Parashat Beha'alotchah

Sivan 16, 5773 ~ May 25, 2013
by Diane Whitten-Vile

Beha’Alosecha 8:1-12:16

There is a joke I’ve heard many times about a group of Jewish ladies having lunch in a restaurant.   The waiter comes up to the table and says “Is anything all right?”  Implying of course, that nothing is ever ok.  Jews complain.  A lot.  There are many jokes of this nature.  Is this anti-Semitism; a bad stereotype?  I’ll leave that to you to answer.

But complaining plays a big role in this week’s parsha.  It seems that this parsha contains maybe one of  (if not THE)  worst crisis of Moshes life.  Incited by the “mixed multitude”, the Israelites complain about…what else, the food.  Remember the joke told by Woody Allen in Annie Hall?  A group of Jews are having lunch at a restaurant and one person says to the other one, “the food here is terrible” and the other person says, “yes, and such small portions”

The Israelites say “If only we had meat to eat.  We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost, also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, etc.  But now we have lost our appetite: we never see anything but this manna”.  It was quite an appalling show of ingratitude, but certainly not the first time the Israelites had complained.  In Marah, they complained that the water was too bitter.  They protested the lack of food. Later, at Refidim, they grumbled at the absence of water, prompting Moshe to say to Hashem, “What am I to do with these people? They are ready to stone me”

The episode in this week’s Torah portion-at the place now known as Kivrot Hataavah-was not the first challenge Moshe faced.  However, Moshes reaction this time is filled with much more despair.  He tells Hashem he cannot carry all these people by himself, the burden is too heavy.  He actually tells Hashem, if this is how you are going to treat me, put me to death.    He prays to die.  Moshe had faced and overcome many difficulties before.  Why the nervous breakdown now? 

Equally interesting is Hashems reaction.  He tells Moshe to bring him 70 elders who are known as leaders and officials.   Hashem says “I will come down and speak with you, and I will take of the spirit that is on you and put the spirit on them.  They will help you carry the burden”   In what way would the appointment of elders address the crisis? I believe Moshe already had a group of men, representatives, officals-who would help Moshe.  This idea of “assistants” was suggested to him by his father in law.   A suggestion Moshe followed.

Rabbi Moshe Lichtenstein, in his book about Moshe’s leadership, suggest that the reason Moshe was in deeper despair has to do with the timing of the complaints.  Due to the giving of the Torah and the construction of the Tabernacle, the Israelites are turned from an undisciplined mass of fugitive slaves into a nation whose constitution is the Torah.  They are no longer what they were before.  So, looking back, maybe one could forgive their earlier complaints.   But now, they had gone through such a transformative experience that shaped them as a nation.   So, for Moshe it must have seemed that not miracles, deliverances, nor revelations at Sinai could change these people.  It’s possible this explains the depth of his despair.

With the 70 elders, Hashem took “the spirit that is on you and put it on them” so that Moshe could see the difference he hade made to one group, the elders.  He was able to see that the 70 elders had internalized his spirit and made his message their own. Moshe needed nothing more.  He didn’t really need their help.  What he got was a transparent glimpse of how his spirit had communicated itself to them.  For a brief moment, Hashem let Moshe see how his “spirit” had entered this group of elders, and lifted them to the level of prophetic vision.  Then, Moshe knew he had a made a difference.  He could see that others would continue his work after he was gone.

In speaking to a dear friend who lost her husband last week end in a tragic car accident, we spoke of his positive effect on my life and the lives of everyone he touched while he was alive.  How tragic also that I kept that sense of gratitude and love to myself, instead of sharing it with my great friend Steve who is now gone.

Moshe’s experience reminds me of the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life”.   Jimmy Stewart gets to glimpse how he had changed the world and how his life had made such a difference in others lives.  Hopefully, in dark moments of wondering if we are doing anything to make a difference, we can understand that the good we do will live on after us, perhaps in ways we can’t even imagine now.

Parshat Bechukotai

Rain, Materialistic Blessings and Fulfillment:
The Torah Portion of Bechukotai

Iyar 24, 5773 ~ May 4, 2013
by Michal Kohane

 

Did I mention? I love Hebrew! Maybe not at first site, and not when I studied for matriculation exams in language and grammar, but ever since, things just get better. And the longer we get to hang around together, the deeper our connection.

