Tzav Summary

G-d instructs the Cohanim (priests), through Moshe, the laws concerning the sacrifices. They are commanded to remove the ashes each morning from those sacrifices that were left burning over night. They are also instructed to ensure that a fire is continually burning on the altar. They are told how to offer the flour offerings that are brought by the nation. They are also told what sacrifice a Cohen is to bring on the day he is appointed as Priest. That same flour offering is brought daily by the High Priest.

Explicit instructions are given for the procedures for sacrificing the sin offerings (Chataot), the guilt offerings (Ashamim) and the peace offerings (Shelamim)
The people of Israel are commanded not to eat the cheilev (certain pieces of fat) or blood from any animal. The Torah commands that certain pieces of the meat from the Shelamim are given to the Cohanim to eat.

The portion ends with the anointing of Aaron and his sons as Cohanim. Moshe acts as High Priest during their initiation ceremony. He must dress the Cohanim, anoint them, and offer sacrifices on their behalf. The Cohanim are instructed to stay in the Ohel Moed (Communion Tent) for seven days to complete their inauguration.

Vayakhel

Moshe assembles the Children of Israel, reviews with them the laws of Shabbat, then instructs them in the building of the Tabernacle. Each person brings whatever their heart motivates them to bring. The women bring precious jewels and spun wool and linen. The men bring silver, copper, wood and cloth. The princes of each tribe bring the stones for the High Priest's breastplate and shoulder pads, and spices and oil.
Betzalel is designated by G-d as master craftsman and Oholiav as his assistant. Moshe summons them, and others with the wisdom and insight to build G-d's Sanctuary. The people continue to bring gifts every day, until they have more than enough materials. Moshe commands the people to stop bringing gifts.

The Torah lists the items made for the Tabernacle, starting with the curtains, the cover, the planks, the partitions and the screen. They the vessels; the Ark, the Cover, the Table, and the Menorah. The two altars - the Incense Altar out of gold and the Burnt Offering Altar from copper. A special copper wash basin is constructed for the Cohanim to wash their hands and feet. Lastly, the courtyard is made by surrounding the area with lace hangings with an embroidered screen at the entrance.

Tetzaveh 2

They say that clothes make a man, but it is no less true that the man makes the clothes. This week’s Torah reading deals primarily with the making of the garments for Aharon, and all subsequent Cohanim Gadolim. The garments are described as L’Chavod U’L’Tifaret, “for glory and splendour”. They were fashioned out of elaborate threads and gold, with precious jewels upon the shoulder pads and the breast plates. As the representative of G-d, and the agent for effecting the atonement for the nation, the Cohen Gadol has to be an imposing figure, both spiritually and physically. The Talmud (Yoma 18a) states that the Cohen Gadol has to be greater than the other Cohanim in strength, beauty, wisdom and wealth, and if he is does not have wealth the other Cohanim must make him wealthy from their own pockets.

There is a discussion in the Talmud as to whether the Cohanim are the emissaries of G-d or of the people. On the one hand they offer the sacrifices on behalf of the people, and perform all the Temple services on their behalf; on the other hand they eat some of the sacrifices, and they have special laws that set them apart from the rest of the population. The Cohen Gadol is certainly both of these, the ultimate representative of the people when he enters into the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur to seek atonement for the nation, and G-d’s messenger when he returns from within the Holy of Holies to show the crimson thread which has turned white as a sign of G-d’s forgiveness. We say in Mussaf on Yom Kippur: Thus would he [the Cohen Gadol] say, “I beseech of You G-d, I have erred, been iniquitous, and wilfully sinned before You, I and my household and the children of Aharon… Your people, the Family of Israel”. At this point the Cohen Gadol is the representative of the nation. Then we say “How majestic was the Cohen Gadol as he left the Holy of Holies… Like the Majesty in which the Creator clothed the creatures - was the appearance of the Cohen Gadol.” He has become G-d’s representative, symbolising the atonement which G-d has granted to His nation.

The beautiful and ornate garments which the Cohen Gadol wears as he performs the services are necessary to show the people both the splendour of their representative, and to show the heavenly beauty of G-d’s representative. However, when worn by someone who is not worthy of being the Cohen Gadol, the garments transform from being the height of spirituality to the most base, physical excesses of opulence. The Talmud (Megillah 12a) learns from the opening of Megillat Esther that King Achashverosh had taken the raiment of the Cohen Gadol and was wearing them at his feast which was designed to show his wealth and might, and to celebrate the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. The text states that he displayed “Yakar Tiferet Gedulato”, “The splendour of his excellent majesty”. The word Tiferet is used to describe the clothes of the Cohen Gadol, which indicates to us that it was those that Achashverosh was wearing.

The result of Achashverosh’s wearing the garments was not his spiritual elevation, but the degradation of himself and his wife through clothing. In his drunken stupor Achashverosh ordered Vashti to appear before the assembled guests wearing only her royal crown. When she refused to be seen naked in public, Achashverosh had her put to death. By misusing the holy garments, Achashverosh was ultimately shamed and punished.

The Malbim explains the difference between the two adjectives Chavod (glory) and Yakar (excellent), which are the words describing the manner in which the Cohen Gadol wears the holy garments, contrasted with how Achashverosh wore them. Malbim (Ya’ir Or, Ot yud, 10) says that Yakar refers to rarity and preciousness of an object, whereas Chavod describes its value in terms of spiritual elevation. For example gold is Yakar, but it does not have Chavod, but a wise sage has Chavod even though not necessarily Yakar. King Achashverosh saw the garments as a precious commodity, and was showing off the wealth that he had looted. However this external pride caused him to become humbled. The Cohen Gadol wears the clothes to show his spiritual level, and self perfection as representative of both the congregation and G-d.

Of course, even the office of Cohen Gadol was open to abuse, and the lure of wealth became a factor in the appointment of the Cohen Gadol in the times of the Second Temple, as the Talmud (Yoma 18a) states: Rabbi Asi said “Two barrels of silver coins were given to King Yannai by Marta daughter of Baitus in order that Yehoshua ben Gamla should be appointed as Cohen Gadol.” The result was that the Cohanim Gadolim were not spiritually worthy of their position, and having entered the Holy of Holies in an unfit state would not survive a year in office.

Splendour is important when used as a tool for giving honour and glory to G-d. When it becomes the goal and the object of desire, rather than a means for spiritual elevation, it is degrading and brings tragedy in its wake.

Tetzaveh 1

This is the only Torah reading from the beginning of Exodus until the end of Deuteronomy that does not contain the name of Moshe. Even though G-d is speaking to him throughout the Parsha, nowhere does it explicitly state his name. Many explanations have been given for this; here is one possibility.

When Moshe first encounters G-d at the Burning Bush, he argues that he is not worthy to lead the Jewish people out of slavery, and insists that his elder brother Aharon would be better suited to the task. Our tradition tells us that this dialogue between Moshe and G-d lasted for an entire week, until finally “G-d’s anger burned against Moshe [and He said] ‘Behold Aharon the Levi is your brother’ ... ‘When he sees you his heart will be glad’...” (Shemos 4;14). The Sages comment on this verse,
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korcha says: Every time the “burning of G-d’s anger” is mentioned in the Torah, a lasting mark is mentioned with regard to it. Yet this burning anger has no lasting mark mentioned with regard to it, and we do not find any punishment coming about. Rabbi Yose said to him: A mark is mentioned with regard to this one too; that which is implied by the conclusion of the verse “Aharon the Levi is your brother”. Aharon was destined to be a Levite, not a Cohen, and G-d had intended that the kehuna (priesthood) would come forth from Moshe. Now that you, Moshe, have angered me, it will not be so. Rather he will be a Cohen and you will be the Levite, as it says “But as for Moshe, the man of G-d, his sons will be reckoned among the tribe of Levi” (I Divrei HaYamim 23; 14). (Shemos Rabba 3;17, quoted by Rashi on Exodus ibid.)

This week’s Parsha deals primarily with the garments that the Cohanim wore, particularly those of the Cohen Gadol (High Priest). Since originally Moshe should have been the Cohen Gadol, in deference to his feelings, and as a reminder that he missed out on this opportunity, his name is not mentioned in this section.

However we find a paradox. Although Moshe’s name is not mentioned, G-d speaks to him in the second person; G-d is speaking to Moshe even more directly than usual. Not only that, but it is Moshe himself who is instructed to dress Aharon and his sons in their priestly garments, and Moshe acts as the “Cohen” who performs the service to initiate them into the Kehuna. In other words, at the same time that G-d rebukes Moshe, he draws him still closer to Himself.

