Parsha Tazria/HaChodesh - March 29, 2014

Parsha Tazria/HaChodesh

27 Adar II/March 29

By: Michal Kohane

For those of us who arrive at shul when musaf already started (writer often included J) it’s easy to miss the fact that this Shabbat is the last of four special shabbatot: the four Shabbatot around Purim and before the new month of Nisan. In each one another Torah scroll is taken out and a special section read. What are the four, and what’s special about them?

Shabbat Shkalim usually comes around the end of the month of Shvat and definitely before Purim. We read from Exodus 30:11 about the contribution of half a shekel that each Jew had to bring. Why half a shekel and not one whole shekel, aquarter or one penny? So that each one of us remembers that while we are a “whole”, we’re also still only a half without another. There is also a midrash about the specific word machatzit – מחצית  = half. This word has the letter tzadi in the middle for the tzadik, the righteous person, and for tzedaka, righteous giving. The one close to the (letter) tzadi is chai (חי), alive, while the one further removed is met (מת), dead. The connection is Haman’s suggestion to king Achashverosh to give him money for killing the Jews, and a reminder to us to give tzedaka and push away the Haman-amalek forces in our lives.

The Shabbat before Purim is called Zachor and we honor it by reading a section from Deuteronomy 25:17: “remember  that which Amalek did to you on the way, when you left Egypt”… it’s an interesting thing, to remember something in order to forget it…? but if you think about it some more, there is really no other way. Forgetting is not the same as erasing from memory, and the latter is (must be!) a conscious effort. In Gimatria (numerical value of Hebrew letters), Amalek = safek (doubt) = zachor (remembers). In a way, it’s like Newton’s Law of motion: A force will continue in constant uniform motion until an opposite force of equal or greater magnitude acts upon it. The sages teach us that the greatest joy is letting go of doubt, and that takes work. Amalek sneaks behind on the weak. It does that to our mind too. But we also have the power to stop it through Zachor.

The next Shabbat is Para and our extra reading is from Numbers (19:1) about the Red Heifer. The Red Heifer is a chok, a mitzvah that isn’t readily understandable, and we  are called to fulfill even if we don’t “get it. But, we can have some insights. This mitzvah has to do with purifying people from their tum’at met, their “spiritual impurity”, a state that happens due to coming in contact with a dead person[i]. The Gemara says that evil people even while physically alive are called “dead”; Kabala says that death is a “shutting off of the lights”. If a person behaves in an evil manner, he is like dead. Some say the Hebrew word “rasha” (evil person) is an acronym for ratzon shel atzmo – his own will, namely egotistic. The reminder of the Red Heifer is to remove the evil inclinations, to “purify” ourselves from our selfishness, to be attentive to another, to be ready.

The last Shabbat of the four is today, Shabbat Hachodesh, the Shabbat of the month, and on it we read from Exodus 12:1, the commandment to mark the new month. Awareness of time is perhaps the most critical element in our journey. We might think we have “forever”; we might think we can delay things to a tomorrow; alternatively, we might think time has passed already. Being connected to the flow of time, allows us an opportunity to start anew, leaving our private and general Mitzrayim, place of Narrow Straights (Egypt) behind. The One who gave us all our abilities to share, do good and fight evil, also gave us time to do so. Happy journey & Shabbat shalom!

Michal’s blog can be found at www.miko284.com

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[i] “spiritual impurity” which isn’t a good translation to tum’a but in the absence of a better one, we’ll take it for now

Parsha Tzav - March 15, 2014

13 Adar II / March 15

By: Barry Waldman 

Parsha: Tzav 

SHABBAT ZACHOR 5774 

In Memory of Yocheved Leba Dardik 

ZEH L’UMAT ZEH 

Based on the writings and shiurim of Rav Matis Weinberg: www.thelivingtree.org 

“In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider; G-d hath set one thing against the other (zeh l’umat zeh)” - Koheleth 7:14 

This Shabbat Zachor finds itself at the nexus of three parshiot that frame our eternal war with Amalek. Beshalach introduces Amalek, and identifies who we’re fighting against; Ki Tetzei, the parsha from which the pasuk of Zachor is taken, defines what we’re fighting for; and today’s parsha, Tzav, describes the nature of the battle itself.

