Pekudei
Best Foot Forward
Mar 4, 2008
I am absolutely mystified by people who are mechanically inclined. To understand what so many bits and pieces are and how they fit together and above all work together, in my mind makes every one who can tinker with a car- a genius. I can’t even tell left from right, without throwing an imaginary ball to find my left hand, and scribbling with an imaginary pen to find my right hand. A close friend thinks it’s because as a baby, I went straight from standing to walking without crawling in between. In life it seems that, though we may take leaps of faith, we still need to cross many bridges when we come to them. Like the words in the famous Rebbe Nachman song, ‘The whole world is a narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to fear at all!’
However, a leap of faith may be courageous in one situation, but foolhardy in another. Or it depends on who is doing the defining. We all know the recklessness and irresponsibility of drunk driving, but are there life circumstances where we are spiritually intoxicated? Just as in the physical condition, we need to have a friend who is the sober, designated driver, so too spiritually; we need friends who can help us get clear bearings in life from a more objective vantage point than our own. And ultimately, the best friend and highest vantage point is that of G-d’s.
I have been naming my Parsha series Al Regel Achat, on one foot, because of my broken leg. But there is a deeper reference, and one that has multiple connections to this final week of the book of Exodus. It is the Talmudic story of the potential convert who came to Hillel and demanded, ‘Teach me the Torah on one foot.’ Hillel responded, ‘That which is hated to you, don’t do to your friend. This is the main principle of the Torah. The rest is commentary- now go and learn.’
Rashi says that Hillel’s dictum was a paraphrase of the Biblical command, ‘Love your friend as yourself.’ The astonishing thing that Rashi adds to the story in the Talmud, is that ‘your friend’ actually refers to G-d, as in the verse, ‘Your Friend and your father’s Friend, do not abandon.’ This is surprising because Rashi usually sticks to the most literal meaning of a word, not the most esoteric.
I think we can understand what Rashi’s driving at by looking at the threefold convergence of this coming Shabbat when we will read from three different Torah portions: Pekudei, the final portion of Shemot, the section of the new moon, and the first of the special readings before Pesach, Parshat Shekalim, the half-shekel. The half-shekel contribution involved the males over twenty giving this coin to the upkeep of the Tabernacle, and later the Temple. Why a half-shekel? Because, as so many commentaries point out, each Jew is one half, without the others, and the nation is one half, without G-d.
The same idea is conveyed by the Torah’s referring to the moon as ‘the small light.’ in the sense of realizing its dependence on G-d. Thirdly, each donation to the Tabernacle, no matter how large or small, was a necessary component of the entire structure. Above all, as the Zohar says, the earthly Tabernacle itself was a reflection of, and a bridge, to the heavenly Tabernacle.
Now let’s get back to Rashi’s understanding about ‘your friend’ referring to G-d. The Chatam Sofer says that convert was asking, ‘Teach me the Torah in such a way that I can fulfill all my obligations in one lifetime. (According to the Kabbalah, each soul needs to return to earth if it hasn’t performed all the Mitzvot) This is the meaning of ‘on one leg.’ Hillel responds by saying that if one is truly as sensitive to others as to oneself, then one can ‘share’ in the accomplishments and mitzvot of the other. To me, this is also very literal. During the early stages of my recovery, I could actually stand on one leg, only if I held on to someone else! But ultimately, as Rashi intimates, we are all ‘on one leg’ without the support of G-d.
The Tanya reading for this week, chapter 32 which spells heart also highlights the principle that one cannot truly love another person, if the material world is one’s dominant mode of being and thinking. In the physical realm, everything is separate and self-centered. However, when one appreciates the value of the soul and its root in G-d, then we can feel connected both to each other and to G-d in an authentic way.
According to the Mei Hashiloach, this is what happened when the Tabernacle was finally erected. Everyone saw how their individual donation was an exact fit to the totality of the Tabernacle, and then how the completed building was a united vessel in which the Shechina, the Divine Presence could rest. With this awareness, they thus were able to create bridges between themselves, as well as a bridge between heaven and earth.
This is what the Jewish people are all about. As Rabbi David Zeller A”H wrote in his beautiful last book, what brought him back on a path to Judaism was the Japanese Roshi who told him that all religions were very nice, but Judaism was the only one whose specific purpose was to connect heaven and earth. This was the objective of the tabernacle, the Mishkan, and actually the goal of the entire book of Exodus.
The principal architect of the tabernacle was Moshe’s sister Miriam’s great-grandson, Bezalel. The Midrash says that his name hints at the reason why, though he was only 13, he was amazingly adept at the construction of the Tabernacle and its vessels. Betzalel means, in the shadow of G-d. In other words, his work was kind of an inside job, since he was so close to ‘the Boss.’ He was able to see G-d’s inner blueprint for the sanctuary and complete the execution of that blueprint in a perfect manner. In fact, when Betzalel and Moshe had a debate over priority of construction, G-d sided with Betzalel. Moshe said the vessels come first, and then the outer structure, but Betzalel reversed the order.
If, as we are usually taught, Moshe had a deeper understanding of G-d’s will than anyone else, how could he be wrong in this debate? How could a 13 year old boy be more accurate than the greatest prophet who ever lived? The Hassidic masters address this question by turning our understanding upside down. They look at the meaning in Betzalel’s name differently: Bezalel may have been in the SHADOW of G-d, but Moshe was in the LIGHT of G-d. In fact, this light was so strong that when he came down from the mountain after the sin of the Egel, he had to put on a mask. But now we have a different question; If Moshe was closer to the light, why didn’t G-d agree with him instead of Betzalel?
The answer that several of the sages provide is that Moshe was still on a level before the sin of the Golden Calf. From his perspective the world after the giving of the Torah was already a sanctuary for G-d, so the vessels could come first. However, G-d told Moshe that, after the golden calf, this world, was now more in the shadow than the light. It was therefore no longer a safe place for the holy vessels to be ‘in the open’ without the protection of the tabernacle walls.
My personal metaphor on Betzalel’s position is the concept of places like CERN or Fermi lab, where giant structures miles long are needed before atoms can be safely split open. Recall the last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when the Ark was opened and blinding spirits came out! In the Mishkan, the Holy Ark, which as mentioned in Terumah, was ‘there’ but took up no space. In other words, the ark was the most revealed interface between heaven and earth in existence, but it needed the ‘protection’ of the entire structure around it, to channel its intensity in such a way that the vessel of this material world could contain.
Another aspect of this Parsha that expresses the link between the infinite and finite is in the name of the Parsha itself. Pekudei means, counting or accounting. In other words, the first verse reads, ‘These are the accountings (i.e. inventory) of the tabernacle’…
The Zohar asks a very straightforward question: Aren’t we taught that there is no blessing except on something that is hidden from the eye?
The short answer is, it depends on who is doing the counting, and for what purpose.
Thus, in the Purim story which we will soon be reading, when Haman tries to bribe the king to sell out the Jews, the sages say a heavenly voice emerged saying, ‘You fool, the Jews long ago ‘antidoted’ your shekels by their contributions of shekels to the Tabernacle.’ What is the difference between the two situations? Don’t they both involve the counting and contributing of money?
The difference is in the kavanah, the intention and purpose. Haman, the archetypical Amalekite, emphasized the separation and divisiveness between Jews and each other, and between the nation and G-d. On the other hand, the contributions to the Tabernacle, especially the HALF-shekel, stressed the attempt to strengthen the bond both with each other and with G-d. And this is why, when Moshe did the counting, it was for unity, not division. It was to show how much each Jew does and should ‘count’ in the eyes of each other and of G-d.
One could perhaps summarize a key teaching of the Tabernacle from Pirkei Avot: ‘There is no person that doesn’t have his or her time, and there is no object that doesn’t have its place.’ Just as every component of the Tabernacle was necessary to its overall function, so each Neshama has its necessary and unique destiny in the nation of Israel and in impact on civilization. Moreover, it is only the combination of all souls that fully activate this process. As the Talmud puts it, if only one soul would have been missing at Sinai, the Torah would not have been given.
The idea of each one being different, but still of equal value is also expressed in this parsha through the incident of the TWELVE tribal princes. The word for princes, Nesi’im is spelled in last week’s parsha as missing one of the letters Yud. Rashi explains ‘the rest of the story.’ When Moshe asked for donations, the princes thought to themselves, ‘we’ll just wait till everyone else brings their donations, and then we’ll come and put the finishing touches on whatever is missing. However, they literally ‘under-estimated’ the people’s contributions. So even when the twelve princes did bring their donations, their offering was considered defective, and so the missing letter ‘Yud.’
But, as I have tried to stress over and over again in these writings, in the immortal words of Rebbe Nachman, ‘Nisht doh kein farfarlen,’ ‘there is no such thing as an irretrievable loss.’ In this light, Rabbi Tzadok HaCohen refers to another Midrash in connection with the missing Yud. He reminds us that the word Nesiim, whose root means ‘elevated’ can also mean ‘clouds’. .He cites the teaching that the clouds actually carried the Manna to the Jews in the desert. Furthermore, the Manna that was transported to the tribal princes, actually brought with it the jewels that each prince contributed to the Choshen Mishpat, the breastplate that bore a different jewel that corresponded to the essential nature of each tribe.
Reb Tzadok HaCohen ties both Midrashim about the Nesiim together. The princes were so heartbroken about their mistake in under-estimating, or ‘discounting’ the offerings of ‘the masses’ that through their Teshuva, they attracted to themselves the clouds with their individual jewels. Reb Tzadok’s teaching is dramatic: Even when we make mistakes, both of commission and omission, even if we get lost or take a wrong turn on the road of life, there is always a way back. And even more: we often find an unexpected treasure that comes to us as a result of that loss, even if that treasure is ‘only’ a gain in self-awareness.
Many people have asked me if I have any sense of why the crash happened from a cosmic perspective. Why itself is a complex question. But one thought that keeps occurring to me is that I sometimes ‘drag my feet’ when it comes to saying or doing something good or important. Life is limited, and so I realize that even though we need to be circumspect and try to anticipate the outcome of our actions or non-actions, sometimes, like in the case of the Nesiim, if we don’t act at the optimal time, we may loose something very important.
As Mordechai said to Esther in the upcoming story of Purim, ‘If you are silent at this time, salvation will come to the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will loose out`.’ Still, Reb Tzadok’s teaching fills me with hope, for. I see that, if not for the crash, I would not have written these teachings on the book of Exodus. Then I would not have had the joy which comes from your telling me how much specific teachings have benefited your lives. (hint, hint).
