The content of most of this Parsha is a description of the elaborate vestments that the regular Kohen and the High Priest wore during the service to the Almighty.
The Torah describes these clothes as for the purpose of dignity and beauty (28:2). We would think of the clothing then for a public display; when the Kohanim appeared in public people would be impressed by the special clothing that they wore. In actuality that was not the case because the Kohanim were not allowed to wear these clothes outside the Mishkan or the Temple area. They were only permitted to wear these clothes during the ritual service at the Temple. In essence the clothing was not for the dignity and beauty of the Kohen, but rather lending to the beauty and dignity of the ritual service itself. There is an elaborate discussion as to the proper definition of the Ephod (28:6). The Ephod was some form of an apron that the High Priest wore. Some say that the Ephod was like a half cape, as wide as the body, reaching from just below the elbows to the heel. Others agree that it was a long garment and was more like a skirt from the waist to the heel, covering the High Priest in front and back. Others claimed that it was long but some maintain that it was much simpler in construction. They see it like a cape made out of a single rectangular piece of cloth draped over the shoulders like a large Tallit and hanging down to the feet and back. Yet there are others (the Chizkuni) who felt it was not a long garment at all but rather like a vest with a belt around its lower edge tied in front; a backward vest. Added to this we have a description by Josephus who described it as a sleeved garment. The main part of it was a cubit square with an opening for the Breastplate which went over the front of the body. It had straps, most probably going around the neck, which buttoned onto the precious stones on the opposite sides to hold the Ephod in place. Again, what we see here is a lack of early description to give us a definitive idea of exactly what the Ephod was. It is one of the things that we will just have to wait patiently for the Mashiach to come at the time of the next Beit Ha-Mikdash to get us a proper rendition of the Ephod.
0 Comments
Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, served for decades as England’s rabbi emeritus, and he would tell a very sweet story that I want to share with you.
As Rabbi Sacks remembers it, he was around seven or eight years old at the time, and he wanted to get his father something for his—his father’s--birthday. The young Jonathan was pretty stumped, given that his parents had always given gifts to HIM and that he’d never thought about trying to reciprocate, and that he didn’t have much money. What could he possibly do for his father, the man who sacrificed so much to raise and educate four boys, of whom Jonathan was eldest? So, the young man went shopping, and while in a store he found a really cheap plastic trophy. On the trophy were written the words, “The World’s Best Father.” And he bought it. Looking back, Rabbi Sacks tells readers, he is embarrassed to even think that he did such a cheesy thing. He is embarrassed that his younger self could somehow think that an inexpensive piece of plastic could be an expression of love. An expression of gratitude. But do you know what happened? Sacks the elder thanked his son, and he put that plastic trophy on his nightstand by his bed. And after his father died, Sacks returned home and found that that little trophy was still right there by his father’s bedside. What does this story have to do with our parsha this week, parsha Terumah? I think it’s key to understanding the parsha. In the Sedra, we will hear all the instructions that God will give Moshe and that Moshe will give to the people, instructions to build a Mishkan, a portable schul. A home for God. Now let me ask you all:
Like the elder Sacks, God knows that the Israelites could never really give him something God needs. God has everything. But, like the elder Sacks, God allows the people to express their love and devotion. God allows the relationship to be reciprocal. Let’s think about that, not only when we GIVE gifts, but also when we RECEIVE them. The opening sentence in Parshat Mishpatim is V’Ayla Hamishpatim asher tasim lifnayhem. Translated to: "AND, these are the rules that you should set before them." The Vav, and, connects this parshah to the previous one, Yitro, wherein we have the giving of the Ten Commandments.