Parshat Beshalach opens with a quick ascent to great heights with the miracle of the Sea, in which the people declare their unending faith in Hashem and Moshe. But from there begins a rapid descent into complaints and worries about desert life, culminating in the question, “Is G-d amongst us or not?” The turnabout seems inexplicable, unless one considers that miracles themselves cause faith and doubt to go hand in hand. As Rav Matis Weinberg explains:

Miracles are not only insufficient rationale for belief, they are actually inimical to the significance of belief. Miracles imply a world in which G-d must assert His presence – and if miracle is proof of the presence of G-d, then tragedy is proof of the eclipse of G-d. (FrameWorks, Beshalach)

The very next pasuk that follows “Is G-d amongst us or not?” reads, “And then came Amalek…” It is doubt that brings on Amalek, and doubt that becomes Amalek’s chief weapon. Amalek did not attack Yisrael to acquire spoils or defend territory. It attacked to show the world that, Divine Providence notwithstanding, Yisrael was vulnerable. Amalek’s main objective, however, was to prompt Yisrael to doubt itself and the specialness of its relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

Amalek are enemies of belief, all right. But it is not philosophical belief that they battle – it is the care and significance implicit in belief. Their skepticism and doubt is only as regards the meaning of belief, not its veracity…This battle against significance is why Amalek’s weapon of choice is cynicism – nothing more effectively dampens care, deflates significance, and cheapens relationship. (FrameWorks, Beshalach)

Beshalach, then, defines our enemy – the peddlers of cynicism and doubt, those who seek to demean us in the following sense: “demeaning by being anti-meaning, through the very detachment and indifference it presupposes.” (FrameWorks, Beshalach)

Parshat Ki Tetzei ends with the injunction to remember Amalek who attacked us,

You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt (Devarim 25:17)

but opens with a war in which Israelite soldiers, as the protagonists, capture a yefas to’ar (beautiful woman).

If you go out to war against your enemies, and Hashem, your G-d, will deliver him into your hands, and you take his captives, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman (yefas to’ar) and you desire her, you may take [her] for yourself as a wife. (Devarim 21:10-11)

According to the Zohar Chadash, this “beautiful woman” is a “beautiful soul.” As the Ohr HaChayim elaborates:

The soldier in question is not infatuated with the body of the woman but with something inside her, her holy soul which he was able to recognize. This explains why such a woman is permitted even if she is outwardly ugly… The reason the Torah describes it as yefas to’ar, (beautiful) is because this soul is intrinsically very beautiful indeed and it has only disheveled herself by means of the sins committed by the body it inhabits.

Rav Matis goes a step further:

The yefas to’ar is your own soul which has been captured and is living in a milieu that you sense is alien and you wish to free it. You find yourself in a war for it day after day. There is no way to win that war; there is only a way to fight that war. And in the fighting comes redemption, and discovery of the self. (Ki Tetzei 5768)

We can now understand why parsha Ki Tetzei is bookended by the battle for the yefas to’ar at the beginning, and the war against Amalek at the end; the only way we can defeat Amalek is by first capturing the soul of what it means to be ourselves and to be Yisrael.

Today’s parsha, Tzav, with the mizbeach as its centerpiece, depicts the “field of battle” upon which the war between Yisrael and Amalek is fought. The mizbeach is described by the Zohar as “a wolf” based on its position within the territory of Binyamin:

“Binyamin is a ze’ev yitraf (ravenous wolf); in the morning it devours its prey…” (Bereishis 49:27)

Further, “ze’ev yitraf,” a ravenous wolf – for the altar was in his portion, and the altar is a wolf. For if you say that Benjamin is a wolf, not so! Rather, the altar in his portion was a wolf, consuming flesh every day; and Benjamin would feed it since it was in his portion. It was as if he were sustaining and feeding this wolf! (Zohar 1:247b)

The mizbeach is the ultimate predator. The korbanot brought upon it are products of billions of years of competitive evolutionary pressures sustained by predator-prey relationships “red in tooth and claw,” resulting in species of increasing complexity, with the human being at its apex. The war between Yisrael and Amalek is merely an extension of this process, a continuation of the evolution in human consciousness.

