This week’s Torah portion, T’rumah, can be seen as part of a trilogy. Two weeks ago we read Yisro, in which the Torah was given. Last week we read Mishpatim, which completes the bond between spiritual and earthly by providing guidelines for living life righteously. This week we read the blueprint for building the Sanctuary: the materials and measurements in precise detail.

Is not that in reverse order? Would it not make more sense to build a house for G-d first - a place where His presence could be felt on earth - and then enter it to receive His word? Why did the house come afterward?

Examine the process by which you might buy a home for yourself. When you are young, you live with your parents or in an apartment, sometimes with friends. Why would you need your own house? You want to explore, find out who you are, examine the possibilities and your own tastes. Yet, when you begin to define yourself, when you marry and have children, when you need a space in which to express your mature personality, it becomes more important to take ownership of a home that you have dominion over, a place of permanence.

Now the order of the portions begins to make more sense. At first, the children of Israel were indeed children, spiritually. Their introduction to Torah was a rite of passage, a collective Bar Mitzvah. They were becoming aware of the fact they lived under G-d´s law and protection, and learning from Him the path they should follow.

In Mishpatim they received their scholastic degree (and here we should change pronouns: it was not just they, but we, as a people, who received these blessings). The parameters of a holy life helped us to form our personalities and beliefs, to define ourselves.

It was only then that it made sense to build the Sanctuary, for, while it is defined as the place where G-d dwells, it was not for His benefit that it was built. It was for the benefit of those who would enter it and be bathed in its light, the people who would henceforth proceed with the continuing task of building a home for the L-rd here on earth.

Where is it now? Where is the ark, where is the tabernacle, where is the space in which we discover Him? A part of that home is in each of us. We are the acacia wood, and the gold, and the silver, and the fine linens. It is only from us that the light will go forth.

Do we Jews have an "Edifice Complex"? Why do we build grand synagogue structures, decorating them with lavish furnishings and rich decor? Would not a modest and simple dwelling suffice to house Hashem’s (G-d) presence ?

Our parsha seems to create the precedent for excess. The Mishkan (Tabernacle) is a marvel of architecture and splendor. The Aron (Ark) and Menorah (Candelabra) are made of fine gold. Silver, silk, skins of many kinds, rich woven tapestries adorn the surroundings. Why this huge emphasis on opulence?

Our rabbis trace this concept to a pasuk (verse) we read in B’shalach, at the Shira (Song of the Sea): "Zeh Ke-li V´Anveyhu - This is my G-d and I shall beautify Him." The word, "Anveyhu" is related to "noi" – decorations, as in ‘noi Sukka - the decorations in our Sukkah’. To show our love for Hashem, we "dress up" and beautify His mitzvot - with silver etrog boxes, ornate mezuzah covers, fancy tefilin bags, etc.

Chazal offer a second explanation of "Zeh Ke-li V’anveyhu." The word "Anveyhu" can be broken down into two words, "Ani" (I) and "Hu" (Him). That is to say, when we experienced the awesome Revelation of the Splitting of the Sea, we were brought infinitely closer to Hashem, experiencing a new intimacy of "I" and "Him."

Rabbi Yochanan Zweig brilliantly reconciles the two approaches to "Zeh Ke-li": When a couple first falls in love, they put each other on a pedestal and are in total awe of the other, filled with overwhelming love. However, when they get closer to their spouse, they see each other without the makeup, with all the flaws and human foibles we all possess. This may result in a loss of innocence and a tendency to take the other for granted. Familiarity, as the saying goes, breeds contempt. At that point, it is important to "dress up" the marriage, to look our best, to be imaginative and creative, to inject that special feeling back into the relationship. When Bnei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) began their relationship with Hashem, there was that initial sense of distance and awe. Yet, when we came close to Him and did mitzvot every day, there was a fear that we would lose the sense of wonder, love and newness. So chazal prescribed "hidur mitzvah" - dressing up the mitzvot in beauty and style - so that we would appreciate the special relationship of Man with G-d, I-Him.

Yes, it is true that it is what is inside that really counts, but a beautiful outside can provide just the right "touch of class."

It is the 12th of Adar and I sit in my office in the Old City of Yerushalayim, contemplating the forthcoming festival of Purim. With the situation the way it is, many are wondering, how do we celebrate Purim during these times? In fact, this is a question that I have been asking myself time and again over the past two weeks. The answer that I have formulated goes something like this:

The Talmud in Rosh Hashana (the New Year), after much debate, concludes that even though there were many Rabbinical festivals during the time of the Bet Hamikdash (the Temple), all were cancelled during the exile, excepting Chanuka and Purim. This statement in itself is a clear indication that specifically during the times of exile, during times of hardship and suffering, there is an undeniable relevance of Purim. It is not simply that we should try as best we can to carry on as normal, on the contrary, the celebrations of Purim were almost exclusively continued after the chorban (the Destruction of the Temple), to help us whilst enduring the hardships of the exilic period.