This is a fulfilment of the Talmudic dictum “One should always push someone away with the left hand, but draw them closer with the right” (Sanhedrin 107b). The right hand is the stronger, and thus the Rabbis are telling us that any rebuke or punishment should be simultaneously accompanied by a greater kindness. We do not subscribe to the Dr. Spock child-rearing mentality, without any rules or punishments, drawing close with both hands. Nor do we permit harsh punishment to the extent of driving a person away completely, pushing with both hands. Both these options lead to tragic outcomes. Our challenge is to raise our students to adhere to their obligations, punishing when necessary, but always in a manner which leads to closeness, not distance.

Here the Torah is telling us that G-d follows the same guidelines. Throughout history we have seen that whenever G-d needs to punish us, causing us to stumble through he darkness of oppression and persecution, He always brings us even closer to Him at the end, through an outpouring of mercy. At those times that we cannot feel His presence, that we cannot see Him calling us by name, He is actually speaking to us even more directly, and giving us a greater opportunity to draw near to Him.

Parshat Terumah 2

The holiest part of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) was the Aron (Ark), which contained the two sets of stone tablets. On top of the ark was the Kapores, the cover upon which two golden k’ruvim (cherubs) stood with their wings stretched upwards. G-d’s voice spoke to Moshe from between these two k’ruvim, as the verse says, “When Moshe came to the Ohel Mo’ed (Tabernacle) to speak to Him [G-d], he heard the voice speaking to him from above the Kapores that was on the Aron, from between the k’ruvim” (Bamidbar 7; 89).

Idolatry is abhorred by Judaism, and making any image is forbidden, yet in the holiest place we find G-d instructing Moshe to place a graven image of two k’ruvim.

After the sin of Adam and Eve, when they have been banished from the Garden of Eden, we also find k’ruvim: “And He [G-d] banished mankind and He placed to the East of Eden the k’ruvim, and the spinning, flaming sword to guard the way of the tree of life” (Bereishis 3; 24). If these angels are intended to keep people away from the Garden of Eden, why are these same angels the conduit for G-d to speak to the Children of Israel?

The two k’ruvim above the ark had the faces of a boy and a girl. The Talmud (Yoma 54b) relates: “When the non-Jews [Babylonians] entered the Holy of Holies, they saw that the k’ruvim were intertwined in an embrace. They carried them out to the market and declared: Israel, who’s blessing is a blessing and who’s curse is a curse, are involved in these sorts of things? Immediately they despised them [the Jews].” In the most holy of places why do we have such physical intimacy depicted?

The word Kapores means atonement, and that was the function of the cover of the ark. The command to build the Mishkan was a response to the sin of the Golden Calf. Had the Jews not been involved with that sin, each individual would have been worthy of having the Shechina (Divine Presence) rest within them. After the sin however, it was only as a nation that G-d dwelt among the Jews. The Kapores, the resting place of the Shechina, symbolised that atonement and forgiveness. The k’ruvim and the Kapores were formed from a single piece of gold. Therefore the k’ruvim stretching upwards out of the Kapores were the bridge between the people and G-d. This was the point where G-d showed His forgiveness and closeness with the Jewish nation.

Rambam explains (Laws of Idolatry, Ch. 1) that idolatry began when people prayed to intermediaries rather than to G-d directly. They reasoned that if G-d is so holy and separate from the earth, people should not approach Him directly; therefore they prayed to the stars and constellations as messengers of heaven. Gradually they forgot that the objects of their worship were only intermediaries, and began to worship them as gods. This is the reason that G-d forbade any graven image. However the k’ruvim represent the opposite of idol worship. After the sin of the Golden Calf, G-d no longer spoke directly to the nation, but the k’ruvim were the focus of speech from heaven to earth.

This explains the seemingly contradictory roles of the k’ruvim. On the one hand they guard the entrance to the Garden of Eden, to show that mankind are no longer able to speak to G-d directly. However they remain the link to the Garden, through which G-d communicates with Moshe and the Jews. Perhaps this is the meaning of the spinning sword, symbolising the dual function of preventing humans from entering, but allowing G-d’s message to be heard from without.

G-d’s message is the Torah, described in the Garden of Eden as the tree of life. The verse refers to the Torah as “A tree of life to them that grasp it” (Mishlei 3; 18). In the Mishkan, the k’ruvim were placed above the ark containing the Torah, with their wings stretched upwards. This showed that G-d’s communication for all time is the Torah, and that it is a taste of the Garden of Eden. The gateway between heaven and earth, between the Garden of Eden and the earthly Torah, is the most intimate place, the place of knowledge. Knowledge implies physical intimacy, as the Torah says (Bereishis 4; 1) “And Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived...”.

The only physical analogy that we can have of the loving relationship between G-d and the Jews is the love of a man and a woman. The k’ruvim symbolised this relationship. They depicted two youths, the time when love is most passionate. The moment when the Jews encountered G-d at Mount Sinai is described as a bride entering the wedding canopy. This love was eternalised in the k’ruvim. The other nations saw pornography, but the Jews understood the spiritual metaphor, which led them to yearn to cleave closer to G-d. The Talmud says (Yoma 54a) “When the Jews came for the pilgrimage festivals they would open the curtain and show them the k’ruvim who were embracing one another. They would say, See the love between G-d and the Jews, like the love of a man and a woman. ”

Rabbi Akiva said (Yadayim 3; 5) “All of scripture is holy, but the Song of Songs is the holy of holies”, yet it was almost banned (Avos d’Rebbe Nasan I) because it depicts the relationship between G-d and the Jews as the love of a man and a woman. There was a concern that it would be misunderstood as inappropriate Biblical literature. This is exactly the mistake that the nations made when they saw the k’ruvim .Rather than despising the Jews, they should have understood the metaphor, and been awed at the strength of their relationship with G-d.

Parshat Terumah 1

For my translation of selections from Tosefet Bracha click the link.

D'var Torah on Pershat Terumah by Rabbi David Sedley


Last week’s Torah reading ended with Moshe ascending Mount Sinai to receive the entirety of the Torah from G-d. Chronologically, the next thing that should occur in the Torah is the building of the Golden Calf. This takes place forty days later, and forces Moshe to make a hasty descent with the two tablets of stone, and smash them. But the Torah makes us wait another two weeks, until Ki Tissa, before continuing with the plot. In between we have what seems like a digression, detailing the plans for the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, and all of its ornaments and utensils. Obviously the Torah was not compiled in a haphazard, random fashion, so why did G-d feel that it was most appropriate to place these two portions here?

Three of the pieces of furniture in the Mishkan - the Ark containing the stone tablets, the altar, and the table - share a common feature. They each have rings at their sides, into which the poles used for carrying them are placed. But the poles of the Ark are unique, in that there is an explicit prohibition in ever removing them from their rings. Even after the Temple was built in Jerusalem, these poles remained in place. Why should our holiest object require portability as part of its design? Clearly it was not simply for the sake of portability. Furthermore, the total weight of the Ark must have been several tons, far more than four people could carry on their shoulders. In fact, the Levites who were carrying the Ark gave the appearance of bearing the weight of the poles on their shoulders, but were actually holding on as the Ark miraculously transported them. Although it appeared that the Ark was being carried, actually it was doing the carrying!

We have a principle that G-d always presents us, as a nation, with the cure, before afflicting us with the disease. One example of this is the story of Esther. The Megilla first relates how Esther came to be queen and how Mordechai saved the life of Ahasuerus, and only then begins with Haman’s plot to destroy the Jews. Thus the mechanism for our salvation was in place before its need actually arose.

So too in our parsha. Had the Jews not built the Golden Calf, they would have remained on the tremendously high spiritual level that they attained at Mount Sinai. There would have been no need for all of the trials and tribulations which we have had to face since then, the purpose of which is to bring us back to G-d. When Moshe goes back up Mount Sinai to plead with G-d not to destroy the nation, he is actually creating Jewish history. He beseeches G-d to be merciful and to spread out our punishment over time, instead of wiping us out on the spot. To this day we are still paying back part of that debt.

The need for a history of anti-Semitism, hatred and pogroms, was caused by the building of the Golden Calf. Our exile from the Holy Land was decreed then. But in order to be able to survive this harsh decree, we could not be tied to a Temple, or to a city. G-d, and the Torah, must be accessible anywhere that we may find ourselves; otherwise we could never continue to exist as a nation in exile.

Therefore G-d decreed that we should build ourselves a Mishkan, a portable Sanctuary, which will follow us wherever we go. And the Ark containing the two tablets, the embodiment of Torah, must be ready to go at any moment. The need for portability and mobility is not because G-d has no other means of transportation available to Him, but rather to teach us that at all times and places the Torah is available to us. If we are prepared to carry its burden, which may appear cumbersome and heavy, it will in fact carry and sustain us throughout our journeys.

