The Validation of Hope – the Core of Jewish Survival

 

         Pessimism is a luxury that a Jew can never allow himself – Golda Meir

Tragedy, unfortunately, is part of everyone’s life. Some heartbreaking experiences are more profound than others. All, however, touch us in every aspect of our life.

This week’s Parashah, Shmini, recounts a tragedy that befell Aharon, Moshe’s brother. The story is a mingle of great joy, cloaked with holiness but at the same time eclipsed and shrouded with loss and grief.

 It is the first of the month of Nissan and the dawning of a new day. Moshe and Bnei Yisrael are preparing to mark a great milestone in our history. After seven days of preparations and training,  Aharon and his sons are ready to receive the scepter of Priesthood, and the Mishkan (Tabernacle) is ready to be inaugurated.  

On the Eight day (Shmini) as Bnei Yisrael are gathering for the long-awaited ceremony, Moshe tells them, “For today, the Lord will appear to you” (Vayikra 9:4). He invites Aharon and his sons to offer a sacrifice to G-d. Shortly thereafter, the celebrations reach a climax with the spectacular appearance of the glory of G-d as fire came forth “from before the Lord and consumed upon the altar the burnt offering and the fat; and when all the people saw it, they shouted, and fell on their faces (Vayikra 9:24).

This spectacle full of reverence, bursting with holiness and ecstasy turns, in a flash, into a catastrophe. Without any warning “there came forth fire from before the Lord, and devoured” Avihu and Nadav, the sons of Aharon (10:2). G-d, it turns out, thy “offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, contrary to His demand” (10:1).

How does one respond to such a tragedy?

Moshe speaks first. “This is what the Lord spoke of when he said: ‘Among those who approach me, I will be proved holy; in sight of all the people I will be honoured’” (10:3). Rashi bases his interpretation of this verse on Midrash. According to him, “Moshe says to Aharon, ‘Aharon, my brother, I knew that the Mishkan will be sanctified by the presence of those who are close to G-d. I assumed that he meant either you or me; now I see that they (Nadav and Avihu) are greater than me and you.” In other words, the holier a person is, the greater are G-d’s exigencies of him.

Aharon remains silent. He is not complaining. He is not lamenting his bad fortune. His silence, in my view, reflects inner strength and the ability to confront difficult and painful realities.

Moshe moves on. He orders the removal of the bodies and briefs Aharon and his remaining sons about the laws of mourning. He also adds directives aimed at preventing the recurrence of such incidents and moves on to check if the sacrifices scheduled for that day were made.

Moshe turns to Aharon and tells him not to display publicly his mourning for fear that G-d may become angry with the entire community. “Know well,” he adds, “that your brethren, the entire House of Yisrael, shall bewail the burning that G-d has rekindled. Do not leave this place in the sanctuary,” he advises him, “for G-d’s anointing oil is upon you” (10:6-7). Aharon accepts Moshe’s words. His only concern, so it seems from verse 19, is that his silence not be interpreted as his possessing inhumane traits.

The psychological aspect of the exchanges between Moshe and Aharon, in the aftermath of the tragedy, is fascinating. In the first, Moshe, in his strong desire to console his brother who has just lost two sons, tells him that G-d “will display” His “holiness through those who come near” Him.

The second exchange is when Moshe directs the bereaved Aharon to remain in the Mishkan and continue to perform the duties of his role as Kohen Gadol (High Priest). One may understand Moshe’s words to mean that even though he feels Aharon’s pain, the latter is no longer a private person. On this critical day, the people need him to remain strong, guide them and conform to the role that he has been anointed to fulfill. Aharon, so it seems, is aware of the enormity of his position and despite his pain and anguish accepts it and resumes his duties, as prescribed by the protocol.

