Vayikra

The five books of Miriam

Sacrifice comes from the Latin word for "to make sacred". This is
different than the Hebrew word used in this parsha, korban, which is
often translated as sacrifice, but is really from the root for "to
draw near". The difference between the two says a lot about what it
means to give a sacrifice. It is not about giving something up in
hopes of appeasing or currying favor with G-d; it's not about making
yourself more sacred or making anything more sacred.

It's about restoring spiritual equilibrium. When we sin against HaShem
or against our neighbor, we've upset the balance created by Jewish
law. When we make korban, we publically acknowledge that we have done
wrong. It is part of the way we set things right again, along with
restitution. When we follow the ritual, we no longer have to carry our
guilt or shame along with us. They're dealt with and given over to
HaShem.

Several types of sacrifices: olah, burnt offering (animal); minhah,
meal offering (flour & oil, some burnt, some for priests); zevakh
shelamim, well-being/peace offering (animal, parts burnt, parts eaten
by family and priests); hattat, purification/sin offering (animal, fat
burnt, sometimes parts eaten by priests, sometimes blood sprinkled on
altar and animal burnt outside camp); asham, guilt offering (goat that
was sacrificed after restitution and fines paid).

Nicole

Vayakhel 5769

There are technically two parshiot this week: Vayakhel and Pikudei. I'll be commenting on Vayakhel.

As I listened to podcasts and read commentary this week, many of them focused on generosity. It is a very important part of this parsha and teaches us a very important lesson. In Exodus 35:5 Moses told the people that HaShem commanded a donation from (using the Richard Elliott Friedman translation) "everyone whose heart is moved". He then gave a list of the required items. The list goes on until Exodus 35:20, when the "congregation of the children" came to Moses and brought a contribution.

Verse 22 is interesting, "and the men came together with the women". Friedman's commentary notes that Torah commentators have found this intriguing since the beginning of Torah commenatary. One of the sources of this intrigue is that the Hebrew usually just uses the masculine plural to refer to a mixed group. But here, the writer uses both the masculine plural and the feminine plural, indicating that there should be emphasis on the women. This has to mean something. According to Friedman, there are several traditonal answers.

• Ibn Ezra says that it's just a grammatical thing, and the Torah is pointing out that the ladies were simply present with the men.
• Rashi gives the women a little more credit. He says that the verse is saying that the women were already there, giving their gifts, when the men arrived to give theirs.
• Sforno gives the women no credit. He says that it means the men accompanied the women in order to agree with their gifts, because they would not be accepted otherwise.
• Ramban has still a different take, one that increases the merit of the Israelite women. He notes that the women are given significance. He also notes that the donated items include jewelry. Since the men gave their jewelry to make the Golden Calf, these donations must have come from the women.

I think Ibn Ezra oversimplifies. It is a relatively rare occurrance for the Torah to mention women, so mentioning them must be significant and not just grammar. The other three ideas make more sense, logically. I think that the real reasons are probably a combination of all three. The women might well have arrived before the men, offering their jewelry since it wasn't destroyed with the Golden Calf, and the men followed along since the women had no right of ownership to almost anything. Logical. Reasonable. But also very generous and a sign of great virtue.

More generous and more virtuous than the men? I don't know about that. The fact of the matter is, the gifts were still given, and in vast quantities. One of the things that we've been marvelling about in Torah study at my synagogue is just how much gold, silver, and bronze were required. In Exodus 36:5, the amounts become even more mind-boggling.

In fact, Exodus 36:5 has become a central command in Judaism. Friedman translates it this way: "and they [the artisans working on the Tabernacle] said to Moses, saying 'The people are bringing more than enough for the construction, for the work that HaShem has commanded, to do it!'" If it's even possible, the people were too generous, but that's not even the most significant lesson of this story.

What we really learn is that, even though we're commanded to give back to our communities and we therefore have no choice about it, we must do it because we've made the choice to do so. In the Friedman translation, the text says things like "everyone whose heart is moved" and "everyone whose heart inspired him". There's nothing obligatory or perfunctory in either of those phrases. The other thing that I notice is that the Israelites have limited resources, they've been asked for donations before, and yet, they still give very freely.

This is an important lesson for us today. In our current economic climate, our neighbors are struggling. There are a great many organizations that depend on donations, from public radio to food banks. Some help the public in general, others help only those with specific needs, but all need donations right now. We owe it to our fellow community members to share what we have, but we also have to remember that it is our commandment to give, and HaShem words that commandment to include inspiration toward generousity. I think that a good way to ensure that we are giving because our hearts are moved to give is to choose to support organizations whose goals allign with our own. It is our duty.

Ki Tissa 5769

In this week's parsha, we read about a few of my favorite things: hiking and Shabbat.

