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Parshat of the Week -- Vaykhel

2/24/2022

A cherished former colleague of mine was notorious for multiple phone calls or emails. After the initial contact on a specific issue would come the next one dealing with whatever issue had been omitted in the original. Then the third, and the fourth, all preceded by “Why do in one conversation what you can do in 4?” It seems like this series of parshiyot are doing the same thing. We’ve had two parshas which have laid out the specs and procedures for the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). This week in Vayakhel we read the account of the actual preparation and construction. Next week, we’ll read the summation of it all having been done. So why does the Torah repeat its account of the construction process, not counting the internal summaries of the goings-on which also pepper our readings?

It's because, as significant as Israel building a dwelling place for the spirit of G-d is, the order of operations is equally as important.

The Talmud tells us that, when the first set of instructions (for the capital campaign and the design of the Ark of the Covenant and other holy accoutrements) were received, Betzalel (the artisan who would oversee the project) asked Moshe, “How can you build what will go on the inside before you have built the place where it will reside?” Moses agreed. Here in Vayakhel, the order is changed. In the report of how construction proceeded, the enclosure is built first, the holy objects which are crucial to its operation second, and the finishing touches on their surroundings third. The last bit, the fashioning of the Kohanim’s garb and the final assembly of the Mishkan, will be read next week. So why the repetition, and why the change of order?

The repetition of the steps of the construction process makes sense. The building of the Mishkan was a one of a kind, never to be repeated event. Never before or since has a nation, giving of their own largesse, talent, and labor, partnered with G-d to build a spiritual dwelling place for the Divine Spirit according to Heavenly specifications. Each and every Israelite has a stake in the Mishkan, and the combined efforts of the entire nation will be reflected in the final product. The Rabbis consider the Mishkan unique in this regard; the Temples in Jerusalem were constructed using non-Jewish labor. That, we are taught, is why they could possibly and tragically have been destroyed, while the Mishkan quietly faded from use and history without having been destroyed, violated, or trashed. I don’t know about you, but if I have an important project to complete, I’ll notate and repeat the various steps necessary for its completion to ensure that they are done correctly and in a timely fashion. Israel, similarly, needed to make certain that they had all the necessary materials on hand, a construction plan, an organized work force, and an efficient schedule. Once the groundwork was laid, the project could proceed. The revised order of operations reflects both a practical and spiritual twist. In construction, the plans and permits must be produced and approved, and the site and its infrastructure must be prepared before the edifice can be started. Here, too, the overall vessel which will contain the holiness must be prepared before the instruments of holiness, most notably the Ark and the Tablets, can be properly contained within. Only then can the whole package be buttoned up and completed. Israel learns, as do we, that Torah without an appropriate home is a spiritual orphan. We must be prepared to accept it, incorporate it with all due respect, then complete the project by securing and finalizing its place in our midst. This lesson, so important to our ancestors, has a resonance for us as well. In our secular lives, as well as in our spiritual endeavors, we can have the tendency to focus on the endgame without savoring the process. Doing so is akin to removing a hot dish from the oven, and then realizing that you have no free space in the kitchen to set it down. The changes to the process in Vayakhel teach us that our partnership with G-d requires that the process proceed in its proper order. That way we avoid being burned.Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen

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Parshat of the Week -- Ki Sisa

2/17/2022

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The words of the V’shamru are certainly familiar to us (as we would expect from any piece of Bible or liturgy whose name is commonly preceded by the article “the..!”). Many, perhaps most of us, recite or sing the well-known text on Erev Shabbos, Shabbos morning, and at Shabbos afternoon Kiddush, by rote, without considering the many nuances in these two lines excerpted from this week’s parsha. So let’s dig a little, and unearth some of the remarkable nuances which are contained in this famous text.

