Home Is Where the Soul Is
Parshas
Vayakhel
The great drama of the
birth of the Jewish people unfolds in the hallowed pages of the Torah in five
acts, corresponding to the five books of the Pentateuch. The Book of Exodus,
the last portion of which we will be reading this week, begins with the
enslavement of the Jewish people. It tells of their suffering, their
heartbreak, their anguished outcries that tore the heavens asunder. As we read
on, Moses, the messenger of Hashem, humbles and humiliates the Egyptians with
miracles and plagues. Then, in the spectacular climax of the book, we see the Jewish
people emerge from slavery to a rendezvous with destiny at Mount Sinai, where
they receive the Torah directly from Hashem, forming a bond to last forever.
And then we come to the
conclusion. What do the last chapters tell us about? What exhilarating finale
appears on the last pages of Exodus? Surprisingly, it is a minutely detailed
architectural description of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle that served as the
earthly Abode for the Divine Presence until the construction of the Holy
Temple. How do these chapters serve as the conclusion to the Exodus story?
Let us reflect for a
moment. What is the essence of the Exodus story? It is the spiritual adventure
of the Jewish people, rising from the nadir of existence, from abject bondage
in an alien land and to the glorious heights of exalted nationhood in their own
homeland. But what constitutes a homeland? Is it simply the place where we
work, eat and sleep, the place where we own a little piece of the soil? It must
be something more. Millions of soldiers have perished in wars to protect their
homelands. Why were their homelands more precious to them than life itself?
The answers go to the
essence of our very identity. We are more than flesh and bones, more than
hearts and minds. We are aggregates of our beliefs, our values, our attitudes,
all the cultural habits engendered and nurtured by our environment. We are a
reflection of the land and the culture in which we live, and our culture is, in
turn, a reflection of us. Our environment thus becomes an extension of
ourselves, the fountainhead of our identity, and without it we are lost and
incomplete. It makes sense, therefore, that people feel so deeply threatened by
an attack on their homeland that they are prepared lay down their lives to
defend it.
When the Jewish people left Egypt for a homeland of their own,
they were not simply exchanging one terrain for another. They were leaving behind
a corrupt society steeped in idolatry, magic and superstition and preparing to
build a sanctified society predicated on a special relationship with the Master
of the Universe. This was the overriding feature of the new Jewish society, the
value that would make the Holy Land a true home for the Jewish people.
Therefore, the
construction of the Mishkan, giving the Divine Presence a permanent Abode among
the Jewish people, was the ultimate realization of a Jewish homeland. In this
sense, even when they were in the Desert for forty years, moving from
encampment to encampment, they were always at home, because the Mishkan was in
their midst. The finale of the Exodus story is indeed the entry of the Jewish
people into their new homeland, but that entry occurred well before they
crossed the Jordan River. As soon as they built the Mishkan, as described in
this week’s Torah portion, the Jewish people were finally at home.
A mother took her young
son on a trip around the world. Together, they traveled by airplane, ship,
train, bus, automobile and even camelback. They climbed the highest mountains,
sailed the bluest seas, explored most remote corners of the earth.
After a year, they
returned, exhausted but happy, to the warm embrace of their family.
“Come here, young man,”
said the youthful traveler’s grandmother.
“Tell me, where were
you this past year?”
“Don’t you know,
grandmother?” asked the boy. “I was with my mother all the time!”
In our own lives, we almost invariably focus on the appearance
of our homes, because we see them as extensions and expressions of ourselves.
And rightfully so. But our homes reflect not only our tastes in architecture,
furniture and art. Our values, our ideals, our level of spirituality are all
more integral to the nature of our homes than anything else. They truly make
our homes shine with a spiritual light that can enrich our families and all
those who enjoy our hospitality.
Text Copyright © 2008
by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the
faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.
Shabbos Will Cure This Ill!
Posted on March 8, 2013 (5773) By Rabbi
Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah
| Level: Beginner
Moshe called the whole community of the Children of Israel to
assemble, and he said to them: “These are the things that HASHEM commanded to
make: Six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have
sanctity, a day of complete rest to HASHEM; whoever performs work on it [this day]
shall be put to death. You shall not kindle fire in any of your dwelling places
on the Sabbath day.” (Shemos 35:1-3)
You shall not kindle
fire: Some of our Rabbis say that [the prohibition of] kindling was singled out
for a [mere] negative commandment, while others say that it was singled out to
separate [all types of labor]. -[from Shab. 70a] The prohibition against kindling a fire
is employed here as an example so that we can learn from it all the other
forbidden activities of Shabbos. Using the written Torah as a self-referential
dictionary we can infer the definition of Malachah-“work”here in these few
verses. We dare not come to the wrong conclusion that this is the only thing
not permitted to do on Shabbos. Still we can ask why fire is singled out as the
exemplar “work” not allowed on the Holy Shabbos!
I once heard that
besides the Hallachic – implications against light a fire there is a hint here
that one should not become angry on Shabbos! That would be equivalent to
lighting a fire, metaphorically speaking. There is an equation of values as
told to us by our sages. Keeping the Shabbos is equal to keeping the entire
Torah. Violating Shabbos is like worshipping idols. Anyone who becomes angry is
considered to have worshipped an idol. We can detect some strong comparison
between anger and violating Shabbos! How does it work?
I find myself in school constantly counseling little kids and
big kids too on the solitary notion of “taking personal responsibility”. The
conversations are hauntingly similar if not exactly the same. “Why are you here
in my office? Were you in fight? What did you do? Did you hit him?” The answer
always begins with something like the words, “Well he called me a name… he
looked at me… he pushed me first…” I always redirect the telling of the story.
“I asked you what you did!” Then the persistent response again is, “but he….”
It sometimes takes dozens of tries before we are able to calmly zero in on what
the perpetrator himself did. “So he made you hit him? Is that what you are telling
me? Who speaks out of your mouth? Who moves your hands?” After a moment of
confusion, “I do!” “Aha! So how can he make you hit him? You gave yourself
permission to hit him or you decided to let yourself become angry by what he
said!” It’s not so easy for we adults either!
One boy told me today he hit a kid because he pushed him. I
agreed that his pushing is not nice and I understand how you might feel that
way but pushing someone does not have to produce an angry response. I told him
I can prove it. I know a fellow who got a giant shove from a total stranger and
he did not get even a little angry. Just the opposite, he thanked him.
My friend, Chaim was making a coffee in the back of a 7-11 in
Nanuet New York when this fellow came over and really gave him a shove. My
friend, a bulky and somewhat macho guy went flying. Moments later a car crashed
through the window of the store and embedded there where Chaim had been
standing. The fellow saw the car coming and not having time to explain reacted
heroically. That push saved his life. It’s not the push! It’s the meaning or
the interpretation of the push!
Working six days may just delude us into thinking that we’re
doing; we’re making this old world spin. Then comes Shabbos! The hammer is
parked. We are able to behold in the quietude of Shabbos the awe in things
large and small. One who gets angry makes himself the boss of reality. His
interpretation of what people mean by what they say and do rules supreme.
Others violate his rules! So by reframing Shabbos will cure this ill.
DvarTorah, Copyright
© 2007 by Rabbi Label Lam and Torah.org.
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