Chol MaMoeid Pesah

Exodus 33:12–34:26, Numbers 28:19–25

This week's commentary was written by Rabbi Marc Wolf.

"Remember this day, on which you went free from Egypt, the house of bondage, how the Lord freed you from it with a mighty hand. . . . You go free on this day, in the month of the Spring" (Exod. 13:3b–4).

As we set our tables and prepare for our seders, we cannot help but hear the echoes of our journey from persecution to freedom amplified in the headlines. Our holiday of Hodesh Ha'aviv—the "Month of the Spring"—comes at a time when the ripple effects of what has been dubbed the Arab Spring are just beginning to be felt. The recent 2010 Human Rights Report of the U.S. State Department emphasizes that any retrospective analysis of North Africa and the Middle East must take into account how the landscape has changed dramatically over the past few months. What the report (as flawed as pieces of it are) finds intriguing about the Arab Spring is that the demands for "meaningful political participation, fundamental freedoms, and greater economic opportunity" are driven by overwhelmingly younger citizens who "seek to build sustainable democracies in their countries."

How do we—as a world community and as a people who experienced a similar national awakening—help write the next chapter in this story? And how do we ensure that the course is one of construction and not destruction? The lure of religious fanaticism is strong; and writing a national narrative that sets a course for pluralism is a challenge that can only be met through encouragement and guidance. A vacuum will be filled by what occupies the most space surrounding it.

The story of our national origin that we read at the seder can serve as a relevant guide.

When called to lead the children of Israel from slavery to freedom, Moses's overwhelming concern was not how Pharaoh would respond to his insolence, but rather whether he would be able to convince these slaves that they were a people to be redeemed. Moses never questions the legitimacy of the mission. He recognizes the plight of the Israelites as God does. His reluctance hinges on the questions of his ability to turn these people into a nation. Redeeming slaves is much more than freeing them from shackles. Redemption will only come once the people recognize their position as a nation.

Throughout the narrative, Moses reiterates his concern. "Moses said to God, 'When I come to the Israelites and say to them, "The God of your fathers has sent me to you," and they ask me, "What is His name?" what shall I say to them?'" (Exod. 3:13). Beyond the signs and wonders that God gives Moses to act as his bona fides, God continuously reassures him that the elders and the children of Israel "will listen to you" (Exod. 3:18).

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Tzav

Leviticus 6:1–8:36 - Shabbat HaGadol

Revisiting the Fire Offerings of Israel

Modern commentary and interpretation may ease some discomfort surrounding ancient liturgy.

In a session not long ago with Seminary students on religious services, I was asked about the restoration of a phrase from the siddur (prayerbook) that the Conservative movement had dropped as early as the 1940's.

By way of orientation, I should preface the incident by saying that services at the Seminary are wholly conducted by students, with a modest degree of oversight by the administration. Our synagogue serves students as a training ground for mastering the intricacies of Jewish prayer.

Like learning to play a musical instrument or tennis, praying in Judaism is a skill acquired only through practice. To study the language and history of the liturgy is necessary but not sufficient. Each year a number of students step forward to function as a staff of gabbaim (managers) to recruit and assist their classmates in carrying out the multiple roles that make the drama of a synagogue service. Overall, the responsibility inculcates a sense of self-confidence vital for good leadership, even as it accentuates the participatory character of the Jewish way of worship.

The Fire Offerings of Israel

The question asked of me pertained to the uncommon phrase v'ishei yisrael, usually translated as "the fire offerings of Israel." It appears in every amidah (silent devotion) in the first of the final three benedictions (berakhot), beginning with the word retzeh. The petition pleads for a restoration of the Temple in Jerusalem along with its sacrificial cult.

The literal translation of the full berakhah (benediction) reads as follows:

O Lord our God, favor Your people Israel and their prayers. Restore the sacrificial cult to Your sanctuary and lovingly accept the fire offerings and their prayers with graciousness. May the worship of Your people Israel be ever acceptable to You. May our eyes witness Your compassionate return to Zion. Praised are You, O Lord, who brings back His presence to Zion.

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Vayikra

Leviticus 1:1-5:26

Addressing Our Loved Ones

While God commands Moses, He also calls to him affectionately.

By Rabbi Ismar Schorsch

I never heard my parents address each other by their first names.

They showed their mutual affection, which remained palpable till late in their lives, by using pet names. My father called my mother "Mutti"(from the German word for mother--Mutter) and my mother always called him "Schatzi" (from the German word for treasure--Schatz). As my father aged, he developed the habit of saying "Mutti" to himself audibly and often, without ever intending to attract her attention. Alone in his study, he would emit the sound of her name when he rose from his desk to get another book or just reclined to rest for a moment. She was clearly the anchor of his life.