It’s always good to do some soul searching when we have any kind of trouble. However, as a young rising star on the contemporary rabbinical stage puts it, ‘Woe is to the person who does his/her personal stock-taking out of a feeling of sadness or depression.’ Rather, explains Rabbi Shwartz, our bedrock of soul searching should be the awareness of how deep and infinite is G-d’s love for us, that we are provided constant opportunities for growth and improvement.
Simcha comes, as Rabbi Yaacov Feitman puts it, ‘not from the feeling that one has arrived, but from the knowledge that one is on the road.’ This, says Rabbi Feitman, in the name of his teacher, Rabbi Hutner, OB”M, is the message of Purim. The Hallel (praise) of Purim is hidden in the Megillah. It is the Hallel that teaches us to find joy in all that we are and all that we do. It is the Hallel of celebrating each step on the road to redemption and the privilege of being a part of the process.’ Rabbi Feitman also describes a scene that I can personally relate to. ‘The hallway of Rainbow Babies and Children’s hospital in Cleveland is adorned with drawings made by children who are extremely ill. One of them is a rudimentary portrait of a scraggly, gaunt figure looking out upon a sunny seascape. The title of the painting is ‘Happiness: Me Standing.” ‘
During my early hard cast stages when I was clumsily hobbling around, I accidentally knocked over a bird clock that was hanging low on my wall. It had never worked since I bought it several years ago. I was disappointed that the TWELVE birds didn’t sing, but not motivated enough to return it or get the clock fixed. However, a mechanically inclined, loyal friend of mine who was born on the 25th of Elul, the world’s birthday and the month of expertise in repair, took the clock home, put it back together again. Now I have twelve, I repeat, twelve beautiful bird sounds uniquely ringing every hour. Sometimes breaks- and the ensuing repairs- do bring out unique music in a way that didn’t happen before, like the twelve princes acquiring their ‘designer jewels.’
On this final offering (for now) of my Parsha thoughts, I would again like to thank everyone who contributed anything and any service, large or small, to the ‘reconstruction’ of my personal Mishkan, both inner and outer. I hope you all realize that, as happened in the donations to the Tabernacle, we all get back so much more than we give.
One more personal story on that note. When I was teaching in Boston, I had a six year old student who in the middle of the year was diagnosed with cancer. I kept going back and forth in my mind about visiting her in the hospital. How would I feel, what would I say? Finally, a few weeks before she passed away, I decided to go and see her. I stood before her bed, looked at her little bald head, and burst out crying. ‘Sarah,’ I said, I’m so sorry.’ She looked at me with a larger than life smile on her face and replied something like: ‘Morah Yehudis, please don’t cry for me. I am too young to do anything really wrong, so I know I will go straight to heaven! Besides, you are the one who taught me how to daaven (pray) so I’ll know what to do when I get there.’ Imagine if I not decided to take the more uncomfortable road of visiting Sarah. I would have lost out on a small investment that has provided me with everlasting dividends.
May G-d grant all of you the ability to fulfill your individual destiny and may we all dance together ‘al shtei raglayim (on two feet) with the coming of Mashiach, according to the verse, ‘On that day his (Mashiach) feet will stand on the Mount of Olives.’ And may the hidden light from the olive oil of the first day of Chanukah, the day of my miracle three months ago, lead us all to the time when ‘It will come to pass that even in the time of night, there will be eternal light.’
Vayakhel
To Do and To Be - That is the Answer
Feb 27, 2008
Imagine how driving would be if no one ever stopped, or if there were no stop signs or lights to direct traffic. Everyone would have to decide at each moment whether to stop or go, or who yields to whom. Did you know that the first traffic lights invented were in England even before automobiles were invented. They were used to guide pedestrians and buggies.
Once when I first moved to Santa Fe, I had a surrealistic experience. As I was walking through a four direction crossroad, the traffic at all four corners ceased. I waited for quite a while unable to fathom why no one moved even after the light turned green, when I suddenly saw a giant house slowly moving on one of the streets. I remember my eyes and mouth opening wider and wider as I watched the stationary automobiles and the ambulatory house,. I said to myself, ‘So this is why they call it, ‘the city different.’
The Talmud has many discussions as to right of way, which can be applied to modern life.
In general, the criteria involve a kind of triage decision process. But when do or should, ALL Jewish drivers stop? Obvious- the day that the ‘master of concealment’ (Melech HaOlam) has the right of way. The map to the right (of) way is the Torah, and the best time to learn the map are the twenty-six hours of Shabbat whose bookends are the stop-watch signals of two kinds of red lights. We call a Shabbat observer by a term that the actor John Goodman made famous- Shomer Shabbat. But the word Shomer also means to wait, as in the verse, ‘His father (Jacob) watched, or waited, for the matter. (waited for Joseph’s dream to materialize.)
What are the forces in our lives that urge us to go or to stop? And when we do stop, what do we do at those stops? I just read a statistic that the average American will spend around six months stuck at a red light. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein said that he got his Torah wisdom while waiting. For example, when he called someone on the phone and they said ‘please wait a minute,’ he would have someone bring him a Talmudic volume to study.
But on Shabbat, we have about 1650 minutes to get directly connected to our higher destination.
I fantasize that all Jews in Boulder should have a bumper sticker- or ‘follow’ those who have one- that glows or flickers on Fridays and says,’ Brake for Shabbat.’ Talk about reducing pollution! Even if, as I mentioned last week, we are driving toward the most critical accomplishment of our life, why not imitate Gene Wilder in the Frisco Kid, and say Whoa to our weekday horse-power.
The main question from the opening of Vayakhel is why is Shabbat so essential that we need to put even our most significant and constructive projects on hold? The Yismach Yisrael, the Alexanderer Rebbe, puts it this way: If the building of the Tabernacle was so important as to be a fixing for the sin of the Golden Calf, why were the Israelites required to cease their construction on Shabbat? It’s because, Shabbat is a foretaste of the World to Come, the world of truth. During the six weekdays, a person imagines that one’s own power is accomplishing everything, whether materially or even spiritually. Even those who contemplate G-d’s greatness, tend to perceive G-d as an assistant to one’s own achievements.
However, from a perspective of truth, one must realize that all ones abilities, thoughts, and movements- all of the five senses- all come from G-d. Without the constant flow of G-d’s Life Force, we could not make even one move. This Shabbat awareness is itself a fixing of the Golden Calf.’
The point that the Yismach Yisrael makes is that the danger of accomplishment is precisely the danger of accomplishment- in other words, the self centeredness and sense of power that comes from accomplishment. Even if the project is something as holy as building a home for G-d on earth! This is why, in the Torah, the construction of the sanctuary is so often juxtaposed with the prohibition of work on Shabbat. It’s to remind us that from G-d’s perspective, which transcends both time and space, everything is already perfect and complete. This is the way we are supposed to feel on Shabbat.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe shows how the wording in the Parsha supports these thoughts. First he poses two questions about the way Shabbat is presented in the second verse of this parsha. ‘Six days work shall be done and in the Seventh day there shall be holiness to you, a Sabbath of Sabbaths to Hashem…’
The two questions are- Why does the Torah say work shall be done,’ instead of the straightforward way, ‘you shall do work’? Second, why here is Shabbat called ‘the Sabbath of Sabbaths?’ The Rebbe answers both questions with one underlying concept. Really, even during the week, we should never think we are doing the work by ourselves. This is the reason for the term, Tei’aseh,’ shall be done.’ In other words, our job during the week is to create a vessel in the natural world for G-d to work through.
From this perspective, there is a type of Shabbat consciousness even during the weekday where we can operate with some of the same peace of mind that we have on Shabbat. It is the awareness of knowing that Hashem is ultimately in charge, even when we are doing physical labor. Then, when Shabbat actually comes, we can manifest an even more explicit degree of peace of mind.
This is how Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, the chief rabbi of Britain, puts it: A true day of rest can only be one which follows a week lived with the above attitude.. Our sages say: ‘On the Shabbat, a person should regard him/herself as if all one’s work is complete.’ This is true rest-rest in which one is utterly free of all workday concerns. If however, during the six days, a person had been overly preoccupied with material concerns, then even on the seventh day, anxieties will probably invade. Even if one’s body ceases work, the mind will still not be still. On the other hand, if work was ‘put in its place’ during the week, then Shabbat will clearly be a ‘Shabbat Shabbaton,’A Shabbat twice over. Then Shabbat will permeate the whole week, and when the holy day itself arrives, it will have a double sanctity.’
One of the practical consequences of working with this concept is that we shouldn’t feel that we must cut corners to get what we need. If G-d is always our silent partner, then our requirements will be met in a ‘kosher’ way, and if not, that too is part of G-d’s plan.
Rabbi Kanatopsky, of blessed memory, in his book Night of Watching, asks why the only Shabbat prohibition explicitly mentioned in Vayakhel is that of lighting a fire. We know there are 39 Biblically prohibited activities, so why should lighting a fire be singled out?
He answers by referring us to the preceding parsha. In Ki Tisa, the golden calf was built through fire. Our sages also tell us that when Adam and Chava left the Garden of Eden, they were also shown the ability to produce fire, a necessary skill for human life outside the garden. As we know, fire is a double-edged sword. In fact, a flaming sword is what G-d placed at the entrance of Gan Eden ‘Lishmor’ to guard the way to the tree of life!
According to Rabbi Kanatopsky, this is one reason why fire is singled out in Vayakhel as the prototypical Shabbat prohibition. It’s ironic that many modern Jews think that it is no longer necessary to forbid lighting fires since nowadays it’s so easy; no more rubbing sticks together- a flick of a switch can light up a world, or at least start an ignition. But that’s exactly the point; the Shabbat prohibitions are meant to curtail not animal like grunt work, but sophisticated human mastery over nature- perhaps the most blatant form of contemporary idolatry since the Golden Calf, or further back to the Towel of Babel.
In fact, Rabbi Yehonatan Eibeshitz posited that the Tower of Babel involved discovering the secret of nuclear fission. When the Torah says regarding that generation- ‘Vayimtz’u Bikah,’ they found a valley- Rabbi Yehonatan translates the word Bikah, valley, to mean Bikah, split, ie. The splitting of matter! It was this discovery that caused some people under the leadership of Nimrod- whose name means rebel- to think they could defy or replace G-d; or, as the Torah puts it, ‘Let us make a NAME (Ha-Shem) for ourselves!’