Last Shabbat we read Parshat Zachor. This is a parasha that we must listen to carefully. We must hear every word, to the extent that if we miss a word, we have not fulfilled our obligation. There is a similar halacha regarding the reading of the Megillah. Once again we are told that we must hear every word, the story must be read as a letter, in order, loud and clear for all to hear. Is there a connection between these two halachot? I think that there is.

As we all know, the story of Purim took place over a period of nine years. The story begins at the feast of Achashverosh in his third year and ends in his twelfth year. Even the events of the twelfth year take place over a period of eleven months. It is clear that anyone living during that period of time would not necessarily have seen the connection between the various events that took place. It is only when we sum up those events of nine years over forty five minutes, hearing every word, that we see, without a doubt, the acts of G-d in their fullest glory. Purim is a celebration of Hakadosh Baruch Hu (the Holy One, blessed be He). We see so wonderfully how even in the most seemingly natural events, Hashem is there controlling everything behind the scenes. Anyone learning the story of Purim is left in no doubt that Hashem is truly everywhere. This fact might not have been so clear to the people of Shushan when they were coming to terms with Haman’s decree. It may not have been clear for all to see as this renowned anti-Semite grew more and more powerful, yet in retrospect anyone reading the Megillah who does not see this, simply is not looking. Purim is a day when we have no questions, because as opposed to Matan Torah (the Revelation of the Torah), where we experienced open revelation, where G-d was there for everyone to see, here we see G-d even when He was seemingly ‘not there’. There can be no belief in coincidence after the story of Purim.

Thus the relevance of Shabbat Zachor. The Amaleks did not believe in G-d’s involvement in the world and they fought Am Yisrael at their high point, at the exodus from Egypt. Whenever we meet Amalek in Tanach (the Bible), the word "coincidence" is there. There is no G-d, everything just happens. However, the external Amalek is the least of our fears, we all have an internal Amalek to contend with. As we know the gematria of ‘Amalek’ is ‘safek’ – doubt. We all have doubt, each time something happens, every time we turn on the radio, Amalek starts speaking. The doubts come flying in. The years of suffering and hardship feed the Amalek within us. Yet the message of Shabbat Zachor is clear – destroy Amalek. We must wipe out that inner doubt. Whenever the questions arise we look inwards and throw out that safek. Yet where do we look to, from where do we gain our inner strength? Having accepted the message of Shabbat Zachor, we now know what we must do, but we are left looking for the tools that we must use. Purim provides us with the clearest of answers. Are you in doubt of your derech (way), of being Am Hashem (the People of G-d), of your destiny as the Chosen people? If so look to the Megillah - Hashem is here, He always was here and always will be here. The predicament of exile demands of us that we locate G-d, it is an inherent part of our tikun (reparation). Shabbat Zachor defines the ends, Purim is the means. As the Talmud tells us in Shabbat (on the Sabbath), this day was so much greater than the receiving of the Torah, for on this day, G-d did not find the people, the people found G-d.

So, should we celebrate Purim? Is there a question? Purim is our strength. From Purim we draw the inspiration that we need. Purim is not just similar to Yom Kippur in name. The level of emunah (faith) that we reach at Neilah, through our awe of Hashem is matched by our madrega (level) of simcha (joy) on Purim, that same emunah arrived at through ultimate simcha. Not only should we celebrate Purim, Purim is the ideal remedy, it is the answer to our questions, the solution to our problems.

Yet Purim is even more than that. When we look into the Megillah itself, we see so many relevant factors to our predicament today. We must sit back and internalize those strong messages. The Megillah begins by describing the feast of Achashverosh. The detail seems superfluous, until we understand that this feast was a celebration of the fact that Achashverosh believed that the Temple would not be rebuilt. Yirmiyahu had prophesied that seventy years after the destruction of the first Bet Mikdash, the second would be rebuilt. Yet according to Rashi in the book of Ezra, chapter four, when the Jewish people began to rebuild the Temple, the very same Achashverosh stopped them. It is in this atmosphere that this incredible feast took place, using the vessels and clothing of the Bet Mikdash in celebration of the ‘end of the Jewish dream.’ When our Rabbis tell us that Jews were at that feast, there can be no greater indictment of a people. A people who have seemingly not only given up on their dream, but will actually celebrate the end of that very dream. What were Jews doing in Shushan, at a time when the second Mikdash was in the process of being built? How could Jewish people celebrate with a man who had stopped the realization of that eternal Jewish dream? Were those Jews Jewish first, or were they Persians at heart?

After eighteen months of the current struggle in our Homeland, I cannot help but reflect on our current predicament. Only a few weeks ago we read Parshat Beshalach. The Haftara from Judges, chapter five, is Shirat Devorah. Having overcome the enemy, miraculously, Devorah turns to the Tribe of Reuven. Why did you sit there on the other side of the Jordan, whilst your brothers went to war?