The intricacy of the account of this discourse captures, in my view, the essence of Jewish survival through our sanguineous history. Despite ongoing suffering, losses and death which have been the lot of our Jewish People, our desire to move on has never been extinguished. We have simply refused to give up. We could not afford to give up. The determination to ignite Hope at our darkest moments has been a beacon along the path of our historical timeline. It is the secret of our Jewish survival.

One modern day example which comes to mind and parallels the account of Aharon’s misfortune is the sad experience which befell the late general Raful (Refael Eitan) who was the IDF Chief of Staff, between the years 1978-1983. He was also very instrumental in planning and executing “Operation Opera,” the bombing of the Iraqi nuclear power plant in June 1981.

A month prior to the operation, his son Yoram, an IAF pilot was involved in a training accident. Raful was in Yerushalayim, in a government meeting, when it happened. Upon receiving the news, Raful left the meeting. He did not utter a word, just like Aharon in this week’s Parashah. His widow, Miriam, shared, years later, that Raful picked her from her office soon after he heard about the catastrophe but did not mention it until they reached their home. General Amos Yadlin, a pilot who partook in that operation, visited Raful’s home during the Shiv’a.  Just before Yadlin was about to leave, Raful caught him and said, “Don’t think that just because I am sitting Shiv’a, I will not come to the briefing.”

Like Aharon, Raful understood that he was not a private person and could not let his personal tragedy interfere with the important task that had been delegated to him. Yisrael needed him and counted on him just as Am Yisrael needed and counted on Aharon at the inauguration of the Mishkan. They were both entrusted and staunchly adhered to guiding and protecting Am Yisrael and the Jewish People as well as validating and keeping the spirit of Hope for a safer and better future for them.

Shabbat Shalom
 

The Evolvement of the Practice of Korbanot – One Reason for the Survival of Judaism

 

 

                                                   “Judaism is an ongoing moral revolution.” –                                                                                                                      Rabbi  Jonathan Sack ZT”L

This week’s Parashah, Tzav, addresses the subject of Korbanot (sacrifices), an important service, first performed in the Mishkan (Tabernacle) in the desert and later in Beit Hamikdash (Holy Temple) in Yerushalayim. The term korbanot is derived from the root K,R,B which means to draw closer. The purpose of the Korban was to bring people closer to G-d.

As I mentioned in an article that I wrote several weeks ago, sacrifices were a means to gain Teshuvah (repentance). As I also stressed there, animal sacrifices or the blood sprinkled on the altar were not then, before and after the existence of either the Tabernacle or the Temple, the only means to reach atonement or becoming one with G-d.                                           (https://wingnsonawildflight.blogspot.com/2022/02/the-currency-of-teshuvah.html)

The ritual of animal sacrifices, just like some of our other tenets, is not a Jewish one by origin. These practices were prevalent in the pagan societies of the ancient near eastern world, the world in which our forefathers resided and reared and were, as a result, steeped in them. In those societies, human sacrifices were part of the practice.

Why, then, one may ask, did we adopt it and why does the sacrificial system make up such a large part of our Torah?

       In his book, Guide for the Perplexed, Ramba”m explains that the Torah’s main purpose for including the ritual of sacrifices was to expunge the notion of paganism. According to him, the Torah instituted this system to help wane idolatrous practices. He further claims that human nature dictates that customs practiced over time become ingrained in them and cannot be easily  uprooted (3:30,3:32).

      Naturally, as Ramba”m suggests, the transition from one extreme to another, the disposing of old and well rooted customs that, over time, become part of human nature, cannot occur over night. The course needs time to acclimate. However, when we delve into the details of the practice as presented to Am Yisrael, in the Torah, we will discover the fascinating transformation of that pagan habit into what can be considered a brilliant move towards individual enrichment and the continued survival of a nascent nation.

