Thursday, May 29, 2014

Parsha Nasso, May 29, 2014

Parsha: Nasso (2014)
By: Joel Ackerman
A Human Miracle?

            The Torah is replete with miracles performed by G-d for the Israelites – both while in the desert (Bamidbar) and in Israel.  This parasha describes an event that could be considered a miracle performed by humans – the leaders (“princes”) of the Israelite tribes.
            Imagine this scene.  You visit a synagogue in which you have never been before.  In general the synagogue looks much the same as others you know.  There is a beautifully designed aron (ark) that contains Torahs wrapped in fine velvet mantles.  The curtain in front of the ark and coverings for the reading tables are similarly of fine velvet.   In the walls are beautiful windows.   Everything looks and feels familiar, but something seems a bit odd – a little off. 
After a while, it occurs to you what seems strange.    There are no decorations on the Torah mantles or other velvet materials.  And none is inscribed with the name of a donor or a person in whose honor or memory the item was donated.  The same is true of the windows.  There are no plaques on the walls noting any donation.  Just to be sure, you check the siddurim around you.  There are no faceplates with names of donors or honorees.
            You feel that this congregation must be composed of amazing individuals.   No one seems to have needed to see his or her name prominently displayed.  They must all have been able to subsume their egos to support a common purpose – hiddur mitzvah for the synagogue.   A human-performed miracle?
            This week’s parasha describes what seems to be a similar “miracle” - the presentation of gifts by the nasiim (“princes”) of the tribes at the dedication of the mishkan.   First they jointly present the mundane gifts of oxen and wagons to carry the parts of the mishkan.    Then, each nasi has the opportunity to present his individual gifts – one on each of twelve consecutive days. 
            The twelve nasiim presented identical gifts – a silver bowl weighing 130 shekels, a silver basin weighing 70 shekels, both filled with a meal-offering, a gold ladle weighing ten shekels filed with incense, and specified numbers of animals for sacrifices.    According to the Midrash the bowls, basins and ladles weighed exactly the same, so that if all were melted down the resulting amount of silver or gold metal would be exactly twelve times the weight of one item.   And, in addition, one might have expected that the princes would have decorated their items differently or inscribed their names or the names of their tribes on these items.  But no – again, the Midrash teaches that all the bowls, all the basins and all the ladles were exactly alike.  And this was no accident – it was done intentionally, by agreement of the nasiim.
            The Midrash credits this accomplishment to Netanel ben Tzuar, nasi of the tribe of Issachar, who was scheduled to present his gift on the second day.  According to the story, he saw the gift planned by the first to present (Nachshon ben Amminadav of Judah) and decided to present an identical gift so as not to upstage his predecessor, and not to start a cascade of ever-increasing gifts, with the last nasi feeling it would be necessary to bring the most elaborate, most expensive, gift.
            Rav Yissocher Frand explains it thusly:
            “He reasoned as follows:  We know our own nature.  Everyone will argue that his offering was better.  This will lead to lashon hara and hatred and jealously.  We know our nature.  So he did a tremendous thing.  He brought – exactly – the same offering.  He set the tone – everyone is the same.”
            Now, knowing human nature, it seems reasonable that this was not all that Netanel ben Tzuar did to maintain peace among the tribes.   It seems to me that it would not have been enough for him to have decided to bring exactly the same gift as Nachshon.   He probably still would have had to convince ten other nasiim to go along, and to agree on what the gifts would be; ten other leaders with their own personalities, their own egos and their own ideas about gift-giving.  And perhaps Moses had to be involved in these discussions.   Because Moses and the Kohanim would have to agree that they could use twelve of each item.  Otherwise they would have to accept gifts that were superfluous - with a straight face – and then figure out what they were going to do with them.
            And so the mishkan was constructed and equipped by the community, in a totally community-focused way.   The mishkan itself was made from raw materials donated by the overall community – wood, metal, fabrics, wool, skins, etc., that were made into the necessary objects by Bezalel and Oholiav and their many helpers.   Any object was made from materials donated by many individuals – no one could point to anything and say “This was made from materials given by me.”   And a Kohen or Levite using one of the bowls, basins or ladles would have no idea which prince, which tribe, had contributed it. 
            Such an overall sublimation of egos - a miracle performed by humans?  Feel free to decide.