The beginning of the Megillah is not really describing the riches of Achashverosh, but the predicament of Am Yisrael. We were a people so divided and dispersed, so far from its beliefs that it can actually participate in the feast of Achashverosh. Esther provides the solution to the problem posed by the Megillah at its start. Before she is prepared to risk her life, she demands two things from the Jewish people: Firstly - Unity. She instructs Mordechai to "gather all the Jews." Unity cannot simply be a nice phrase used in order to make us all feel better. It demands action. Unity means that my problems are your problems, that your problems are mine.

Unity means understanding our common goal, understanding our oneness as a people. It is unity that absorbed the thousands of olim escaping from countries all over the world without a second thought. The time has come for an absolute show of solidarity. The time has come for every Jew to pack up his bags and come home. Before Esther goes to defend her people, they must be a people, an entity, proud of its direction, determined to succeed. We cannot succeed against Achashverosh or Haman unless we fully understand what must be done. Secondly - Teshuva (repentance). Esther decrees a three day fast. A cheshbon nefesh (reckoning): who are we, where are we going, what are our objectives. Acceptance of G-d as our true leader, absolute belief that Hashem, and no one else, is our King. Once we understand this, then salvation will come just as it did at Yam Suf (the Sea of Reeds). These two requirements of Esther, are essentially the turning point of the Megillah. Unity and true teshuva will always bring us the success of the story of Esther. Who knows what would have happened to Esther had those two conditions not been fulfilled.

However, in addition to these two essential requirements, we must realize the third requirement: Esther is hesitant to go to the King, surely she can wait till she is called. "Why risk my life, surely I will be called at any moment?" Mordechai’s answer is as relevant now as it was then, "If you miss out on this opportunity then salvation will come from someone else." Who can disagree with these two conditions of Esther. Unity and teshuva are not only the prerequisites to Megillat Esther, they are the prerequisites to Matan Torah. However, there are those, like Esther, who tell us to wait. Why risk our lives, when Hashem will call us soon? Why fight against all odds when Hashem will bring us here on eagle’s wings, without any risk to our lives? Yet Mordechai’s answer is ringing in the air. If you miss this opportunity, if "Kol Dodi Dofek" ("the Voice of my Beloved is calling" – the Song of Songs), and you do not answer, then once again a wonderful opening will have been lost. Redemption will surely come, but not in your generation.
Is Purim relevant? Aderaba (all the more so), aderaba, aderaba! There could be nothing more relevant.

Purim Sameach.

By tradition, young children begin their Jewish education by studying the Book of Vayikra (Leviticus). We might have thought that Bereisheit (Genesis) would be more fitting as an introduction to Torah, but our rabbis comment, "Let the souls which are young and pure study the laws of purity."

In our sedra (reading), there is a large section devoted to the offerings brought for unintentional sins. That is, if a person accidentally eats something non-kosher, or violates a Shabbat ordinance he was not even aware existed. He must bring a korban (sacrifice) as atonement. Two things strike me as strange about this law. First, why should an act committed without intent or forethought be called "a sin"? A mistake, yes, but a sin? Secondly, why does the pasuk (verse) say, "When a soul shall unintentionally violate a mitzvah," as opposed to the usual phraseology, "When a man shall sin…" After all, is not the body the culprit here, not the soul?

Yet, here we see a deep insight into Hashem’s (G-d’s) world. "The soul I have given you is pure," G-d says, a phrase we recite each morning. If one carefully guards his soul, keeping it far from any negative influence, then it will not even be capable of sinning. It will ‘run’ from the slightest hint of impurity, recoil instinctively from sin. Thus, if we do sin, it is an indication that there is a p´gam, a defect, in the makeup of our spirituality.

I vividly recall being at a convention when a fight broke out between two boys. The sainted Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan tried to break up the fight and was pushed to the ground. A hush fell over the entire convention. Rabbi Baruch Taub tearfully delivered a stunning musar (ethics) speech: "If such a thing could happen here," he said, "it is a clear sign that all of us are spiritually deficient. For if we were at the appropriate level, our neshamot (souls) would never tolerate such an act." Though I had been standing far away and did not even see the altercation, I knew deep down that he was right. I was - we all were - liable for the spiritual atmosphere in the room.

Dear friends: If we are suffering today, it is clearly because we are not doing the utmost to perfect our souls and come closer to Hashem, the source of all blessing. For where our souls lead, there our bodies must surely follow.

During this holiday of Pesach, the joyous prayer of Hallel is recited, as it is on all holidays of the year except for the solemn days of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. On Purim, the reading of the book of Esther itself is considered as being a form of Hallel. The Hallel comes in two forms: full Hallel and an abbreviated form that omits two of its prayers. This latter form is called "half Hallel" though in reality it is eighty percent Hallel. On Shavuot, Succot, Shmini Atzeret, Chanuka and the first days of Pesach, the full Hallel is recited. On Rosh Chodesh and the final six days of Pesach, only the half Hallel is recited. The reason for only half Hallel on Rosh Chodesh is fairly simple. Rosh Chodesh is, after all, not a holiday and according to Maimonides and other halachic deciders the recitation of Hallel on Rosh Chodesh is based on custom and not on law. However, why the two different versions of Hallel on Pesach? Why is only the abbreviated form used on the latter days of the holiday?