Another astounding Rabbinical explanation of ‘Don’t light a fire on the Sabbath,’ is ‘do not express an outburst of anger on Shabbat.’ This sounds like a nice ethical teaching, but how could this possibly be related to the tangible act of lighting a fire? According to Rabbi Kanatopsky’s insight, however, we can understand a vital principle, especially in light of the Talmudic claim that getting angry is itself a form of idolatry. How so?
Because, explain many Hassidic masters, people get angry when they feel the world is not going according to their own plans or timetable.
We come full circle back to ‘road rage.’ In other words, the more control one has, the more control one may think that he or she is entitled to, especially when our destinations and projects seem so vital both to ourselves and the world. So along comes Shabbat and tells us not only are we not the ones with ultimate entitlement, but from a G-dly, Shabbat perspective, there is no where to go because we are already there: On Shabbat we can truly move from Human Doings to Human Beings.
There is a popular saying that more than Jews have guarded Shabbat, Shabbat has guarded the Jews. Another aspect of the fire connection is that G-d’s first differentiated statement of creation was ‘Let there be light.’ This is one of the reasons for lighting the Havdalah candle at the beginning of the work week. Perhaps we use a multi-wick then, to insure we remember that we are partners with G-d even as we seem to accomplish so much on our own. On the other hand, Shabbat is also inaugurated by lighting a fire. This time we use a single wick perhaps to show us that on that day, our tire treads are superimposed over G-d’s.
I remember as a teenager reading a story that propelled me to become a Sabbath observer. It was about a little girl who wanted to light her own Shabbat candles. Her assimilated parents belittled her request. One Friday night they went out for a while and left her alone. The girl promptly found some change and went to the local store and asked for a Sabbath candle. The storekeeper instead sold her a yahrzeit (memorial) candle. She came home, lit it on an end table, and lay down to take a nap on a nearby couch. When her parents came home, they almost fainted when they saw their daughter asleep near a memorial candle. Realizing what happened, they said to each other, ‘If we don’t allow our daughter to keep Shabbat that could spell the demise of the Jewish people.’ The daughter grew up to raise her own fully committed Torah family.
May we truly stop at the light of Shabbat and use our down time to move up higher and higher in our connection to our loved ones and to G-d, and thereby come that much closer to the day that is a complete Shabbat for all eternity.
Ki Tisa
Patience - The Best Doctor
Feb 20, 2008
Most accomplishments in life just take time, but most people are still in a big hurry to get somewhere. Especially if we feel that where we are going is important, either for ourselves or others. Then, if something or someone is in the way or delaying our progress, we get frustrated or even angry, particularly if we feel the delay could have been avoided. It takes lots of self-training to develop an attitude of: ‘If I’m meant to get ‘there’ I’ll get there when I’m supposed to, and if not, not. It’s ultimately in G-d’s hands.
I have also had to develop lots of patience in my healing process from the car crash. The mind may want to jump a head to the ‘all better’ stage more quickly than the body is ready for. But the body ‘has a mind of its own.’
First I had a full leg cast that I felt totally enslaved me, even though I knew it was protecting me.. Then I got a lower leg cast; I even got to chose the color-purple, and felt liberated. (thanks, Oprah) Soon however, that too became confining, Finally I graduated to a walking cast that I could take off at night. And now, just last week, I am only on a soft ankle brace (which I ‘secretly’ don’t bother wearing around the house.). I know that the casts have been my own personal training wheels, to help me get back on the road of life, but like training wheels, I had a love-hate relationship with them. Like some parts of life itself, they have been necessary but frustrating. I actually find myself dreaming of cross-country running, but of course, it my waking state, I know that will take a while.
When the Jews left Egypt, they were certainly in a big hurry to leave, so much so that
G-d had to compel them to ask their neighbors for treasures. Even on their way out, there was another delay. The Torah tells us that G-d made them go like a sevivon, a draydel, the round about route, so they wouldn’t panic and turn back. The Baal Shem Tov presents this as a model for spiritual growth. Even if we have a sudden inspiration of a religious experience we need time and life experience to integrate. As the popular saying goes, ‘You can take the Jews out of Egypt more easily than you can take Egypt out of the Jews.
Fifty days later they get to Sinai and have the most important encounter with G-d in Jewish history. Then Moshe ascends the mountain and says he will return in forty days. When he does not, the familiar, instinctive reaction of fear, frustration and anger is what the Israelites experienced at the sin of the Golden Calf. To paraphrase the old Maypo commercial, ‘I want Moshe and I want him now!’
Most of you are familiar with the basic story: Moshe said he would be down from Sinai in 40 days; he did not count the day he went up the mountain, but the people did. So when they thought he should be coming down but didn’t, they panicked and demanded a substitute. Understandable during ordinary circumstances, but we are talking about people who 40 days earlier, experienced a direct revelation from G-d! How could they then go and make a graven image?
This story and its commentaries are very complex, but a pervasive common theme is to rephrase the above question and ask: ‘How could they NOT panic?’ In other words, what had they done to prepare themselves for that other-worldly experience? Were they able in such a short time after leaving Egypt, to integrate the revelation at Sinai in such a way to protect them from ‘losing it’ at the very first test? Unlikely. But then, why does G-d get so angry at them? Did G-d, if one could say so, mirror the people’s lack of patience with His own lack of patience?
To look at this question properly we have to notice the way many of the sages connect the Golden Calf episode with the sin of eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. That too, they say, was due to a lack of patience. According to the Midrash, if they would have waited three hours till the Sabbath, they could have eaten with impunity.
However, we all know that the Yetzer Harah of anxiety and impatience and self-absorption, pulls us into a vortex of reactivity in ways that we would not think, speak, or behave, if we were calmer and in an expanded consciousness.
So what exactly is our true self? According to the Hassidic masters, the Torah’s position is clear. Many of them site a Talmudic teaching where G-d insists that eventually He will ‘forget’ the incident of the Golden Calf, but He will never ‘forget’ when He said, ‘Anochi,- I am (your G-d) at Sinai. In other words, the Golden Calf was an aberration from the essential character of the Neshama as revealed, or downloaded at Sinai.
Actually, according to the Ishbitzer Rebbe, impatience was involved not just in terms of a mistake in timing regarding Moshe’s descent. He refers to a Midrash that says that the sin of the Calf happened at the same time that G-d was instructing Moshe about Shabbat.
Shabbat is a taste of the world to come where everything will be clear. The calf represents the people wanting that kind of clarity prematurely. However, the desire itself comes from wanting to be close to G-d.
Here is a teaching from the Shem Mishmuel, the Sochatshover Rebbe that conveys a related thought. He derives his point from his father Rabbi Avraham, the Avnei Nezer, whose yahrzeit is the 11th of Adar 1, which comes out in this week’s parsha.
We are taught that when the Golden Calf was made, not only was Moshe on Mount Sinai, but at that very moment, He and G-d were both grasping the tablets. At that moment, therefore, Moshe, who was the unifying factor for Israel, was most removed from the people, both physically and spiritually. Thus the people were desperately seeking another unifying factor when they focused on the Golden Calf. However, when the mixed multitude planted an impure intention in the process, the focus was degraded into some form of idolatry.
Still, the sages insist that the Golden Calf was an ‘error’ rather than a deliberate transgression. Rabbi Yehudah Halevi in the Kuzari says that it was as if the Jews saw the roof of a temple to idolatry, and thought it was a synagogue! In other words, the actions of the Israelites may have been wrong, but their intentions were ‘L’shem Shamayim,’ ‘for the sake of Heaven.’
The Avnei Nezer explains that all such circumstances of Ta’aruvet, mixtures of kosher and non kosher, or pure and impure, need to be repaired through some kind of refinement process symbolized by fire. So when Moshe later grinds the Calf into dust, mixes it with water, and has the people drink it, he is actually replicating something similar to when earlier Aharon throws the gold into the fire.
On an external level, it is meant to separate the innocent from the guilty. However, on an internal level, these kinds of processes are meant to isolate the impurities of thought and action that come from impulsive, reactive responses, from one’s higher self that is always in tune with G-d but often gets drowned out in the static of life. This is very deep; please read this last sentence again and again. This is where G-d’s forgiveness comes in later in the parsha. The indestructible, and beloved, holiness of the higher Self is, especially from a mystical perspective, a given in Judaism.
Rabbi Shneur Zalman, the author of Tanya, which we will G-d willing, resume shortly,
teaches that in truth, all the pleasures and blessings in this world are not enough reward for even one mitzvah, and who knows anyone that has never done even one mitzvah? So of course, the big question is, why does any Jew suffer in this world? So the author of Tanya says that the reason people have troubles is ‘L’hasir gasut ha’ruach,’ to remove coarseness of spirit, in other words, to separate our false self from our true self.
To allow this process and to fully appreciate its benefits, we need a large dose of trust, patience, and forgiveness- forgiveness of others, trusting that when they may have hurt us, they were not acting from their higher selves, forgiveness of ourselves and compassion and patience with the apparent slowness of our learning process, and maybe forgiveness even of G-d who seems to put us through so many ‘ordeals by fire’ in our lives.
The Talmud says that when in this Parsha, Moshe had to carve out the second set of sapphire tablets of the Ten Commandments; he became wealthy from the residue of the carvings. Perhaps his wealth was due to his own Teshuva- return- process at realizing that the people’s sin was committed when he, representing the higher self, was most isolated from his people.
May we all learn to transform ‘unlucky breakings’ into ‘lucky breaks,’ in our lives.
And may the darkness and distress of this longest exile be transformed into eternal light and enlightenment, with the coming of Mashiach speedily in our days.
Tetzaveh
Crushed - but not de-feeted
Feb 11, 2008
This was not my first car accident, but it was the most serious. The only other time I recall when my life was in obvious danger was when I was in a house that exploded in the middle of the night from a gasoline loaded mini-bike under a tree that shorted out. Both these accidents were connected with light and fire, either physically or in the Torah portion of that time. The less serious accident was in SF. The person in front of me slowed down to make a turn without signaling and I rammed right into the car, and banged my head on the steering wheel. Aside from a face that looked like W.C. Fields for a few days, it wasn’t too bad. My nose was slightly broken but the doctor said I had had a deviated septum that actually straightened out from the bang!
That accident also had a fire connection; I was going to teach during Parshat Emor which talks about the olive oil for the eternal flame, using almost the same terminology as the beginning of this week’s Parsha, Tezaveh. The house that burned down was on the same day (Dec. 24th on the secular calendar) whose Torah portion read: ‘Behold the bush was burning, but was not consumed.’ And as many of my readers know, this last accident occurred on the first day of Chanukah, commemorating the pure olive oil that was found and lit in the holy Temple.