There were two Temples in Jerusalem. The first was destroyed by the Babylonians, the second by the Romans. We cannot depend upon them for long lasting security. But the Mishkan was never destroyed. It was buried, and remains hidden to this day, somewhere on the Temple Mount. It is indestructible, and is a metaphor for our continued existence, and connection to G-d. The Ark is portable, and accompanies us through our long and difficult exile.

Parshat Mishpatim 3

After a lengthy list of laws and statutes, the Torah portion returns to the narrative of the Jews standing at the foot of Mount Sinai. G-d tells Moshe, “Behold I will send my angel to go before you, to guard you on the way, and to bring you to the place which I have prepared” (Exodus 23; 20). Rashi explains that G-d here warns Moshe and the people that they will come to sin with the Golden Calf, and instead of G-d leading them directly, He will direct the nation through the intermediary of an angel. This is what we find in the Torah after the sin of the Calf, G-d says to Moshe, “Now go and lead the people, to that which I spoke to you. Behold my angel will go before you...” (ibid. 32; 34).

We have a principle that Heavenly punishment always fits the crime, and this is indeed the case here. At the time of the Golden Calf the nation were afraid that Moshe had been killed, and would not return. Therefore they wanted another leader, to act as an intermediary between them and G-d. They said to Aharon, “Make for us a god (or judge) that will go before us, for this man Moshe, who brought us out from the land of Egypt, we know not what has become of him.” (ibid. 1). They did not consider Moshe divine, rather a leader who was an intermediary between them and G-d. Similarly the concept behind the Calf was for to have an intermediary, not a god. Only after it was built did some of the people begin to worship the Calf itself, and proclaim it as a god.

However, even asking for an intermediary deserved punishment. When the people heard G-d at Mount Sinai they were afraid, and asked Moshe, “’You speak to us and we shall hear; let not G-d speak to us lest we die’. Moshe said to the people, ‘Do not fear, for in order to elevate you has G-d come...’” (ibid. 20; 16-17). Moshe rebuked the people for not wanting this direct contact with G-d. In fact we find that the desire for intermediaries was the origin of idolatry in the world. The Rambam writes (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Idol Worship, 1; 1) that in the generation of Enosh the people made a grievous error. They reasoned that it was not appropriate to pray directly to G-d, but they should instead pray to Him via the celestial luminaries that He had placed before him. Over the generations this led to forgetting that these were only intermediaries, and the people began worshipping them as gods.

So, from the outset, the building of the Golden Calf was bound to end in disaster. Though the Jews were only seeking an intermediary, that was itself a sin that would inevitably lead to idolatry. Therefore as punishment G-d told them that He would not be in their midst, but would only relate to them through an angel.

The Ramban points out that this punishment of ‘I will send an angel before you’ never took place. Moshe pleaded for mercy, “If Your presence will not go with us, do not take us out from here...” (ibid. 33; 15), and G-d consented when He said, “I will also do this thing that you have spoken” (ibid. 17). Although this decree did not take place in Moshe’s lifetime, it was fulfilled immediately after his death. Just before Yehoshua led the nation to do battle with Jericho the Bible states, “And it came to pass, when Yehoshua was by Jericho, that he lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold there stood a man over him… and he said, ‘I am captain of the host of the Eternal, I am now come’.” (Joshua 5; 13-14). The Midrash Tanchuma (Mishpatim 18) explains: “The angel said to Yehoshua, ‘I am he who came in the days of Moshe your master, and he pushed me away and did not want me to go with them.’”. After Moshe’s death, G-d’s relationship with the nation changed, from being direct, to being only through an intermediary.

However, it seems strange that the Israelites were punished for wanting an intermediary, when at the end of this week’s Torah portion we find that they are not able to cope with direct revelation. “Go up to G-d, you [Moshe], Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel, and you shall prostrate yourselves from a distance… Moshe, Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, and seventy of the elders ascended. They saw the G-d of Israel… G-d did not stretch out His hand [to punish] the great men of Israel - they gazed at G-d, yet they ate and drank.” (Exodus 24; 1-11). Rashi explains that G-d did not punish them on the spot, though they were worthy of punishment for gazing at Him. However, G-d delayed their punishment so as not to detract from the sanctity of Mount Sinai. The reason that they were punished was for staring at G-d while they were eating and drinking. They were unable to attain the proper level of spirituality but instead were sunk in their material actions. We see from here that even the leaders of the Israelites, with the exception of Moshe and Aharon, were unable to cope with such a direct relationship with G-d. Why then were they punished for wanting an intermediary?

The answer must be that their need for an intermediary was real, and thus their attempt to find one valid. However, their mistake was in settling for this lesser relationship with G-d instead of trying to elevate themselves spiritually to a level where they would be able to sustain a direct relationship. As long as they were in the desert, under the influence of Moshe, they were able to have G-d’s presence in their midst. But as soon as Moshe was no longer with them, instead of remaining on this spiritual level the people settled for intermediaries to lead them. The angel coming was not so much a punishment as it was the inevitable result of the people’s actions and spiritual level.

Parshat Mishpatim 2

Our Torah reading opens with the words “And these are the judgements that you shall place before them”. Rashi comments: Wherever it says ‘These’ in the Torah it rejects that which has been stated previously. Wherever it says ‘And these’ it adds to that which has been stated previously. Just as those which have been stated previously, [the Ten Commandments] are from Sinai, so too, these commandments are from Sinai.

Why does Rashi need to tell us that the laws contained in this portion were also given at Sinai? Surely the entirety of the Torah was given by G-d to Moshe at Sinai, why does Rashi single out this section?

‘Mishpatim’, the name of the portion, also describes the laws contained in it. There is almost no narrative, only a seemingly haphazard collection of laws. However most of those laws are logical, and clearly understandable as necessary precepts for the functioning of a just society. All the Mitzvoth in the Torah can be divided into two main groups, the Chukim (statutes) and the Mishpatim (laws). Chukim are rules for which we see no apparent logical reason, for example Shatnez, the prohibition on mixing wool and linen in garments. Mishpatim are laws that would probably have been formulated, even without the Torah, for society to function smoothly.

Therefore Rashi comes to tell us that the laws in this section are not merely the result of societal norms, but are also Divine in origin. There is no qualitative difference between the laws of Kashrut or Shabbat, and those of theft or damages.

Why was it necessary for G-d to give us laws that we would have been able to formulate for ourselves even without the Torah? As the Talmud (Eruvin 100b) states: Rabbi Yochanan said, ‘If the Torah had not been given we would have learnt modesty from a cat, [the prohibition of] theft from an ant, sexual prohibitions from a dove and laws of marital relations from a chicken’. Why did G-d deem it necessary to write these laws which we could have discovered for ourselves?

The Mishna (Makkos 3; 16) says: Rabbi Chanania ben Akashya says ‘G-d wanted to give merit to Israel, therefore He increased for them Torah and Mitzvoth, as it says (Yishayah 42; 21) “G-d desired for the sake of His righteousness to magnify the Torah and make it glorious”. Rambam in his commentary to the Mishna explains: It is amongst the foundations of faith that when a person observes one of the 613 commandments properly, and does not have any intention other than to fulfil it out of love for the Creator… behold they will merit through it eternal life in the world to come. About this Rabbi Chanania said that because there are so many Mitzvoth it is impossible that a person will not perform at least one of them in their lifetime with the proper intention, and through that performance will gain eternal life.

By giving us a combination of logical laws and commandments which are beyond our comprehension, G-d ensured that we would be able to fulfil at least some of them properly, and thus earn our eternal reward.

However it is important to bear in mind that the reason that some laws seem to make more sense to us than others is because G-d created us with a finite degree of logic. The definition of some laws as Mishpatim and some as Chukim is almost arbitrary. All of the Torah is G-d’s plan for the universe, and the observance of the laws facilitates the proper functioning of the world.

However, had it all been logical it would have been difficult to keep the laws purely because G-d so instructed us. Had none of it been comprehensible to us we would have not understood that there is a purpose in the universe. By creating us with imperfect understanding, G-d has given us the opportunity to keep part of the Torah because we understand it, and part of it out of pure love for G-d with no ulterior motive.

Parshat Mishpatim 1

Looking at this week’s Torah reading, one would think that the Jewish Nation was made up primarily of murderers, thieves, violent criminals and other social miscreants. Why else would the Torah need to spend so much time enumerating all of the different types of crimes and their punishments? Not only the Written Torah, but also the Oral Law contains detailed discussions of criminal offences and legalities. One complete Order of the Mishna, one sixth of the Oral Law, is entitled Nezikin (damages) and deals with the power of the Beis Din (the courts) to punish infringements of the laws.