The matter is discussed at length in the works of the rabbis and scholars of Israel. I wish to concentrate on one view that is particularly emphasized by Rabbi Meir Simcha HaKohen, the rabbi of Dvinsk, Latvia, eighty years ago. The seventh day of Pesach is the anniversary of the crossing of the Red Sea by the Israelites and the drowning of the Egyptian army that pursued them into the waters. Many Egyptians lost their lives on that day. Jews do not celebrate the loss of human life; even of those who are evil and were our oppressors. We celebrate our deliverance and escape from mortal danger, but our joy is tempered - half Hallel - due to the loss of life of the Egyptians. We would have preferred to have been left alone to travel out of Egypt and not pursued by Egyptians who wished to kill us. We would have recited full Hallel on a bloodless escape from the Egyptians, but that was not the case and therefore any unrestrained exultation on our part is out of place.

The same thought applies to our celebration of Chanuka. The rabbis placed the emphasis of the holiday on the miraculous pitcher of oil and the light of the menorah in the Temple. There is no special celebration of the military victories of the Hasmoneans and no mementos of the terrible and bloody defeats inflicted on the Syrian Greeks. We celebrate our deliverance and independence, but take very little relish in the necessity of having killed thousands of our enemies in order to obtain our deliverance. Therefore, the centerpiece of the holiday is the menorah and the oil and not the terrible war that preceded it. The same idea is reflected in the holiday of Purim. The celebration of the date of the holiday is on the fourteenth and fifteenth days of Adar, but not on the thirteenth of Adar. This latter date is the actual date of the war of self-defense that the Jews fought against their enemies, which resulted in thousands of their persecutors being killed. The celebration is on the days - the fourteenth and fifteenth days of Adar - that the Jews felt free and saved, but not on the day of the killing itself. King David, who was the righteous king of Israel and saved the Jewish people from its centuries-old enemies such as the Philistines and Amalek, nevertheless was not to build the Temple. The Temple is not built by war, no matter how necessary and justified. Solomon, whose name represents peace and who fought no wars during his reign, was the builder of the Temple.

This Pesach is undoubtedly a modern day half Hallel Pesach. We are in the midst of a bloody war. Many Jews have died, but many Arabs have also died. We are heartsick not only at our terrible losses, but at all the needless loss of life. When the Lord will help us to end this terrible war, we will recite Hallel, but it will be only a half Hallel.

Shabat Shalom v´Chag Sameach.

The tradition in Judaism of lighting Sabbath candles on Friday night is an ancient one. It is of rabbinic origin and is mentioned in the Mishna and Talmud numerous times. The custom requires that the candles be lit some time (usually 18 to 20 minutes) before sunset Friday night by the woman of the house. It is one of the three special mitzvot given to the woman of the house to perform, the others being the observance of family purity and the taking of chala from the dough of bread about to be baked.

Usually a minimum of two candles is lit, one in honor of the Sabbath commandment "zachor" - to remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy - and the other candle represents "shamor" - to guard the Sabbath by the non-performance of forbidden labors. These are the two statements regarding the Sabbath that appear in the two texts of the Ten Commandments in the Bible. The two lit candles symbolize our devotion to the Sabbath in these two realms - one in the spiritual, intellectual sphere - "zachor", remembering - and the other in the practical, physical sense - "shamor", guarding the Sabbath from forbidden labors. Thus the two candles represent our commitment to the Creator, a commitment that the Sabbath itself represents.

The reasons that are advanced for the lighting of the candles are mainly three. The first is that the Sabbath requires that it be honored - that it be accorded "kavod". Thus, the candles are lit in honor of the Sabbath. The candles are not the only sign of honor in the house for the Sabbath. The Talmud and Maimonidies state that "beds should be made in order, and the table set properly for the Sabbath meal". The Sabbath is thus honored as a welcome and dear guest, a visit from a queen, so to speak. Royalty commands honor and respect. So does our Sabbath night and day.

A second reason that is advanced for the lighting of candles is "oneg Shabat" - the pleasure of the Sabbath. The prophet Isaiah enjoins us "to call the Sabbath pleasurable". Light is enjoyable. It enhances the ambience of our home and provides a festive atmosphere for our meal. Light is the symbol of creation, having been the first of G-d’s creations. Light is also representative of Torah, as is stated in the Bible "For a mitzvah is like a candle and Torah is light itself". The pleasures of the Sabbath are both physical and spiritual. Good food, family companionship, a relaxed atmosphere, the absence of the jingling telephone and the cacophony of radio and television, sleep and rest - all are part of the enjoyment of the Sabbath. It is how we "call the Sabbath pleasurable". Torah study, synagogue attendance and meaningful reading and discussions are part of the spiritual section of the Sabbath’s pleasures. The light of the candles represents the different types of joys and pleasures of the Sabbath, as well. The Sabbath dispels the darkness of the everyday workweek and allows the light of our souls to shine forth.