To begin with, V’shamru is the continuation of a theme, and the conclusion of a paragraph at that; it is not a stand-alone piece of text as you might expect from seeing it in the siddur. The theme of observing Shabbat was introduced as the 4th commandment back in Yitro. There, the basic gist of the how and why of the Sabbath is given. Here, though, G-d takes it to the next level. The 4 verses preceding V’shamru contain, according to the Rabbis and through literal reading, many new details and concepts. There is an odd word choice in v. 13 (Ach, either “however”, “nevertheless”, or “but”) which suggests that the labors prohibited on Shabbat are those which are involved with the construction of the Tabernacle, but that there would be exclusions, such as saving a life. Shabbat is referred to in the plural, either suggesting that each and every Shabbat should be observed, or that there is a form of duality to the Sabbath—Divine vs. human, the positive commandments we perform on Shabbat vs. the negative commandments we avoid, the Sabbaths we observe completely vs. the ones where we might fall short of the mark. The notion of Shabbat as a sign between the Divine and humankind is introduced, with the goal of Israel being sanctified by G-d for its observance. According to Rashi and others, disregard of Shabbat following a warning as to its consequences is to be a capital offence imposed by the community, but a willful violation without warning will cause G-d to cut the violator off from the nation; in effect, a social and cultural death. Indeed, the lack of observance of this timeless commandment, so often partially or totally disregarded in modernity, has had the effect of causing a spiritual and cultural death or separation of sorts among those who do so. No wonder our tradition tells us that if every Jew would scrupulously observe two Sabbaths in a row, the Messiah will come!

Which brings us to our text—an incredible summary which, given all the subtleties and intricacies which have preceded, blurs the lines between G-d and Man as we discuss the time and place where we meet the closest, Shabbat. The verb “to observe (la’asot)” in the first line is the same verb with which G-d’s establishment of Shabbat in Genesis concludes. The brit, covenant, of Shabbat implies a personal, two-way relationship, rather than a “you will do this because I commanded it” imperative. “Observance of Shabbat is rewarded by holiness” is mirrored by “G-d’s holiness is what inspires the observance of Shabbat.” More remarkably, G-d refers to Him/Her/Theirself in the first person and in starkly anthropomorphic terms, implying that rest on the 7th day was not merely a cessation of labor, but that G-d required the literal rest, like a human, and was therefore “refreshed (vayinafash).” This final word, of course, is derived from the word nefesh (soul), suggesting the “second soul” we incorporate in partnership and unity with the Divine every Shabbat.

This week, as you recite “the” V’shamru, I hope you will do so with a renewed sense of appreciation. The text, while abundantly familiar, embodies so much nuance that a whole-hearted recitation can truly bring one closer to G-d for those 25 hours when we share common ground in holy partnership—Shabbos.Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen

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Parshat of the Week -- Tetzaveh

2/10/2022

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In the world of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), where no subtle detail or significance is overlooked, the design of the priestly garments does not disappoint. The Kohen Gadol (High Priest) bears the names and spirit of the nation on his person as much as his dress also represents his service to G-d. On each of his shoulders, the Kohen wears a stone, inscribed with the names of the tribes, 6 to a side. On his chest, he wears the choshen, or breastplate. On its front were four rows of three stones each, engraved with the names of the tribes. The symbolism of Aaron wearing the names of those he is representing as Kohen Gadol is very powerful, indeed. And with the addition of a piece of parchment containing the ineffable name of G-d in the pocket behind the choshen, the breastplate becomes the urim v’tumim (variously: light and completeness, innocent or guilty, oracle and command….), one of the most misunderstood artifacts of all time.

According to tradition, the stones of the urim v’tumim would be used as a prophetic device to determine G-d’s will in a situation where the desired verdict was of an individual nature, or if a prophet was not available. The Bible relates a few instances in which they were used, but the bulk of the accounts of the urim v’tumim being consulted come from secondary sources. The folk value of such a divination tool is certainly exciting, and the image of asking a question of the Kohen, and then having the stones light up with the answer is incredibly dramatic. There are a few problems with the biblical equivalent of the Magic 8-Ball (remember those?). First of all, the Torah never says explicitly that the urim v’tumim should be used to determine Divine will. The closest we get is that the choshen is referred to as the choshen mishpat, the “breastplate of justice;” a nebulous description, at best. Furthermore, we know that the Torah is particularly sensitive to fortune-telling devices and individuals. It would be out of character for one to be created and endorsed here. As a result, the urim v’tumim receive a lukewarm reception in the rabbinic literature. They are credited with sometimes giving correct answers, such as determining that the tribe of Judah should be the first to lead the conquering of Canaan after crossing the Jordan (after Rambam). The Vilna Gaon, however, relates that the interpretation is only as good as the practitioner. In the book of I Samuel, he faults the Kohen Eli with misreading the lit stones, concluding that the despondent Hannah is shikora, drunk, instead of k’shera, worthy. Indeed, as the Bible proceeds, the role of this potentially powerful, but inherently problematic icon slowly fades. The account of its actual construction later in Shemot is limited only to its construction; the insertion of the Name or the urim v’tumim are neither mentioned nor suggested. By the time of the late First Temple, according to tradition, the urim v’tumim were hidden along with the Ark of the Covenant, never to be seen or used, for better or worse, again.

