient Egypt. One of the names that is related to Egypt is Ramsses II, who according to some researchers is the Pharoah mentioned in the Book of Exodus. Circumcision, which Jews practice to signify our unique covenant with G-d,  was customary in Egypt before we adopted it.

The Greek historian, Heroditus, states that “the Syrians who lived in Palestine” (The Jews who lived   and worked in the coastline area which was named after the Philistines) circumcise their sons in the Egyptian tradition, unlike other nations in the region.

Papyrus Ipower, the ancient Egyptian papyrus, describes events, some of which astonishingly resemble the ten plagues, which means that if it were a legend – it originated in Egypt. Ancient Egyptian wall paintings portray Semitic Peoples arriving to Egypt, nothing unusual about it, the Hyksos, likewise, were Semitic. Egypt’s protectorate spread all the way to Northern Eretz Yisrael, albeit shaky.

It all points to a strong bond between Am Yisrael and Egypt.

Were this story not related to religion, the tables would have been turned: the Left would have basked with great pleasure in the story of the Exodus from Egypt and see it as yet another proof that from the onset came from another Land. In fact, the average Leftist might have a dilemma here – who does it hate more, the Jewish faith or Eretz Yisrael. Hatred towards religion gains strength here in Yisrael because it is imprinted in our blood for many more generations. So let us say this – if the Right and the observant Jews insist that we came from Egypt, then perhaps it is true.

Leviticus

I have long objected to using Greek or Latin names that were given to our Holy Torah. Bresheet has become, “Genesis.” Shemot has become Exodus and Bamidbar “Numbers.”

The Latin name, “Leviticus,” given to the 3rd Chumash,”Vaykrah, however, is the only one that I can live with.

Why?

Leviticus is derived from the word Levi, the name of the tribe from which the Cohanim (Priests) and Levites who served G-d in the Temple, come from. Levitcus, is also referred to as the “Book of Cohanim”.

Professor Yacob Milgrom (1923-2010) whom I had the great honour and pleasure to have met while I was in graduate school at Berkeley (that is where he conducted his research) calls Leviticus the “Book of Rituals and Ethics.” The book does contain and discuss the laws pertaining to the Cohanim and Levites and other ceremonial observances such as sacrifices and those relating to purity.

What is unique about Leviticus that does not exist in the previous three Torah books?

Leviticus introduces two new kinds of sacrifices: sin offering and guilt offering. It also mentions the subject of contamination for the first time.

Before anyone points out to me that sin offering is already mentioned in Shemot chapter 29, as part of the construction of the Mishkan, it is noteworthy to mention that, there, the sin offering is not aimed at absolving anyone from transgression (which is its goal) but for the sole purpose of cleansing the altar.

The Torah also gives us the reason for the need for such an offering in Leviticus 16:16, “In this way, he will make atonement for the Most Holy Place because of the uncleanliness and rebellion of the Israelites, whatever their sins have been. He is to do the same for the tent of meeting, which is among them during their uncleanliness.”

Leviticus is the first Book of the Torah that raises the issues of impurity and defilement. The mention of sin and guilt offerings brings to the awareness of people that humans and vessels can be contaminated. It also stresses that one can cleanse oneself of any uncleanness. The Leviticus author dwells on these in detail and at length and for ONE reason, the Mishkan.

Before the erection of the Mishkan, a Yisraelite could set up an altar and sacrifice anywhere. However, when the Mishkan was constructed, it became the only place anyone could offer a sacrifice to G-d. In the Mishkan of Shemot, it was only Moshe and Cohanikm who conferred with G-d. Leviticus turns the into a place where every human can confer with G-d through sacrifice offering. It is no longer exclusively for Moses and the Cohanim.

The Mishkan of Vayikra has, therefore, taken on a new factor. It must remain the holiest, purest ,cleanest and most untainted place in the camp. This new reality has created a need for new laws in order to protect it from the impurity that resulted from the sins of Bnei Yisrael. That, of course, explains the verse from Leviticus 16:16 which I quoted above.