Another aspect of my accident relates to this Parsha. The impact of the collision was so strong that the windows were blown out. When the paramedic found me, he saw me trying to look at the back seat. ‘Lady, what are you looking for?’ ‘My head piece,’ I managed to reply. ‘I think I flipped my wig.’ Now it was his turn to look in all directions. ‘Over there, I think I see it across the street.’ I vaguely recall a split second of relief when I realized it was my head covering and not my head that had flown out the window.
Terumah opens with mentioning oil for the menorah, but then talks at length about the Bigdei Kehuna, the priestly garments. A few questions are in order: What is the connection between olive oil and priestly garments? Also, what’s up with this stress on clothes altogether? Aren’t clothes a matter of personal and cultural taste? What do clothes have to do with serving G-d, aside from ‘pomp and circumstance?’
Let’s begin our investigation with a quote from the Zohar:
‘If a man looks upon the Torah merely as a book presenting narratives and everyday matters, alas for him!...The Torah in all its words holds supernal truths and sublime secrets…Woe to those who look upon the Torah as simply tales pertaining to things of the world…Just as wine must be in a jar to keep, so the Torah must be contained in an outer garment. That garment is made up of the tales and stories, but we, we are bound to penetrate beyond.’
Here the Zohar seems to be suggesting that garments are valuable when they point to a deeper underlying- as opposed to lying- reality. It’s interesting that two of the Hebrew words for garments are Beged and Levush. As verbs these words seem to have unrelated meanings: Beged means betrayal and Levush means shame. But if you think deeper, the verbs actually shed light on the nature of garments and perhaps on the reason for the sequence of the menorah lights and the priestly garments. If garments repress- rather than express- one’s inner nature, then they may indeed be related to betrayal and shame, and the ensuing alienation from G-d’s Presence.
This alienation was an important aspect of the two greatest transgressions in the Torah: Eating from the tree of knowledge and worshiping the Golden Calf. There is a rabbinical debate as to whether the command to build the Tabernacle and the Priestly garments came before or after the Golden calf. The Sefat Emet is one of the commentaries who says the command came afterward. He then explains the significance of the mitzvah of the olive oil: ‘Even after the sin, when the children of Israel were at their lowest level, the A-mighty showed Moses that a hidden light is to be found within them…
Thus the command was to bring the olive oil before Moshe-even though he wasn’t a priest- because he was the only one free of the sin of the Golden Calf. ‘Since he was not at all connected with the sin, he was the head and root of all Israel, and therefore he had the power to make them once again cleave to the root.’ As Reb Moti Alon elaborates, ‘Therefore our sages say, ‘he who sees olive oil in a dream shall look to the light of the Torah, as it says, ‘they shall bring you pure olive oil.’
The sages emphasize that ‘he should look to the LIGHT of the Torah, for, like Moshe himself, this light is the root. So too, Moshe was the only one whose garments were clean in the situation of the Golden Calf. Therefore, G-d says that before the garments are given to the priests, they should be brought before Moshe. Now we can understand why the Midrash links the two opening topics of Tezaveh with the verse from Ecclesiastes: ‘At all times let your garments be white, and let your head not lack oil.’
Now we can also comprehend the irony of this parsha, that Moshe’s name is not mentioned at all, even though he is the one to whom the oil is brought, and he is the one who is commanded to bring Aharon close as the Kohein Gadol, the High Priest, and to make the garments for him. Moshe is not even addressed by name; instead, G-d says, ‘And YOU command…And YOU take! This is very different than the rest of the Torah which usually begins, ‘And G-d spoke to MOSHE, saying.’ What is happening here?
There is a Midrash that seems to explain this. Next week when G-d says, after the mistake of the Golden Calf, ‘Leave Me alone and I will destroy them,’ Moshe responds, ‘If you don’t forgive them, then erase me from your book.’ So the sages say that what a Tzadik says has to come true in some way. Therefore, even though G-d forgave them, Moshe’s name needed to be eliminated from the text. Parshat Tezaveh was chosen, because it focused on the Kohanim. So even though it seems like Aharon takes center stage in this parsha, it is still Moshe who is the behind the scenes director. Moreover, because Moshe was willing to sacrifice himself for the Jewish people, his name in this parsha, takes a back seat to his essence.
About ten years ago in Santa Fe, a friend brought a man from hospice to one of my classes. His name was Roy and he called himself a Sufi, but for some reason he wanted to learn a little about Judaism before he died. After coming to a few classes, he told my friend that he started to tell all his visitors, ‘Although I lived as a Sufi, I want to die as a Jew. That wasn’t the end of the story however. After he passed away, my friend called me and said that his daughters were coming for the funeral and were planning a cremation. My friend begged me to talk them out of it. Now, I am not the type to go to strangers and impose my views on them, unless they were to ask. However, my friend pleaded with me to at least meet with them. I agreed, and asked G-d to put the right words in my mouth.
I started to enlighten them about Jewish burial traditions, especially Taharah (purification) and Tachrichim (burial shrouds). At first, they would have none of it. ‘Our father,’ they insisted, was very particular about his wardrobe. He was always dressed meticulously, and if he were buried, it would be in his best suit.’ I had my opening. ‘Did you know,’ I began hesitatingly, ‘that in heaven, the most respectable and honored wardrobe a person could have, are these burial shrouds. They actually are modeled from the eight garments that the Kohein Gadol, the high priest wore in the holiest building on earth. Your father would be wearing heavenly designer clothes!’ They got it, and proceeded to arrange a traditional burial. Roy got his last wish; he died as a Jew.
Parshat Tezaveh is all about essence. Both the olive oil and the priestly garments are ‘expressions’ of essence. The accidents I went through helped me define my indescrtuctable essence. The day after the fire, a friend who owned a women’s clothing store, took me to the store and let me pick out any clothes I wanted. Of course I was grateful, but after the fire, I realized that all of the material world are just garments. Roy and his daughters got in touch with essence through holy garments.
The Zohar says that the name Torah is connected to Orah, light, because the Torah reveals to us the roadmap of our lives. May we all be so deeply and personally connected to Torah that we don’t need more difficult life challenges to take us straight to Essence.
Terumah
Guest Room with Views
Feb 4, 2008
I who am not at all a car maven will identify a vehicle primarily by its color. For example, I know the car that hit me was red. That’s all. Even my car- I just knew it was a black Honda; I had to look it up, when someone asked me, ‘What model?’ I have never had a car detailed, but I presume it means fixing the outside. If one had to choose between a smooth running car that had a few dents here and there, and a beautiful looking exterior with all kinds of internal problems, I suppose most people would chose the former. In other areas, however, choices in areas between spirit vs. matter, health vs. pleasure, and function vs. form, are not so clear.
What would G-d prefer? The answer may seem obvious- in G-d’s eyes the inner life should be a priority. If that is so, however, the entire context of the rest of Shemot seems difficult to justify. In Parshat Terumah onward, G-d expresses a preference for a material home of excruciatingly exacting dimensions and descriptions. This is not only a philosophical problem of ‘fitting’ an infinite being into a finite container, but a moral dilemma that wonders what is all this bother about such precision in physical objects and actions.
Truth be told, from a place of deeper understanding, G-d transcends both the finite and the infinite. As some rabbis point out, when the Torah says, ‘In the beginning G-d created heaven and earth,’ they explain it to mean that G-d created both the spiritual and the material planes of existence. In fact, especially from the revelation at Sinai, G-d seems to direct humans to performing His will with physical matter. Why?
Let us preface with a moving Midrash: On the verse, they should take to me an elevated offering; there is a related verse in Proverbs: ‘For I have given you a good taking, do not abandon my Torah.’ G-d said to Israel, I have sold you my Torah, and I too, so to speak, am sold together with her.’ As it says, ‘Take for me an elevated offering, i.e., take me (rather than take to me). This is an example of a king who had an only daughter. Another king came and wanted to marry her and take her to his land. The first king said, ‘My daughter is an only child; I can’t separate from her and I can’t tell you not to take her, for she is your wife. So please do me a favor, that wherever you go, please make a KITON (a guest room) so I can live with you and not leave my daughter. So G-d said to Israel, I gave you the Torah; I can’t separate from her and I can’t tell you to leave her, so wherever you go, make me a house so I can live in your midst, and this is why it says, ‘You should make for me a sanctuary.’
Obviously, the Torah is not just speaking about a physical building. The conclusion of the above verse itself supports this statement: ‘You should make for me a sanctuary, and I will live in THEIR midst.’ Many sages point to the word ‘their’, instead of IT, as showing that the inner placement of the sanctuary is in the heart of the people. Otherwise, neither the sanctuary nor the temple is with us in a manifest way, how could so many Torah portions be relevant for all times?
So what does this mean on a personal level? How do we build a sanctuary in our hearts? Here’s where the ‘guest room’ Midrash comes in. The Slonimer Rebbe says this refers to the idea of each person finding a ‘place’ in their lives- a prayer, a mitzvah,- something that he or she can do so wholeheartedly that the little corner is so saturated with a desire for completeness to be aligned with G-d’s
will that there is no room for personal motives.
The space does not need to be quantitatively large.
There is another Midrash which quotes G-d, ‘Make for me an opening as small as the hole of a needle, and I will make for you an opening as big as an auditorium.’
The Kotsker Rebbe, with his emphasis on uncompromising truth, qualified this saying: The eye of a needle may be tiny in size, but it has to go through and through to work properly. So too the one area of total commitment that a person chooses, can seem relatively minor in the big scheme of things, but it must be absolute dedication, in order to, in the language of the Talmud, to make the soul shine.’
The Yismach Yisrael, the Alexanderer Rebbe, has somewhat of a different take on the word for ‘guest room, is, ‘Kiton,’ as it relates to Katan, meaning small. He writes that it refers not to the special mitzvah but to the attitude of the person him or herself. This approach is more like another famous comment of the Kotsker Rebbe. When he was a little boy, someone asked him, ‘I’ll give you a nickel if you tell me where G-d is?’ There are two versions of his response. One is, ‘I’ll give you a dime if you can tell me where He is not.’ The other is- ‘wherever you let Him in.’
All these responses capture the deeper meaning of the ‘father-in-law’ in the former Midrash, requesting a place that is ‘katan.’ Since the Hebrew word for world is Olam, which also means concealment, the implication is, as we have been learning in Tanya, that creation is actually a finite veil over G-d’s infinite light. Therefore, to access the light, we have to perform actions which negate the absolute existence of this glove over creation, and, so to speak, influence G-d to ‘show His Hand,’ either in the world, or at least, in our consciousness.