Ki Tissa has Moses climbing Mount Sinai not once, but twice. The first time, G-d calls Moses to the peak, where HaShem writes the tablets of the Covenant with his own finger. Apparently, HaShem doesn't write very quickly, because this takes 40 days. That's quite an expedition! While Moses is away from the Israelites' main camp, some shenanigans happen involving a golden calf. G-d, being all-seeing, noticed this and tells Moses that his people have been very naughty and deserve to be killed. Moses manages to talk HaShem out of wiping out the people and then heads home. When he gets there, he sees what G-d was talking about, and it makes him very angry, almost as angry as HaShem was. In his rage, Moses breaks the tablets. Which, naturally, means he has to hike his way back up Sinai to camp out with HaShem again for 40 more days. During this trip, Moses is given two shiny new tablets, a new commandment to keep Shabbat (as well as a few other special dates), and a radiant face.

There are a couple of things that are significant to me. While it appears in other places as well, in this parsha I really notice how Moses is closest to G-d at the top of the mountain. Here, the two of them talk. Really talk. As my rabbi has pointed out, their dialogue is almost like a married couple. It's very intimate, and I think very natural. As someone who loves to spend time out in nature, I certainly feel closest to HaShem after a nice, long, hike. And if that hike ends on the top of a mountain, so much the better. There's just something about looking down on the world and being able to see forever that makes you want to pray.

I also think that there's a good reason G-d gives the commandment for Shabbat on the mountaintop. I'm sure it's more significant to me, as a modern person, than it was to the ancients, because the only time I can typically climb a mountain is Shabbat. That's just the way life goes. But still, I think that the day most of us get the opportunity to really experience HaShem is Shabbat. For those of us who aren't Moses, we may never experience G-d the way he did on Sinai, but we can try.

The last part of the parsha that hits home for me is Moses's radiant face. He gets to see G-d's back, and he glows for the entire walk back to camp. That's something I can certainly identify with. While I've never seen HaShem, I've seen some pretty amazing and beautiful things, and they never fail to put an ear to ear grin on my face. That's how I picture Moses coming off the mountain that second time. Lit up from within, and eager to share his newest stories.

In my studies this week, the significance of the face stands out to me.  The parsha talks about two faces, those of G-d and Moses.

First, we have Moses asking to see HaShem's face.  He is told that no human can see the face of HaShem and live, so while Moses is protected by a cleft in a rock and shielded by HaShem's hand, HaShem walks past him and Moses is permitted to see G-d's back.  As The Five Books of Miriam points out, a frontal view of HaShem would not be possible, or even imaginable; G-d does not have a gender in egalitarian Judaism.

I hadn't really thought of that before.  As a kid, I pictured G-d as an old man with a long beard and flowing white robes, the "God the Father" of the Trinity.  Now that I'm older and my theology has evolved, I understand HaShem in a less literal way.  I haven't tried to picture HaShem in a long time, other than maybe as light or the series of Hebrew letters that you see on G-dcast.  I don't even know where to start, really.  HaShem is clearly anthropomorphic, based on the descriptions in this parsha and in Mishpatim a couple weeks ago.  Maybe HaShem looks a bit like an androgynous supermodel, tall and thin, with high cheekbones and no beard?

The Five Books of Miriam suggests that we look in the mirror to see HaShem's face; we are all created b'tzetlem Elohim.  HaShem should be recognizable within our own features.  The book also points out that once we can see G-d in our own faces, we should then recognize that the same is true for everybody we meet and treat them accordingly.

While I have always believed that it is important to treat my fellow human beings with dignity and respect, I don't always take the leap to appreciate that their faces are also the faces of G-d. It's kind of a lovely  thought, if a little Miss-America-wold-peace-ish.

The other face that is mentioned is that of Moses.  After he sees HaShem's back, his face becomes radiant. In listening to KOACH's podcast, I found a slightly different take on Moses' radiance than I previously had.

As Dr. Raymond B. Goldstein points out, it was not necessarily a good thing. The parsha says that people never looked at him the same way again; they became afraid of him. Moses started wearing a veil whenever he was outside the Tent of Meeting, because people were so disturbed by his face. Dr. Goldstein also notes, as I alluded to above, that people become radiant over various things, whether it's something they saw or experienced. Dr. Goldstein goes a step further. People aren't disturbed by people who glow over the birth of a new baby or winning a gold medal, but when Moses had a similar reaction to a spiritual experience, the people's reaction was very different. On the podcast, he wonders why this is.

I think it is because we can identify with more earthly reasons for radiance. We can share each other's joy over an accomplishment, because we understand it; we've been there and done that in our own lives. But most of us haven't had a powerful mystical experience like Moses did. We can barely comprehend that HaShem exists, much less deal with having seen what Moses saw. Since we don't understand it, we fear it; this is human nature.

Of course, there is still one problem with this. It does not explain how the veil prevents the Israelites from thinking Moses is strange. He's a grown man, and he's dressed like a woman. This started with my Rabbi and I riffing, but I think there really is something here. The two images my mind conjures up for the word "veil" are a bride and a burqa. These are very feminine images. I would think that the Israelites would make fun of him more because of this odd choice. There is one connection, though, that is intriguing. Earlier in the parsha, HaShem says that nobody can look on the face of G-d and refuses to show it to Moses. Shortly after that, Moses begins to hide his own face from view. Was Moses trying to be like HaShem?