Yisrael and Amalek are intertwined in a relationship of “zeh l’umat zeh” (one thing set against another). The Zohar views the concept of “zeh l’umat zeh” as the basis for the duality present within the universe:

The benefit of light comes only from darkness. What always enhances white? Black. For were it not for black, white could not be recognized…R. Yitzchak said, “This may be compared to sweet with bitter, for a person does not know the taste of sweet until he tastes bitter…this corresponds to what is written: Zeh l’umat zeh – One against the other G-d has set” (Zohar 3:48a)

Zeh l’umat zeh is also understood by Chazal to represent the struggle between forces of good and evil: the greater the evil, the greater the good that must be brought to overcome it. Therefore, as Amalek’s tactics in sowing doubt against Yisrael become more subtle, more cunning, more dangerous – Yisrael must respond with an increasingly discriminating and sharper understanding of itself and its purpose within Creation in order to survive:

There’s no question that what has been achieved by Yisrael is specifically because of the threat of Amalek in the deepest sense,…an outgrowth of greater and greater pressure of selecting what it means to be Yisrael… (Rav Matis: Tzav, 5771)

One might think there is a wide distance between good and evil with obvious distinctions between them. However, as the Midrash tells us, the separation can be very slight:

Zeh l’umat zeh” = Hell and the Garden of Eden. What is the distance between them? A handbreadth…The Rabbis say, “They are parallel so that they will gaze at one another.” (Koheleth Rabbah 7:22)

Amalekites have honed their ability to approximate the truth so closely, that theirs often stands nearly eye-to-eye with the truth of Yisrael. A “stare-down” ensues that is part and parcel of the predator-prey relationship:

Wolves and prey remain absolutely still while staring at each other… I think that what transpires in those
moments of staring is an exchange of information between predator and prey…I call this exchange the
conversation of death. (Barry Lopez, “Of Wolves and Men”)

How does Yisrael survive this contest? Only through the antithesis of doubt: Emunah. Emunah is loosely translated as “faith” or “belief.” But it does not mean belief in the existence of G-d (Amalek, too, believes that G-d exists). Emunah cannot be a function of intellect, because any “idea” is subject to doubt. In fact, the more profound the idea, the more second-guessing it engenders. (Therefore, the greatest Torah scholars are not the ones who have the most emunah, but who require the most emunah.)

The seat of emunah is not in the brain, the organ of intellect – but in the heart, the organ of responsiveness. Indeed, our relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu and the Torah He gave us through Moshe Rabbeinu is all about heart:

The most important element in relating to Torah and how one observes it is in the heart. The entire written Torah is bracketed between the letters of the word, “lev” – i.e. between the beis of Bereishis and the lamed in Yisrael at the end. (Rabbeinu Bachya)

The heart is the core (coeur) that provides clarity amidst the fog of doubt:

The issue is always to define the core – not to define the immediate – because the immediate is much too complex whenever it deals with anything that’s in the gray area. Much too complex for you to be given guidelines, or to know what to do unless you are sure of that core. And then – the things that speak to you, the things that are demanded of you – you’ll know them. (Rav Matis, Ki Tetzei 5768)

The only things we can really know, that truly speak to us, that we can absolutely trust, are affairs of the heart – experiences of love. Thus, the memory that stands as the “zeh l’umat zeh” against the remembrance of Amalek (“Zecher Amalek”) is that of the romance between G-d and Yisrael which began in the wilderness: “Zecharti lach chesed ne’urayich. ” - “I remember for you the lovingkindness of your youth, the love of your espousals, your following Me in the desert, a land not sown.” (Yirmiyahu 2:2).