Hebrew has an amazing system of roots that shed light on each other. Consider this: kaved means heavy, while kavod is honor, and indeed, depicts someone that has “weight” – in their own eyes, and in the eyes of those around them; a word which stands in contradiction to kal meaning light and klala - curse, or as befits the opposite of “weighted one” - taking someone lightly. 

Rain in the Torah is often used as a key blessing. We probably know it best from the second paragraph of the Shma, and we will also see it in this week’s parasha, the last parasha of the Book of Leviticus. Bechukotai deals with the “blessing and curses”, also known as consequences: if we do good, good things will happen, and if not – a much longer and more detailed list of bad things will happen.

אם בחוקותי תלכו – If you walk in accordance with My law… the word for law here is “chukot”, usually meaning laws for which we can find no simple reason other than “kdusha”, holiness. Examples might include kashrut, sha’atnez and even Shabbat. For those we need great faith because, at the end of the day, those are the ones which have no rational explanation. Luckily about these laws the Torah just says here – “If you walk…” which according to some means, if you just get on the journey, it will count in your favor. You might not get all of them perfectly right, but at least start on the path in the right direction.

ונתתי גשמיכם בעתם – the first reward for doing the right thing is timely rain. Rain in Israel, especially of ancient times and still today is critical. Unlike Egypt – and the two are often put in contrast to each other – the Land of Israel has very limited resources, and those are all dependent on the Heavens. There are no daily tropical showers, great lakes, or man-made system of canals that ensure year-round steady flow. On the other hand, there are also no gods fighting with each other, expressing their capricious nature, oblivious to the humans far below. According to the Torah, rain is a reflection of a good relationship between the Children of Israel, their G-d and the way of life He prescribes to his People.

There is a midrash on Psalms 73:3 where it says: יִשְּׂאוּ הָרִים שָׁלוֹם לָעָם וּגְבָעוֹת בִּצְדָקָה – “mountains will bring peace to the nation, and the hills – tzedaka”. But how can that be? Do mountains bring peace and hills bring tzedaka? It is said: where there is no rain and little fruit, there is strife in the world. How so? One person might enter a vineyard of his fellow man in order to satisfy his hunger. The vineyard’s owner would be surprised and angry at the intruder, thus they begin to quarrel. Yet, while there is lots of rain, there is food, things are good and there is peace. Therefore the promise for “rain in its season” is a promise for peace in the word.

The same root used for the word גשם – geshem is also part of gashmiyut – materialism, and hitgashmut – fulfillment or self-realization. To me this is an extension of the original text that expresses two important, intertwined ideas: the first is that blessings express themselves in the material world around us, and I like the idea that the spiritual and the physical are closely connected, and that the physical is a reflection of other, deeper, hidden occurrences. It also reminds and teaches us that there is no sin in being affluent or living well, as long as we remember where are blessings are coming from and our tzedaka obligations.

And what if we do what we perceive as “the right thing” and there is no visible “reward”, “outcome” or physical benefits for us doing so, for after all, there is no guarantee for those? That’s where the second point comes in: more than walking in the right path is a recipe for receiving material goods, it is a journey for self-fulfillment and realization. Thus we can read the text like this: embarking on the journey, davka (especially) in dealing with those G-d given commandments we don’t necessarily fully comprehend, has the potential of bringing us closer to our own true self-fulfillment.

Parashat Emor

Parashat Emor

Iyar 17, 5773 ~ April 27, 2013
by Marshall Schwartz

Often, the Torah tells us the same thing – or rather almost the same thing – more than once.  After all, the Ten Commandments appear in both Parshat Yitro and Parshat VaEthanan.  In today's parsha, Emor, we have one of three lists of haggim that are presented in the Torah, each with its own variations on the same theme.  And the differences between our lists – and other texts – give rise to quite a few questions, but very few answers.   

Half of Parshat Emor – from the middle of the third aliyah to the end of the sixth – has the nearly-unique distinction of being read on Shabbat and hag four times a year:  not only when we read Emor, but also on the first two days of Sukkot and the second day of Pesah.  The  contents of this section makes it clear why we read it on these days – it contains the first of the three lists of holidays.