Yet it is common knowledge that, far from being the violent criminals portrayed through this legislation, the Jews have consistently been seen to be moral, just and honest. The Western World owes Judaism a huge debt for introducing many concepts that now form the basis of our society.

The Talmud (Bava Kama 30a) states that someone who wants to become a Chasid (literally, G-d Fearing), should devote himself to studying the laws of Nezikin. Not only do these criminal laws not make us criminals, but they actually make us more moral. The constant involvement with, and awareness of, the rights of others, makes a person think about his or her own actions, and take exceeding care not to infringe upon those rights.

This can be seen through the famous, but often misunderstood, law of “Ayin Tachas Ayin”, mistranslated as “An eye for an eye”. The word Tachas does not mean “for”, but rather “in place of”. Therefore, the Torah is not telling us that the punishment for injuring another’s sight is to lose one’s own sight; that would certainly not be a replacement for the injured party. In reality, each individual’s eyesight has a different value. A microbiologist who spends all day looking through a microscope would give his sight a certain value, while a musician would give a completely different value to his sight. Taking away a damager’s eyesight, therefore, would not be “in place of” the injury he caused. The Torah must be referring instead, to monetary compensation for damages inflicted to others.

If the Torah is only referring to financial payments, why did it use the language of paying with the damagers physical body? It must be in order to teach us the severity of the crime, and the significance of putting ourselves in the place of others, thus doing our utmost to avoid harming them.

The Torah does not present these laws as compensation for the injured party. We do not have a system of suing people for any perceived wrong. Rather G-d is instructing anyone who is involved in activities which could injure others, to be aware of the dangers involved in his actions. “Ve’ahavta l’re’echa kamocha”, “Love your neighbour just as much as yourself”; as much as one looks out for one’s own rights, so too a person must be concerned to guard the rights of others.

Yitro 3

The Ten Commandments can be divided simply into two groups. The first five deal with the relationship between mankind and G-d - “I am the L-rd your G-d...”, “You shall have no other gods before Me...” etc. The second five commandments, those on the second tablet, are about our responsibilities to our fellow man - “Do not murder”, “Do not steal”, “Do not commit adultery” etc. The only problem with this classification is the fifth commandment; although supposedly in the ‘man and G-d’ category, the commandment to “Honour your mother and father” appears to be purely interpersonal.

Furthermore, why is this one of the “Ten Commandments” anyway? The rest of the ten deal with major concepts vital to the stability of society or to our relationship with G-d. Honouring parents seems both trivial and so obvious that it need not be stated. And why does the Torah explicitly give the reward for this Mitzvah, “In order that you should....”. Surely every child must feel a sense of gratitude and debt to his or her parents, not only for physically bringing them into this world, but also for all the investment of time and love that their parents have made. Is one not “forced” to honour one’s parents even without any explicit command to do so?

The Sefer HaChinuch4 explains the commandment of honouring parents:

It is appropriate for a person to recognise and perform kindness to someone who has done kindness to him, and not be a scoundrel, estrange himself, and deny that goodness. For this is a very bad and disgusting trait in its essence both before G-d and people. A person should make himself aware that his father and mother are the cause of his existence in the world, and therefore it is truly appropriate for him to give to his parents every honour and every help that is possible. Because they brought him into this world and put every effort into him when he was a child. When a person fixes this trait into his character he will then be able to recognise the good that G-d has performed for him, that He is the reason he exists, and the reason for all his parents and grandparents back to Adam and Eve. And that G-d brought him into this world, provided for all his daily needs and keeps him in health and working order. And He gave him a cognitive and understanding soul, without which he would be like an animal without consciousness of self. Therefore a person should organise in his thoughts how appropriate it is for him to be scrupulous in serving G-d.

From this text we see that our assumptions were wrong. While it is true and obvious that we owe our parents honour and respect for all that they have done for us, this is not the reason that G-d commands it of us. The real question is why G-d created the world in such a way that people have parents, and require so much input for so many years. Surely He could have made us spontaneously generate, or at least have independence immediately after birth, like almost every other species. This commandment is telling us that the reason that G-d created human beings as dependent upon their parents, is in order that we can also recognise our dependence upon Him. Therefore the Mitzvah of honouring our parents rightly belongs on the first tablet with our other responsibilities toward G-d. That interpersonal component of honouring parents is so obvious that it does not require a specific commandment.

The Ten Commandments are listed in the Torah twice - in this week’s Torah reading, and in the book of Deuteronomy when Moshe repeats the laws before his death. Even though they are basically the same in both places, there are subtle differences which give a deeper understanding of them. Thus in Devarim (5; 16) the Torah says, “Honour your father and your mother as the L-rd your G-d commanded you...”. The underlined words are added into this version of the decalogue and seem to give added support to the idea above. The honouring of parents mandated here is not the simple repayment for past kindness performed by them, but is a way to get a closer appreciation of our relationship with G-d.

Yitro 2

The Jews encamped around Mount Sinai were like converts in many respects, approaching Judaism for the first time. Until now they had been a family, the descendants of Ya’akov; suddenly they became a nation with common goals and aspirations. Though Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya’akov had been monotheistic and spread this belief throughout the ancient world, there was no obligation to keep the commandments which define Judaism until Mount Sinai.

Furthermore, there was no concept of matrilineal descent until Sinai. Sarah, Rivka, Rachel and Leah all came from the family of Terach, but were no more ‘Jewish’ than Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya’akov. Their children were part of the ‘Children of Israel’ because they chose to emulate the beliefs and attributes of their parents, but Yishmael and Esav exercised the freedom to abandon this lifestyle and take a different path in life. Since Sinai, however, a person is Jewish either because their mother is Jewish, or if they convert through the principles of conversion laid down at Sinai.

It is appropriate therefore that the portion begins with the arrival of Yitro, Moshe’s father in law, who was the first true convert. We have a tradition that Pharaoh had three chief advisors, Yitro, Iyov (Job) and Bilaam. He asked them for their advice about how to deal with the Jews, and whether to kill the baby boys. Bilaam agreed that Pharaoh should kill them, and consequently was killed by the Jews in the war with Moav. Iyov remained silent, and as a result suffered terribly later in life (as related in the book of Iyov). Yitro disagreed, and told Pharaoh not to persecute the Jews. He was forced to flee to Midyan and renounce his position of authority, but ultimately converts in this week’s Torah portion, and shares in the inheritance of Israel.

Yitro had also been the high priest of idolatry both in Egypt and in Midyan, and had tried every religion and cult in the world before coming to realise that Judaism was the one and only true religion. When Yitro says “Now I know that G-d is greater than all other gods” (Shemot 18; 11) he is speaking from first hand knowledge, as Rashi explains “This teaches us that he knew all the idolatry in the world and there was not a single idol that he had not served”.

Thus Yitro’s choice to convert to Judaism was motivated by his search for truth. It was this quest that allowed him to speak out against Pharaoh’s decrees, and the same goal led him to every religion in the world. Rashi’s language is carefully chosen; he not only knew every religion but had also tried them all, and experienced them. Often a belief system does not make sense unless one takes part in it, conversely often a philosophy seems utopian until it is put into practise. Only through studying and experiencing was Yitro able to come to the conclusion that Judaism was the only true religion.

Since Sinai we no longer have a need to experiment with other religions. We know the truth of Judaism from our parents, and they from their parents, in a chain of tradition stretching back to Sinai. However one who converts to Judaism often only reaches their decision to convert after having denounced other belief systems as false. In the famous story about Hillel and the convert (Shabbat 31a) we see that Hillel was sensitive to this affirmation through rejection of the other.

A person once approached Shamai and told him that he wanted to convert on the condition that Shamai would teach him the whole Torah while he stood on one foot. Shamai rejected him, and sent him away. The same person then approached Hillel, who told him “That which is hateful to you don’t do to others. That is the whole Torah, the rest is commentary - go and learn it.”

Why did Hillel not simply quote the verse from the Torah (Vayikra 19; 18) “Love your fellow as yourself”? The answer is that Hillel appreciated the ability of the convert to discern truth from falsehood through a process of negation. This is possibly a higher level than simply accepting the truth. The Torah only requires one to examine what they enjoy, and to act in a similar manner with others. Hillel’s statement also requires the convert to search out what they dislike, to understand better how to treat others.