We are G-d’s yefas to’ar. We are held captive in what sometimes feels like a grip from which we can’t escape, but which is actually the loving embrace of one long, grand Purim story that extends from the first moments of Creation to the coming of Mashiach. And just as occurred in Shushan, we will come to discover that nothing is without meaning. Every lie, deception, tragedy, and injustice we’ve suffered from personally and nationally throughout history will all have its place – and one day, they will be seen to be zeh l’umat zeh against a truth that will reveal itself with unimaginable joy and splendor:

No choreographer, no architect, engineer, or painter could plan more thoroughly and subtly. Every action and every scene has its purpose. And the less power one has, the closer he is to the great waves that sweep through all things, patiently preparing them for the approach of a future signified not by simple human equity (a child could think of that), but by luminous and surprising connections that we have not imagined, by illustrations terrifying and benevolent – a golden age that will show not what we wish, but some bare awkward truth upon which rests everything that ever was and everything that ever will be. There is justice, Peter Lake, but it cannot be had without mystery. (Mark Helprin, “Winter’s Tale”)

Parsha Vayikra - March 8, 2014

6 Adar II / March 8

By: Neska 

Vayikra 

With gratitude to Hashem on Kira Hannah Newman's 46th birthday.

It has been an ambition of mine to try to relate personally (and communally) to the parshiyot on the 'offerings - sacrifices.' I cannot, hard as I try, put myself into those times. I cannot imagine the long lines waiting to be next, standing with whatever I brought. I cannot imagine the scene. So, Neska, I said to myself: stop imagining and refocus.

So I began noticing a refrain that happens after each offering..."a sweet aroma to Hashem". Now what can that mean? This refrain happens after all offerings except when leavened flour and fruit honey are added to the offerings...a note I read suggested that the leavening slowed down the process and that the fruit honey also slowed down the process, meaning for me, that nothing was to deter the sweet aroma reaching Hashem and that the aroma itself was the sweetness.

And then I began thinking wait! Hashem doesn't need the smell of a cow or lamb or chicken or flour to know that we have uplifted something. That's not the sweet aroma. Rather, for me, what gives Hashem pleasure is Sensing the sweet aroma that we humans give off when we are taking the offerings to Hashem. I can now translate that into my own life...when I am grateful I know my body undergoes a different sense than when I have missed the mark which gives off a different sense than when I am trying to 'obey' a mitzva which gives off a differense sense when I am in conversation with Hashem. And all of these 'senses', I believe, are sweet aromas that are intricately woven into the fabric of my Hashem.

Shabbat Shalom from snowy Virginia....

Parsha Pekudai - March 1, 2014

29 Adar I / March 1

By: Shelley Zak 

Parsha Pekudai 

“Eleh Pikudai HaMishkan . . . ”—“these are the listings/accounts of the Mishkan . . . “opens this week’s Parshah. Oddly, many of the details enumerated here are merely a repetition of those we already learned in Parshat TeTzaveh. We know that there is no redundancy in the Torah so what can we glean from the emphasis on these details? I would like to focus on just one aspect and how it teaches us about leadership, particularly in this time of transition for our community.