Similarly, the end of Parshat Pinchas contains an even more complete list of such days;    more complete because its main function is to spell out the full order of sacrifices for each day, and therefore each day of Sukkot is listed separately (since the number of sacrificial bulls changes from day to day).   These paragraphs are read as the maftir portions on each of the hagim (or as the fourth aliyah on hol ha'moed Pesach and Sukkot).  

Finally, there is one other Torah section that contains a list of holy days.  It, too, is read four times a year:  the last aliyah of Parshat Re'eh, which is chanted on the last day of Pesah, the last day of Shavuot, and Shemini Atzeret.  But this aliyah mentions only the Shalosh Regalim.

There are many similarities between the three versions, but some marked differences as well. In Emor, the description of each holiday begins with an introductory verse, followed by the date of the hag (or, as is the case with Shavuot and Shemini Atzeret, a way to calculate the date).  Interspersed with these descriptions are the instructions for counting the omer, and the commandment not to glean the corners of your field (but leave the gleanings for the poor). Most of the discussion concerns the nature of each special day, with occasional and inconsistent references to their associated sacrifices.  In Pinchas, every paragraph (except the first two, which list the sacrifices for Shabbat and Rosh Hodesh) begins explicitly or implicitly with the date, and then follows with the exact makeup of that day's additional sacrifice.  Finally, the calendar in Re'eh omits dates altogether, barely hints at sacrifices, and ignores Shemini Atzeret entirely. 

If these were the only variations that begged for explanations, we would have plenty to delve into.   Pinchas speaks for itself – it's simply a menu of all the additional sacrifices for the year. Its nature suggests that a more in-depth look at the holidays is also needed – and this week's parsha fits that bill quite nicely.  So why is a foreshortened list included in Re'eh?   If you would propose that Devarim contains many recapitulations (as with the Ten Commandments), so that another holiday calendar does not seem out of place, then why are Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Shemini Atzeret not included?  I have no answer.  I can only raise the question – one of several such questions I will pose.

But we need to go beyond these three sections of Torah.  There is one additional in-depth discussion of one (and only one) holiday in our text, and we read it last week.   The beginning of Parshat Acharei Mot gives a detailed description of the formal ritual of the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur (a description elaborated on significantly in Mishna Yoma).  Why is Yom Kippur given this unique treatment among all the holy days – a long, self-contained essay with no reference to any other hag, far more detailed and elaborate than the Torah provides for any other holy day?   And why, uniquely in Acharei Mot, is the date of the hag given at the end of the description, after 28 detailed verses, rather than at the beginning (as in Emor and Pinchas, or not at all, as in Re'eh)?  Two more questions without answers.

Finally, I'd like to look briefly at the incompletely understood holiday of Shemini Atzeret.  Many commentators note that the choice of prefixes in Pinchas indicate that Shemini Atzeret is formally separate from Sukkot, not a part of the seven-day festival that immediately precedes it.   The section on Sukkot begins, “On the fifteenth day of the seventh month,” going on to list the sacrificial menu for the first day.   The paragraph for day two begins, “And on the second day”;  for the third day, “And on the third day”; and so on.  Until we get to the eighth day, which begins, “On the eighth day” – note that the prefix vav, meaning “and”, is missing; hence the conclusion that Shemini Atzeret is entirely separate.  Then how do these darshanim explain today's kriah?  Lev. 39 reads, “But on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when you gather in the crop of the land, you shall celebrate Hashem's festival for seven days;  the first day shall be a day of rest, and the eighth day is a day of rest.”   That pesky vav has inserted itself into our parsha, meaning “and”.   So is Shemini Atzeret considered separate in today's reading, or is it joined to Sukkot by a vav?  Yet another question in search of an answer.