The third reason for Sabbath candle lighting is "shalom bayit" - peace and contentment in the home. The light of the holy candles signifies the bond of marriage and family. The absence of the mundane requirements of the workweek allows time for healing and understanding, love and empathy. A dark house leads to depression and sadness. A house full of light restores cheerfulness, optimism and confident hope. Sabbath is a blanket of serenity in an otherwise turbulent world. It is a retreat to our inner place of peace and stability. Wars demand blackouts. Peace is always represented by light. Since the Sabbath is peace incarnate, its symbol of lighting candles is most understandable and appropriate. It is the fulfillment of another biblical verse: "For in Your light, O G-d, shall we see light as well".

Shabbat Shalom.

7. KI TISA - GOLDEN CALVES

The narrative of the incident of Israel and the Golden Calf in the desert is so riveting and fascinating that we return to it year after year with renewed and refreshed interest. How did human beings that experienced G-dly revelation at Sinai revert to worshipping a Golden Calf just a few short weeks later? What happened to the "the kingdom of priests and holy nation" to cause this terrible reversal of course? The great commentators to the Bible, in fact, the Jewish people itself, in its deepest soul, have all wrestled with the problem of understanding this unfathomable fall of Israel and its consequences. Even though a full solution to this problem is not possible, at least not in this limited space, I think that there are a number of insights that are apparent from this event, which are pertinent and necessary for us to understand, personally and nationally, today as well.

The Torah stresses that the absence of Moses from the Israelite encampment for so many weeks after the granting of the Torah on Sinai was a strong contributing factor to the debacle of the Golden Calf. Jews, like all other humans, need strong, courageous, sensitive, wise leadership. Every person must, perforce, make difficult decisions for themselves. The world and Jewish society especially, is not a dictatorship governed by infallible people. However, at the same time, people require guidance, direction and vision in their lives. There must always be someone to point the way, to identify the goals and to formulate plans and ideas. The Jewish people were still too raw, too insecure and too new to freedom to be able to be weaned from Moses’ continuing presence and leadership. Panicked, they searched for a substitute Moses and reverted back to the idolatrous ways of the society of Egypt, where they had been raised.

After forty years, the Jewish people would be able to bear the permanent loss of Moses, but it would take many years of Torah life and training for them to make it on their own, with Joshua as their new leader. The absence of visionary leadership in many sections of today’s Jewish world is what has contributed to the plethora of Golden Calves that surround and bedevil us. Visionary leadership has been one of the worst casualties of the Holocaust, which has crippled us in so many ways. The creation of the Golden Calf was instigated by a group of people described by the Rabbis as "the eiruv rav" (a great mixture of peoples). This section of the Jewish people was comprised of members of many other nations in Egypt who escaped from their bondage by attaching themselves to the Jewish people at the moment of the Exodus. These people became "fair-weather" Jews. During the decades of Jewish wandering in the desert of Sinai, the eiruv rav constantly agitated against Moses and against true Jewish interests. At every opportunity, whenever problems and discomfort arose on the road to the Land of Israel, they always raised the option of returning to Egypt, of becoming pagans once more, of discarding the great Jewish dream for the sake of "watermelons and leeks and onions and cucumbers."

Unfortunately, whether out of malice or ignorance, the eiruv rav still is present amongst us today. In a wholesale manner, Jews are abandoning Judaism and are being encouraged to do so by others whose commitment to Judaism and Jewish survival is tepid at best. In the present society’s permissive atmosphere, which allows one to construct the rules of one’s own religion as one wishes, the eiruv rav agitates for the destruction of tradition and the elimination of explicitly stated Torah values and behavior. Is it any wonder that the people yet dance around the Golden Calf?

Lastly, I wish to point out that saving the Jewish people from the clutches of the Golden Calf is not always pleasant and joyful work. When Moses returns to the encampment of the Jews and sees for himself the destruction - both physical and moral - that the creation of the Golden Calf has wrought, he calls for action, even for civil war, in order to save the people. "Who is unto G-d, let him come unto me!" is his battle cry. The men of the tribe of Levi, who rallied to Moses’ cause at that fateful moment in Jewish history, slew thousands in order to save Israel from the wrath of G-dly destruction. Moses remembers the loyalty of Levi to the cause of Jewish survival in his final blessings to the people of Israel. "They spared not even family in their loyalty to G-d’s covenant," he exclaims. Moses allows no compromise with the Golden Calf, for that will only lead the people down the slippery slope of spiritual annihilation. It is an insight that we should ponder in our current society as well.

Shabat Shalom.

One of the greatest challenges - and abilities - of the Jewish People is our capacity for changing emotional gears at a moment’s notice, integrating the highs and lows of life that all too often follow rapidly one upon the other. This Pesach was a perfect example: We were (and are) in the midst of a traumatic national crisis here in Israel and are filled with anxiety and apprehension, yet we were compelled to celebrate our holiday and maximally fulfill our mitzvah of Simchat Yom Tov (the Joy of the Holiday). Not an easy task, but one we were obliged to carry out, nonetheless.