Mishpatim serves to TEACH US THAT the statutes given after the "Ten Big Ones" are just as important and were also given to all of us at Sinai. In fact, the Decalogue is bracketed by more seemingly mundane laws, before and after. The Rabbis liken this to a Queen being protected by bodyguards in front and in back. The matters discussed in Mishpatim are crucial to the establishment of a moral society. A saying goes: Three things hold up the world, Truth, Justice and Peace. Moses’s merit is that He is enjoined to arrange these laws, that YOU should set forth before them, likened to a table fully set for the diners. The medieval compendium of Halacha is therefore appropriately entitle the Shulchan Aruch, the Set Table. Among the matters covered in the Parshah are: Treatment of Hebrew Slaves Unintentional murder Premeditated murder Cursing parents and judges Lex Talionis -- an eye for an eye Witchcraft Treatment of strangers, enemy’s animals, widows and orphans Bribery of officials Bailments Also, monetary transactions, being a good creditor, that is, not acting like a creditor. Many stories are told of good Jews avoiding those they have lent money to in order not to embarrass them! The prohibition of charging any interest at all to fellow Jews. I remember my father, alawv hashalom, an accountant, would head the Free Loan Society for his schul. Every schul had one and many still do. He would do business at our apartment and not allow us kids to see who was at the door. The Hebrew word for interest neshech is likened by Rashi to Kinsheechat, the bite of a snake. The snake bites someone’s foot and the wound goes unnoticed until the venom reaches the person’s head. Suddenly, the entire body is swollen and overburdened. Anyone who gets a monthly Mastercard statement can relate! One more interesting instruction is the taking of collateral for a loan-permitted, but we are told, If you take your fellow’s garment as security, before sunset shall you return it to him. For it is his clothing, it is his garment for his skin –in what should he lie down? So it will be that if he cries out to me, I shall listen, for I am compassionate. A commentary likens the creditor’s actions to God’s. He must continue to return the collateral daily to the debtor. God is in effect asking, how much do you owe me? And see for yourself that your soul ascends to me each AND EVERY NIGHT AND GIVES AN ACCOUNTING OF ITSELF AND YET I RETURN IT TO YOU every morning-as we thank God in the morning, sheh hehchezarta lee nishmati, that you have returned my soul to me. This same mitzvah is discussed in D’varim and the description there is: That he may sleep in his cloth and bless you and it will be for your merit before God. Because God is compassionate, we are commanded to be compassionate, even and especially in our business dealings. May we all strive to fulfill these mitzvot. There are many ways to interpret Torah, as we’ve discussed in various contexts.
One is the obvious one—the interpretation focuses on what is or what seems to be the literal message of the passage. That’s called PSHAT. And there are other ways, too. There is also gematria, where we count words or passages based on assigning a number to each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. When we know what the number is, we can often draw connections to other ideas or mitzvot in the Torah. But in this dvar I want to focus on another method of interpretation—a technique called GEZERA SHAVA. In gezera shava, we look at how often a phrase or a word appears in the Torah; if a phrase or a word occurs only once in the entire Torah, for example, that may mean that there’s something significant about the phrase or word. And if a word or a phrase appears frequently, it doesn’t seem to have as much interpretive weight. And if identical phrases, or sentences, or terms appear INFREQUENTLY, we look for what meaning they might share. Everyone with me so far? So, here’s a gezera shava for parsha Yitro, which we will soon read in its entirety. Moshe’s father-in-law advises him to delegate some of the work he’s been doing. Yitro points out that Moshe is the only person the Israelites rely on, and that dependence is ultimately going to exhaust Moshe. It’s good advice, something that all of us can learn from. That we can’t do it all. But when Yitro observes Moshe, he is quick to pronounce judgment. According to Yitro, the situation is NOT GOOD. Simple words. LO TOV. Not good. And Moshe, wise man that he was, knows that he’s got to change his approach to ruling. So, what about that phrase LO TOV? It’s so simple that you might think that it appears repeatedly in the Torah. Nope. Believe it or not, it appears only one other time in the entire bible. You can probably guess where it appears. Well, the answer is that LO TOV appears in Breishit—when God sees that Adam is alone, God declares that that situation is LO TOV, not