One of the most difficult things is to seek truth. We have become inoculated by the society around us to the point where we question the very existence of an absolute truth. Even once someone accepts that there is such a thing as truth, the search to attain it can last a lifetime and necessarily involves hardship in forsaking any comforts of falsehood. Arriving at the truth is the culmination of a heroic effort, and therefore the Torah instructs us to recognise this effort, and several times (e.g. Vayikra 19; 33 and Devarim 10; 18) enjoins us not to afflict a convert, and to treat him or her with special respect

Parshat Yitro 1

My translation of a piece of R' Baruch HaLevi Epstein's "Tosefet Bracha" on the parsha can be found here

“And Yisro heard...” (Shemos 18; 1). Rashi comments, “What did he hear that brought him [from Midyan to the desert]? The splitting of the Reed Sea and the war with Amalek”. Hearing of these two events acted as the catalyst which made Yisro leave the comforts of Midyan to join the Israelites in the desert. Surely such miracles would have been reported by every news agency in the known world, but nobody else came to join them. Why does the Torah stress that Yisro heard about these events? Why is this an appropriate introduction to the main part of our portion, the giving of the Torah and the Ten Commandments?

In Hebrew, as in English, ‘hearing’ also has connotations of understanding. It implies more than sound waves entering the aural canal. We find the best example of this meaning in the word ‘Shema’ in the recital of ‘Shema Yisrael...’. The instruction which we proclaim is not to hear audibly that G-d is one, but to understand that belief in G-d’s unity is the bedrock of our faith, and underlies all of creation. Though all of the other nations heard about the miracles that G-d performed for the Jews, only Yisro ‘heard’ and understood that the only possible response was to leave Midyan and come into the desert.

Yisro’s ‘hearing’ is therefore a very apt introduction to the Ten Commandments, when the Jews recited the famous words, “We will do and we will hear” (“Na’aseh v’Nishma”) (ibid. 24; 7). The Sages teach (Shabbat 88b) that when G-d heard Israel utter this phrase He exclaimed, “Who revealed this secret to My children, the secret that the ministering angels use for themselves”, as the verse states, “Strong warriors [angels] who do His bidding and obey the sound of His words” (Tehillim 103; 20). By pledging that they will perform anything that G-d commands without question, and only then try and hear what G-d has asked of them the Jews put themselves on a par with the angels, who also act unquestioningly to do G-d’s bidding.

After Yisro joins the nation, he watches as Moshe judges the people. He realises that having Moshe as the sole adjudicant for the nation will not provide a permanent system of justice, and that it will destroy both Moshe and the nation. He suggests the alternative of appointing courts and judges, with lower and higher courts for lesser or greater disputes. Yisro says to Moshe, “Now, listen to my voice” (ibid. 18; 19). The Torah continues that “Moshe listened to the voice of his father-in-law, and did all that he had said.” (v. 24). Why does the Torah state that Moshe heard Yisro’s ‘voice’ rather than just telling us that he listened to his father-in-law?

Yisro understood that he was a newcomer to the nation, and though he was Moshe’s father-in-law, he was not sure whether he would be accepted by the rest of the nation. Would they be prepared to listen to the suggestion of a former idolater, in contradiction of the practise of their leader Moshe? Yet Yisro felt that what he had to say about the courts was as much a part of Torah as the commandments that they had heard directly from G-d. It was as if G-d were speaking from Yisro’s throat, using the G-d given logic in place of prophecy. This is why Yisro stresses that is not making his suggestion out of pride, but because the ‘voice’ of Mount Sinai is using his mouth as a conduit. Moshe understands this and therefore listens to his ‘voice’.

This teaches us an important principle in Torah study, often the Talmud asks on a verse, “This can be derived from logic - why do I need this verse?” There are limitations to our logic, and there are things that we don’t understand, which the Jews accepted at Sinai to do, and later come to an understanding. Also, Torah punishment cannot be given for a law derived purely from logic, and the 613 commandments only include those which are explicitly written in the Torah, but for daily living logic plays a vital role. Therefore, even though the incident with Yisro witnessing Moshe’s judging only took place after Yom Kippur, four months after Mount Sinai, the Torah presents it here as an introduction to the receiving of the Torah.
Later in the Torah reading, having just received the Ten Commandments directly from G-d, the Torah tells us “All the nation saw the voices (alt. thunder), and the flames, and the sound of the shofar and the smoking mountain...” (ibid. 20; 15). The people experienced synesthesia, where sounds became visible to them. Apart from the fact that we find it difficult to even conceive of such a concept, how does seeing a voice differ from hearing a voice? Why was it necessary for G-d to perform the extra miracle of making sounds visible?

We see from here that there is a clear difference from the voice of reason which resonates in the mouths of the scholars, which should be heard, and the direct prophecy of the encounter with G-d. The people went beyond hearing, and could actually see the words. The hidden meanings of each phrase became clear. Just as in English the phrase ‘I see’ implies a greater level of understanding than ‘I hear’, so too the Torah is telling us that the Jews reached the highest level of prophecy and insight. All the secrets contained within the Torah were revealed to them. When the Talmud wants to introduce a point it often uses the phrase, “Ta Shma”, “come and hear”. The Zohar, however, which contains the esoteric secrets, introduces phrases with the words, “Ta Chazi”, “Come and see”. Unless one ‘sees’ the meanings and secrets clearly they have not entered into the realms of the hidden secrets of the Torah.

Thus we see three different types of understanding in our portion. Yisro understood from events that he saw that the correct response was to join the Jews. Moshe heard and understood that Yisro’s logic was as valid as the rest of the Torah which was given directly from G-d. And the entire nation understood the Ten Commandments with such clarity that they went beyond hearing, and were able to ‘see’ what G-d demanded of them.

Parshat Bo

“By ten Divine utterances was the world created.” (Ethics of the Fathers 5; 1). The Kabbalistic texts explain the ten plagues in Egypt corresponded to these ten utterances with which the world was created. At the time of creation the greatest revelation of G-d’s Presence was ‘In the beginning’, when there was only G-d and nothing else. Each act of creation served to further disguise G-d’s role in the world. However, with the plagues in Egypt, each new affliction brought the Egyptians and the Israelites closer to the recognition of G-d as Master of the Universe. Therefore, the plagues correspond to creation in reverse order.

The second utterance of creation was “Let there be light” (Genesis 1; 3). This light was not the normal light that illuminates our world today, as the heavenly bodies were not created until the fourth day of creation. Rather, according to the Midrash (quoted in Rashi) it was an intense spiritual light, and G-d saw that the wicked were unworthy of enjoying it. Therefore He separated it from the rest of the universe, and set it aside for the use of the righteous in the World to Come. It is clear that this light was not what we call light, because originally it was mingled with ‘darkness’ until “G-d separated between the light and the darkness...” (ibid. 4). We know darkness to be simply the absence of light, and therefore it is physically impossible to have dark and light mingled together, yet this impossibility was the light and darkness of the first day of creation.

The second to last plague in Egypt was that of darkness. But again, this was not merely the absence of light, as the verse states, “the darkness will be tangible ... No person could see another, nor could anyone rise from their place for a three day period.” (Exodus X; 21 - 23). Ramban explains that this darkness was an opaque, fog-like condition that extinguished all flames, so that the Egyptians could not use lamps. For the first three days they were confined to their homes by this darkness, but for the next three days the darkness intensified and became so palpable that the Egyptians literally could not move (Rashi).

Furthermore, this darkness was mingled with light, as the Torah says “but for all the Children of Israel there was light in their dwellings”. Rashi explains that there were two reasons for this plague of darkness. Among the Jews there were many people who had assimilated to the point where there was no hope for them to return to the covenant of Israel. Therefore they were not able to be redeemed from Egypt. G-d provided the darkness so that the Egyptians would not see their deaths and claim that the plagues affected Jews and Egyptians alike. Secondly, G-d had promised that the Jews would go free with all the wealth of Egypt. During the plague of darkness they were able to examine the possessions of the Egyptians, and determine their locations. When the Israelites were about to leave the Egyptians were not be able to deny them anything, as the verse states, “G-d gave the people favour in the eyes of the Egyptians, and they granted their requests, so they emptied Egypt” (ibid.. 12; 36). So while the Egyptians were paralysed by the darkness, the Jews were able to walk through their homes, looking through their possessions with clear illumination. This seems to be the mingling of light and darkness before G-d decreed their separation at the time of creation.

Parshat Bo

Rashi begins his commentary of the Torah with his famous question. Why does the Bible begin with the account of creation and of the patriarchs. Surely G-d did not need to tell us all of that; this is not a history book. Rather says Rashi, the Torah should have begun with the first real mitzvah (commandment), that of declaring the new month, which is in this week’s Torah reading. It is clear from this question that today’s Torah reading introduces a qualitatively different type of Torah. Therefore it must also herald the beginning of a different Jewish Nation that is able to accept and relate to such a Torah. What is so special about the Mitzvah of declaring the new month that it should be the first commandment that G-d gave us as a nation?