A Seminary Story
It was only when I came to the Seminary as a student in 1957 that I realized that "Schatzi" was a common name of endearment among Jews from Germany. Adele Ginzberg (affectionately known to students as Mamma Ginzberg) had never called her late renowned husband, Professor Louis Ginzberg, anything but "Schatzi". Seminary lore recounted that whenever she attended his class in Talmud and interrupted with a comment, as was her wont, she would address him unselfconsciously as "Schatzi" much to the students' delight.

This is the manner in which the rabbis handle an evident redundancy in the first verse of our parashah. The book of Leviticus opens with God instructing Moses on the nature of the sacrificial system to be used in the just finished tabernacle: "The Lord called to Moses and spoke to him from the tent of Meeting, saying...(Leviticus 1:1)."

Our rabbinic ancestors, unlike impatient modern readers, tarry on the "inelegance" of two verbs--"called" and"spoke," where one would have sufficed. Two separate acts are involved, they insist. First, God addresses Moses by name, intimately and affectionately, and only then does the conversation ensue. The force of the verb "va-yikra--and the Lord called" conveys a longstanding relationship. The call is an invitation to resume contact, to begin the dialogue afresh. Moses has done his task exceedingly well. The way God pronounces his name intimates divine satisfaction. We can usually tell what iscoming by how someone initially pronounces our name. The prepositional phrase "to him" suggests that God turns to Moses alone. No one else is privy to what will be said.

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Parashat Vayakhel-Pekudei

Exodus 35:1-40:38, Shabbat HaHodesh

Moses assembles the entire Israelite community and again instructs them to observe Shabbat. He asks them to bring their gifts of materials to build the Mishkan; and those who have the skills to come forward to perform the work. The artisans come together under the leadership of Bezalel and Oholiav, they report to Moses that the people are bringing more materials than are necessary. Moses announces that no one should bring any more gifts for the Mishkan.

The Torah describes the making of the cloth walls, roof, planks, and bars of the Mishkan, the curtain for the Holy of Holies, and the screen for the entrance. Bezalel makes the ark and its cover, the table, the menorah, the altars for incense and for burnt offerings, the anointing oil, and the incense.

Moses instructs Aaron’s son Itamar to conduct an accounting of the materials used for the building of the Mishkan. The making of the priestly vestments is described. Once all of the work has been completed, the Mishkan and its furnishing are brought to Moses and he blesses the people who made them. God instructs Moses to set up the Mishkan, to anoint it and its contents, and to consecrate Aaron and his sons. The cloud representing God’s presence fills the Mishkan, lifting up from it when it is time for the Israelites to set out on their journeys.

1. Your Presence Is Requested

Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud had settled upon it and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle. (Exodus 40:35)

A.  But another passage (Numbers 7:89) says: “When Moses went into the Tent of Meeting.” There comes a third verse and reconciles (the difference) between them: “Because the cloud had settled upon it.” Hence you may say: as long as the cloud was upon it he was not able to enter; when the cloud departed (Moses) entered and He spoke with him. (Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki), 1040-1105, France)

B.  Even to the door, because the cloud covered it, and he was not permitted to come into the cloud. Moreover, “the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle,” so how could he enter it? The reason for this was so that Moses should not go in without permission, but instead God would call him and then he was to come into the midst of the cloud just as He had done at Mount Sinai. (Ramban (Rabbi Moses ben Nachman), 1194-1270, Spain)

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Ki Tissa

Ki Tissa, Exodus 30:11-34:35
Shabbat Parah

Transformative Power

Moses was changed internally and externally by his experience on Mt. Sinai.

The story is told about Franz Kafka that the last time he visited Berlin, he chanced upon a little girl in a park awash in tears.

When he inquired as to the reason for her distress, she sobbed that she had lost her doll. Compassionately, Kafka countered that not to be the case. The doll had merely gone on a trip and, in fact, Kafka met her as she was about to leave. He promised that if the little girl would return to the park the next day, he would bring her a letter from her doll. And so Kafka did for several weeks, arriving each morning at the park with a letter for his new friend.

As his tuberculosis worsened, Kafka decided to return to Prague where he would soon die at age 41, but not before buying the girl another doll. Along with the doll came a letter in which Kafka insisted that this was the doll that belonged to his friend. Admittedly, she looked different, but then on her long trip the doll had seen many remarkable sights and gone through many searing experiences. Life had changed her appearance. (Jack Wertheimer, ed., The Uses of Tradition, p. 279).