Whereas in their surrounding antiquated cultures, such as in Egypt, where the hieroglyphics and the secrets of temple rituals, including the sacrificial ones, were under the exclusive authority of the priestly class, performed by them and known to them only, in the Torah, according to Professor Yonatan Grossman, the sacrificial directives in this Parashah are meant for the People as a whole. In his book, Torat Ha’Korbanot (The Torah of Sacrifices), Grossman claims that each Yisraelite who wishes to offer the sacrifice is the owner of the sacrifice and the Priest is merely their messenger. This message is resonated in the early verses of Viykra (Leviticus). It addresses every individual among Bnei Yisrael, “Speak to the Yisraelites and say to them: ‘When anyone among you brings an offering to the Lord, bring as your offering an animal from either the herd or the flock” (1:2). This verse, suggests Grossman, is to reveal to all members of Am Yisrael the secrets of the Mishkan and its practices. Its aim, he believes, is to induce the Divine Spirit among the People to attain and implement the sense of partnership between Man and G-d.

Considering the sacrificial practices that were prevalent in the region in those days, according to Grossman, this directive was revolutionary. It is not another esoteric secret literature like the ones that existed in the surrounding cultures. Rather, he asserts, it was a public one which should be shared with each member of Am Yisrael.

It is this kind of an ongoing evolution, adaptation to new realities, and the introduction of new concepts that have prevented Judaism from becoming extinct, according to Rabbi Sacks. In his essay entitled “Why Civilizations Die,” Sacks refers to Rebecca Costa’s Book, The Watchman’s Rattle, which provides her account of how civilizations like the Mayan or the Khmre die. “Societies,” writes Sacks, “reach what she calls a cognitive threshold. They simply can’t chart a path from the present to the future.”

Costa believes that it can happen to any civilization. The breakdown, she asserts, is identifiable through two signs. The first is gridlock where instead of dealing with clearly recognized problems, “these problems are passed to the next generation.” The second one is the retreat into irrationality. Religious consolation replaces their inability to cope with facts. “Archeologists,” Sacks recounts, “have uncovered gruesome evidence of human sacrifice on a vast scale….” of the Mayans and Khmre civilizations whose members sought such consolation and “focused on placating gods by manically making offerings to them.”

Despite facing two centuries of Roman oppression, the destruction of the Temple which brought about the cessation of the practice of sacrifices, Jewish sages did not focus on how to atone without sacrifice. Instead, they focused on finding substitutes for sacrifice. These included engaging in good deeds, studying Torah and prayer.

Judaism is indeed an “ongoing moral revolution,” as Sacks suggests. Though we have not obsessively clung on to our past, we have not forgotten nor abandoned it. We followed it while “thinking through the future,” by revolutionizing ancient concepts for the purpose of adjusting, surviving, and eventually also thriving in new and unfamiliar terrain.

Am Yisrael Chai

Creating a Holy Space for Utilizing Holy Time

 

“Alongside the holiness of place and person is the holiness of time.”  - Rabbi Jonathan Sacks ZT”L

According to Judaism, G-d is the creator of both time and space. The apogee of the act of creation is the establishment of Holy time. “The first thing G-d declared holy,” writes Rabbi Sacks, “was a day: Shabbat, at the conclusion of creation.” Unlike other religions in the ancient near east, in Judaism, holiness of time preceded holiness of space or place.

It was not only the Shabbat that G-d sanctifies. The consecration of Time as an “essential medium of the spiritual life,” explains Sacks, the sphere where the encounter between the Divine and humans transpires to forge the holiness of time, runs like a golden thread through our Jewish tradition.

The Torah repeatedly stresses the prominence of Holy time. Prior to G-d’s directive to build a dwelling place, a “Holy space,” for Him, He commands Moshe to create “Holy time” by forming a calendar (Shemot 12:1-2). “Holy time itself,” asserts Rabbi Sacks, comes in two forms……There is Shabbat and there are the festivals…..Shabbat,” continues Sacks, “was sanctified by G-d at the beginning of time for all time. The festivals are sanctified by the Jewish People to whom was given the authority and responsibility for fixing the calendar.”