It is sad that Leviticus is not studied widely or given more attention. Many regard it as dealing with ancient practices which dissipated a long time ago.

As a result, unfortunately, we fail to understand its important message to us, especially these days.

The message of Leviticus is that each and everyone of us should be part of the effort to keep the Shechina among us. In order to be worthy of that, we need to ensure, especially during these hard days, that we adhere to our objective to remain as clean and pure both Physically and Spiritually. Only this way can we fulfill the destiny of being Am Kadosh, a Holy Nation and overcome the most ferocious enemies.

Shabbat Shalom and every blessing.

"Terumah" – Building a Tabernacle Within Us

One of the topics of this week’s Parashah, Terumah, addresses the construction of the Tabernacle, Mishkan, the transportable house of worship which G-d orders Moses to instruct the Yisraelites to build for him: “have them make a sanctuary for me, and I will dwell among them.” (Exodus 25:8). The Parashah discusses the subject at length, rather exhaustively and with much details.

“It was a modest affair,” states Rabbi Sacks when reviewing the issue of the Tabernacle in his excellent book, “The Home We Build Together.” According to him, and rightly so, “it had, or so it seems, no lasting significance….. So why is the story of the Tabernacle told at such length?” he asks.

Sacks believes that “the {Tabernacle} narrative is deliberately constructed in such a way as to create a set of linguistic parallels between the Yisraelites’ construction of the Tabernacle and G-d’s creation of the universe.” According to Sacks, in “commanding Moses to get the people to make the Tabernacle, G-d was in effect saying: To turn a group; of individuals into a conventional nation, they must build something together.” The kind of Nation that the children of Yisrael were destined to become “is created through the act of creation itself,” Sacks adds.

The Tabernacle which “was built out of difference and diversity” and which was built out of the differential contributions where each was valued equally…….was a visible emblem of community,“ Sacks goes on to say. “It represented…, in social terms integration without assimilation.” The Tabernacle, therefore, is the symbol of society,” Sacks explains. Once we recognize that, we understand the parallelism between the story of creation and the construction of the Tabernacle and its “immense implication: Just as God creates the natural world, so we are called on to create the social universe.”

As always, I am, again, in awe of Sacks’s brilliant interpretation of this Parashah.  I believe, however, that there is another angle that it can be looked at. It stems from the Hebrew choice of words in G-d’s directive to Moses regarding the construction of the Tabernacle, which, unfortunately, is mistranslated..

The Hebrew word, “B’tocham,” that the text uses, means “in them” and not “among them” as the English translation states. That difference sheds another light on what I reckon G-d intended.

My understanding of G-d’s command to Moses is that it is not only the material portable structure that He was referring to. I believe that G-d 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.

As significant a step as it was towards helping them become a nation, the Yisraelites did not need only a social universe.  They need to remember that G-d did not intend for them to be a nation just like any other. They are G-d’s chosen People. Without internalizing that notion, without understanding it, their social universe, on its own, would not last long. Without G-d ‘s dwelling in them and not merely among them, as a constant reminder of the Covenant entered at Mount Sinai, they would never accomplish the role that they were called to fulfill.

I would venture, therefore, to add another dimension to Rabbi’s Sacks’s drawing the parallel between G-d’s creation of the natural universe and the social universe symbolized by the construction of the Tabernacle. In my view, the Tabernacle also represents the creation of our Jewish spiritual universe, the one that cements the natural and the social ones into a cohesive unshakable, indestructible and powerful force.

Shavua tov.

"Yisrael, My Firstborn Son."

This week’s Parashah, Bo, is another stirring chapter in the saga of the Exodus from Egypt. It details the last three of the ten plagues that were poured upon the Egyptians.

Of special interest in the tenth plague the smiting of the firstborn son of every Egyptian family. It is, the Torah tells us, the last straw which prompted Pharaoh to let the Yisraelites go.