good. So this is a perfect opportunity for GEZERA SHAVA. What might these two examples share? What can we learn from bringing them together? We might notice that, in the first case, God the FATHER is pronouncing judgment; in the second case, Yitro the FATHER-IN-LAW is pronouncing judgment. But I think we can also go beyond that. God makes clear that it is not good for a person to be alone. And he creates Chava, Eve. He is making a statement about the value of family, about the value of intimate partnerships, of love. A partner can provide balance, can help one to shift perspective, can pick you up when you’re down. When Yitro exclaims LO TOV, he is declaring that it is NOT GOOD for rulers to rule alone, for rulers to BE alone. That every ruler needs partners, people with whom she or he can share not only the responsibility but also the weight of leadership. Yitro makes clear that justice cannot be the sole province of one person, even someone as wise as Moshe. So here in these two LO TOVs we see the mirroring of family and community, of the personal and of the political, of the private and the public. It is NOT GOOD to be alone, NOT GOOD for the state and not good for the individual. And we know that, for Judaism, the line between family and community is never absolutely delineated. Never clear-cut. Here GEZERA SHAVA teaches us that it is NOT GOOD to be alone, and that we are NOT ALONE as long as we have each other. Parsha BO gives us the last plague, and we enter the parsha when God describes to Moses his plan to kill the first born of every Egyptian—from the “Slave girl who is behind the millstone” to “the first born of Pharaoh who sits behind the throne” to “the first born of the cattle.” This is a massive punishment which seems to tell us that no one—even the cattle—was completely innocent when it comes to the enslavement of our people.
And just before we encounter these instructions, God has told Moshe that this next (and last) plague is the one that will finally, without any question, lead Pharaoh to “drive you out from here one and all.” And so it does. But in preparing for that final departure, the people are told to “borrow” from the Egyptians silver and gold. Is “BORROW” the right word? I assume that we don’t want to believe that we forcibly took this Egyptian booty. Rashi tells us that the verb DE-BAR-NAH is really a “request,” not a demand. Were we entitled to this compensation for all those years of slavery? Was this payback? Some interpretations remind us that God promised Abraham not only that his descendants would populate the earth in great numbers, but also that they would have enormous wealth. So this could be the fulfillment of that prophecy. But even if that’s true, it doesn’t tell us whether the Egyptians gave us the silver and gold willingly or out of sheer terror or because they recognized the wrong that they had done to us. Our Eytz Hayyim below the line (Rabbi Kushner, Z”L) offers another thought: that the slaves could have stolen everything from their Egyptian masters during the PREVIOUS plague—during the plague of darkness. And because they didn’t, the Egyptian people grew to admire their moral virtue—what Rabbi Kushner calls their “moral greatness”--and so they gave them the silver and gold willingly as a recognition of the ethical character of the people. I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to believe that ANYONE in power gives it up that easily. And this passage also is almost exactly in line with an earlier passage in SH’MOT where God outlines for Moshe what is going to happen and what Moshe’s role in it will be. He tells Moses that, toward the end, the Egyptians will look favorably upon the Israelites and give them their gold and silver. You will not leave empty-handed, God says. That doesn’t sound like great wealth. It sounds more like a reasonable amount of resources to be able to start the next stage of the journey. But God also says something a little different in the earlier version: He tells MOSHE that the EGYPTIANS WILL BE STRIPPED. Another translation is that “YOU SHALL EMPTY OUT EGYPT.” Doesn’t that sound a little harsher? So it’s not just HOW they came to get the riches they got, but also exactly HOW MUCH they took (or “borrowed”). Over the years, various people—including an Egyptian law professor in the early 2000s—have tried to sue for reparations for precisely this episode. Allen Dershowitz, law professor and well-known author of a number of books (including Chutzpah) once called these suits NUISANCE suits. Incredibly silly, he said. And he also said that he’d love to see one go to court so that a judge could figure out exactly what was owed to the 600,000 Jews who slaved for hundreds of years without compensation. We know from our reading of Breishit that God gave Adam dominion over the animals. He is even given the power to name them, a clear sign that he is in control.