This week’s Parashah, Pikudei, the last one in the Book of Shemot presents the completion of the dimension of Holiness of space. Whilst in the story of creation, unlike time, no space was depicted or sanctified, in this Parashah, a Holy space for G-d, the Mishkan, His dwelling place among His People has been completed. Now, there is a Sacred space wherein Am Yisrael could practice their Holy times for which G-d has been preparing them.

The connection between Holy time (Shabbat) and Holy space (Mishkan) has already been established in a previous Parashah Ki Tisa (Shemot 31:1-:17). The reasons behind the insertion of the commandment regarding the Shabbat in that particular Parashah has engaged Jewish sages such as Rash”i and Ramba”m. The message that Torah wishes to convey to us there is to stress, yet again, the predominance of Shabbat and that regardless of how important the construction of the MIshkan is, it does not override the sanctity of the Shabbat.

We have already learned about the prohibition to perform any kind of work (melachah) on Shabbat and the importance of keeping it Holy in the Ten Commandments. “Six days you shall labour and do all your work, but the seventh day is Shabbat to the Lord your G-d. On it, you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns” (Shemot 20: 9-10). In Ki Tisa, the Torah even mentions death as the form of punishment for not observing the Shabbat (Shemot 31:15).

The repeated pairing of building of the Mishkan with the Commandment to observe Shabbat in the last few Parashot of the book of Shemot is done for a reason.

As we have seen in these Parashot culminating with the detailed allocations of the funds donated for the construction of the Mishkan, in this week’s Parashah, there is no doubt that the expenses of this magnificent building and its upkeep are enormous. What then, we need to ask ourselves, would be the purpose of such an opulent dwelling place for G-d without human involvement to worship Him? Without readiness to observe Holy time, what meaning is there for erecting a Holy place? What use is there to a structure with miraculous architecture if it is devoid of the human element? A sacred place on its own is nothing but a façade which could not and would not preserve our heritage and our unending quest for a sublime future.

According to Rabbi Shavit Artson, Judaism is unique in the sense that, unlike other cultures in the ancient near east, it recognized “that holy space without holy time was mockery of true religion.” Rabbi Artson explains “that even a religion as profound and as joyous as Judaism cannot hope to transform our lives, let alone the world, if we will not invest the time necessary to let it work its wonders on our hearts. “If we don’t sanctify the Shabbat,” concludes rabbi Artson, “if we don’t regularly attend our synagogue’s worship services, if we don’t put aside time for Jewish learning on a regular basis, then we can’t hope to realize the potential that Judaism offers. “

Babi Yar

 

“Wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar

The trees look sternly, as if passing judgement.

Here, silently, all screams, and, hat in hand,

             I feel my hair changing shade to grey.”   -  

  Yevgeny Yevtushenko  ("Babi Yar" 1961)

 

In 2002, my daughter and I attended a summer program at the University of Vilna, Yiddish Institute. As part of the experience, and to satisfy the burning desire in me to reconnect with our recent family past, we toured the shtetles (Yiddish for small towns) where both my parents came from in Lithuania and Belarus. We also visited the mass graves where some of my young first cousins perished.  We lit a Yahrtzeit candle and recited the “Kaddish.”

Though none of our family members, at least not ones that we are aware of, were murdered in the Ukraine, I decided to go there and visit Babi Yar, the mass gravesite, near Kiev, where many of our Jewish brothers and sisters were brutally massacred (most of the estimated 100,000 victims were Jewish). It was our sole purpose for visiting that country. Beforehand and in a wish to make the visit more meaningful, I taught my daughter the powerful poem “Babi Yar,” which still brings tears to my eyes and from which the above quote is derived.

The eerie feeling that welcomed us as we approached the deep ravine, covered by the “wild grass,” still haunts my sleepless nights. The yelling and crying of men, women and children are still echoed against the walls of the chambers of my heart.  The image of their blood calling us from the ground still blurs my vision.