The key to this process is to make ourselves Katan, small, or to get out of the way of our own ego. When at the beginning of creation, G-d was pacifying the moon for being Katan, the clinching appeasement was when G-d told the Moon, and ‘Tzaddikim-righteous people- will be called by your name.’ The primary linchpin of building a sanctuary is to make a space that allows Presence to seep through without disintegrating the existing world. That’s why the centerpiece is the Holy Ark which was visible but not measurable by physical means-kind of a ‘holy-gram.’ It was the single most obvious place in creation where the infinite power of the divine could openly be experienced on earth.
Before Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi passed away, his son Dov Ber, asked his father what he saw. Rabbi Shneur Zalman answered, ‘I see the Koach Hapoel B’nifal, the power of the Creator in creation. No longer rigidly attached to the earthly plane, a human being may be able to perceive this divine energy.
It’s interesting that according to the Jewish calendar, whether it is a leap year like this year, or a regular year, the Torah portions about the Sanctuary or the Priestly service are always read during the last month of the year, the month of Adar. Adar in Hebrew means, ‘I will live;’ -the Modern Hebrew word for apartment is Dirah. The directive seems to be that we need to make room for G-d in our lives, both in time and in space.
This is one of the primary messages behind Purim, which comes out in Adar. Although G-d’s name is not even mentioned once in Megilat Esther, it is considered in some respects, more holy than a Torah scroll, because it reflects the idea that G-d lives wherever we let Divinity in, whether in the miraculous, or the ordinary.
Bottom line is that inside and outside, spirit and matter, are not opposites, from a Torah perspective. Having a ‘nice-looking car’ with a long-lasting engine is not a contradiction. Watch the movie, ‘Tucker- a man and his dreams’ about a man who built only fifty cars, but his dream of making a car that was both beautiful in both form and function, and also safe, inspires car designers till this day.
Once on Purim, I was driving to the synagogue on Main Street in Worcester, Massachusetts. Suddenly the sky clouded over, snow began falling, and before I knew what was happening, there was a white out. I could not see a thing. I took my hands off the wheel and said, ‘Shema Yisrael.’ Next thing I knew, I was at the door of the synagogue safe and sound. I have no memory of how I got there.
Let G-d be the back seat driver in your life. You may even find that He is willing to take over, when you get a little tired, or feel like you’ve lost control. You may even hear that still, small voice whispering, ‘It’s ok; I’ve got it covered.’ As the saying goes, ‘Let go and let G-d’ into your life.
Mishpatim
What goes up, must come down
Jan 29, 2008
It took me forever to learn how to drive. I must have been thirty something when I first went to driving school. I seemed to be much more fascinated with the inner workings of a car (but don’t ask me about it now) than I was about actual driving skills. On the day of the driving test (after about 13! Lessons) we came to a busy intersection. I must have stalled interminably because my driving teacher let out a plethora of more bad language than I had ever heard before. Finally I decided on my route. After he calmed down, the teacher asked in a more than exasperated tone: ‘what were you thinking when you hesitated for such a long time with all those cars behind you?’ ‘Well, I answered in my best academic voice, I was trying to figure out what was going on inside the car at that moment.’ His final response was somewhat contained and almost philosophical: ‘There’s a time for contemplation and a time for action!’
Since thought is generally inner directed and action outer directed, they seem mutually exclusive- hence the response of my driving teacher. But the Sinai moment was meant to bridge gaps between such oppositional terms as heaven and earth, spirit and matter, and soul and body. One way the Torah teaches this is by contextual placement. If we look at the flow between the portions of Yitro and Mishpatim, we find two sandwiches- Yitro begins with his worldly, judicial suggestion, and continues with the other-worldly revelation at Sinai; Mishpatim, on the other hand, begins with laws and concludes with the cosmic experience at Sinai.
In a similar vein, the Ten Commandments themselves have an embedded flow between G-d and humanity. The first set of tablets begins with G-d and ends with honoring parents and the second set begins with don’t murder and ends with don’t covet- a command that no human can see and only G-d could legislate.
If one contemplates these patterns, a clear message practically jumps of the page. As the renowned rabbi and teacher of the last generation, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik put it, ‘The faith mandated by the first tablet, and the morality set down by the second are inseparable. The revelation at Sinai culminated not with the receiving of the Ten Commandments, but with the acceptance of their details, the Mishpatim, the Jewish civil code…Halachic man’s ideal is to subject reality to the yoke of the Halacha, Jewish law.’
However, I think we are not just talking about ‘doing the right thing’ by applying Torah principles to interpersonal dealings and secular life situations. We may be creatures of action and speech, but we are also beings of consciousness and purpose. These latter modalities also need to be sacredly involved in our daily ‘drives’ on the journey of life.
With this premise, we can look at a remarkable teaching from Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, the great-grandson of the Baal Shem Tov.
According to Rebbe Nachman, all litigation can involve some form of ‘unfinished business’ from a spiritual perspective. He explains that, both the guilty and the innocent parties find themselves in a litigation because even before the legal confrontation, they had not been doing business with a consciousness of embodying Torah values and guidelines. Therefore, they now need to go before a Beit Din, a Jewish court, and recount all the circumstances of the case, both in terms of action and intention. As a result of the Beit Din being attentive to every nuance, when the parties will be evaluated as to both their guilt and innocence, their lives will both be restored under the aegis of Torah.
To understand this concept, we need to consider some prior axioms:
1) The Torah is the blueprint of creation, and everything that goes on in life.
2) Ideally, one’s behavior and transactions should consciously and deliberately reflect one’s Torah learning and knowledge.
3) When one’s material transactions are separated from Torah values, then the way they are brought back to a Torah context is in the presence of a Beit Din. In other words, when a person thinks of his transactions from a purely secular point of view, he severs his connection to Torah and therefore must reattach the components of thought, word and deed, back to Torah. He does this by seeking a Torah ruling from a Beit Din, a Torah court. In short, the ‘unfinished business’ of not bringing Torah thought into worldly action, is rectified by the adjudication, if it is resolved in a Beit Din.
Another aspect of ‘unfinished business’ that is addressed on the first verse of this Parsha, is hinted at by the bumper sticker: ‘your karma (car-ma?) ran over my dogma.’
‘These are the Mishpatim, the laws that you should place before them....’ The Zohar opens: ‘These are the principles of reincarnation!’ The obvious question is: What could possibly be the connection between reincarnation and civil laws? There is a deep principle here; one that may explain why Jews should preferably go to a Jewish court, even if the process seems the same as in a secular court. It can also explain why the so called rational laws of Torah are different than those established by human courts.
As mentioned last week, a big part of our life process is to do the ‘right thing’ but also to trust that the outcome is just, even if we can’t see it that way from our limited viewpoint.
It seems complex enough for even one person to get what they need or deserve;( usually one lifetime is not enough- which is the reason for the opening comment of the Zohar.) But then multiply that perfect justice by everyone involved in a single experience. As a simple example, on a day when it rains or snows, everyone affected has myriads of responses. Some are happy, some are sad, some are angry…but everyone individually and collectively, is treated justly from the perspective of Hashgacha Pratit- Divine Providence.
However, we rarely see this justice in a clear and open way even for an individual, much less for groups of people? This of course relates to the famous theodicy question about why good people seem to suffer gratuitously and bad people seem to sometimes literally ‘get away with murder.’ Here’s where concepts like ‘the world to come’ and reincarnation broaden the scope of our perception. There are many stories where holy people were able to tell someone why what seemed to be an injustice in one lifetime was really a fixing from some ‘unfinished business’ in a past lifetime. For the skeptics among us, I ask people to examine the many phases of even one lifetime, to find experiences that at the time seemed horrible and unjust, but later turned out to be ‘just what the doctor ordered.’ It may take a leap of faith to extrapolate to many lifetimes, but faith is a necessary foundation for any kind of ‘capital venture.’ What good business person expects a payoff before an investment? Thus the Talmud tells us that the first question the soul is asked when it leaves the body is: ‘Did you do business faithfully?.
The domain of people and the domain of G-d, just like the relationship between the body and soul, are not two separate realities. Matter and spirit are both creations of a living, transcendent Creator, and are both subject to His control and guidance. The Torah is the operating manual, the lesson plan of how to drive successfully through life. If we learn what we need to and apply the principles, then the roads we take will lead us to where we need to go. But even if we are not prepared beforehand, we should trust that the Grand Designer will help us develop field expediency on site- and hopefully in a more pleasant manner then my Drivers’ Ed teacher.
May G-d grant us the foresight to make the right turns in life, and the wisdom of hindsight to get back in the correct lane to both our destinations and our destinies.
Yitro
One Small Step
Jan 21, 2008
Maps, street names, and road signs- we could not get along without them. And now we have GPS to guide us. When I first saw a GPS in action, I made this thoughtless remark- wow; this could be great for blind people!’ Of course, I realized a split second later that people still have to see and be willing and able to drive even if there is a ‘voice’ telling them where to go.
The fifth portion of the book of Exodus begins with the verse, ‘Yitro-Jethro- heard everything that G-d did for Moses and for Israel His people. Rashi, the foremost Bible commentator, asks in his concise way: ‘What did Jethro hear AND COME?’ Several sages explain Rashi’s question in a similar manner: The whole world heard about the three events that impressed Jethro: The splitting of the Reed Sea, the war with Amalek-the nation that attacked Israel for no reason, and the giving of the Torah.
So what was it that of all people, only Jethro chose to act on what he heard? What made him not just hear ‘The Voice,’ but listen to it, in other words, respond to the call? Furthermore, why was Jethro the one to come up with the idea of having a multi-level court system? And the biggest question of all: Why is the most important event in Jewish history- the giving of the Torah- set in a parsha named after a man who the Torah itself says was formerly a ‘priest of Midyan?
I think the answer to all three questions share a common thread. To understand these issues, let us look more deeply at the significance of Jethro’s name, which litteraly means extra, or addition.. The Zohar, the sourcebook for mystical teachings, explains by referring to the verse from Ecclesiastes: ‘K’yitron ha’or min ha’choshech.’ -As the addition, or, advantage of light than or from, darkness-. Now, in Hebrew, the word MIN, which means than, or, from, is not only a contrast, but also a relationship. In other words, besides meaning that darkness and light are opposites, this verse can also mean that light can emerge FROM the darkness. This was the case with Jethro whose ‘claim to fame’ was not just that he decided to join the Israelites, but that he could bring his life experience, even the negative ones, to enrich the Jewish people.