The clothes of the Cohen Gadol, the “Bigdai Cohanim”, are described beginning in verse 39:1. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch discusses the significance of clothing, focusing on the linguistic relationship between the roots “Bet-Gimmel-Daled”, “beged”—“clothing”, and the root from this parsha’s moniker “Pay-Koof-Daled”, which in addition to meaning “containing” or “listing” can also mean, in its verb form, “to invest with purpose or responsibility”. By connecting these two roots, R. Hirsch emphasizes that “the looks make the man”: clothing not only distinguishes the individual superficially (“oh, those colors emphasize her eyes”, “that tie displays a sense of humor and whimsy”) but actually invests the wearer with symbols of his or her character or his or her office. Given that, what can we learn from some of the items in the Cohen Gadol’s garments? First, in the earlier parsha in verse 28:3, R. Hirsch references commentary that the clothing of the Cohen Gadol must be made by the nation, presaging here that these garments are not just decorative, there is an inner meaning to them such that they must be made by and for the “kahal”, they cannot be outsourced. In verse 39:6, the Shoham Stones are mentioned. These are two stones upon which the names of the Tribes of Israel are written. (For those of you who love roots and wordplay, R. Hirsch relates “shoham” to “shem” and thus these stones to “name”—I can already hear the groans!) The significance of these stones is not their value but their outer appearance which provides a listing of all the people. These stones are then placed on the garment worn on the Cohen Gadol’s shoulders, the efod. The next set of stones are described by type of stone; these are the twelve different stones placed into the breastplate worn by the Cohen Gadol. Thus, the Cohen Gadol has a written list of the tribes of Israel on his shoulders and a tribe-by-tribe delineation on his chest. He is enveloped by the people whom he is representing through wearing garments that are made by them and owned by them. He literally holds B’nei Yisrael on his shoulders. What does this symbolism tell us about leadership? It emphasizes that a great leader leads not only by virtue of who he or she is as an individual but also through being an integral part of the community, with an understanding of the members in their distinctness and the community as a whole. We have been a congregation blessed with leadership that leads from among us, that is intimately involved in this community and is beloved as both a member and leader. May this model of leadership serve as an inspiration to those who will continue to guide Congregation Beth Jacob in the future.

Shabbat Shalom,

Shelley Zak

Parsha Vayakhel - February 22, 2014

22 Adar I / February 22

By: Michal Kohane 

Disconnecting to Connect and, This & That & Acquiring Wisdom: 

3 thoughts on Vayakhel 

Finally, the biggest miracle of the exodus from Egypt in this week’s Torah portion. Not the Exodus and not the Splitting of the Sea; not the Manna raining from the Heavens and not even the Giving of the Torah. Why would any of those be miracles? They were all made by G-d, and by definition, He can do anything. The real miracle is when we do something special, something out of the ordinary, and here it comes, almost lost, almost unnoticeable within all the details, but after two and a half Torah portions with instructions how to build the Mishkan, we’re about to actually begin the project. And the miracle? The Children of Israel are listening! They are following directions! Amazing. And now, boring or not, we’re going to hear about it all over again, except now it’s not going to be as a commandment ut as action.

Moses gathers all the people in order to start constructions: “And Moses assembled all the congregation of the children of Israel, and said unto them: 'These are the words which Hashem has commanded, that you should do them” (Exodus 35:1)... we can fill the excitement. Everyone is approaching, hammers and other tools in hand, all ready, finally! Then Moses continues: “Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you a holy day, a Sabbath of solemn rest to Hashem”… Wait, aren’t we building? What is Shabbat doing here??

Shabbat is mentioned a few times throughout the Torah. It says we should “keep it”, “remember it” but how do we know exactly what to do, what not to do? Many of the rules regarding Shabbat are deduced from this section. Moses, by telling the people to work 6 days and dedicate Shabbat as a holy day to Hashem davka here, places Shabbat before all Mishkan related work. That means that anything to do with the construction of the Mishkan is not allowed on Shabbat, giving us the list of 39 melachot, or creative activities.

But there is another way to understand this parasha’s opening: Moshe assembled everybody to build the dwelling place for G-d, and so – this is what they are doing. Shabbat is not a deviation from the topic but part of it. As Rabbi Joshua Heschel said, Shabbat is in time what the Mishkan is in space. In times that we don’t have the physical structure, the wooden planks, colored cloths and golden layered ark, we will still have a “space for G-d” in our midst. Back in Exodus 25:9, we were told: “And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them”. The Mishkan, tells us Moses here, is one way to build G-d a sanctuary, a physical way. Another way is to have Shabbat. Like the Mishkan, Shabbat is a place to enter where we can disconnect from the daily routine and connect back to G-d.