My Rebbe pointed out that this juxtaposition of diverse feelings is indicated in the Hallel prayer, where the phrase, "This is the day that Hashem has made; let us rejoice in it (Zeh Hayom Asa Hashem…)" is immediately followed by "Ana Hashem - Hoshia Na! (Please G-d - Save us!)" Pleasure and pain, alas, often run headlong into one another.

In our sedra, the Jewish People are smack in the middle of tremendous joy and celebration, when tragedy suddenly strikes. Just after the Mishkan has been inaugurated and we have dedicated this magnificent home for the Shechina, Aharon’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, are struck down. Moshe Rabbeinu offers his condolences on the loss of his nephews, verbalizing his feelings, but father Aharon remains speechless. Sometimes, say our Rabbis, it is appropriate to engage in "Vayomer Moshe (And Moshe spoke)." At other times, the correct response is "Vayidom Aharon (And Aharon was silent)." While joy is best expressed in song, laughter and praise, sorrow is generally couched in silence.

A time will come for cheering, I am certain. Yet for now, quiet determination is the order of the day.

In the face of overwhelming tragedy, the death of his two sons, Aharon is nevertheless reprimanded by Moshe for a seeming infraction of the halacha regarding eating from a sacrifice while one is still grief-stricken over the personal loss of close relatives. Aharon responds by defending his position as being halachically correct and thereby proving his point. Moshe, upon reflection, admits that Aharon was correct and that he had fulfilled the Torah’s law in this matter completely. The question that begs answering in this situation is the obvious one. At a black moment such as this one, where is there room for discussion of an arcane halachic rule? Is this not a moment for emotion, for compassion, for sympathy, not for law and legalisms? Is it not almost cruel of Moshe to raise any sort of halachic issue whatsoever with his brother at a time of such sadness and tragedy?

As usual, the Torah uses this all too human situation to grant us an insight into G-d’s view, so to speak, of life and human behavior. For any sort of mental stability to be present in one’s life, one must live by a set of values and rules. Without such norms and standards, one is constantly blind-sided and buffeted by the never-ending problems of life. One is a prisoner of one’s emotions and personal conflicts. There are so many times in life that one asks one’s self, "Now what am I supposed to do? How am I to react to this event?" It is because of this recurring and never-ending human question that halacha takes on such a central role in the life of a Jew. It is precisely for this reason that halacha is so all pervasive, covering every act and situation of a Jew’s existence. It is the halacha that rules our lives and sets our standards of behavior under all circumstances of life and in all human conditions.

In today’s society, G-d and religion have to somehow conform to the human being’s comfort and pleasure zone. Religion cannot be too demanding. Three days of mourning is sufficient, not seven. Restrictions on behavior and entertainment on the part of the mourner are to be discarded. Religion cannot make one feel uncomfortable or make too many demands on time or life-style. G-d should have no say in the way human beings should express their emotions. In a society as self-centered as is ours, religion is defined by and for "me" alone. There is no room for communal or generational considerations. It is only "me" - here and now - that counts. Thus the positive psychological benefits of a halachically endorsed grieving period are ignored and eventually forgotten.

The Torah and Jewish tradition have carefully and minutely described the laws, attitudes and customs that should govern one who is in the process of confronting tragedy and loss. The Torah in this instance, as in all other affairs of life, is on the side of humans. It attempts to give us perspective and balance, strength and inner fortitude in order that we are better equipped to deal with the inevitable blows of life. Therefore, Moshe correctly calls Aharon to task for apparently not following the Torah’s law when tragedy overwhelmed him and his family. Yet it is the very steadfastness of Aharon in observing the Torah’s laws, as expressed in his response to Moshe’s criticism, that allows him to revive himself and rise from his grief and pain and become the great High Priest of Israel, beloved by G-d and all of the Jewish people.

Death is always an unwelcome visitor. Nevertheless, our mortality makes its appearance at our doorstep unavoidable. Yet, there lies within our souls deep resources that enable us to deal with this final act of the life cycle. The Torah, and its accompanying halachic rules and norms, lights the way through the darkness of sad events and moments of grief. "Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me," says King David. In Jewish tradition and history "You are with me" is reflected in the laws and customs that the halacha has created for those trying and searing moments. In so doing, "You are with me" becomes the cry of our ultimate triumph over death and darkness.

Shabat Shalom.

10. THE PROPHETS, THE PROCESS AND THE PROMISED LAND – PART I

As this Shabbat is "Shabbat Hagadol" (lit. "the great Sabbath"), the Sabbath immediately preceding Passover, a special "Haftorah" is read from the book of Malachi, Chap. 3:4-24. Some communities instead read from the book of Jeremiah, Chap. 7:21-34, Chap. 8:1-3 and Chap. 9:22-23.

The prophet Malachi (Hebrew for "my messenger" or "my angel") was the last of the prophets. He lived during the Second Temple period. The Book of Malachi is three chapters long and it is a powerful and passionate book of prophecy, one that culminates with a promise regarding the ultimate redemption of the Jewish people. According to tradition, Malachi died on the tenth day of the Hebrew month of Tevet and is buried in the Tomb of the Prophets, which is located on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem.