The sages also say that he was named Jethro because, due to his suggestion about amending the court system, a new section of the Torah was added. Thus he is held up as an example of the Yiddish expression, ‘A gast cumt far a vile, un zet far a mile.’ -‘A guest comes for a while, and sees for a mile.’ As Rabbi Berel Wein expresses this idea, ‘The outsider has a great deal to teach us, if we are willing to learn and coolly assess those views and advice.
In Exodus I referred to the concept of the Jews needing to stay longer in Egypt to take out the Rechush Gadol- the great wealth. In addition to the gold and silver that G-d asked them to take, on a spiritual level the great wealth referred to the sparks of holiness that were imprisoned in Egypt. The first letters of Rechush Gadol, Reish and Gimel, (the letters R and G in English) can spell the word GEIR, stranger or convert. Thus we could say that the great miracles and fanfare of the Exodus and its climax at Sinai, was like a strong magnet that pulled on the souls of potential converts. However, aside from the mixed multitude who didn’t fare too well as ‘kosher converts,’ Jethro was the only one from among the nations of the world who actually made the journey to join the nation of Israel. He was the only one who not only heard the GPS (G-d’s Plan for Survival) but also took the trip.
Moreover, he was willing to contribute his observations, and was not intimidated about being the ‘new kid on the block.’ And to Moses’ eternal credit, even though he was the ‘Chief Rabbi’ and as the sages put it, the ‘First Redeemer,’ he too listened carefully to what this stranger had to say. What a positive model for today: Suppose that a layperson or, the, Baal Teshuva- the newly returned- to Jewish learning and practice, may have a more effective way of implementing a Torah principle, or may notice a Jewish value that is being neglected by the ‘in group.’ He points this out to the rabbi, who then acknowledges the legitimacy of his observation, and tries to get the ‘in group’ to improve.
This is kind of what happened in the desert. The sages say that Jethro’s suggestion would have ultimately been implemented when Moses was no longer the leader, but Jethro was given credit because when the court system was set in place during Moses’ lifetime, the transition was more seamless.
Now we can revisit at our original questions: Why did only Jethro decide to join the Jews after the Exodus? How did he dare to suggest an innovation in Jewish tradition? And why is the centerpiece of the whole Torah, the Ten Commandments, in a Torah portion named after him?
Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz, otherwise known as the ‘Shaloh Hakadosh,’ helps us with these questions by putting a magnifying glass on one of the verses of preparation for the giving of the Torah: ‘you shall be to me a Segulah- a special treasure- from all the nations, BECAUSE to Me is the entire world.’ How is the second part of this sentence, a consequence of the first part?
The Shaloh HaKadosh explains that the word Segulah also means a magnet. So the segue, according to his reading, is: I have many holy sparks around the world, and you-the nation of Israel- are the magnet to bring these sparks into alignment with G-d. Now we are not just talking physics here. The sages say that each soul of Israel has a special letter in the Torah, meaning a unique take on how to understand a particular area in Torah and use it to transform the world.
If someone undergoes a proper conversion, then he or she also ‘stood at Sinai’ and was downloaded with their unique teaching. However, they have to choose to ‘take the plunge, and, as the grandson of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, the Degel Machaneh Ephraim puts it, ‘be willing to become a stranger to the world you knew before.’ So too, King David, who descended from Ruth the Moabite convert, sang before G-d, ‘Ki Ger Anochi Imach.-I am a stranger with You.’ ‘G-d, you are a Stranger in this world, until people let you in. I am also a stranger right now, so let’s be strangers together.
In Ethics of the Fathers we read, ‘There is no person who doesn’t have his time.’ In short, Jethro was the man of the hour. Why only him from all mankind? Perhaps because he was Moses’ father-in-law. But didn’t Pharaoh also have a somewhat paternal relationship with Moses? Yes indeed, but he chose to reject it. So too, the nation of Amalek was descended from Isaac, and yet, like Pharaoh, and so many people throughout history, that nation refused to recognize the Jewish contributions to their world. Jethro took a stand that was opposite to both Pharaoh and Amalek.
Thus we see two things from Jethro: On one hand he was willing to submit himself to
G-d’s will, and on the other hand he was willing to speak his mind- his personal Torah. Now we can also answer the question of why Jethro’s name is the header for the portion of the Ten Commandments.
The mystics say that the entire Torah is coded in the very first word of the Ten Commandments: ANOCHI- I AM. The Lubavitcher Rebbe points out that on one hand, the word Anochi, as Rashi says, is an Egyptian word. On the other hand, the sages say it is an acrostic for four words: ‘I (G-d) put my soul into the writing.’ How do the two meanings fit together?
The Rebbe explains that this is the purpose of this world and the mission of the Jewish people: To take the ‘dark matter’ of the material plane and to make it into a vessel for the purest light- ‘As the advantage of light-when it comes from the dark.’ Just as G-d can take his ‘Royal I’ness’ and penetrate the morass of Egyptian culture. As a parallel, the Torah therefore can ‘brag’ about the fact that Jethro once checked out all the idolatry in the world, because, as a convert, he was able to ‘convert’ his mistakes into lessons. He can now take his passion to seek out a ‘Higher Power,’ and drive it in the right direction.
None of us- perhaps with the exception of Moses- were born into the light. But we are all given opportunities to use the dark to understand and appreciate the light out of our experience of darkness. In retrospect, there is a divine plan to it all; including any detours we took accidentally or even deliberately. Like a good GPS system, the Torah is there to get us back on track no matter how far from our true destination we may have veered.
We just have to listen and then follow ‘The Voice’ we all heard at Sinai. May G-d give us all the strength to do both, and do it with dedication and joy.
Beshalach
Leap of Faith
Jan 14, 2008
One of my favorite childhood cartoon series was the misadventures of Mr. Magoo. He would scurry by various means of transportation all over the map, and encounter endless numbers of near mishaps. Without realizing how he was being protected at every step, he floated obliviously through life. On the other extreme, there is the example of my young, precocious boarder, who would not step into an automobile, because of potential accidents.
We so-called average people need to function somewhere between the two cliffs of constant worry and habitual oblivion, between being always care-full and always care-free. Transcending these opposites is a Torah approach. Nowhere is the balance between ‘Hishtadlut and Bitachon,’ effort and trust, so prevalent as in Parshat Beshalach.
I am reminded about a father who was taking his young son on a long car trip. The boy was very bored and cranky. Finally, the father stopped in a toy store and bought his son one of those toy driving wheels complete with bells and whistles. The boy was delighted for the rest of the trip, since he felt like he was driving the car. This reflects one of the dilemmas about Hishtadlut and Bitachon. On one hand, when we can take control and make things happen in this world, we are at the top of our game. The downside is, we often forget who is holding the real driving wheel. On the other hand, to sit back passively when action needs to be taken is also avoiding one’s role in life.
Once on Purim, there was a major blizzard in Massachusetts. I was on my way to Shul for the Purim festive meal. Suddenly, on the main street, my window vision was reduced to a white-out. I remember crying out ‘Shema,’ and the next thing I knew, I was at the door of the shul, safe and sound. I realized that even though my hands must have been on the wheel during those unaccountable moments, a Higher Power must have taken over.
One Hassidic rebbe whose life and teachings were replete with absolute trust in a Higher Power, was Reb Zusia of Anipol, whose yahrzeit is the second of Shevat. Since this is a Shmitta year, when the land of Israel is supposed to enjoy its own Shabbat, I would like to share a teaching of Reb Zusia about Shmitta that also relates to trust in G-d.
The Torah tells us in Parshat Behar that if the Jews let the land rest in the seventh year,
G-d will provide enough food in the sixth year to last for three years, until the crops of the eighth year start growing. But this promise is worded strangely. The Torah says,
If you will ask, ‘What shall we eat during the seventh year? We have not sown, nor gathered in our produce? So G-d responds-‘V’tziviti et Birkati,’ meaning, ‘I will command My blessing.’
Reb Zusia asks, ‘Is the Torah implying that those who have doubts are be rewarded by G-d’s blessing? He replies by pointing to the word ‘V’tziviti, and I will command.’ The jist of Reb Zusia’s insight is: If you had believed without hesitation, the blessing would have come on its own; a one year crop would have lasted for three years. However, your doubt itself is what created an obstacle to the flow of blessing. Therefore G-d says, V’tziviti, I will now have to command to blessing to break through the barrier of your doubt.
This teaching of Reb Zusia’s helps us sees the underlying thread of disparate topics in Beshalach: The splitting of the Reed sea, the apportioning of the Manna, and the battle with Amalek. When the Israelites came to the sea, the Torah says, ‘And they believed in G-d and in Moshe His servant.’ Also, the sages praise the leader of the tribe of Yehudah, Nachshon ben Aminadav, who literally took a ‘leap of faith,’ by stepping into the water even before it began to part.
Secondly, the letters in the Hebrew word for faith, Emunah, can be rearranged to spell, ‘hu man,’ (human!?) this is Manna. The primary reason the people were not allowed to leave over any Manna at night, and so to speak go to sleep with the ‘cupboard bare,’ for the forty years in the desert, was to provide a training ground for faith in G-d.
Lastly, at the end of the Parsha when the nation of Amalek attacks the Jewish people, the Torah relates that when Moshe raised his hand, Israel became strong, and the opposite when Moshe dropped his hand. Rashi explains that when Moshe raised his hand, the people looked up and were reminded of their trust in HaShem and so were able to be victorious. Many commentaries also speak of the inner voice of Amalek as representing coldness and doubt. In fact they also point out that the numerical equivalent of Amalek, 240, is also the equivalent of the Hebrew word Safek which means doubt. In fact, right before Amalek attacks, the Jews verbalize their questioning of G-d by asking, ‘is G-d in our midst or not?’ Perhaps the very questioning of who is actually in the driver’s seat, is what created the internal crack for Amalek to attack.
We are given a command to erase the memory of Amalek but the Torah also tells us that G-d will erase the memory of Amalek, so which is it? I think that both are necessary. They are very similar to the concept that effort and trust are not opposites, but really two sides of the same coin. When do both sides become one? I think when we realize that, as the Ishbitzer Rebbe frequently suggests, our efforts are also part of HaShem working through us in this world. And this may be why the name of the parsha is Beshalach, whose root means to send. We are after all messengers of HaShem- just like the boy who would not have the toy driving wheel if his father hadn’t bought it for him!