And one final issue regarding Shemini Atzeret, which I find rather mystifying.  After Solomon  dedicates the Temple in a seven-day celebration which took place during Sukkot, we are told, “On the eighth day, he sent the people off, and they blessed the king” [I Kings 8:66].  But if the eighth day was Shemini Atzeret, when no work was permitted, how could Solomon have sent the people home?   This dissonance is compounded by what we are told in the Book of Chronicles: “At that time, Solomon instituted the celebration for seven days, and all Israel was with him, a very great congregation, from the Approach of Hamath until the Brook of Egypt.  On the eighth day they celebrated an assembly, for they celebrated the dedication of the altar for seven days and the festival [of Sukkot] for seven days.  On the twenty-third day of the seventh month [Solomon] sent the people off to their homes, joyous and good-hearted...” [II Chron. 7:8-10].   So what really happened – was Shemini Atzeret celebrated when the Temple was first dedicated, or not?  One last question without an answer.

Parashat Tazria-Metzora

Parashat Tazria-Metzora

Iyar 3, 5773 ~ April 13, 2013
by Neska


Dedicated to the Birth Days of Barbara B, Sheila D and Neska N

In Memory of the Life of a Grand Old Dame - Hilde Korr

"Sticks and stones may break my bones

But words will never hurt me" OH YEAH?

Metzorim = people who speak lashon hara

* They are excluded from being inside the camp but must move outside the 'city limits'. And for some, even that is not far enough. They must move to waaaaay outside the city limits and are truly isolated. . This short DVORT (u laughing Rabbi JD?) is about two very different types of metzorim.

Meriam - is speaking with her brother Moshe, with Aaron at her side and lashon hara is spoken. What? Miriam speaking with an evil tongue?

In the Haftarah, four men are sitting outside the city and may not enter as they have spoken lashon hara and are metzorim.

Let's take Miriam first.

The Torah warns us to be careful about speaking lashon hara and then immediately proceeds to say "remember what happened to Miriam when...." In Rav Zef Leff's book Out Looks and Insights, he suggests that Miriam did NOT sin; she did not speak malice, she was talking to none other than her brother, Moshe (with their other brother, Aaron), having a family conversation, making certain that Moshe and Zipporah were all right. But a "tam", like "hevel", must have been spoken. And, as further proof that nothing "evil" was said, Moshe asks Hashem NOT to forgive her, but to heal her. And the Jewish community waits with her for a week, just as she waited for Moshe beside the river to see what would happen to him, just as she rushed to get Yocheved to nurse him, just as she loved him so much she wanted to make sure that he and his wife were ok. It was out of concern for their marital relationship that she spoke to Moshe. And it was out of love for Miriam that the Jewish people waited with her.

Four men are sitting outside the city borders and are speaking with one another; they have not been cast into isolation, but must have done some negative speaking because they have definitely been cast out of the city. They are sitting and talking and get around to talking about how hungry they are and make a decision, not to try and correct what it was that they said so they could return to a Jewish life within the city, (resisting teshuva?) but decide to go to the Aramean camp to see if they can find some food and if not, they will simply die. Better, it seems, than to repent. That they have no impetus to repent/return. They feel themselves too far gone, perhaps. As they come to the camp, they notice that it is quiet, and upon searching, they realize that the people in the camp seem to have just evaporated. No one is there--BUT food and clothing and other items are just laying about, as if the people have fled. Which, indeed they have. So they sit and they eat and they horde some of the wealth they find and they come back and sit and eat and...suddenly, one of them says....This is not right. We need to go to the City and tell the gate keeper of the circumstances here - our people need to know.

Ahhh....what a miraculous turn of events. How beautifully has Hashem set this up so that not only the metzorim return to civilization but the Jews have what they need to survive.

Sometimes Hashem remains anonymous.

So what about in our times? If tzaaras were still in existence, we would probably ALL (or most of us) be sitting outside the camp and, perhaps we are. Driving home after the first two days of Pesach, having had a fulfilling experience with friends, having sang and sang and eaten and eaten and learned and learned....I not only spoke lashon hara in the car but I spoke it in an angry manner, I mean angry. No white spots on my skin. No white hairs. BUT for the rest of the chag (clear thru Tuesday night) my body was out of sync. I was having tremelo's; my body was vibrating. . I could not sleep more than an hour. I was talking out loud to myself and so much so that I actually asked myself out loud, why are you doing this body? And I couldn't figure it out and I was afraid. And, as I was preparing for this 'dvor' it suddenly dawned on me. No, I didn't have white spots on my skin, I didn't have white hairs appear. But my whole body was covered with the effects of having spoken lashon hara. And once that dawned on me, all I could do was thank Hashem for being so Present and so lenient. When Joel asked us to sign up for a parasha for this spring, I could have chosen any parasha to study and drash on....but Hashem had the cure before I had the 'illness'. And I chose Tsar'as and Metzorah.