Life-Altering Experiences

Of the many meanings in this profound parable I wish to focus on the most obvious: that a transformative experience alters us externally as well as internally. This is the point of the closing narrative of our parashah. The second time that Moses ascends Mount Sinai to get the Ten Commandments--that is after the debacle of the golden calf--the Torah uncharacteristically gives us a profusion of details. In contrast to the brevity of description pertaining to his first ascent (Exodus 19:18-25; 24:1-4;31:18), the Torah now divulges that Moses stayed atop the mountain for 40 days and 40 nights without eating a morsel of bread or drinking a sip of water (34:28).

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Tetzaveh-Shabbat Zachor

Tetzaveh, Exodus 27:20 – 30:10 

Rabbi Joseph H. Prouser

Much of parashat Tetzaveh describes the golden menorah that was placed in the tabernacle, along with the procedure for lighting it. It is a precursor to the ner tamid, the eternal light that is displayed and kept illumined in our own sanctuaries.

The priests, including Aaron, the first of their line, are outfitted with sacral vestments and equipped with a gem-encrusted breastplate and the oracular urim and tummim. The terminology used for the vestments also has been adopted for the appurtenances of the Torah scroll: me’il, choshen, and so on. The bells often attached to Torah crowns and the fringes on Torah mantles also find their origin and inspiration in the priestly vestments described in our chapter. The significance of the vestments may be summarized by the inscription on the gold “tzitz” worn on the priest’s headdress: “Holy to the Lord.”

The priests’ consecration and ordination is described in graphic and dramatic detail. The occasion is marked with an elaborate sacrificial offering, and the new priests undergo a ritual washing. The priests are anointed with oil. Sacrificial blood is dashed on the altar and placed on the priests’ ears, thumbs, big toes, and vestments. The priests eat the flesh of the sacrificial ram, as well as the bread that accompanies the offering. The ordination rites are protracted, conducted over the course of seven days. An expiatory bull is sacrificed each day, and the altar undergoes a daily purification.

The daily sacrificial regimen is prescribed and God offers a consequent assurance that He will dwell among the Israelites. The parashah concludes with instructions about burning incense on the altar.
Theme #1: “Inscribe the Tribes”

“They shall make the ephod of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns. Then take two lapis lazuli stones and engrave on them the names of the sons of Israel: six of their names on one stone, and the names of the remaining six on the other stone, in the order of their birth.” (Exodus 28:6, 9-10)
Derash: Study

“Engraving the names of the twelve tribes – six on each stone – symbolizes the presence of all Israel in the decisions made with the ephod and gives authority to those rulings; it also carries the implicit hope for divine awareness of the people and their needs.” (Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, Rabbi Andrea L. Weiss, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary)

“The names of all the tribes engraved on the gems and affixed to his vestments serve as a perpetual and humbling reminder of the High Priest’s role as representative of the entire community of Israel before God.” (Nahum Sarna, JPS Commentary)

“Whatever your relationship is to your sacred tradition in the West, you have some relationship to the Bible if only through the names of the characters.” (Anita Diament)

“There are people and nations, Mother, that I would like to say to you by name. I entrust them to you in silence, I entrust them to you in the way that you know best.” (Pope John Paul II)

“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.” (Pericles)

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Terumah

Exodus 25:1−27:19

Creating Sacred Space

Two very different models, two very different outcomes, one very important lesson.

 This week's parashah and haftarah [reading from the Prophets] are an exercise in counterpoint.

Superficially, the construction of sacred space joins them in a common theme. While the Torah portion takes up the erection of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, the narrative from the book of Kings recounts the building by Solomon of the First Temple in Jerusalem some 480 years later.

The move is from a mobile sanctuary to a permanent one, from wood to stone. Still, the basic design remains the same, an oblong structure with the Holy of Holies (devir) at the rear, farthest away from the entrance. Likewise, the content of the Holy of Holies is unaltered: an ark covered by two large cherubim with outstretched wings. The ark itself contained only the two tablets which attested to the covenant between God and Israel sealed at Mount Sinai.

Of greater interest to me is what separated these two cultic centers. They enjoyed vastly different levels of popular support. Both institutions reflect God's will. In the case of Moses, the instructions are given directly, orally and visually (Exodus 25:9, 40; 26:30; 27:8). In the case of David, the sanction comes from God (II Samuel 7), the execution is left to Solomon. Yet the contrast could not be greater, and herein lies the value of the juxtaposition.

Helping Build the Tabernacle

The Torah highlights the fact that the people as a whole volunteer their possessions and services to build the Tabernacle. God enunciates the ideal at the outset: "Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him" (25:2). By implication, should they fail to contribute, the project would be delayed, if not aborted. And later the narrative stresses their extraordinary degree of compliance. The occasion stirred both men and women to share equally and unstintingly of their valuables and handiwork for the glory of the sanctuary. Indeed, contributions flowed in at such a furious pace that word had to be issued to end the campaign (Exodus 36:5-6).

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