King Solomon tells us in Koheles (Ecclesiastes) “There is nothing new beneath the sun” (1; 9). “Beneath the sun” is a phrase used to denote the natural order, the scientific laws of the observable universe. Everything has been set in motion from the time of creation, and therefore there is nothing “new” that can occur. All that we are able to do is to better understand how these laws operate, and thus to find ways of using them to our benefit. But we are not able to actually create anything new.

Of course this implies that there are “new” things, but that they are “above” the sun, beyond the realms of science and nature. Our Rabbis tell us that “beyond the sun” refers to G-d, the spiritual world, and the Torah which is our gateway to that world. Actual creation and renewal is possible, but only through the study and observance of the Torah and its laws. This is the world order that we as Jews have access to if we choose to delve into it.

The Hebrew words for new month are “Rosh Chodesh”. “Chodesh” is closely related to the word “Chidush” meaning renewal. By giving us the Mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, G-d is also giving us the power of Chidush. Here we have our opening into the world of Torah and closeness to G-d, the world beyond the sun. Therefore, Rashi questioned why the Torah doesn’t begin at this point, when we are given the key to renewal that separates us from the rest of the world.

Why is this the first commandment given to the Jews before leaving Egypt? Why couldn’t G-d wait until they were standing at Mt. Sinai, and they could have had access to the renewal of the new month at the same time that the rest of the Torah was given to them?

The book of Exodus begins with “There arose new king...”. The Chiddushei HaRim2 asks how is it possible that the Torah describes the king of Egypt as “new”, implying that he was somehow connected to this higher order beyond the parameters of the sun? He answers that G-d puts this power into the world, and it is intended for the Jews to connect to. If, however, they forget that they have this ability, and don’t utilise it, others are able to make use of this potential for renewal against them. This is what happened in Egypt. The Jews forgot what they were there for, and that they could connect to the spiritual power of Torah, the inheritance of their forefathers. Therefore Pharaoh and Egypt were able to use it to enslave them, as it says “There arose a new king over Egypt who did not know Yosef”. Pharaoh was only able to forget about Yosef because the Jews had also forgotten.

Therefore, in order to get out of Egypt, the Jews needed the ability to start again. Despite the fact that they had sunk to the lowest levels of morality, and become as Egyptian as the Egyptians, G-d gave them the gift of Chodesh and Chidush so that they could rise out of the slump and begin again. This is why the new month sacrifices that are commanded in the Torah include a sin-offering. It is a mini Day of Atonement and gives us the chance to begin again.

Many other nations have risen to become superpowers, but eventually their strength collapses inwards as their society disintegrates. All the nations that once ruled the world no longer exist, they have been relegated to the realm of history. Once the social rot sets in, they find no way out. Only we Jews have survived every up and down of history. Whenever we hit a spiritual low and there appears no way out, G-d punishes us, but at the same time gives us the opportunity to begin again with a clean slate. Our G-d given ability to renew ourselves, as individuals and as a nation explains the seemingly impossible longevity of the Jewish nation in world history.

Parshat Vaera 3

“G-d said to Moshe… ‘Speak to Pharaoh, that he should send the Children of Israel from his land. But I shall harden Pharaoh’s heart...” (Exodus 7; 2-3). These verses raise two obvious questions - what does it mean when G-d hardens a persons heart? How does that accord with our understanding of free choice? Furthermore, if G-d has stated that He will harden Pharaoh’s heart, what point is there in sending Moshe and Aharon to speak to him? This seems like mockery, asking Pharaoh to do something which has become impossible for him to do.

The Rambam writes (Hilchot Teshuva 5; 1 ff.): Each person has the opportunity to turn themselves towards the good path and be righteous, or to choose to follow the path of evil, and become wicked. This the meaning of the verse “Behold mankind is like one of us to know good and evil” (Genesis 3; 22). This means that human beings are unique in the world in that through their own intellect they know the difference between good and evil, and do whichever they desire, without anyone (or anything) preventing them. This principle is a foundation of the Torah and commandments for if G-d would decree that a person would be righteous or wicked, or if there were something forcing a person to a certain path, how could G-d command us to act in a certain way, or how could the prophets chastise us and instruct us to improve our actions?

However, it is possible that a person could sin so grievously, or so often, that strict justice dictates that they must be punished for this, and therefore have their free choice removed so that they are prevented from repentance. Therefore the Torah writes “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart” (Exodus 7; 3). Since he sinned initially of his own choice, and acted evilly against Israel who were living in his land, justice therefore dictates that he eventually lose the option of repentance. Why then did G-d send Moshe to him to tell him to send the Jews from his land and repent, if that option was already removed from him? If a person should do something of their own free will, G-d may remove from them the ability to repent and they must die in their wickedness.

We have a principle that G-d helps a person to follow the path that they chose. Pharaoh chose to be stubborn and obstinate, therefore G-d caused him to take his path to its conclusion. His decisions to oppress and kill the Jews, and then refuse to listen to Moshe and Aaron, caused G-d to take him to a point where the gates of repentance were sealed before him.

Pharaoh was not the only one to exhibit this trait of stubbornness. G-d accuses the Jewish nation of being ‘a stiff-necked people’ at the time of the Golden Calf (ibid. 32; 9), and cites this as the reason that His presence will not remain within the midst of the nation (ibid. 33; 3). Yet despite their stubbornness, when confronted with the enormity of their sin they readily repent, as evidenced by their removal of the crowns that they gained at Sinai (ibid. 5).

Rambam writes (Hilchot Gerushin 1; 1) that a bill of divorce (get) may only be written with the voluntary consent of the husband. Yet later (2; 20) he writes that in a case where the law mandates that a husband should give his wife a get and he refuses, the beis din (Jewish court of law) should whip him until he says ‘I want to give my wife a get’. The Rambam is telling us that sometimes a person’s stubbornness gets in the way of their true intentions. Therefore whipping them removes the stubbornness, and enables them to give the divorce willingly.

In a sense this is what G-d was doing to Pharaoh. He smote him and all of Egypt with plagues to see whether he would repent and let the Jews go voluntarily. Only after the sixth plague, when it was clear that Pharaoh’s inner desire was not to repent did G-d actually intervene to harden his heart. By this time if Pharaoh were to repent it would not be in order to bring him closer to G-d, but only to avoid the plagues. He had reached the point where he needed to follow through and see the consequences of his actions, and receive his due punishment.

Parshat Vaera 2

This week’s Torah reading contains the four expressions of redemption, “I am the L-rd, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you from their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgements, and I will take you to Me for a people...” (Exodus 6; 6-7). The Midrash states that these four expressions also correspond to the four decrees of Pharaoh which caused the Jews to cry out to G-d, and to be saved.

The Ba’al HaTurim finds another quartet to which these four expressions correspond. He explains that the four expressions of redemption correspond to the four nations who would exile and enslave the Jews in the future.

How do these “fours” relate to each other? Pharaoh’s first decree was to subject the Jews to slave labour. Therefore the first phrase of redemption is “I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians,” specifying that G-d will end the slavery and the harsh labour. One of the main purposes of the slavery was to prevent the Israelite people from retaining faith in G-d. Because they were forced to work so hard they had no time left to contemplate religion and the promises that G-d had made to the forefathers. This corresponds to the first exile, to Nebuchadnezzar in Babylon. At that time the greatest threat to the Jewish people was idolatry. The Babylonians were steeped in a culture of idol worship, and Nebuchadnezzar erected a statue of himself to which all his subjects were forced to prostrate themselves. The Jews were later punished for bowing to this idol. The phrase “v’Hotzeti”, “And I will bring you out” reminds us of G-d’s promise to Avraham at the Covenant between the Pieces, where G-d “brought Avraham outside” (Genesis 15; 5). The Midrash explains that at this moment G-d brought Avraham outside the influence of the constellations and astrology, and established a direct relationship between Himself and Avraham’s descendants. From this time forth there was no need for any idols or other intermediaries between the Jews and G-d. So too in Egypt, G-d promises to bring them out, to remove the Jews from the idolatry which they will be surrounded with in Babylon, and to redeem them from that.

The second expression of redemption, “I will deliver you from their bondage” corresponds to Pharaoh’s second decree to throw all the new-born males into the Nile. This parallels the second exile, of Persia and Medea, which culminated in Haman’s decree to wipe out all the Jewish people. During this exile the Jews were faced with physical destruction, just as Pharaoh’s aim was to physically destroy the nation by killing all the males. The word “v’Hitzalti”, “deliver” or “save” implies G-d’s saving from the threat of extermination.