A bird’s eye view of the host of plagues reveals that the tenth plague was different from its predecessors. Firstly, it is already hinted at before Moshe was to meet Pharaoh when G-d sent this message to him in Shemot 4:23-24 : “Yisrael is my firstborn son, and I told you, Let my son go, so he may worship me.” In other words, the confrontation will reach its pinnacle when it will be Pharaoh’s first-born son against G-d’s first-born son, Am Yisrael.

Secondly, the tenth plague does not bear the usual structure of the previous nine plagues. There was no warning. There is no description of the plague and unlike the others, Pharaoh did not protest or request that it be removed. Instead, Moshe presents him with a fact: “About midnight I will go throughout Egypt. Every firstborn son in Egypt will die….” (Shemot 11:4).

Were the same sequence of the other plagues to follow, we could expect the next part to describe the plague. Instead, the next section Shemot 12:2 starts with the following: “This month is to be for you the first month, the first month of the year.” This segment includes the commandment of the Passover sacrifice as well as the laws associated with this Holy Day and as part of these laws comes the description of the forthcoming tenth plague: “On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn of both people and animals, and I will bring judgment on all the gods of Egypt.” (Shemot 12:12). What connects the two is the commandment to slaughter the Passover sacrifice and the decree to smear its blood on the doorposts of the Yisraelites so that G-d could pass over the homes of the Yisraelites and spare their firstborn.

A very brief description of the tenth plague is given in two verses (Exodus 12:29-30) “ At midnight the LORD struck down all the firstborn in Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh, who sat on the throne, to the firstborn of the prisoner, who was in the dungeon, and the firstborn of all the livestock as well. Pharaoh and all his officials and all the Egyptians got up during the night, and there was loud wailing in Egypt, for there was not a house without someone dead.” One might ask, why was there a need for the blood on the doorposts? After all, G-d would know which homes belongs to the Yisraelites and which to the Egyptians.
The answer has to do with the unique nature of the tenth plague. While the plague was aimed at hurting the Egyptians, it is also the one that brought about the release of Am Yisrael from the House of Bondage. Surely, G-d could have picked other ways to reach that result. It seems that in this plague did not only subjugate the Egyptians, it was also meant to put the Yisraelites through the test.

The commandment to engage in the Passover sacrifice forced Am Yisrael to employ another Mitzvah, that of Brit Milah or circumcision. Shemot 12:48 forbids uncircumcised males from partaking in the Passover sacrifice: “A foreigner residing among you who wants to celebrate the LORD’s Passover must have all the males in his household circumcised; then he may take part like one born in the land. No uncircumcised male may eat it.”

It seems that the Torah is more interested in stressing the passing over the homes of the Yisraelites and turning the tenth plague into an instructive experience for them than on killing the firstborn of the Egyptians. Hence the little attention the text gives to describing that plague. Rather, its main concern is in ensuring that the Yisraelites understand the Passover laws, internalize them and live the unique role that G-d has assigned to them to be “My firstborn son Yisrael.”

Shabbat Shalom

The Importance of Terumah

Terumah, in Hebrew, means “contribution.” It is the name of this week’s Parashah (Torah portion).

Too often the word is translated to mean “donation.” That is NOT what the Torah meant and that is not what our sages intended it to be perceived as when they named this week’s Parashah after it.

Furthermore, according to Zohar, Vol. II, p. 147a, the term means “lifting up.”

What is the significance of these different definitions to one small word, the reader might ask.

The answer lies in the subject of this week’s Parashah. It provides the details surrounding the construction of Beit Hamikdash (the Tabernacle), G-d’s dwelling place among His People. “Then Have them make a sanctuary for me, and I will dwell among them. (Exodus 25:8).

Just as He created and defined the universe through a set of very strict laws, so does G-d provide a very well-crafted and carefully demarcated set of principles and patterns that include materials and exact measurements for the blueprint that will eventually materialize into His House. His instructions are very clear and for a reason.