Unlike 1961, when Yevtushenko wrote his powerfully moving poem, nowadays, there is a monument which stands over Babi Yar. The eternal trees, now, just as during Yevtushenko's days, still “look sternly, as if passing judgement.” Babi Yar is an eternal reminder to my People and, hopefully, a lesson to others, not merely of what “man has made of man.” Rather, for me, it, also, symbolizes how, these days, similarly to other dark chapters in world history, Man has not done enough for his fellow Man when he could and should have. It is an admonition that at the defining moment of Truth, “walking the talk,” the talk of solidarity, support, and freedom is seized by paralysis. It stands to cautiously warn us that a friend in need is not as we are taught, always a friend indeed.

Unfortunately, the chronicles of history have proven to us, time and again, the validity of the words of our wise Jewish sage Hillel, “If I am not for myself, who is for me?”

Hoping and looking forward to better days for all.

The Currency of Teshuvah

 

The purpose of this article, as most of my articles, is mainly to share knowledge. I wish to help my fellow Jews connect with, learn and become more educated about our great Jewish tradition and heritage. Knowledge about the  subject discussed and highlighted  in this article is power and ignorance of it is anything but a bliss.

This week’s Parashah addresses, among other issues, the subject of “Kofer.” The term, in its different variations, “Kapparah,” “Kapper,” “Kippurim,” is discussed in chapter 30 verses 12-16.

Literally, the root “K,F,R” in Hebrew means payment for the purpose of deliverance from a predicament or trouble. It is also the root of  “deny, contradict and repudiate." Loosely rendered into English, the word also means, “repentance” or “atonement,” in the theological context.

“Repentance” originates from the Latin poenitire (with the added prefix re-), meaning “make sorry.” “Atonement” signifies to be "at one” with or to reconcile with others. Both terms are the underlying principle of Christianity. They are also an important part of Judaism. However, in both faiths they carry an entirely different meaning and the processes or practices towards achieving that stage are dissimilar .                                                                                                                                                                      

Those of you who know me, are already aware that I shy away from renditions of Biblical Hebrew Jewish terms into other languages (which are often grossly mistranslated, unfortunately, as I have shown on more than one occasion). Therefore, to avoid any confusion, or misunderstanding when discussing the subject of “Kofer,” I will use the Hebrew term “teshuvah.”

The term “teshuvah” is derived from the Hebrew root “to return.” It implies returning to G-d, or as Rabbi Sacks, ZT”L succinctly explains it, a state of reconciliation between “G-d’s high hopes for humanity with our shabby and threadbare moral record.” Ramba”m, who wrote extensively on the subject of “Teshuvah,” (The Laws of Teshuvah) movingly describes the effects of this metamorphic experience whereby a person who “yesterday was distant from G-d …today clings to G-d.” Teshuvah is about regret, admission of wrongdoing and the relinquishment of sin. The eventual goal of Teshuvah is to attain G-d’s forgiveness.

One of the essential elements of the process of Teshuvah and being forgiven by G-d was the practice of animal sacrifices and sprinkling their blood, initially, on the altar of the Tabernacle and later in the Temple. According to Ramba”m, (A Guide to the Perplexed part 3, 32) the mitzvot addressing animal sacrifices were meant to wean Am Yisrael from the idolatry rites that existed in the ancient world. These practices were entrenched in the societies and the peoples among whom they resided. Ramba”m claims that one cannot expect a human being to cease certain behaviours abruptly without preparing alternative ones for them. G-d did not want to transform Man’s nature in a miraculous way. He rather wanted him to change his character gradually, along, and in harmony with the course of nature. Hence G-d allowed Am Yisrael to continue that specific ritual while channeling it towards serving Him, whose wisdom is above all, in place of offering these sacrifices to human made or even imaginary entities devoid of any substance.   