This & That: Vayakhel 2:

“Dy Vehoter” is a common expression in modern Hebrew. It means – there is plenty, more than enough. I‘ve never given much thought to its origin or deeper meaning, until one day, I found it in this week’s Torah portion: “For the stuff they had was sufficient for all the work to make it, and too much” (Exodus 36:7). Kudos to Mechon-Mamre for excellent translation, and for resisting the temptation to make sense out a verse which doesnt. Because, how can there be “sufficient stuff” and “too much (stuff)” all at once?

“Enough” – means, it’s just right, while “too much” means a surplus, so which way is it?

This happens in many other Jewish issues. When asked which way is it, this or that, the answer is often, Yes, namely, both, but only when they appear together. Neither option alone would be correct, and in some case, accepting only half of it might be even heretic. Instead, we’re asked to hold on to two seemingly contradictory ideas at the same time.

Examples?

Early on, we’re taught that humans are made in G-d’s image and from dust. Which way is it? Yes. Abraham is given the blessing to be like the stars in the heaven and the sand of the sea. Which way is it? Yes. And this week, “enough” and “too much”. Which way is it? You guessed it. Yes.

Let’s examine what each adds to our understanding of our place in the world, for that is the Torah’s purpose to begin with. So, if we say (in this case, the material brought for the construction of the Tabernacle), we have enough, “enough” means the amount we have is just right. That means, that without the gift of any one of us, the Tabernacle will be lacking. Wow. That can be a source of pride, and even power: see, without me, this could not be done! Oohh! I’m so great! Everything hinges on me!!

Comes the other half of the verse to balance things out: Sorry, there is too much. Too much? What does it mean “too much”? Does that mean that this project could have been done without me?? Oohh, what a disappointment! I might not be needed!

These are the two conflicting messages we have to hold simultaneously: Yes, you’re needed; No, don’t let that get to you. Yes, you’re one and only; No, don’t think you’re more important than someone else.

Acquiring Wisdom: Vayakhel 3

How does one become wise? Read book, google info, listen to elders… But the Torah tells something interesting about acquiring wisdom: “And Moses called Bezalel and Oholiab, and every wise-hearted man, in whose heart Hashem had put wisdom, even every one whose heart stirred him up to come unto the work to do it” (Exodus 36:2). This theme repeats again and again in these sections, the idea that G-d gives wisdom to those who have wisdom. Well, that does not seem fair! Shouldn’t He give wisdom to those who don’t have it?? How do you get wisdom if you’re already supposed to have it?

One of the first verses in the morning prayer is: “resheet chochma – yir’at Hashem” – “the beginning of wisdom is (to be in) awe of G-d”(Psalms 111:10). This is then juxtaposed with another idea that “everything is in the hands of Heavens except the awe of Heavens (G-d)” (Babylonian Talmud, Brachot 33:3). From that we learn, that there is a foundation to wisdom which is up to us. We are like a gardener that needs to till the ground before sowing. Some work is on us before we can expect the gift of wisdom. Then we can hope for more.

Parsha Ki Tisa - February 15, 2014

15 Adar I / February 15

By: Marshall Schwartz

Parashat Ki Tisa 

Our parsha this week seems to be of two minds about exactly what Aharon did in creating the Golden Calf. First, in Ex. 32:1-4, we have a description of the act, in progress – if we can trust any of the common translation (spoiler alert: we can't):

The people saw that Moshe had delayed in descending the mountain, and the people gathered around Aharon and said to him, “Rise up! Make for us gods that will go before us, for  this man Moshe who brought us up from the land of Egypt – we do not know what became of  him!” Aharon said to them, “Remove the rings of gold that are in the ears of your wives, sons and daughters, and bring them to me.” The entire people removed the gold rings that were in their ears, and brought them to Aharon. He took it from their hands and bound it up in a cloth, and fashioned it into a molten calf. And they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, which brought you up from the land of Egypt.