The third expression of redemption, “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm” is G-d’s response to Pharaoh’s third decree. Pharaoh became ill with leprosy, and tried to cure himself by bathing in the blood of Jewish babies. The Hagaddah says: “Outstretched arm” this refers to the sword, as it says (I Chronicles 21; 16) “His sword in his hand, outstretched over Jerusalem.”. The simple explanation is that this refers to the slaying of the first born, which the angel of death performed with a sword. Just as Pharaoh had Jewish babies slain so that he could bathe in their blood, so he was repaid in kind when all the firstborn in Egypt were slain.

The third exile was that of the Greeks, which was unique in that it was the only exile where the Jews actually remained in the land of Israel. We do not normally think of the Greeks, the most “cultured” nation of the ancient world as being bloodthirsty murderers. However the mystical sources indicate that metaphorically they did just that. Blood is likened to the soul, as the Torah says “For the blood is the soul” (Deuteronomy 12; 23). Therefore removing a person’s spirituality is likened to shedding blood. The Greeks didn’t enslave the Jews or oppress them physically, rather they banned the study of Torah and other Jewish practices, forcing them to renounce their religion. Thus the Greeks are considered murderers in their attempt to remove the inner essence of the Jewish nation. The word “Ga’alti”, “redeem,” implies taking one nation out from the midst of another. Just as both Pharaoh on a physical level, and the Greeks on a spiritual level attempted to remove the inner essence of the Jews, so too G-d responds by removing the Jews from inside another nation.

The final decree of Pharaoh was instructing his taskmasters to stop supplying the Israelites with straw with which to make bricks. The real hardship of this decree was that it forced the Jews to spread throughout Egypt to search for straw, and thus prevented the Jews from being united. G-d responded to this decree with “I will take you to Me for a people”, G-d will externally impose unity upon the Jewish people, by being their G-d. The other three expressions of redemption all specify saving from oppression. However this final stage of redemption comes after all the external pressures have been removed, and is G-d bringing the Jews to Him, not away from something else.

The fourth and final nation to exile the Jews was Edom. They destroyed the Second Temple, and scattered the Jews throughout the world. Our Sages tell us that the Temple was destroyed because of the sin of causeless hatred between the Jews, a lack of unity. Therefore the exile was one which dispersed the Jews and aggravated that disunity. And the redemption from that exile must be a bringing together of all the Jews, uniting them in the purpose of being the nation of G-d.

Parshat Vaera 1

“And G-d said to Moshe, ‘Tell Aharon your brother ‘Take your staff and stretch out your hand over the waters of Egypt, over the rivers, the pools, the lakes and over all the bodies of water’ and they will become blood.” (Exodus 7; 19). Surely this is an impossible command. How could G-d instruct a person to stretch out their hand over all the water in the land? Furthermore, since G-d is clearly the One performing the miracle, what purpose is there in Aharon or Moshe waving their hands about as if they are some sort of magicians? Doesn’t this trivialise the effect of G-d controlling the forces of nature? Yet we find that G-d instructs them to perform actions in order to bring about many of the plagues.

Both of these questions can also be asked about the miracle of the splitting of the sea. With the pursuing Egyptian army behind them, and the impenetrability of the Sea of Reeds1 in front of them, Moshe prays to G-d for help. G-d’s response seems absurd; “G-d said to Moshe, ‘Why are you shouting at Me? Speak to the Children of Israel and go forward’” (ibid. 14; 15). The Midrash tells us that the sea didn’t part until Nachshon ben Aminadav, the leader of the tribe of Yehuda, jumped in and started to cross. As soon as he was up to his neck in water, the whole sea divided and the Jews were able to cross on dry land. Why does G-d demand of the Children of Israel to attempt the impossible, and why does He require human input, when He is about to perform one of the greatest miracles?

The mystical sources tell us that our world is just one of many. Ours is the most physical, but parallel to it, and bound to it, are intangible spiritual worlds; each world less physical and more ethereal then the one below it, ultimately reaching to the foot of G-d’s Throne of Glory. These worlds are the conduit for G-d’s interaction with us, diluting the awesome light and power of G-d, so that we are able to perceive it in our world. Without these worlds to gradually translate ethereal spirituality into our physical world, the natural desire to draw close to G-d’s Presence would overpower us, and our spiritual souls would be unable to remain in their physical bodies. This is the meaning of the verse “For no man can perceive Me and live”. All the laws of nature which were set up in creation are channelled through these worlds.

This is not purely a one way system. Our world is called by the Kabbalists “Olam HaAsiya”, the world of action. Because human beings were given free choice, we have the ability to decide upon our actions, and these actions are translated upwards to the highest worlds. Therefore, G-d promises us “If you will carefully obey My commandments... to love the L-rd your G-d and to serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul, then I will provide rain in your land in its proper time...”. G-d is not offering us physical gifts as a reward for obedience, but is teaching us the spiritual laws of nature and the direct consequences of our actions. What we do influences the spiritual worlds, which in turn affect our world.

However, because this is the “Olam HaAsiya”, it is our physical actions which have a direct and far reaching effect. Whilst our thoughts and speech are important, it is with our actions that we alter the spiritual channels and can influence the laws of nature. That is why G-d commands Moshe and Aharon to perform actions to bring about the miracles. Even though it is impossible to reach out over every stretch of water in the physical world, the attempt unleashes spiritual conduits which change the normal physical rules. Similarly at the Reed Sea, everything was in place for it to split, but opening those channels required someone prepared to demonstrate their faith and start swimming.

No one should ever say “Who am I?”, or “What difference do my actions make?”. Every detail of every action that we perform is translated through the spiritual worlds into laws of nature. We are usually unable to see the results directly, but who knows the consequences of lighting Shabbat candles, or of spending Shabbat morning in Synagogue? Putting on tefillin, giving charity, or offering hospitality could affect the health, livelihood or Jewish awareness of ourselves, our loved ones, and ultimately the whole world.

Parshat Shemot 1

We find in this week’s Torah reading that Pharaoh tries different methods of limiting the Jewish population explosion. First he gives the men so much work that they won’t have the time or energy to have children. When he sees that this is ineffective, he tells the Jewish midwives to kill all the Jewish boys that are born. Finally, in a last desperate attempt, he orders that all baby boys, including the Egyptian ones, should be thrown into the Nile.

Pharaoh had received information from his astrologers that the saviour of the Jews would die through water. Since he didn’t know whether this saviour would be Jewish or Egyptian, he simply had all baby boys thrown into the Nile in order to fulfil the decree of the astrologers. (What he didn’t realise of course, was that the prediction referred to Moshe striking the rock in the desert in order to provide water for the Jews, which was ultimately the reason that he was not permitted to enter the land of Israel, thus it was the cause of his death.)

Despite his fears of the Jews escaping, how could Pharaoh be so cruel as to have all the babies thrown into the river to drown? Surely there must have been some other way to prevent the Jews from leaving Egypt. Even if there was not, was it worth killing an entire generation?

Pharaoh, as the leader, represented the entire nation in his thoughts and actions. (We see this from the fact that all of Egypt was decimated as a punishment for enslaving the Jews. Had this only been Pharaoh’s private plan, the remainder of the nation would not have been destroyed.) His tyranny was motivated by the Egyptian “world view”. The Hebrew word for Egypt is “Mitzraim”, which is closely related to the word “Mitzarim” meaning “narrow boundaries” or “definitions”. The Egyptians were firm believers in empiricism. They were only interested in those things that they could observe, or test. Therefore, when Moshe tells Pharaoh that G-d demands that he let the Jews go, his response is “Who is this G-d that I should listen to Him”. Furthermore, Pharaoh refused to believe in G-d, or His powers, despite warnings from Moshe, because all of the plagues defied scientific explanation. Pharaoh was unable to accept anything beyond the realms of the “definable”.

Taking empiricism to its logical extreme, even a person is defined only by what he or she has accomplished. A person becomes no more than the sum total of their activities and achievements; future potential is irrelevant. If I can’t see the result now, it has no value. Therefore a baby, which is a bundle of potential but has not yet achieved anything, has no value. Pharaoh decreed that the babies should be thrown into the Nile to fend for themselves. If they are able to save themselves, then they may live; if not, by what rights do they deserve to live? They have not yet earned any rights.