But on what is that control based? The Torah is noticeably silent on that question. Why are human beings dominant over the rest of the natural order? Some people have assumed that the answer is obvious. But it’s not really so clear when we dig a little more deeply. So many theologians, psychologists, and philosophers have tried to answer that question. For Aristotle, we are the rational animal. For others, we are tool makers. Marx argued that we are the only animals capable of productive labor. Many have claimed that human beings alone have a soul, and that means we are truly created in the image of God. Though all of these answers have some merit, I want to suggest a different possibility which emerges from a recent parsha. That Parsha, Vayigash, is one of the most beautiful of the Torah. Its seemingly straightforward narrative belies the many unanswered questions embedded there. It relates the climax of the story of Joseph and his brothers, a telling that moves from alienation, sibling rivalry and cruelty to care, compassion and reconciliation. We realize from the Parsha how much Joseph has yearned for a re-connection to his family, despite what his brothers have done to him. Midrash tells us that Joseph has remained faithful to the mitzvot for more than 22 years, observances that were his alone in Egypt. Perhaps he weeps for his loss of Jewish community beyond his immediate family. We also see him weep with Benjamin, his full brother from his beloved mother Rachel,-the only other fully innocent character in this narrative. He weeps for the mother he has lost and the brother he has found. We are told that Joseph’s sobs were so loud that the Egyptians could hear, and so the news reached Pharoah’s palace. Joseph the Tzaddik is moved to tears by his brother Judah’s pleas for the life of Benjamin and Judah’s offer to take Benjamin’s place in prison to avoid further heartache for their father Jacob. This story is an incredible story of forgiveness. Listen to the words of the Torah at the moment when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers: “Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come forward to me.” And when they came forward, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, he whom you sold into Egypt. Now do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me here, it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you. It is now two years that there has been famine in the land, and there are still five years to come in which there shall be no yield from tilling. God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance. So, it was not you who sent me here, but God; and He has made me a father to Pharoah, lord of all his household, and ruler over the whole land of Egypt.” In Joseph’s words we seem to have found an answer to the question of why he forgives his brothers. It was God’s plan that depended on their selling him into slavery, a plan that includes his imprisonment and rise into Pharoah’s inner circle. He forgives them and lets them know that the difference now is not in him but rather in them. No longer jealous or angry, they feel shame and fear before him. They finally see their own sins and guilt and as a result of these insights, they are able to pass the tests Joseph had designed for them. Not only does Joseph forgive them, he refrains from referring to years of suffering or to what they have done to him. As we read these passages, we cannot help but be reminded of other stories of jealousy-between Rachel and Leah, between Jacob and Esau. These stories frame the story of Joseph and his brothers and at last provide us with a sense of peace and reconciliation after the noteworthy silence about these other rivalries. Why forgive? There are lots of good pragmatic reasons to forgive-to end a feud, for example. To think about how self-poisoning resentment becomes if one doesn’t forgive. But the primary reason to forgive, it seems to me, is to restore a lost relationship. Remember that it’s often those closest to us who have hurt us and need forgiveness. Think about someone you have finally forgiven or want to forgive. My guess is that it’s not some anonymous stranger who cut you off on the highway. Those little injuries evaporate quickly. Wrongs from those closest to us do not. So, forgiveness matters because the people closest to us-Joseph’s brothers, for example-matter. Who are we without them? What does that isolation cost us? In answer to our original question about what might separate us from the animals, perhaps the answer is forgiveness. This may be because forgiveness may run counter to all of our basic instincts for survival. There are no rules for forgiveness. Joseph forgives his brothers and goes far beyond forgiveness to restore them to life and health and property and standing. But he gains even more for himself through his act of forgiveness. Through his forgiveness he becomes whole again. So may it be for all of us. Amen. Torah Reading:
Isaac ben Judah Abarbanel (Portuguese Jewish statesman, philosopher, Bible commentator, and financier commonly referred to as "The Abarbanel" ) points out that one of the key words introduced to us in this week’s parsha from the very beginning is the word BAYIT, the house. A man went from the house, Bayit, of Levi, and marries a daughter of Levi. The two midwives received as a reward Batim, houses. The family of Yaakov descended to Egypt, each man and his house, Bayit. This concept of family is a consistent theme and reaches greater heights with the evolution of a nation. Each story in the narrative of Breishit depicts a younger son rising in prominence over his older sibling, usually with dismal results. The final narrative in Chumash Breishit is the one story of two brothers when the younger rises over the older and does not result in any form of hatred or jealousy, and that is with Ephraim and Menashe. In our story now, in the beginning, it is not an issue, and yet we see from the outset that Moshe, the younger son, rises to prominence over his older brother, Aharon. Yet their relationship, in fact their partnership in acting together with Moshe in the lead, demonstrates the true role model of a familial relationship that exudes love and care, and the result is Geulah, Redemption. This Aleph and Mem partnership of Aharon and Moshe can also be seen in other stages of Redemption with Esther and Mordechai in the Purim story, and ultimately in the final Redemption, Eliyahu the Prophet and the Melech HaMashiach – again Aleph and Mem. There is a test of leadership that several commentaries point out. It is just a series of verses that quickly narrate a demonstration of Moshe as a young adult who involved himself in three separate incidents. Moshe comes on the scene when an Egyptian taskmaster is beating a Jewish person. He intervenes and kills the Egyptian. In the second scene two Jews are fighting among themselves and Moshe intervenes. The third case is in Midian when Moshe comes upon the well and finds the shepherds contending with the daughters of Yitro. In each situation Moshe was an outsider. It is of interest, and quite noteworthy, that the three cases are Jew vs. non-Jew; a Jew vs. a Jew; and then non-Jew v. non-Jew. These are three totally different types of situations, and in each case, Moshe put himself in the middle. He involved himself in order to right any wrongs, and to create a sense of justice and morality. Covered in short sentences, the Torah depicts Moshe’s actions without fanfare. We should note that what Moshe was doing was demonstrating tremendous character development. We normally think that Hashem chooses the Prophet in the Sefer. In this case Moshe is chosen by Hashem once he has proven himself worthy of the position that he is given. Haftorah Shemot: The terms Yaakov and Yisrael are both used in the first verse of today's haftorah. "The coming generations will allow Yaakov to take root, it will blossom and flower as Yisrael." Yaakov represents the name of the Galut (exile) appearance of Israel. Only when Yaakov takes root, establishes himself to exist in strength, will he grow and develop. This development in Jewish history will be a struggle, in exile, and through much pain and trouble. If he succeeds in rooting himself in this "purifying" manner, he will blossom into Yisrael. Yisrael is the name of Israel when it is realizing its given name, when its entire existence is stamped with God's government. The Yaakov of the exile will become the Yisrael of the Promised Land. The divine blessing will come if Yaakov/Yisrael perseveres in Torah and good deeds. The main theme of this Parsha is the blessings that Yaakov gives his children and grandchildren. The grandsons Ephraim and Menashe, Yosef’s sons, are the first to be blessed by the Patriarch. The first Rebbe of Lubavitch, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady, states that the comment in the Torah (48:16 “in them by My Name be recalled and the names of my fathers Avraham and Yitzchak…”) is interpreted as: May God bless them as long as they call themselves by traditional Biblical names. The most valuable legacy we can leave our children and grandchildren is bequeathing to them the faith that sustained us.
The biggest blessing that Yaakov can give his son Yosef is the special blessing that Yaakov grants to Yosef’s sons. If Yosef would have had additional sons, they would not have special tribal status. It was only Ephraim and Menashe who were given these blessings. Yaakov is the only one of the Patriarchs who is referred to in Jewish literature as a grandfather. Even though Avraham knew his grandsons until they turned 15, and Yitzchak was alive when Yosef was sold into slavery, Yaakov is the only one who is depicted clearly in the Torah as having a relationship with his grandsons. The greatest brachah that we all can experience is the blessings that are given to our children. The Talmud says that when an individual greets a father or mother and a son or daughter, one should greet the child first. This is a greater blessing to the parent. The father or mother would have nachas to see the child being placed in the honored position of being greeted first. The blessing is not really a vicarious one to the parent. It is a major blessing for all parents to see the success of the brachahs being granted by the Almighty to our children. We know from our reading of Breishit that God gave Adam dominion over the animals. He is even given the power to name them, a clear sign that he is in control.