This House will be built with the wisdom of the heart. That combined balance between mental and emotional intelligence is what will be the corner stone of Beit Hamikdash. Its construction and eventual structure will reflect the true nature of G-d. Though G-d can create a universe and a dwelling House among His People, both with set boundaries, He himself is limitless.

In other words, as we, Jews, know, G-d’s presence cannot be either confined to or openly manifest itself in our physical world. The intention, the nature and the purpose of the House G-d wishes the Yisraelits to build for Him can be found in Deuteronomy 12:22: “Then there shall be a place which the Lord, your G-d shall choose to cause His name to dwell there.” The name will be the essence of that House, we are told.

Some may stop and ask, why does G-d put forth so much detail when He describes what some may consider a very elaborate and complicated plan? The Yisraelites would surely have other issues to address when they come to Eretz Yisrael. They will have to run an orderly society. They will have to establish a proper judicial system, they will have to have a strong army, fight enemies (as their name Yisrael suggests) and many other matters. Surely, G-d could have built that House merely by speaking. After all, did He not create a whole universe purely by His exclamations?

And that is where the Terumah, contribution, comes into the picture.

G-d does not merely wish to have a House among the Yisraelites, a House that will bear His name. G-d wishes each and everyone of them to be part of this grand master plan. He asks every single member of their People to contribute, each in their own way, towards it. That way they will not be merely spectators, they will become part of it. They will help create it. Creators cannot separate themselves from their creation. This way, G-d wishes to ensure that He will not only dwell in His House but also in them, in their hearts and in their essence

That is why, I believe, the Zohar, as mentioned above, defines, Terumah also as “lifting up.” When G-d dwells in each and everyone of us, our soul is enriched by invisible wings which lift us and enables us to soar to blessed and blissful spheres which, in many cases, our daily burden bars us from reaching. It brings us closer and closer to what G-d has destined us to become “a Goy Kadosh,” “A Holy Nation.”

Shabbat Shalom

Judaism and Slavery

As some of you know, I have recently returned from a trip to some parts of Africa.

Each time I visit that continent, I cannot help but recall that dark chapter of its history, the one relating to the slave trade. An estimate of 12 million slaves entered the Atlantic Trade between the 16^th and 19^th centuries, according to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade database. Many died on board the ships that carried them and those that survived were subject to horrendous treatment upon arriving in the New World.

Slavery is an old practice that was prevalent in the ancient world. It is first mentioned in the Hamurabi Code of Laws. Even the Tanach addresses the issue, though overall, it opposes such a practice as reflected in Leviticus 25:55 “for the Israelites belong to me as servants. They are my servants, whom I brought out of Egypt. I am the LORD your God.” Personal freedom is considered a prime value in Jewish Scriptures and is even given a special recognition in the first of the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:2 “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.”

Moreover, Torah laws forbid the theft of people for the purpose of selling them as slaves (Deuteronomy, 24:7). Whoever engages in such antics is sentenced to death (Exodus 21:16). The law mentioned in Deuteronomy 23:16 which forbids the surrendering of an escaped slave, back to his or her owner, is an exception in the ancient near east and is unique to Judaism.

The Hebrew word for “slave” is eved and is derived from the word La’avod (to work). It means “a non-paid worker.” Slaves, according to the Torah, are the property of their owners until the time of their release.

Unlike modern day slavery (which unfortunately we still witness in some parts around the world), in both the Hamurabi Code and the Tanach, it is a form of paying debts. A person who was unable to pay off his or her debt would give one of their family members to the lender as a payoff. Both sources believe that it is a way to restore the debtors to their previous status in a “more dignified” manner and can be done by court order only.

One of the differences between the two sources is that the “slavery” period is only three years, according to Hamurabi, whereas the Tanach ( Exodus and Deuteronomy) doubled the period to six years probably in an effort to synchronize it with the six working days of the week or the six years before Shmita. That, perhaps, is the reason why, according to the Torah, the master is required to bestow gifts on the slave upon his release.