To be honest, I think the fate of the urim v’tumim is apt. It’s presented by the Torah in almost a halting, non-committal fashion, and that’s what it deserves. It’s far too easy to want to look at one magical device or source to receive the answer to your question. Chances are that if you only look one way, you will choose to look in the direction where you are most likely to receive the answer you desire. It’s a far better choice to take inspiration from G-d, using the insight and wisdom which comes from an intimate relationship with the Divine, to determine truth. Sure. It would be great if some oracle could always tell me what to do. But I’d rather ramp up my relationship with G-d so that I can learn how to make that determination myself, in His holy image.Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen

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Parshat of the Week -- Terumah

2/4/2022

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“They shall make for me a Sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them (Exodus 25:8).” This famous quote, which adorns many Holy Arks the world over, seems like the quintessential expression of how Judaism can sanctify space; we get closer to G-d by inviting Him in, having prepared a suitably holy space, synagogue, yeshiva, etc. in which to do so. The phrase also provides a fitting introduction to this section of the Torah. Most of the bottom half of the Book of Shemot (Exodus) will be concerned with the design and construction of the Mishkan, or Tabernacle. The only exception will be the deviation in a couple of weeks for the Golden Calf story.

The Rabbis, however, call foul. They wonder: how did this nation, mere days past the Revelation at Sinai, lose the sense of holiness and unity that they had achieved when they received the Torah? So much so that we need to spend half of a book of the Bible detailing all of the minutiae of the Mishkan, its equipment, the Priestly garments, its procedures, and so forth. Isn’t this taking a spiritual step backwards; returning to a more iconographic and less sophisticated form of worship rather than the Divine ideal? Rashi, among others, suggests that the sin of the Golden Calf was sufficient to knock Israel from their spiritual pedestal, and, having proven that they can’t remain fully faithful to G-d without symbolic or ritual assistance. The construction of the Mishkan was a reaction to that reality.

Except that the Golden Calf hasn’t happened yet. Or has it? It’s a well-known standard that the Torah does not necessarily work in chronological order. We can tell that this narrative has been jiggered for literary and dramatic effect. The entire Revelation saga has been divided into three disconnected units, with legislation in between. Clearly, G-d calling the people, revealing the Torah, delivering the tablets, the Golden Calf, the aftermath, and the granting of the replacement set could be done in one fell swoop. As we have learned, however, the Torah tweaks the timing and presentation of the story so that certain educational juxtapositions may occur: The dynamic relationship between doing and believing. Revelation vs. Inspiration. Shedding the slave mentality in favor of creating a caring community in the Divine image. It would be a fun exercise to rearrange these narrative and legislative puzzle pieces into different orders to see what the overall message would be with each attempt. In its traditional structure, I find a few useful tools—and lessons.

By breaking up the story, each subpart of the narrative becomes a miniature cause/effect or action/reaction vignette. This allows us to glean, and the Rabbis to expound upon, numerous little connections which we might not have otherwise made. It gives us a chance to analyze the brushstrokes as well as stepping back to admire the painting.

We’ve known since Creation that G-d is an improvisor. Time and time again, we’ve seen radical do-overs, changes in tack, the implementation of alternate strategies. This arc is no different, except that teaching Israel that “try, try again” is an acceptable strategy when you fall short, is part of their fundamental education.

So what’s the takeaway from all of this confusion?

· Holiness can reside anywhere; provided it is bidden and invited.
· How you tell the story can be just as important as the story itself.
· The first place to consider the effects of your words and actions is in the moment.
· It is still important, however, to look at the big picture.
· It is in the image of G-d to have something not come off the way you planned, and then to try and fix it, provided you are doing so for the right reasons.

And the beauty of Torah is that next year, we will shuffle the cards again, and learn something completely new.Rabbi/Hazzan David B. Sislen

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