Following the destruction of the Temple and the cessation of the practice of animal sacrifices, our sages established three ways to replace them. They are, Torah, Avordah (literally ”work” or “service”) and Gemilut Chassadim (kindness and charity), the “three pillars upon which the world stands.”  These, they decreed, can help us reach the goal of being at one with G-d (Ethics of The Fathers, 1:2).

Torah: The Talmud tells us that one who delves into and studies the laws of sacrifices, it is as though he has essentially offered them. 

Avodah: Replacing the sacrificial “service of G-d” with prayer which verbally articulates our devotion to G-d. In the words of Hosea, “We will render the prayers of our lips in place of sacrifices of bullocks,” (Hosea, 14:3). Other sources in the Tanach stress that sincere Teshuvah through prayer and fast is all that G-d demands. In the Book of Jonah, for instance, the people of Nineveh had sinned and were going to before they were punished by G-d. Following Jonah’s warning, they fasted and prayed. G-d, eventually, forgave them and their devastation was averted. Another example of how Avodah can foil the plans of the worst of our enemies is provided in the Book of Esther.

Gemilut Chassadim: Giving Charity or engaging in acts of self-sacrifice are also considered part of doing Teshuvah. Giving one’s hard-earned money to charity is a form of giving of oneself for the greater good. Giving money which one could have spent for personal use or benefit is, in a way, the ultimate form of sacrifice.

This brings us back to the section that discusses “Kippurim” in this week’s Parashah. G-d instructs Moshe to collect money from Am Yisrael, “When you take the sum of the Children of Yisrael according to their numbers, let each one give to the Lord a Koffer for his soul…. And there will be no plague among them when they are counted…..This they give half a shekel shall be an offering to  the Lord…. To Kapper for your souls. You shall take the silver of the Kippurim from the Children of Yisrael and use it for the work of the Tent of the Meeting: it shall be a remembrance for the Children of Yisrael before the Lord to “Kapper” for your souls.” 

Needless to remind the readers that these directives were given to Moshe BEFORE the Temple or even the Tabernacle were constructed and BEFORE animal sacrifices or blood offering could be performed as part of Teshuvah (or repentance, as some refer to it).

The practice of the currency of Teshuvah continues to be used regularly as part of seeking forgiveness by G-d. As a matter of fact, yours truly has been performing it since an early age, and still does, each year on the Eve of Yom Kippur. I do it with a sincere hope that my transgressions, albeit unintentional, against G-d and my fellow men and women are forgiven.

Shabbat Shalom and every blessing 

Do Clothes Maketh a Man? In the Case of the High Priest, Yes

 

Garments are the frame that man creates, both towards himself – that which he wishes to be - and towards others and what they think about him. It also serves his role, assists, and allows him in performing his job

The finery of the Temple Priests, especially that of the Kohen Gadol High Priest (which is the focus of this article) is one of the main themes of this week’s Parashah, “Tetzaveh” (You Shall Command). These are described in exhaustive details as are their fabrics, ornaments, their function, and the accompanying protocol to wearing them.

 “Make sacred garments for your brother Aharon to give him dignity and honour,” G-d tells Moshe (Shemot 28:2). There are four pieces of clothing that are peculiar to the High Priest, described in Shemot 28:4-5.

The directive from G-d to Moshe is to make “a breastplate {containing twelve precious stones inscribed with the names of the twelve tribes of Yisrael}, an ephod {an apron like garment}, a robe, and a Tzitz {a headdress with a golden plate worn on the forehead bearing the inscription “Holy to G-d”}. They are to make these sacred garments….Have them use gold, and blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen.” (Shemot 28:4-5). (It is important to note that these are to be worn all days of the year, except for Yom Kippur when the High Priest wears only white).

According to Ramba”n (13^th century, Spain), “these garments resemble those of royalty in form. At the time of the Torah, the monarchy would have worn such clothing. The tunic signifies leadership just as Yoseph was presented by his father with a ‘tunic of many stripes’…thus Aharon was to be clothed as a king of ancient times…….the miter is still worn by royalty and nobility to this day….the breastplate and ephod are regal attire and the headband is still a crown. The material used to make these garments, namely gold, sky-blue, purple and crimson, are precious and rare.”