Hilde Korr, ztl, strongly in my mind. What a beautiful woman, matriarch, lady. Her gentleness will so be missed. I was introduced to the Korr Mishpacha when I first heard the Kohanim in our shul dulchan the priestly blessing. I remember gasping. With my eyes closed, I was certain I was hearing a strong connection with American Indian chanting. And I felt that way every time Mr. Korr, whose lead voice is the strongest, and the rest of the Kohanim chant. Which brought me to thinking about the parallels of the American Indian Medicine Man (who would look and lay hands and prescribe herbs) and with the Kohanim who are the only ones who can diagnose tsa'aras and who can treat it. (I actually called the American Dermatological Association to see if they had ever done a study of how many dermatologists were Kohanim. But alas and alack.) And perhaps, who knows, perhaps the American Indian is a lost tribe of Israel. Who knows.

Hashem does.

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Tzav

Parashat Tzav

Nissan 12, 5773 ~ March 23, 2013

by Rabbi Akiva Naiman

Money Matters

 

As part of the inauguration of the Mishkan, Moshe poured the blood of an offering on the Mizbeach “to atone for it.” What atonement was necessary? Rashi explains that the meaning is “to invest it with the power to provide atonement.” Sifra, however takes the stance that there was a literal atonement necessary here. Sifra explains that there might have been people who were guilted into contributing money for the Mishkan, who didn’t really want to give. If so, the money they handed over was not given freely, and in some small way could be considered stolen. Moshe pouted the blood to atone for any such “theft.”

Isn’t that incredible? Think about it. They had only recently stood at Har Sinai, where they had all heard Hashem’s voice. They had all screamed “We will do and we will listen!” They were all clear that their whole purpose was to be tied up in their relationship with Hashem. Yet there was a good chance that some people could not bring themselves to contribute freely to build a home for the Shechinah. What happened to the prophetic inspiration they all experienced at the Sea? Where was the willingness to contribute that led to the Golden Calf being completed before Moshe returned?

It would appear that there is a special yetzer hara to be tightfisted when it comes to doing mitzvos. The Gemara points out that the reason we say in Shema that “you must love Hashem, your G-d, with all your heart, all your soul, and all your means,” is because there are people who feel that their money is more valuable than their lives. So when it comes to a Golden Calf, you will always find plenty of donors. But try to open a Yeshivah or collect money for starving families, and all of a sudden, everyone is “having a little trouble right now.”

I used to say that you could tell which institutions are accomplishing real good by how strapped for cash they are. There are exceptions, of course, where Hashem feels something is so important that He gives them a grant, so to speak, but in general the best places have the least money.

I once saw a sefer that put it quite bluntly: around the time of Yom Kippur, everyone wants merits. We know how to get them, too. “Repentance, prayer, and charity can wipe away the evil decree.” Jews all over the world, he said, start praying with such devotion, and they repent with broken hearts. But somehow, when it comes to charity, “The voice (of prayer) is the voice of Yaakov, but the hands (of the giving) are the hands of Eisav.” Ouch.

 

Even more frightening is that as far as the Mishkan was concerned, money we give out of feelings of guilt doesn’t really count. It’s considered like we didn’t actually relinquish ownership.

I always tell people that even if you can’t give to a collector, a warm smile and a brachah that he succeed cost you nothing. But that is true only if you can’t actually give something. If someone spends all his money on his personal version of the Golden Calf, his sympathy and friendship are hypocritical. The fact is that a starving person can’t eat smiles, and a Yeshivah can’t run on goodwill (although they often try). During World War II, Zeirei Agudas Yisrael in America was one of the most active organizations to help the refuges from Europe. Their slogan: “Sympathy won’t help them – money will.”

I don’t usually rant about money, but it seemed a good time. Everyone knows how tough things are around Pesach time. Think about how people feel who can’t really make it during the rest of the year. They can easily be crushed. That’s why there is an age-old minhag that everyone must contribute to the poor before Pesach. Just a thought.