It is also noteworthy to mention, at this stage, the essential difference between the verses addressing the slave in Exodus and Deuteronomy. Unlike the former, the latter equates male and female slaves which, for ancient times and patriarchal societies was rather unique.

Another difference between the Hamurabi Code and the Torah concerns disobediant slaves. While both discuss branding their ear for following their insubordination and rebellion against their master, the Hamurabi Code is a form of punishment involving the removal of the ear while in the Torah, it merely involves piercing and comes to symbolize “eternal slavery.”

The aforementioned difference is an excellent example of how the Biblical law maker takes an ancient law and bends it to suit the needs, values of the Yisraelite culture of the First Temple era.

Though the above discussion applies only to Hebrew slaves, Maimonides (1138-1205) was the first to address the duty towards the humane treatment of gentile slaves. In his Mishneh Torah (Laws of Slaves 1: 6), he expresses uneasiness with the treatment of gentile slaves which the Torah sanctions to work with “harsh labour” (b'farekh).

It is not in vain that Maimonides is considered the first ever abolitionist.

Let me finish with some of his quotes on slavery which are laced with Tanach quotes, all reflecting his wisdom and compassion in accordance with Jewish Scriptures and moral code:

“It is permissible to have a Canaanite slave perform excruciating labour (farekh). Although this is the law, piety and of wisdom require a person to be compassionate, pursue justice and not to overburden his slaves, or inflict distress upon them.

He should feed them and give them drinks from all his available food and drink. This was the practice of the ancient Sages who would feed their slaves the same dishes that they themselves partook and feed their animals and slaves before they did themselves.

As is written in Psalms 123:2 “As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a female slave look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he shows us his mercy.”

Similarly, a master should not abuse a slave verbally or physically. Torah only intended work for them, not humiliation. One should speak kindly to them and pay attention to their grievances as Job 31:13-15 states:  

“If I have denied justice to any of my servants, whether male or female, when they had grievance against me, what will I do when G-d confronts me? What will I answer when called to account? Did not He who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same One form us both within our mothers?”  

May we all follow in the footsteps of Maimonides’s prudent and sensible legacy and protect and defend the dignity of Man.

Shabbat Shalom

The Temple Menorah - What Did It Really Look Like?

“And six branches shall extend from its sides, three branches of the menorah out of one side, and three branches out of the other side”  Shemot (Exodus) 25:32

Any reader of chapter 25 in the Book of Shemot (Exodus) which is dedicated to the customs associated with the Tabernacle, will quickly notice that much attention is given to the description and the embossing of the fine details and ornaments of the Menorah. Little or rather nothing is said about the shape of its six branches nor its stand or base.  

Why, some may ask, the sudden interest in it?

Actually, it is not sudden. Many, and for a long time, have tried to discern what the Temple Menorah really looked like.

Of course, we are all familiar with the one depicted on Titus’ Arch in Rome, the one that was among the spoils of the Temple which were taken to Rome by the Jewish slaves following the destruction of the Second Temple. Many would also recognize that the emblem of the State of Yisrael, the Jewish Homeland, is fashioned after it.

There are, so it seems, some inconsistencies between what we have been familiar with and the description of this holy Jewish symbol in traditional sources.

One of them is the description of the Menorah given in the Book of Zechariah. It is different than the one that stood in the First Temple. The one in Zechariah has an added feature, a “bowl at the top,” which served as a vessel to hold the oil. -  a detail that is not mentioned in the instructions given to Moses at Mount Sinai.

That, however, is a minor detail which is not given much attention in Jewish writings. The added “bowl,” can probably be attributed to and be the result of a more developed version of the original Menorah, a kind that might have been more widespread during second Temple period.

What I find fascinating about the Menorah, though, relates more to the shape of the branches and its stand. The branches are generally illustrated as semi-circular in shape, as we can see on Titus’ Arch.

Archaeological evidence, as in many other incidences, helps us shed light on this issue. A Jewish coin, for instance, minted in 40 BCE shows the Menorah as having curved branches thus lending support to the suggestion that the Menorah had indeed semi – rounded branches.