The above translation is from the Artscroll Chumash, with a couple of minor alterations. Now compare this first with what occurs after Moses comes down from Mt. Sinai and smashes the first set of tablets out of anger at what he sees before him (Ex. 32:21-24):

Moshe said to Aharon, “What did this people do to you that you brought a grievous sin on it?” 22Aharon said, “Let not my master's anger flare up. You know the people is disposed  toward evil. 23They said to me, 'Make us a god that will go before us, for this man Moshe who  brought us up from the land of Egypt – we do not know what became of him.' 24So I said to  them, 'Who has gold?' They removed it and gave it to me. I threw it in the fire, and this calf emerged.”

First we are told that the egel hazhav was “bound in a cloth, and fashioned... into a molten calf.” Later in the same chapter, Aharon avers that the calf sprang out of the fire sui generis, without his participation. This discrepancy is fertile ground for commentators, and I will discuss some of their views (in particular one found in Midrash Rabbah for Shemot) later. However, this translation has some questionable interpretations – and Artscroll is hardly alone in these idiosyncracies. First, here are the translations of verses 1 and 4, this time from the Etz Hayim chumash:

When the people saw that Moshe was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aharon and said to him, “Come, make us a god who shall go before us, because that man Moshe, who brought us from the land of Egypt – we do not know what has happened to him.” ...This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a molten calf. And they exclaimed, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt.”

So the first question is: Did Moshe simply take a long time in descending (Etz Hayim), not purposely, or did he deliberately delay his return (Artscroll)? The Hebrew reads, “ki vosheish Moshe laredet min ha-har.” While the shoresh for boshesh, bet-vav-shin, usually means shame, when it appears in the unusual pilel binyan, it means to delay – possibly out of shame. This variant appears in Gesenius (Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon), Brown-Driver-Briggs (Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament, which builds on Gesenius's work), and Klein (A Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the Hebrew Language). So we seem to have a definitive linguistic answer here: Moshe did in fact deliberately delay his descent, according to our text. And I will leave you with another question: Why?

We also have the more serious divergence in verse four: Did Aharon bind the egel in a cloth and “fashioned it into a molten calf,” or did he ”cast [it] in a mold, and made it into a molten calf”? Neither is correct, according to the original Hebrew. The Hebrew phrase, in Ex. 32:4, reads, “Vayikah mi-yadam, vayatsar oto ba-heret.” Neither a cloth nor a mold appear here. The key word, of course, is heret, het-reish-tet. Our three linguistic resources all declare that in Biblical Hebrew, this word meant “engraving tool” or “stylus”. There are, in fact, humashim which do get this translation correct: The venerable Hertz Humash gives a very straightforward version of verse 4, “And he received it at their hand, and fashioned it with a graving tool, and made it a molten calf...” [Note: In modern Hebrew, heret also means repentance, regret, or remorse. While it is sometimes clear how an old word acquires a new meaning, that does not seem to be true in this instance.]

So why are these two modern translations – one representing the most commonly-used text in Orthodox synagogues, the other the most commonly-used text in Conservative synagogues, carefully avoid the literal meaning of the Hebrew text? I believe it is out of respect for Aharon, based on the belief that Aharon could never have brought himself to perform such a blasphemous act, especially less than six weeks after the theophany at Sinai. This is an ancient tradition, traceable as far back as the Mishna:

The story of Reuben is read but not explained; the episode of Tamar is read and interpreted; the first story of the Calf is read and translated, and the second account is read but not interpreted... (Mishna Megillah 4:10)

A word of explanation: In Mishnaic times, when the Torah was read in public, the ba'al koreh would stop after every verse, and a translator, or meturgeman in Aramaic, would then explain the Hebrew to the congregation. Thus, the listeners (unless they were fluent in Hebrew) were to be kept in the dark about Aaron's apparently self-serving story of throwing the gold into fire and seeing a molten calf emerge. That is why, for example, Rashi suggests that heret means scarf or kerchief. Sforno writes that Aharon's phrasing implies that other individuals actually formed the calf:

And there came out this calf. Without my [overt] act, and they did not wait for me to do as they had said [requested]; for indeed, when it says, “And make it into a molten calf”, it does not refer to Aharon but it means whosoever did make it. … [T]hey made the calf from which Aharon had done his work: the fashioning and casting the gold into the fire.