But on what is that control based? The Torah is noticeably silent on that question. Why are human beings dominant over the rest of the natural order? Some people have assumed that the answer is obvious. But it’s not really so clear when we dig a little more deeply. So many theologians, psychologists, and philosophers have tried to answer that question. For Aristotle, we are the rational animal. For others, we are tool makers. Marx argued that we are the only animals capable of productive labor. Many have claimed that human beings alone have a soul, and that means we are truly created in the image of God. Though all of these answers have some merit, I want to suggest a different possibility which emerges from a recent parsha. That Parsha, Vayigash, is one of the most beautiful of the Torah. Its seemingly straightforward narrative belies the many unanswered questions embedded there. It relates the climax of the story of Joseph and his brothers, a telling that moves from alienation, sibling rivalry and cruelty to care, compassion and reconciliation. We realize from the Parsha how much Joseph has yearned for a re-connection to his family, despite what his brothers have done to him. Midrash tells us that Joseph has remained faithful to the mitzvot for more than 22 years, observances that were his alone in Egypt. Perhaps he weeps for his loss of Jewish community beyond his immediate family. We also see him weep with Benjamin, his full brother from his beloved mother Rachel,-the only other fully innocent character in this narrative. He weeps for the mother he has lost and the brother he has found. We are told that Joseph’s sobs were so loud that the Egyptians could hear, and so the news reached Pharoah’s palace. Joseph the Tzaddik is moved to tears by his brother Judah’s pleas for the life of Benjamin and Judah’s offer to take Benjamin’s place in prison to avoid further heartache for their father Jacob. This story is an incredible story of forgiveness. Listen to the words of the Torah at the moment when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers: “Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come forward to me.” And when they came forward, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, he whom you sold into Egypt. Now do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me here, it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you. It is now two years that there has been famine in the land, and there are still five years to come in which there shall be no yield from tilling. God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance. So, it was not you who sent me here, but God; and He has made me a father to Pharoah, lord of all his household, and ruler over the whole land of Egypt.” In Joseph’s words we seem to have found an answer to the question of why he forgives his brothers. It was God’s plan that depended on their selling him into slavery, a plan that includes his imprisonment and rise into Pharoah’s inner circle. He forgives them and lets them know that the difference now is not in him but rather in them. No longer jealous or angry, they feel shame and fear before him. They finally see their own sins and guilt and as a result of these insights, they are able to pass the tests Joseph had designed for them. Not only does Joseph forgive them, he refrains from referring to years of suffering or to what they have done to him. As we read these passages, we cannot help but be reminded of other stories of jealousy-between Rachel and Leah, between Jacob and Esau. These stories frame the story of Joseph and his brothers and at last provide us with a sense of peace and reconciliation after the noteworthy silence about these other rivalries. Why forgive? There are lots of good pragmatic reasons to forgive-to end a feud, for example. To think about how self-poisoning resentment becomes if one doesn’t forgive. But the primary reason to forgive, it seems to me, is to restore a lost relationship. Remember that it’s often those closest to us who have hurt us and need forgiveness. Think about someone you have finally forgiven or want to forgive. My guess is that it’s not some anonymous stranger who cut you off on the highway. Those little injuries evaporate quickly. Wrongs from those closest to us do not. So, forgiveness matters because the people closest to us-Joseph’s brothers, for example-matter. Who are we without them? What does that isolation cost us? In answer to our original question about what might separate us from the animals, perhaps the answer is forgiveness. This may be because forgiveness may run counter to all of our basic instincts for survival. There are no rules for forgiveness. Joseph forgives his brothers and goes far beyond forgiveness to restore them to life and health and property and standing. But he gains even more for himself through his act of forgiveness. Through his forgiveness he becomes whole again. So may it be for all of us. Amen. |
Archives
May 2024
Categories |
OFFICE HoursM-Th: 10am - 2pm
|
Telephone(781) 925-0091
|
|