Despite the similarities between the garb of the High Priest and those of a king, they differ in substance. Unlike kings, the attire of the High Priest constitutes “Bigdei Kodesh” (holy vestments).

Their sacred nature is signified in a few ways.

The first is rooted in their inclusion in the instructions for building the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and its furnishings. This suggests that these garments are not the personal property of the High Priest but rather a part of the Mishkan’s sacred components, as described in Shemot 39:1-31.

Additionally, the fabrics used to manufacture the garments of the High Priest are made and styled in the same fashion of those used in the most sacrosanct sections of the Mishkan. They are to be worn only when the High Priest enters the interior part of the sanctuary, twice daily, morning and evening.

The unique essence of the Priestly garb is further stressed by Rabbi Inyani Bar Sasson (3^rd century). According to him, each of the Priestly robes is intended to atone for a particular sin committed by members of Am Yisrael akin to the function of the sacrifices (Babylonian Talmud, Zevachim 68). He claims that it is not by coincidence that the Parashah addressing sacrifices is adjacent to the one focusing on Priesthood. Rabbi Bar Sasson lists offences, light as well as serious, for which different Priestly clothing items grant clemency.

The detailed directive describing the opulent garments of the High Priest, and their role have engaged Jewish sages over the years. Of particular interest was the command to “Make pomegranates of blue, purple and scarlet yarn around the hem of the robe, with gold bells between them….Aharon must wear it when he ministers. The sound of the bells will be heard when he enters the Holy Place before the Lord and when he comes out, so that he will not die” (28:33-35).

Rabbenu Bahya (Spain, c. 1050-1120) suggests that the bells serve two purposes. The first is akin to knocking on the door of the Entrance Hall of the inner Sanctuary to announce the arrival of the High Priest. According to him, since the Divine Kingdom is similar to an earthly one, anyone who abruptly enters the king’s hall is sentenced to death. To support his claim, Rabbenu Bahya, cites the Book of Esther 4:11, “All the king’s officials and the people of the royal provinces know that for any man or woman who approaches the king in the inner court without being summoned, the king has but one law: that they be put to death.”

Image of a golden bell ornament believed to be worn by a High Priest or another important leader from Second Temple period discovered in Yerushalayim in 2011

The second objective of the bells, proposes Bahya, is to alert G-d’s angels. Even though G-d and His celestial servants know all, it is important to alert them lest they harm the High Priest for interrupting the Divine repose.

The Rashba”n argues that the bells are there as a public notice for people announcing the approach of the High Priest. It serves as a warning in order to comply with the commandment which forbids the presence of anyone in the Hall when the High Priest is about to perform his holy duties.

Hezekiah ben Manoach (13^th century) suggests that the bells are there to remind Am Yisrael of prayer times and divert their attention towards that duty. He also believes that the bells help distinguish between the High Priest and the lay ones.

Clothes have cultural and social significance. The main message in this week’s Parashah presents us with another kind, a holy one, decreed by G-d Himself.

Judging by the opening verses of the Parashah, one cannot help but surmise that the main intent of the Priestly garb is to bestow “dignity and honour” upon those wearing it. This tendency goes hand in hand with the commandments concerning the construction of the  Mishkan and its unique vessels. They are aimed at spurring the awareness that the G-d of Yisrael is the G-d of the whole universe. It is, therefore, only appropriate that His servants, should, likewise, appear majestic, be dressed in “splendid and fine clothes…to be held in great reverence by all” (Ramba”m).