I would like to bless us all that we think global and act local- or to paraphrase from a Torah perspective- remember HU is in charge, but be the MAN when a specific job needs to be done.
Bo
Confronting Blind Spots
Jan 8, 2008
Most young children are afraid of the dark at some point in life. I remember a tree with seemingly grotesque shaped leaves tapping ominously at my window panes during windy New England nights. Even though we hopefully grow out of those childhood fears, there are often new ones to replace them. Like potential car accidents.
Once I had a twelve year old boarder who refused to get in a car. He was a mathematical genius- kind of like Russell Crowe in ‘A Beautiful Mind', who would calculate the possible automobile hazards, and so very logically resist that mode of transportation. I hope he has since blended faith with risk factors, and is able to travel safely.
One of the actual dangers in driving is the blind spot on the side of the car. When you want to turn or change lanes in traffic, and a car behind you drives into that blind spot, turning your head is not enough. You need to adjust your side view mirrors, and use them at the right time.
In Parshat Bo, Moshe confronts Paroh in his palace before the last three plagues.
Paroh has resisted seven attempts to rectify his ‘blind spots,’ and now Moshe is sent to provide the proper mirror. However, the name of this Parsha, Bo, which means come, seems out of place. G-d is telling Moshe to GO to Paroh, so the name should be LECH, go, instead of come. The Chassidic masters tell us that G-d is asking Moshe to go into Paroh’s ‘Heart of Darkness.’ (Joseph Conrad wrote a riveting book of that title with a similar concept that was adapted into the grueling movie, Apocalypse Now.)
Therefore, HaShem gives Moshe the reassurance that the Divine Presence will go in with him. This accompaniment is even expressed in the spelling of the name, BO. First there is a Beit, followed by an Aleph. The Beit represents the duality and idolatrous nature of a world without G-d, who is the Aleph, the One, the force behind even the most absent void, to use Rabbi Nachman’s imagery.
On an inner level, we all have a Paroh and a Moshe inside of us. We also have a conscious part of our being that we openly claim and own, and an unconscious part that we may disown. This is our shadow self, and unless we recognize it and take responsibility for it, it will probably come back to haunt us.
To quote the famous psychologist, Carl Jung, ‘Until you make the unconscious, conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.’
Paroh was the repository of all that was negative and corrupt in Egypt. His blind spot was his giant ego, his own self worship. G-d wanted Moshe to crack that shell, but Moshe feared getting so close to Paroh that he too might be drawn into that black hole.
HaShem’s Bo, therefore was the answer to Paroh’s ‘Boo!’ Like Queen Esther when she went uninvited to the king’s chambers, Moshe needed to be reassured that HaShem would walk with him, straight into the darkness.
It’s interesting that the last three of the ten plagues are described in a separate parsha then the other seven. What do these last plagues of locusts, darkness, and death of the first born have in common? They all have some association with darkness. The eighth plague of locusts ‘covered the eye of the earth.’ The ninth plague, Darkness is obvious, and in the tenth Plague, Killing of the first born, those who are dead can no longer see.
In Chabad teachings, these last three plagues parallel the intellectual traits of understanding, wisdom, and crown. The head, or mind, is where the darkness lies. One’s actions and speech can appear PC, Politically correct, but thought can run rampant in rising waves of negativity. However, once we can hold these blind spots up to the light of reality and objectivity, then there may be a chance to neutralize these thoughts and even channel them for the good.
Still, there may be a deeper shadow side that we have no conscious awareness of but may actually lodge in the cells of our body. There are more and more forms of therapy and consciousness work that deal with the mind-body connection. The fact that these methods are featuring so prominently in this pre-Messianic time of history, calls to mind the Chassidic saying that in the future, ‘the soul will be nourished from the body.’ It’s as if more and more mirrors are being created to discover the places where the unconscious hides.
I read an article whose author posited that there should be no accidents caused by blind spots if we had the side mirrors positioned correctly and remembered to use them when necessary. There is a Talmudic saying. ‘A person sees all blemishes outside of his own.
The Baal Shem Tov explains these same words in a different manner: ‘(When) a person sees all blemishes outside (in another- they may actually be) of his own,’ especially if he overreacts when seeing someone else’s faults.
In other words, a person usually has blind spots regarding one’s own weaknesses or deficiencies. So how can he learn to perceive them? G-d sends persons or situations in our lives that act as mirrors to reflect what we need to fix. Sometimes it is those that are directly in ‘our face’ like family or co-workers, or sometimes ‘accidental encounters.’ But we need to be open to this self-reflection. No one is created in a perfect state, and we all need each other’s help in self-growth. As Rabbi Yacov Meyer of Denver put it so aptly on Yom Kippur: ‘We are given strengths to work with, and weaknesses to work on.’
Let us return to the encounter between Paroh and Moshe. When G-d sends Moshe to Paroh, he says something curious: Behold I have set you as E-lo-him- as a G-d (or judge) to Paroh. If G-d is trying to show Paroh that He is the only ruler of all creation, why does
He set up Moshe to sound like G-d?
The Maor V’Shemesh makes a profound point. When a Tzadik- a righteous person- wants to reach a common person, he needs to come down to the common person’s level. Since Paroh was fixated on a human being being a god, Moshe tracked his misperception by apparently exhibiting divine powers but always stressing that he is coming in the name of HaShem. Thus Moshe could serve as a mirror that had the power to wean Paroh away from self-worship. However, as mentioned, a person has to be willing to look in the mirror, even when it is in front of him. But, like Bilom, who sparred with his talking donkey instead of realizing the greater import of a supernatural event, Paroh obstinately clung to his blind spot, until the final plague and beyond.
We talked about how Moshe could be a mirror for Paroh. One could now ask, did Moshe need Paroh for anything? I believe the answer is yes. I began with the idea that when G-d said ‘Come to Paroh,’ he stressed that He would go in with him, and therefore, Moshe didn’t need ‘to be afraid of the dark.’ I think this is a reference to the soul’s individual journey in this world, a place where the Kabbalists say is a ‘doubled and redoubled darkness. How much thicker is the darkness prevalent when we are personally and collectively in exile, separated from our source. That is precisely when ‘the Source,’ needs to remind us, as G-d did when he told Yacov: ‘Do not fear to go down to Egypt; I will bring you up and also go up.’
The Shechina, the divine presence, is also in exile with us, and will be revealed when we are ready to face the darkness. This was also the reason, according to Rashi, that HaShem first appeared to Moshe in a thorn bush: ‘Imo Anochi B’tzarah-I am with Israel in its troubles.’ When we are ready to recognize that the holy shadow that is our positive blind spot, is our own soul’s core, which always goes with G-d, then we can confront our demons with courage and faith, unearthing the negative blind spots and manifesting the positive blind spots, to enrich our lives and lead us out of exile to the time when ‘The knowledge of G-d will fill the world, like water fills the sea.’ May we all merit to access this deep knowledge of ourselves and others with both chesed and emet, kindness and truth.
Speaking of faith- which we will do IYH next week, I would like to remind everyone that there is a special custom on the third day of the week of Beshalach (next Tuesday) to recite the chapter of the Manna, as a channel for blessing and abundant livelihood. This portion is in Exodus 16:4, as well as in the Artscroll siddur after morning prayers.
Vaiera
Red Light - Green Light
Jan 2, 2008
Since I was a pretty fast runner as a kid, one of my favorite street games was ‘red light-green light. Some of you must remember this simple game: Everyone would line up in back, and the caller in front would cover his/her eyes and call out, ‘1,2,3,red light or green light, and then turn around. If someone was caught running during red light, that person would have to go all the way back, kind of like base stealing in baseball.
Sometimes traffic lights seem to switch as arbitrarily as the caller in the game. We know that traffic lights are programmed, but we also know that what happens to people is decided from a higher source. The Talmud says that no one even stubs their finger on earth, unless it is decreed in heaven. When I was struck by a car on the first day of Chanukah, someone overheard the lady who hit me, as saying: ‘The last time I looked, the light was green.’ She may have lost it, but G-d is always in control.
When I heard the lady’s statement, it gave me new meaning to what Eckhart Tolle calls, ‘The Power of Now.’ Once Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was asked, ‘What is the most important thing in your life?’ His answer was both simple and profound: ‘Whatever I am doing in the moment.’ A Paroh-full, stiff-necked personality cannot live in the moment. He is stuck in fixed and rigid thought forms that do not allow him to perceive the flow of living manifestations of reality. When Moshe comes to him in the name of G-d., he orders his magicians to bring him the ‘Egyptian book of who’s who in the divine world.’ HaShem’s name is not listed there, and so Paroh exclaims, ‘Who is G-d that I should listen to his voice.’ Moshe basically responds: ‘Of course he’s not there; He is the Living G-d. He would not be ‘caught dead’ in your book!’ Paroh could not tune in to the ‘changing lights’ of a world that is being created moment to moment by a living G-d.
This message was the primary purpose behind the plagues, and, perhaps behind anything we would label as a ‘punishment.’ If G-d wanted to ‘zap’ the Egyptians, He could have done it with one blow. Why drag out the inevitable? Many of the commentaries point to the order of the plagues as showing G-d’s control over all areas of creation. As we read in Psalm 139, ‘Where can I go from Your spirit, and where can I flee from Your face?
Why was this message necessary at that time of history? The reason was that the Voice behind the ten statements of creation was drowned out by the evil in the world. The way the Sefat Emet puts it is: The ten plagues served as a bridge between the ten statements [of creation] and the Ten Commandments. You have to recognize who is in charge of everything, before you can even begin to shape your life according to the Divine Will.
If we look at the first two in each set of ten- the sayings of creation, the plagues, and the commandments, we find an interesting pattern. The Sayings: of creation tell us: ‘Let there be light followed by ‘Let there be a separation.’ The Ten Commandments begin: ‘I am the L-rd your G-d, ‘followed by, ‘Do not have other gods.’ Each has an expressive idea, followed by a restraint. Light and G-dliness, the first saying and the first commandment, are aspects of pouring out, or revelation. In contrast, the rakiya, the second saying, and the prohibition of idolatry, reflect withdrawal, concealment, or holding back. If we try to understand the idea of the Sefat Emet, that the plagues are a link between creation and Sinai, how do the first two plagues of Blood and Frogs, follow this pattern?
The last Lubavitcher Rebbe explains these plagues in a way that I think shed light on the nature of blood and frogs.’ He said that blood represents distorted heat and passion, and frogs represent distorted coldness and detachment. If we get really excited about something that the Torah tells us to stay away from, forbidden food or forbidden speech, or even about worldly matters as ends in themselves, than we will have little or no excitement for holy matters. On the other hand, if we are cold and detached from holy endeavors, then we may be hotly attracted to that which is dangerous to our well-being.