Yet another common explanation derives from Midrash, specifically Shemot Rabbah (albeit from a comment on verse 37:2):

The [sages] said: When Moshe descended from Sinai and beheld Israel engaged in that unspeakable act, he looked at Aharon, who was beating [the calf] with a hammer. The intention of Aharon was really to restrain the people until Moshe came down, but Moshe though that Aharon was a partner in their crime and he was incensed against him. Whereupon Hashem said to Moshe: “I know that Aharon's intentions were quite good. It can be compared to the prince whose mind became unbalanced, and who took a digging-tool to undermine his father's house. His tutor said to him, “Do not weary yourself; give it to me and I will undermine it.” When the king beheld this, he said: “I know thy good intention.” As I live, none shall rule over my palace save thee. Similarly, when Israel said to Aharon, “Rise up, make us a god”, he replied, “Break off the golden rings.” He further said to them, “Since I am a priest, let me make it and I will offer up sacrifices before it,” his sole idea being to restrain them until Moshe came down.

Typical of many midrashim, this ancient tale provides a hermeneutical explanation which resolves the apparent discord between two Biblical verses. Aharon was only superficially complying with the people's urgent request; in reality, according to the Midrash, he was using delaying tactics to keep them from blasphemy. Another problem (re)solved.

Parsha Tetzaveh - February 8, 2014

8 Adar I / February 8

By: Jen Blumenfeld 

Parashat Tetzaveh 

 Eighteen years ago I stood in front of my family, friends and community, and declared: “My Torah portion is about clothes.” Then I proceeded to talk about myself. On the Chai anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah I’d like to offer a bit more depth to Parsha Tetzaveh.

 In a careful reading of the elements of the Bigdei Kahuna, the priestly robes, you see that Hashem commands that the holy garments for Aaron and his sons be made from gold, turquoise wool, purple wool, scarlet wool and linen (Shemot 28:4-5.)

Sha’atnez is cloth containing both wool and linen, and we are directly prohibited from wearing sha’atnez in Devarim 22:11 and Vayikra 19:19. So why are the Kohanim not only allowed but commanded to wear sha’atnez while performing their priestly rituals?

There are many ideas offered about why this is. For example Tzitzit are also allowed to be made of sha’atnez. Since the mitzvah of tzitzit directly follows the mitzvah of sha’atnez some say that this shows that a
positive commandment can override a negative commandment.

Additionally, the Gemora prohibits wearing sha’atnez if one derives physical pleasure or benefit from it. The Rashba states that we don’t consider any benefit that one receives during the fulfillment of a mitzvah. Thus the Kohanim and tzitzis wearers everywhere are not deriving pleasure or benefit, and sha’atnez doesn’t apply.

Others claim that since sha’atnez is allowed in the Bigdei Kahuna and Tzitzit, that it is only prohibited in regular garments, but allowed in these holy garments because they are inherently kosher.

The Midrash suggests that the reason stems from the story of Kayin and Hevel in Bereshit 4:3-4. Kayin brought Hashem an offering of flax (the source of linen) and Havel brought a sheep (wool). The incident resulted in Kayin killing Hevel, and it was decreed that the two substances never mix again.

The mitzvah of sha’atnez is a chok, a law whose logic is not evident. It is clear that as a human we cannot fully understand the ways of Hashem. Good things happen to bad people just as bad things happen to good people and we wonder why. As science progresses and we learn more about the past and predict our future we find reassurance in the known. In this parsha full of minutia about the priestly garments, I am reminded that we don’t understand why everything is, maybe we never will, and that that is ok.

Shabbat Shalom.