The New Guardian

 

                        “The Guardian of Yisrael shall never slumber nor sleep” – Psalms 121:3

“HaShomer HaChadash” (The New Guardian) is a Zionist social and educational organization. Under the initiative of Yoel Zilberman and On Rifman, it was established in 2007 with the support of a group of volunteers and lovers of the Eretz Yisrael. Its objective is to guard and protect the State’s lands while empowering and supporting farmers and the law enforcement establishment alongside with connecting young Yisraelis to the Land, the love of our Homeland and Zionist identity.

The project modelled after the original “The Guardian” (Ha’Shomer) movement, which was established in 1909, in the Galilean town of Kfar Tavor. The organization was founded with the goal of defending Jewish property and Jewish lives considering the gloomy state of the Jewish settlements and its inhabitants at the end of the first wave of immigration to Eretz Yisrael. These were under the status of “a protectorate” of foreign diplomats and were vulnerable and open to attacks by local hostile forces.

The need for such a modern-day initiative arose because of a very sad reality that has, unfortunately, afflicted the state of Yisrael, especially during the last decade. I am referring to the spread of “Agricultural Crime,” which the Yisraeli Supreme Court defined as “a plague.”

This form of “Agricultural Crime” manifests itself in various ways. It ranges from theft of produce, supplies, animals, and agricultural equipment used by farmers for work and their sustenance.  According to a report presented by “The New Guardian,” the direct damage caused by agricultural crimes in 2020 was estimated at about NIS1.1 billion. Data also show that there is an increase of 46.6% in the number of yearly incidents.

The “New Guardian” draws volunteers from all over the State of Yisrael and from all segments of society, twenty-one years and older. They all must undergo training which includes meeting the farmers, familiarizing themselves with the challenges of the area and its terrain. The constitutive principle underlying their voluntary activity is comprised of educational values where labour, mutual guarantee, courage, and love of the land are of prime importance.

The volunteers’ units have improved over the years. Nowadays, they include Jeep, motorcycle, and bike units which patron the area. This creates presence on the ground, helps prevent theft, setting fires, damaging agricultural equipment and serves as a deterrent factor thus allowing the hardworking farmers to get some rest at night.

On Wednesday, January 26^th, almost two weeks ago, I joined Dr. Mordechai Kedar and Eli Greenbaum, two active members of this group, on one of their eight hour long nightly shifts.

“Wear warm clothes and waterproof shoes,” Kedar advised me, “it is going to be a cold night.”

Wrapped in five layers of clothing, warm gloves, a couple of scarves and a bag full of snacks, we headed north to fulfill what I regard as one of the most important duties required of us, Yisraelis, to ensure that the land, its people, farmers and livestock are under no threat. Our destination, this time, was Yechiam Altschuler’s farm, near Binyamina.   

Let me start by saying that it must have been the coldest night I have ever experienced in Yisrael. Despite the pouring rain, which occasionally turned into hail, the strong winds that nearly blew me 5’2” petite size, which all joined hands to make it one demanding experience, it turned out to be one very rewarding adventure.

Needless to add, that the company was great. Dr. Kedar, whom many consider the foremost expert on the Arab and Islamic world, delivered a fascinating lecture to an audience via zoom, enriching all listeners with information and a better understanding of some sections of the Koran and the Hadiths. 

Twice during the shift and guided by the light of a lonely flashlight, we went on  patrols around the farm. Our feet were sinking in mud and the icy fingers of the rain were stinging our faces.

The small outdoor fireplace, situated in the corner of the makeshift canvas shed, to which all three of us were drawn like a moth to a light, did help to warm us up a bit.

However, the greatest flame was in our hearts. The flame that has kept our People alive for a few millennia refused to subside, let alone extinguish. The mere thought that we are here, back Home, the only Home we have ever had was the elixir to our souls and the music to our dancing Jewish Zionist heart.

What an experience!

If you wish to join the organization and be part of the "HaShomer HaChadash," please visit the following:

https://www.hashomer.org.il/%D7%A6%D7%95%D7%A8-%D7%A7%D7%A9%D7%A8/