Have a wonderful Shabbos.

Parashat Vayakheil / Pekudei

Parashat Vayakheil / Pekudei

Adar 27, 5773 ~ March 9, 2013
by Alex Hart

Here in Vayakheil, there’s deliberate singling out individuals for their unique skill: לב חכם (35:10), translated as ‘naturally talented individual’. These individuals would be building the tabernacle itself and everything it contained. It doesn’t sound like there’ll be a great deal of teamwork. But then the Torah describes the throngs of volunteers both men and women. Now, everyone alike is spinning and donating, offering sacrifices; all become a multitude, no one person receives especial mention. This is the very first time we see the Bnei Yisrael working together and we can almost feel the camaraderie. Beautiful items are brought as donations and now, whereas these parshiyot follow directly on the heels of the sin of the Golden Calf, idol worship, the tangible is now being celebrated, all for the glory of G-d.

Considering the tangible, if we think back to the beginning of Shemot, In (4:1) we see that Moshe disagreed with G-d as to the appropriate manner of leadership. Moshe had maintained that the people, collectively, would only believe what they could see, i.e. leading them to faith by virtue of visual evidence. Here, gold and ornaments, tangible objects, are happily provided for a different purpose.  The emphasis on all of this pomp and splendor is not for idolatry but to enhance the serving of G-d, the Omnipresent but invisible.

Each person is a part of this new kehilla but each interprets his worship of G-d in his own way. It’s reminiscent of the manner in which we live for gratification; we’re governed by experiential learning and an era of ‘1000 Places to See Before You Die’. These too are experiences that are most personal: one man’s appreciation of an experience is not the same as another’s; they are difficult to share or articulate. Through the provision of the tangible it appears that there’s enormous hope that will be the medium through which to enhance deveikut, devotion to G-d.

I work to eradicate anti-Semitism each day. Even in an environment devoid of Jews, the irrational hatred pervades. A recent publication by Professor David Nirenberg ‘Anti-Judaism: The Western Tradition’ may yet prove to be a seminal work defining this abhorrence of our nation. Anti-Semitism is directed against a person, yet if there’s still hatred in a space in which there are no Jews; it boils down to a hatred of Judaism, the idea.  Others are frightened by that that has no earthly representation and I’m rapidly coming to it the conclusion that it’s simply because Jews worship an invisible G-d.

Here in these parshiyot, is the very first presentation of the same. We see talented individuals morph into a team and furthermore, they are working with one mindset, to serve G-d. For those on the outside looking in, it seems incomprehensible, cultish, the incongruous donation of precious objects into a wooden structure.

I’m inclined to believe that it’s this unswerving attachment to G-d, our central tenet, that leads to a universal wonderment ‘How could a whole nation be motivated in such a manner?’

‘Our age is the age of criticism, to which everything must be subjected. The sacredness of religion, and the authority of legislation, are by many regarded as grounds of exemption from the examination of this tribunal. But, if they are exempted, they become the subject of just suspicion, and cannot lay claim to sincere respect, which reason accords only to that which has stood the test of a free public examination.’ (Kant, Critique of Pure Reason)

Others are scared of that which can’t be seen, they need the tangible.

Bnei Yisrael are human too but in their joint donation of their precious items for the Mishkan and the work behind the scenes to produce it, there’s achdut, such a shared experience promoting stability and adding a quality to the entire nature of that being built, that it becomes something ethereal.

The repetition is most apparent on reading these parshiyot. The details describing the building of the mishkan, down to the minutiae that appear in perek 37, parallel those in chapter 25:10 – 40. Nachmanides (יא,ס רבה בראשית) tells us that these details are actually repeated 5 times throughout the Torah. This is quite astonishing if, as we’re told, every word, every letter, has meaning in the Torah.  No matter which way it’s cut, the details, in all their glory, are very much a case of repetition.

However, the repetition has a message. Each time that an element was dutifully completed, we note Moshe’s response: משה את ה צוה כאשר – as HaShem had commanded Moshe. There was teamwork after all and the beauty in working together in unison garnered a blessing from Moshe. The work done required repetition because, as Ramban says, it was deserving of recognition. Bnei Yisrael had for the first time tackled a program with the one mindset, the talent came from the לב חכם to deliver the end product, a place for G-d’s presence to reside. As if a symphony, each note, each item added, rises to its full potential in what is being represented in the outer product, without ego. A symphony so beautiful, it bears repetition. As Heschel would advise, the majesty and awe in a sunrise remind us that ‘we do not create the ineffable, we encounter it’.