Summary
The "Haftorah" begins by saying that the sacrificial offerings of Judah and Jerusalem will once again find favor with G-d, just as they did in days past. The time of judgment will come and G-d will punish those who have sinned, such as adulterers and those who are cruel to widows and orphans. G-d berates Israel for failing to adhere to His laws and not bringing "terumot" and "maaserot" (tithes that were brought to the Temple) properly. He even challenges the people to test Him, saying that they should bring the tithes according to the law and they will then see that He will shower them with blessings. G-d also scolds Israel for speaking against Him, saying that they saw no reason to worship G-d or follow His ways. While the wicked take pride in their defiance of G-d, however, the righteous and those who fear G-d gather among themselves to strengthen each other and be strengthened.

When the Day of Judgment comes, G-d will have mercy on the righteous and those who fear Him, just as a father shows compassion to his son. However, those who do evil will be punished and the righteous will prevail. "Keep in remembrance the Torah of Moshe, My servant – the laws and ordinances which I commanded him at Horev for all of Israel," (Chap.3, verse 22) says G-d. At the end of days, G-d will send Elijah the Prophet to "turn the heart of the fathers back to the children and the heart of the children back to the fathers," (Chap. 3, verse 24) which will herald the coming of the Messiah and the redemption of the Jewish people.

The "Haftorah" speaks of the coming of Elijah the Prophet before the Final Redemption, while "Shabbat Hagadol" immediately precedes Passover, when the Jewish people were redeemed from Egypt. As the Sages said, "In (the month of) Nissan, they (the Jews) were redeemed and in Nissan they will be redeemed in the future (when the Messiah comes)."

After saying that He will punish those who sin and oppress the down-trodden, G-d assures the Jewish people: "For I, the L-rd, have not changed and you the sons of Jacob have not been destroyed." (Chap. 3, verse 6)

What is the connection in the verse between G-d’s unchanging nature and the fact that the Jewish people have not been destroyed?

The Radak says that G-d is pointing out to the Jewish people that, unlike other nations that long ago vanished from history, the Jews have not disappeared and they will never do so. For the Jewish people will always be unique among the nations. Even though they were exiled to the four corners of the earth, their name remains with them and they will continue to exist. Even though G-d punishes us for our sins, He assures us that just as He remains unchanged, so too will the Jewish people never be destroyed. Furthermore, says the Radak, when the end of days comes, Israel will return to its original status, elevated above all the other nations of the world. Hence, according to the Radak, the verse links G-d’s eternal and unchanging ways with Israel’s existence to emphasize that the Jewish people will never be destroyed.

Many Jews currently wonder out loud about the future of Israel and whether it even has one. However, as we saw above, the prophet Malachi soothes our fears, reassuring us that just as G-d was, is and always will be, so too the Jewish people are eternal. We have survived atrocities and persecution throughout our history and we will still survive. As disheartening as current events may be, we must never for a moment doubt that we will emerge triumphant from this morass. Though all the cards may seem to be stacked against us, the bottom line is that the Dealer is on our side. Just as He is everlasting and eternal, so too is His promise that the Jewish people will never be destroyed, and that one day soon, Israel ultimately will prevail.

Towards the end of the "Haftorah", G-d says that He will have mercy on the righteous and on those who fear Him, just as a father has mercy on his son. He then says, "And you shall return and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him who serves G-d and him who has not served Him." (Chap. 3, verse 18)

Why does the verse say people will "return and discern" between good and evil?

Prior to this verse, in verses 13-15, G-d had rebuked the Jewish people for losing sight of the difference between the righteous and the wicked, when they said that nothing could by gained by serving G-d or fulfilling His commandments. This moral muddle had broken down the clear societal distinction that had previously existed between good and evil. However, our verse, verse 18, declares that this will be reversed. The Radak says that when the verse speaks of "return and discern", it means that the difference between a righteous man and a wicked man will once again be discernible, and it will no longer be said that those who are wicked are good in G-d’s eyes or that it is futile to serve G-d. Hence, according to the Radak, our verse is foretelling a return of moral clarity to the world, a step that will presage the coming of the Messiah and the Final Redemption of the Jewish people.

What critics suffer from is precisely the type of moral confusion that is criticized in the "Haftorah". They fail to appreciate that only through moral clarity – only through a lucid and unambiguous sense of what is good and what is evil – can one hope to repair the world. Sadly, this basic truth has also been forgotten closer to home, where many fail to grasp the necessity of having a strict moral compass, one which precludes attempts to appease or mollify evil and its practitioners. Only by drawing a moral line in the sand and acting on it to stamp out evil, can good have any chance of prevailing. For, as we saw above, only once there is moral clarity again in the world can we hope to move onward to redemption.

The Haftorah this week is from the book of Isaiah, Chap. 43:21-28 and Chap. 44:1-23. Yemenite Jews read Chap. 43:21-28 and Chap. 44:1-6.