The sages say that the entire Torah is concentrated in the first word of the Ten Commandments. When G-d said, ‘Anochi,’ I am’, that established the mandate that we use all our powers and resources to make this world a dwelling place for G-d.
When we lose our sense of direction, and can overstep our boundaries, a red light shows us there may be a problem in continuing in our current path. It is a warning signal that flashes and says, ‘Stop, look, and listen- the blood you spill may be your own.’ On the other hand, when we are lazy or daydreaming, a green light flashes to show us we may be as cold-blooded as frogs, and we need to get moving. We need to drive out of the zone of the living-dead.
However, above and beyond our personal driving habits, we also need to be defensive drivers, or, as people say these days, we need to ‘negotiate the traffic.’ What does this mean spiritually? Just as in driving, on one hand we need to be familiar with the fixed entities of driving rules, traffic signals, speed limits, etc. On the other hand, we also have to allow for the unexpected variables beyond our control, such as, hazardous weather conditions, dangerous drivers, people who may need our help, etc. So too in Jewish life, we have the steady constant of Torah principles and guidelines, but we also have to know how to apply these rules in changing and unpredictable situations.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe also taught that the Jews, who were stuck in the morass of Egypt, had to stay longer just to ask for special gifts from their neighbors. On a deeper level, these gifts are the ‘holy sparks’ that they needed to rescue from Egyptian decadence, and raise up to a level of holiness. Sometimes we find ourselves in a situation or relationship that feels like being ‘stuck in traffic.’ We would rather be somewhere else, but circumstances beyond our control (sometimes called Hashgacha, or ‘Acts of G-d,’) force us to remain in that undesirable place or longer than we like. But our Torah teaches that there is always a reason: Watch the movies Grand Canyon and Changing Lanes for examples of unplanned ‘detours’ that changed peoples’ lives for the better. Maybe something we can do, say, or even think, will be the test of the moment but will gain for us an eternity of soul growth and closeness to HaShem.
May we all use those moments for the highest good.
Life may look like a game of Red Light- Green Light, but the stakes are forever.
Shemot
Dec 26, 2007
I am not the world’s greatest speller, but for some strange reason, when I was six years old, I memorized two words: One was Mississippi because I liked the sound. The other was Appreciation, because I liked the feeling. Now, 58 years later, I see a link in these two words to this week’s Parsha. Like Beraishit, Shemot too is about beginnings- the beginnings of the people of Israel, and the beginnings of exile and redemption.
A Jewish day begins with the prayer, ‘Modeh Ani.’ Oprah did not invent the ‘gratitude attitude,’ The first man, Adam Harishon, was criticized because he did not appreciate the special gift of Chava, when he said- ‘The woman whom you gave me..she gave it to me..’ Similarly, Paroh was very lacking in gratitude. In the opening verses of Shemot, Paroh, according to Rashi, was called a king ‘who did not know Yosef,’ because he did not appreciate all the good that Yosef had done for Egypt. The sages say that this lack of appreciation was the beginning of the slippery slope that led Paroh to eventually say, ‘Who is G-d that I should hearken to his voice?’
Paroh’s attitude is in stark contrast with Moshe Rabeinu, whose early life we read about later on. When Moshe was born, the Torah says, ‘She (his mother) saw that he was good-TOV.’ Rashi explains this to mean that the entire house became filled with light, and therefore his mother felt the need to hide him. Light is one of the most prominent metaphors for holiness and spirituality. One reason is that when you see a light, you know it has to be coming from somewhere. So too, Moshe was a light in the sense of always pointing people back to the Source of everything, which is G-d’s light.
Moshe tried to show Paroh that he too could connect to the Source, but Paroh hardened his heart. Paroh’s Hebrew name is spelled with the same letters as ‘Haoreph’ which means the back of the neck, the side that is too stubborn to let the light shine This is the opposite of Moshe whose birth-light expresses the idea that we read in Mishlei, ‘ Chochmat Adam Ta’ir Panav,’ the wisdom of a person lights his face. Moshe was able to speak to G-d Panim el panim-‘face to face,’ because even compared to all other prophets, Moshe was totally ‘Bateil,’- nullified, or as Reb Zalman likes to put it, transparent to the will of G-d. This transparency is also reflected in Moshe’s name. Paroh’s daughter who rescued him, called him Moshe because, ‘Min hamayim meshitihu,’ From the water he was drawn. Just as a single drop of water is nullified in the vast ocean, so Moshe felt himself to be continually absorbed in the Divine Presence.
It’s interesting too that Moshe was so sensitive to the trait of gratitude that he did not perform the first three plagues since they involved the water and earth that protected him when he was younger. As the Talmud puts it, ‘The pit from which you drank, do not throw dirt in it.’ Paroh, on the other hand, as we said, was extremely ungrateful and arrogant. He felt indebted to nothing and to no one. Paroh actually thought that not only was he an independent force, but that he himself created the source of Egypt’s bounty, the Nile River. Thus, as many people have put it, Paroh was in the ultimate state of De-Nile.
Another symbol of Paroh’s self-worship was his means of transportation, his ‘wheels’- in those days known as a chariot, a Rechev in Hebrew. The word Rechev is spelled Raish, Chaf, Beit. If you reverse the order of these letters, you get Bchor, which means, firstborn. In Parshat Shemot, G-d refers to the Jewish people as ‘My firstborn Israel.’ What is the connection between rechev, chariot, and bechor firstborn? In a brilliant analysis, Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner in his sefer Pachad Yitzchak teaches that numerically speaking, these three letters are all ‘two’s. Reish is 200, chaf is 20, and beit is 2.
There is a paradox here: How could a word meaning first, Bechor, be spelled with letters that all equal two, which is second? This hints, says Rav Hutner, at the idea that the job of a first born is to point people back to the source. It’s as if the first born is declaring: ‘I am actually a ‘second’ entity rather than a ‘first.’ On a physical level this means showing gratitude to one’s parents who brought this first child into the world; to show that this first born is a secondary product of a primary origin.
On a deeper level, this means that the job of Israel, the firstborn nation, is here to remind the world of the Aleph of Anochi, the true First of existence. Creation itself starts from the BEIT of Beraishit, and is a subsidiary and a contingent existence which constantly flows from a primary source, just as a river does. This perspective helps explain why throughout the story of the Exodus, both the firstborn and chariots are constantly mentioned. It is to emphasize the difference between the Egyptian idea of Paroh as a god, and the Jewish idea of being ‘one nation under G-d. In fact, another combination of the same three letters is: Beit, reish, chaf, which is the root of the word Beracha, blessing. We could say an important reason for reciting blessings is to constantly reconnect us back to the Source.
The word auto-mobile literally means, ‘self-moving.’ If we drive through life thinking that we are in control, we are more like Paroh than we may care to admit. On the other hand, if we ourselves yearn to be a ‘merkavah,’ a Chariot of G-d, we may be more like Moshe than we realize. Let us try to remember who is truly in the Drivers seat. Let us also remember to appreciate anyone- and anything- that does us a favor, especially the true Source of the river of life. May we speedily merit the days when, ‘the knowledge of G-d will fill the earth, like the waters cover the sea.’
I would again like to take this opportunity to thank my many friends in Colorado, and other parts of the country who have come forth with such care and generosity following the car crash that has temporarily my teaching. I hope, G-d willing, to be back in circulation very soon.
B’ivracha,
Morah Yehudis
Al Regel Achat (On one foot)
Dec 19, 2007
I used to think that having 'cruise control', meant that I could go to sleep at the wheel, and let my car take me to wherever I wanted to go. Maybe the lady who hit me on the first day of Chanukah thought the same thing. Perhaps all of life is to teach us not to fall asleep at the wheel, in our actions, words, and even thought patterns.
Parshat Vayechi opens in a curious way: 'And Yacov lived in the land of Egypt for seventeen years.' The ordinary words for lived- Vayeishev, Vayagar, Vayishkon, are not used here. The word Vayechi expressed a very high quality of life. How could this be if Yacov had to leave his beloved holy land and spend his last 17 years in the corrupt environment of Mitzrayim, which actually means a place of narrowness and confinement?
The Toldot Yacov Yosef, a foremost disciple of the Baal Shem Tov, points us to a solution. First he points out that the number seventeen adds up to the word, TOV- good. Then he reminds us of the famous story of Rabbi Akiva, who was once travelling to a city with a donkey, a rooster, and a candle. He seemed to suffer a double misfortune. Not only was he forbidden from lodging in the city, but when he was forced to camp out, he lost his donkey, rooster, and candle, by what nowadays would be called 'acts of G-d,' meaning unforseeable circumstances. In the morning however, he found that raiders had attacked the city, and if his donkey had brayed, if his rooster had crowed, and if his candle had been spotted, he too would have been a goner. He then responded with the famous quote: 'Whatever the compassionate One does is for TOV, for the good.
Thus he concludes, Yacov (whose name shares the same root as Akiva, meaning heel) was able to find good, even in the darkness of Egypt, and thus live his last 17 years with equanimity and contentment. If Yacov had been 'asleep at the wheel,' he might have thought, 'negative surroudings equals negative life,' Instead he was able to reframe his situation and ultimately bequeath to his children the leg-acy that not everything that looks bad on the surface, is actually bad. The root of Ekev, heel, also means consequence, or end. The days of Mashiach, are called, 'Ikveta D'mashicha, the heels of Mashiach, when we will come closer and close to the consolation and realization that whatever circumstance Hashem put us in, individually and collectively, is ultimately for TOV.
If we can try to see this now in our lives, perhaps we can bring these days closer.
This week was the fast day of the tenth of Tevet, the day commemorating the siege of the walls of Jerusalem, before the destruction of the Temple. This year, the tenth of Tevet was also the day that the Boulder Eruv was approved. Accidental timing? I don't think so. The destruction of the Temple came about through division and causeless hatred. Here in Boulder, there was an amazing show of unity to support Aish Kodesh in its Eruv project. Eruv itself means joining together, and is also a word that means, 'sweetening' of severities. May this forcast extraordinary growth for Aish Kodesh. We are taught that when Mashiach comes, the fast days will be turned into festivals. This week we have experienced a taste of this transformation.
Yaasher Koach Boulder. May the angels that have watched over me, watch over our special city.
Bivracha,
Morah Yehudis
|