Parashat Ki Tisa

Parashat Ki Tisa

Adar 20, 5773 ~ March 2, 2013
by Steve Astrachan

 

Parsha Ki Sisa begins with the story of a census, a counting of the Jewish People.  The process involves the payment of a half-sheckel by everyone involved.  The Torah here is quite descriptive:

          This shall they give – everyone who passes through the census- a half sheckel of       the sacred sheckel, the sheckel is twenty geras, half a sheckel as a portion to      Hashem.  Everyone who passes through the census, from twenty years of age and     up, shall give the portion of Hashem.  The wealthy shall not increase and the     destitute shall not decrease from half a sheckel – to give the portion of Hashem, to       atone for your souls.  (Ex, 30: 13-15)

The verses speak to two important concepts in Torah and Tanach, equality and atonement.  In this case the equality derives from the atonement.  It is as in Yom Kippur when we desist from wearing leather shoes as a symbol of our equality before Ha Shem. However the concept of equality goes beyond this derivation and appears elsewhere in Tanach as pointed out by Rabbi Ovadia Sforno:

          That respecteth not the persons of the princes,

          Nor regardeth the rich more than the poor.

          For they are all the work of His hands.

          (Job, 34:19)

However the equality of status in giving the half shekel in atonement and membership in the Jewish People does not mean that all are expected to contribute equally regardless of their relative means or abilities. Quite the contrary we are all judged equal when we contribute in accordance with our individual means and abilities.  Rav Hirsh deals with this duality in his commentary on Exodus 30:15 (above):

          Just in this equality, the symbolic nature of the fixed gift of half a shekel is    expressed.  As long as the rich man and the poor man give, each all that he can, does the whole of what he can do, then, as far as G-d and his sanctuary are concerned, the pounds of the rich weigh no more then the pennies and shillings of the poor, and the pennies and shillings of the poor are quite equal to the pounds of the rich.  The rich man can do no more, and the poor shall do no less, that the half a whole shekel, G-d and the Sanctuary weigh not the actual, but the relative size of the contribution, they value what is given and what is done in relation to the fortune and abilities of the givers.  Every one who uses the full powers of the   fortune and the abilities with which he had been graced, in the service of G-d, in furthering the aims of the Sanctuary, lays thereby his “half-shekel” as his “symbolism” on the Altar of G-d.

Finally there is the issue of atonement or more specifically what are we atoning for in giving the half shekel.  Here I have always been moved by the commentary of a more contemporary scholar Rabbi, Dr. J. H. Hertz, who pointed out that the term kfer or ransom applies to the taking of human life when the act is not homicide.  He then concluded that the half shekel was thus for those who have to go to war:

          …The soldier is to be impressed with the fact that, high as the aims for which he goes to battle may be, war remains a necessary evil.  The ransom is, therefore, to be paid at the time of the mustering, long before the actual fighting begins.

The Torah is teaching us that war by necessity has an immoral aspect. It may be justified and necessary, but it can never be fully a moral exercise. 

In this regard the parsha puts us in line with others who have had to grapple with the issue of war.  Benjamin Franklin served the country with distinction both during and after the Revolution.  But it was he who said, “There is no such thing as a good war or a bad peace.”  Moving forward Gary Willis in his “Lincoln at Gettysburg” made the point that while Abraham Lincoln always admired the “generation of 76” he never extolled the Revolution itself because it was a war.  Certainly President Lincoln was no pacifist, leading the nation through the Civil War with its 620,000 dead.  He knew whereof he spoke in the Second Inaugural with “this mighty scourge of war.”  Both of these men were extremely knowledgeable, worldly-wise, and, particularly in the case of Mr. Lincoln, steeped in the Bible.  Whether the Biblical aspect of their backgrounds affected these views, we cannot say. However, they certainly understood the inner meaning of Parsha Ki Thissa as Rabbi Hertz later explained it.