This attitude is antithetical to Judaism. Every new-born baby is a bundle of potential. It must be cared for and looked after until it is in a position to realise that potential. We are forbidden to stand aside and let another person suffer merely because they are not able to look after themselves. We have a collective responsibility to each other, regardless of whether someone “deserves” our giving or not. It is not for us to judge other people, or how well they are fulfilling their potential.

When we cease looking at what we can give to others, instead being interested only in what we think they deserve, we end up with petty infighting and eventually hatred.
This is known as “Sinas Chinam”, hatred for no reason. Our “justification” and motivation for behaving in this way is “What has that person done for me?”, or “Why do they deserve to be treated better?”. Once we look at what rights another has, based on our own evaluation, we are faced with a breakdown of society. This baseless hatred is what led to the destruction of the Second Temple. It is interesting to note that the period between the fasts of the Seventeenth of Tammuz and Tisha B’Av, which commemorates the lead up to, and destruction of the Temple is known as “Bein HaMitzarim”, “Between the Boundaries”.

Concern only with the physical and measurable leads to a denial of G-d, even in the face of undeniable evidence. Worse than that, it denies any higher meaning to human life. If people are merely the sum total of their achievements, and have to earn their right to life, then a nation can throw their children into the Nile with no pangs of conscience.

Parshat Vayechi 3

Ya’akov called to his sons, and said, ‘Gather yourselves together, that I may tell you that which shall befall you in the last days. Gather yourselves together and hear, you sons of Ya’akov, and listen to Yisrael your father.” (Genesis 49; 1, 2). Ya’akov seems to suddenly change the subject, promising to tell his sons about the end of days, but instead continuing with the blessings.

The Talmud explains that Ya’akov wanted to reveal the time of the coming of the Messiah to his children, as they gathered at his bedside. However, at that moment the Holy Spirit departed from him, and he was unable to do so. (Pesachim 56a). Why did Ya’akov want to reveal the events of the end of days, and why G-d prevented him from so doing.

Many of the people in the Torah have had their name changed, but Ya’akov is unique in that he is still known by his former name as well as the new one. ““Your name shall no more be called Ya’akov...” (Genesis 35; 10). Not that the name Ya’akov should not be used, but that Ya’akov should be in addition to Yisrael. Yisrael is the main name, and Ya’akov secondary.” (Yerushalmi Berachot 1; 6). The simplest explanation for Ya’akov’s two names is that when he is referred to as an individual the name Ya’akov is used, and when the Torah speaks of him as the father of the nation, symbolically encompassing all of the nation, he is known as Yisrael.

The Talmud (Ta’anit 5b) states: Rav Yitzchak said to Rav Nachman, thus said Rabbi Yochanan, ‘Ya’akov our father never died.’ He replied, ‘In that case why did they eulogise him, embalm him and bury him?’ He said ‘I learn this fact from a verse, as it states (Jeremiah 30; 10), “Therefore fear not, my servant Ya’akov, says G-d, for I will save you from afar, and your seed (children) from the land of their captivity...” The verse connects Ya’akov to his descendants. Just as his descendants are alive, so too he is alive.’

The simple explanation of this perplexing piece of Talmud is that Ya’akov was the father of the twelve tribes, and the only patriarch to have all his children follow in his spiritual footsteps. Therefore he is more directly connected to the Jewish people, and remains alive as long as we do. However, it is strange that Rabbi Yochanan stated that Ya’akov never died. I would have expected him to use the name Yisrael, since it is referring to the patriarch in his role as progenitor of the nation.

The name Ya’akov was given to him because he was born holding on to the heel of his brother Esav. This name shows both that he is subordinate to Esav, in that he was only able to grab the lowest part of him, but also that he is involved in a constant struggle with his brother. Ya’akov managed to take away Esav’s birthright, and his blessings, but it is still the descendants of Esav who control the world physically and financially. The Jews have always remained only a small, though influential, part of the human population. The name Yisrael was given to Ya’akov after his struggle with the angel, who represented the spiritual side of Esav. The name means ‘You have struggled with angels and with people, and prevailed’. (Genesis 32; 29).

Ya’akov’s life was a microcosm of Jewish history. The trials that he faced, with his brother, Lavan, Shechem and the loss of Yosef, are trials that we are still facing today, on a national scale. Therefore it would appear that the name Ya’akov relates to the events that are part of the struggle of our existence throughout history, whereas the name Yisrael represents the final vindication and victory of the Jewish nation, that will come at the end of days. This is why Rabbi Yochanan said that Ya’akov never died. As long as the Jewish nation are still in exile, still having to face trials and suffering, Ya’akov is still alive. However, in the future, when history has run its course and the Jewish nation will be recognised for having prevailed it will be Yisrael who is alive.

Perhaps we can say that allegorically when Ya’akov wanted to reveal the end to his children, G-d hid it from him to teach him that the struggle, and the process is as important, or even more important than reaching the goal of the end of days. Realising this, Ya’akov changes his final words to his children from being an esoteric description of the Messianic era, to giving them the blessings which will help them through the world as it is at the moment.

This seems to contradict the statement from the Yerushalmi that Yisrael is the main name, and Ya’akov only secondary. However, the continuation of the Talmud there records a discussion between Ben Zoma and the sages as to whether the Exodus from Egypt will still be remembered in the times of the Messiah (a discussion which is part of the Pesach Haggadah). Ben Zoma claims that the miracles of the Messianic era will make the miracles of the Exodus irrelevant. However the sages counter, “Not that the Exodus from Egypt will be removed, rather the Exodus will be additional to the future redemption. That will be the main redemption, and the Egyptian one secondary to it.”

Though ultimately the future redemption will overshadow the Exodus from Egypt, for the present that one is more relevant and important to us. Even at the time of the ultimate redemption, we will still remember the trials, tests and miracle of the Exodus from Egypt. This is the message that Ya’akov received through the temporary loss of Divine inspiration. Though ultimately the end of days will overshadow the present events of history, our current struggles won’t be forgotten, and for the moment they are the ones that are more relevant to us.

Parshat Vayechi 2

Before his death, Ya’akov gathers his children around him in order to bless them. But listen to what he says to them. “Reuven, you are my firstborn... Because you were as unstable as water, you will no longer be the first. Shimon and Levi are a pair; instruments of crime are their wares. Let my soul not enter their plot.... Cursed be their rage...” By the time he got to his fourth son, Yehuda was already backing away anticipating a rebuke like those his brothers had just received! On his deathbed, has Ya’akov nothing better to say to his sons than to point out their weaknesses? Is this the blessing that he summoned them to receive?

Earlier in the reading Yosef brings his two sons, Menashe and Ephraim to Ya’akov for a blessing. Ya’akov switches his hands to place the right on Ephraim’s head, even though Ephraim is the younger. This displeases Yosef and he tries to move his father’s hands. Ya’akov justifies himself by saying that though both sons will become great, the younger will become greater than the older. It appears that Ya’akov is doing things the wrong way round. If the purpose of a blessing is to bestow greatness, couldn’t he decide through the way he places his hands, which son will be the greater? He seems bound by the future, and is not conferring greatness, but making a prophecy.

The Midrash1 states that the Torah opens with the letter beis because this is the letter of blessing. In what sense does beis represent blessing? Certainly the word b’racha begins with beis, but so do many other words, some of which even mean the opposite of blessing.

The Maharal explains that the word b’racha which is usually translated as “blessing” in fact means “increase” or “many”. Therefore the letter beis is in essence b’racha, because its numerical value is two. It is by definition “many”. Furthermore, the root of the word b’racha is the letters beis, reish, and caf. Each of these letters has a numerical value representing double. Beis is two, reish is two hundred, and caf is twenty, two tens.

When Ya’akov comes to bless his sons, he cannot redefine who they are. Rather he points out their strengths and weaknesses. Then they are able to improve themselves, by channelling their negative traits toward positive actions, and by increasing their good qualities. Similarly, Ya’akov cannot change the future for his grandsons, but he can bless them that G-d should help each of them to realise their fullest potential. Actualising one’s abilities is the increase inherent in b’racha.

The Talmud uses the following story to illustrate the concept of b’racha:

A man was walking in the desert. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. He came across a tree with sweet fruit, nice shade and a stream of water flowing beneath it. He ate from the fruit, drank from the stream and rested in the shade. When he was about to leave he said “Oh tree, how can I bless you? If I would say that your fruit should be sweet - your fruit is already sweet; that you should have pleasant shade - your shade is already pleasant; that you should have a stream flowing beneath you - you already have a stream flowing beneath you. Instead may G-d bless you that all the saplings that come from you should be like you.”2

The best blessing that one person can give to another is to help them realise and fulfil their true potential. In this way they will grow and expand and become the embodiment of b’racha.