The prophet Isaiah was the son of Amotz, brother of Amatziah, King of Judah. Hence, Isaiah was the king’s nephew. According to the Talmud, Isaiah prophesied during the same period as the prophets Hosea, Amos and Micah. Tradition has it that Isaiah was born circumcised and he is likened in his greatness to Moses. The Midrash states, "There were no greater prophets than Moses and Isaiah…" Though he did not hesitate to reproach Israel when necessary, Isaiah’s prophecies are largely devoted to comforting the Jewish people and reassuring them about the future. The Midrash says that Isaiah prophesied more good things and more consolations to Israel than any other prophet. Indeed, in Hebrew, Isaiah’s name means "G-d will redeem."

Summary
The Haftorah begins with G-d rebuking Israel, for they were created to declare the greatness and praise of G-d, yet they do not call out to Him, even when they are in distress. They failed to bring the requisite sacrifices to the Temple, choosing instead to "burden" G-d with their sins.

Note that the prophet Isaiah is referring here to what the wicked King Ahaz of Judea had done. Ahaz was an idol-worshipper who closed the gates of the Temple, destroyed its sacred vessels and sought to force the priests to engage in idolatry rather than in the sacrificial rites. Nevertheless, G-d reassures the Jewish people that He will erase their sins for His sake and He will not recall their iniquity. G-d reiterates that He has chosen Israel to be His people and that He will pour His blessing upon them like "running water on dry land." As a result, the Jews will grow in number and prosper, and people will proudly declare themselves to be part of the nation of Israel. G-d says that the Jews will be His witnesses in the world, attesting to the fact that He is G-d and there is no G-d beside Him.

The Haftorah then proceeds to mock the practice of idolatry and those who engage in it, stating that those who fashioned idols and worshipped them will be ashamed of their actions. They do not take to the heart the fact that the very wood they have used to heat their oven and bake their bread is the same material they have used to fashion their false G-ds to whom they pray for help. The Haftorah closes by telling Israel to remember these things and to worship G-d and not to forget Him. For G-d has erased our sins and He will redeem us, and when the redemption comes, the entire world will rejoice.

The parsha (Torah portion) this week details the sacrificial offerings that Israel is required to bring, while the Haftorah speaks of how Israel was not fulfilling this obligation properly.

The beginning of the Haftorah contains G-d’s rebuke of Israel for its lack of trust in Him. While recounting Israel’s sins, the Haftorah states: "Your first father sinned and your intercessors transgressed against me." (Chap. 43, verse 27)

Who is this "first father" that the Haftorah is referring to and what was his sin?

The commentators differ as to whom this is referring. The Radak and the Abarbanel say it is a reference to Adam, who sinned in the Garden of Eden. The Malbim states that it refers to prior generations who had sinned while the Temple was standing. Rashi, though, says that it is a reference to the patriarch Abraham, who was the "first father" of the Jewish people. According to Rashi, the sin referred to in the verse was when Abraham asked for a sign from G-d that he and his descendants, the Jewish people, would inherit the Land of Israel. In Genesis 15:7 G-d tells Abraham: "I am G-d who brought you out of Ur Kasdim to give you this land to inherit it." In the next verse, Abraham replies, "My L-rd, G-d, whereby will I know that I will inherit it?" Thus, according to Rashi, it is Abraham’s seemingly innocent request for reassurance regarding G-d’s promise of the Land that is the sin referred to in the verse of our Haftorah.

With things looking bleaker by the day, it is easy to grow fearful about the future. Yes, G-d promised us this Land long ago, yet so many things seem to be working against us. While it may be easy to lose heart or to sink into despair, we saw above the gravity of casting doubt over whether we will in fact inherit this Land. For according to Rashi’s interpretation, Abraham’s request for reassurance from G-d that he would inherit the Land – however reasonable or understandable it may have been – was nevertheless considered a sin. So much so, that the prophet Isaiah repeats it to Israel hundreds of years later, when the Jewish people were safely ensconced on their Land. Now, too, we must look back to our ancestors and learn from them. We must realize that however threatening the storm clouds may appear to be, G-d’s promise remains in force. In that Divine promise we must never lose faith.

At the end of the Haftorah, G-d tells the Jewish people to remember that idolatry is foolishness and empty, and that they should worship only G-d. The verse states: "Remember these, O Jacob, and Israel, for you are My servant, I formed you that you should be a servant unto me, Israel, do not forget me." (Chap. 44, verse 21)

Why does the verse mention Israel a second time? Is not the word "Israel" in the second part of the verse superfluous?

Rabbi Mendel Hirsch says that the second mention of the word "Israel" is a call to us from G-d to be "Israel" – that is to say that all we have to do is to live and to act as we should, and all the promises that G-d has made to us will be fulfilled in full. Thus, G-d is calling upon us to be ourselves – to be Israel – and all will be well.

As we saw above, G-d has told us that the remedy for our troubles is for us to be "Israel" – to act like a nation true to its heritage and faith, one which puts its own welfare above other considerations. The only way out of the current crisis is for Israel to finally start acting like Israel.