Friday, May 9, 2014

Parsha Emor: May 3, 2014

Parsha Emor
3 Iyar /May 3
By: Michal Kohane


If perchance you scratch your head because you forgot one of the Torah holidays, fear not! There is one chapter where you can find them all: Leviticus 23, in the heart of the Torah portion of Emor. As we read the list, we notice that the Biblical holidays started with Pesach and ended with Shmini Atzeret – spanning the six months from spring and summer to fall. No winter holidays. All together – seven (7) holidays, including Shabbat, Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Sukkot & Shmini Atzeret.

And in between them, we find the following commandment:

"וספרתם לכם ממחרת השבת, מיום הביאכם את עומר התנופה, שבע שבתות תמימות תהיינה, עד ממחרת השבת השביעית, תספרו חמישים יום"...

And you shall count unto you from the morrow after the day of rest, from the day that you brought the sheaf of the waving; seven weeks shall there be complete; even unto the morrow after the seventh week shall you number fifty days”… (23:15-16).

This, of course, is the counting of the Omer where we are now: seven weeks of seven days from Pesach and Shavuot. Time has seen us add numerous explanations and customs, and even holidays to the sfira, the count. All the “Israel days” are concentrated here; as kids, growing up in Israel, we were particularly religious about Lag Ba’omer, celebrating it with grand bonfires for which wood (very precious in Israel!) was collected (not to mention sometimes stolen) weeks in advance. This was in honor of Bar Kochva (the hero), Rabbi Akiva and the great revolt following the Temple’s destruction (we were not told of the disastrous results of this revolt…). Special minhagim were kept during the sfira: no shaving, no weddings (except on Lag Ba’omer).

And somehow, between it all, the original injunction of the sfira, was a little (to say the least) lost.

As I understand it, the sfira, first of all, is supposed to help us connect between Pesach and Shavuot; between the exodus and the time of giving of the Torah; between the wow of liberation and the reason of that liberation, or else we’d still be running “free” in the desert. The sfira is a countdown (count-up?) to a special event, like waiting for a birthday, a big trip, a gift; something we expect excitedly; something without which we would be going nowhere with no purpose at all.

And, the sfira also reminds us that things don’t happen all at once, that things take time, and a process, sort of like creation. After all, G-d can do anything, so why take six days to create the world? Can’t he just say “poof” and ‘let there be world’?? Why break it down to light and dirt and plants and various animals? Maybe to teach us that good things take time; that in order to build something real and beautiful, there is a course to go through, like a spiritual pregnancy. We can’t plant a seed and expect a blooming flower and fruit ripening on the tree the next day. The seed has to rot in the ground, going through a process that many of us would consider disgusting, until a beautiful flower comes out. We can’t be born and immediately start hiking; we can’t be slaves, and get the Torah immediately.

Sometimes we forget, especially nowadays, when we’re bombarded with slogans for immediate gratification, everything from “peace now” to fast food, we want whatever it is, yesterday. We want others to guess our needs and give it to us sooner rather than later, before we have even figured it out ourselves.

But the Torah says – the journey itself takes precedence to reaching the destination: “im bechukotai telchu”– if you (just) walk in accordance to my law”…  (26:3). each step along the way is a goal in itself, which we can’t do without. Like children, we count: One. Two…. Twelve… Twenty one... Thirty Three... We need each piece to complete the puzzle, even if we don’t always see the whole picture right away. We learn patience and structure and putting things together.

In Genesis, we hear about Abraham who was “ba bayamim” (Genesis 24:1). “Ba bayamim” is a figure of speech which means advanced in years, but it literally means ‘comes in the days,’ or better ‘comes with one’s days.’ That means, said the sages, that when he was coming and going, he still had all his days; he still knew exactly what he did yesterday, and the day before, and a year ago, And since he managed to make each day meaningful, he came with all of them.

And so it is with us. We’re still taught to count. We need to count every day because every day counts.

Shabbat Shalom.