Another archaeological revelation which renewed interest in the shape of the Temple Menorah was the subject of a Press Release by the Yisrael Antiquities Authority in August 2011. It announced the discovery of “an engraving of the Temple Menorah on a stone object” (which I personally saw) in a two millennia old drainage tunnel near the City of David.

The Authority’s release went on to suggest that “a passerby who saw the Temple Menorah with his own eyes….incised his impressions on a stone.” The drawing, albeit a crude one, clearly shows that the branches are more straight than circular (the depiction of the base proves that the passerby could have drawn curved lines had he witnessed the Menorah as having rounded arms or branches).

Some Jewish sources provide other insights into the question of the shape of the Menorah’s branches. Rashi, for instance, suggests in one of his commentaries on the Torah that the branches of the Menorah “extended upward in a diagonal.…” fashion rather than in a curved, rounded one. The Rambam, like Rashi, though he never makes any definitive statement concerning the branches, shares his view on it. In his commentaries on the Mishneh Torah and Mishnah, he adds drawings which leave no room for doubt. In them, he depicts the branches as extending diagonally and in straight lines.  

Rabbeinu Avraham, the son of Maimonides, states: “The six branches... extended upward from the center shaft of the menorah in a straight line, as depicted by my father, and not in a semi-circle as depicted by others.”

As in the case of the engraving found in the City of David and judging by the fact that the curvature of the base is drawn so precisely, most likely with the aid of a compass, it is apparent that the artist could just have easily drawn curved branches had he so desired.

The base of the original Temple Menorah has also been a subject of controversy for many years. The one carved on Titus’ Arch is very different from the one found in the City of David. It also differs from the drawings attributed to the Rambam. The excavators of the City of David were quoted as saying that the graffito found in there “clarifies [that] the base of the original [ancient] menorah … was apparently tripod shaped.”

The unique, two-tiered, broad, solid and hexagonal Menorah base depicted on Titus’ Arch, has led many to believe that it is nothing like the Menorah would have looked like for two reasons. The first pertains to the fact that the Greeks discovered all polygons much later, during the Pythagorean era. Though, early Egyptians and ancient Chinese developed such geometry, it was mostly used for navigational purposes.

The second, and a more germane reason, relates to Jewish law. Archeologists concluded that some of the panels of the Menorah carved on the Arch (though partially eroded), display creatures such as eagles, sea serpents, dragons and other heathen images which Jews would not have allowed to be present at the Temple.

Experts agree that there is no reason to question the authenticity of the depiction in Titus’ Arch. Its details and its size reflect the sculpture’s close familiarity with the Temple vessels as described in the Tanach and various other Jewish sources.

The question, however, remains, how can the disparity between the two representations of the Menorah base be compromised?

There is no doubt that the Menorah as we see it on the Arch bears a strong Roman influence. The eagles are a well-known symbol of Roman sovereignty. Dragons were a prevalent ornamental motif in Roman art. A similar base albeit with more pagan images, was excavated in Didymus, Turkey where there once stood a Roman temple.

These clues have led scholars to the almost unavoidable conclusion that the disposition towards Roman art coupled with Jewish prohibition of pagan images could be ascribed to one person, Herod, who throughout his appointment as “King of Judea” tried to impose Hellenistic traditional concepts and values upon his oppressed Jewish subjects.

If that was indeed the case, it is safe to assume then that the Menorah plundered from the Temple was not the one that the Maccabees had intended it to be following their rebellion, a symbol of religious freedom. Rather, it was another attempt to suppress it. This might also be the reason why the Menorah was not present on Jewish coins commemorating the Jewish rebellion in 69-70 and 135. Other symbols from the Temple were used in its place.

Regardless of the changes and the origin of some of the details of the Menorah, it has become a symbol of Jewish religious freedom and political sovereignty and Jewish pride for the Eternal Jewish Homeland in Eretz Yisrael.

Am Yisrael Chai!