Saturday, March 26, 2022

 

Friends

Parshas Shemini

Posted on March 28, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Pinchas Avruch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

 

“The sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire pan, they put fire in them and placed incense upon it; and they brought before G-d an alien fire that He had not commanded them. A fire came forth from before G-d and consumed them, and they died before G-d.”

 

(Vayikra/Leviticus 10:1-2) At this moment of great intimacy between G-d and the Jewish Nation, they were, Rashbam (1) explains, motivated to bring the daily incense that Moshe had not yet told anyone to bring. They were unaware that Moshe was waiting for a Heavenly Fire to descend and consume the incense, to have an even greater sanctification of the Divine Name. How could two so righteous individuals have made such a tragic miscalculation?

 

The Medrash Yalkut Shimoni (#524) expounds that “each took his fire pan” indicates that each took his on his own without consulting one another. Each thought they were fulfilling G-d’s will with this bold step. As people of great spiritual measure – as Moshe consoled his brother, “Of this did G-d speak, saying ‘I will be sanctified by those nearest to me…'” (v.3) – they must have given the act great forethought. How would consultation have altered the result? After great contemplation they both came to the same conclusion that it was a great act of piety to bring this alien fire. Would not that conclusion have been further solidified had they consulted with one another?

 

Rabbi Alter Henach Leibowitz (2) explains that the give and take of conversation is not merely an opportunity to confirm previously determined rationales. Rather, the reduction of thoughts and emotions to clear, concise expressions and the verbalization of one’s reasoning and justification compels one to delve deeper into the issue until he discovers the core truth.

 

Indeed, Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers, 6:6) states that one of the forty-eight essential qualities for acquisition of Torah is “friends attentive to detail”. Generally, this is thought of as referring to friends who will correct errors. But from our situation, concludes Rabbi Leibowitz, we comprehend another facet. When one has a friend with whom he can share and discuss his thoughts, the friend’s attention to detail will oblige the speaker to clarify the issues and arrive at the truth.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

 

Inner Peace

Parshas Shemini

Posted on April 11, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

At the most importune time in the history of a fledgling nation, tragedy strikes. On the eighth day of the inaugural ceremonies for the Mishkan, in a terribly marring scenario, the Torah tells us that “the sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire pan, they put fire in them and placed incense upon it; and they brought before Hashem an alien fire that He had not commanded them to bring.” Immediately, “a fire came forth from before Hashem and consumed them, and they died before Hashem” (Leviticus 10:1-2).

 

In the next verse, Moshe consoled his brother with words that may not have appeased lesser mortals, “of this did Hashem speak, saying ‘I will be sanctified through those who are nearest Me, thus I will be honored before the entire people.” Ahron understood the true meaning, implications, and essence of the message; and the Torah tells us “vayidon Ahron,” “and Ahron was silent.” The Torah uses words more powerful than Ahron was quieted. It tells us he was.

 

The Hebrew word dohme has the same association as dohmaim, an inanimate object. That is how Ahron is described after hearing Moshe’s words: totally subdued and content. Rashi tells us that in the merit of Ahron’s subjugation and total subservience to Hashem’s decree, he merited to hear a Kohanic law, alone, directly from the Almighty, a route that normally precluded him or at best had him included as secondary to Moshe. The law bestowed on Ahron concerned the prohibition of kohanim in drinking intoxicating beverages before serving in the sanctuary. The Torah tells us, “Do not drink intoxicating wine, you and your sons with you, when you come to the Tent of Meeting, that you not die — this is an eternal decree for your generations” (Leviticus 10:9).Torah principles usually correlate the reward with the act that merited it. What, then, is the connection between Ahron’s silence in response to tragedy and his being the sole student of the Heavenly ordinance against Divine service under the influence?

 

Why did the meritorious acceptance of the Almighty decree prompt a private transmission of the laws against priestly intoxication?

 

Bill, and his friend were having too much to drink, when they collapsed in a stupor. Bill managed to fall on dry ground, while his friend had collapsed in the mud.

 

When Bill awoke and saw his friend he thought that he, too, suffered the same filthy fate. Leaving his friend asleep in the grime, he stumbled toward town, looking for a bucket of water to wash himself. In the dark of night he found a bucket, brimming with liquid and sitting in front of the local hardware store.

 

 

Bill thought it was filled with water. It was not. It was filled with whitewash.

Intending to wash himself with it, he poured the contents over his body, and scrubbed thoroughly. Satisfied, Bill drifted toward a grocery for something more to drink.

Upon seeing the awful spectacle, the proprietor gasped, “Why, Bill, what in Heaven’s name is the matter?”

 

To which Bill proudly proclaimed, “You should have seen me before I washed myself!”

 

In order to understand the correlation between the prohibition of drunken service and Ahron’s stoic acceptance of Hashem’s decree, one must appreciate that a Kohen would, in his mind, drink to elevate his spirit, albeit artificially, and thus his service. As one who accepts Hashem’s decree, with no cry or outside manipulation, Ahron HaKohen showed that he understood that there is no artificial source for lifting spirits or understanding G-d. Peace and strength come from within the soul and spirit of those who service Him. When one is content with his perfect relation with Hashem, when he realizes that though he may have fallen he has the innate capacity to rebound, he needs no stimuli.

 

Acceptance of a decree with no complaints is a recognition that the spirit, form, and embodiment, of a mortal being is completely subservient to the force of Hashem, content with his total situation with no need for outside dispensation, compensation, declarations, or mollifications. He is one with his Creator and His will.

 

When one looks for outside stimulants, even in the service of Hashem, he looks for more than is necessary to fulfill his mission. He is bathing himself in what he thinks is cleanser, but it is not. It will unnecessarily alter the perfect facilities that Hashem gave him, and that is no benefit, it is rather even harmful. When entering the perfect service of Hashem, one must be perfect with one’s self. Those who can accept Hashem’s decrees in perfect harmony and live with whatever Hashem has bestowed upon them need no stimulants. Outside intoxicants don’t clean the mind; they add confusion. And those who live in holy partnership of their pure selves and the joy of the Almighty, are worthy of carrying the banner of understanding, silence, solitude, and perfect unadulterated serenity.

 

Good Shabbos ©2000 Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky

Dedicated in honor of the Parkoff Family by the Finkelstein Family

 


Saturday, March 19, 2022

 

Gratitude Unlimited

Parshas Tzav

Posted on March 15, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

What do released prisoners, recovering patients, seafarers and caravan travelers all have in common? These people have all been in perilous situations, their very lives endangered, and having come through safely, they are required to express their gratitude to Hashem by bringing a thanksgiving sacrifice to the Temple in Jerusalem. The procedure for the thanksgiving offering, the korban todah, is described in this week’s portion.

 

The Midrash provides us with a rather surprising bit of information about the thanksgiving offering. In the End of Days, when the Presence of the Creator will fill the world with holiness and people will live in eternal bliss and serenity, all sacrifices will be discontinued – except for the thanksgiving sacrifice. This immediately leads us to ask: How can this be? If, as the prophets repeatedly assure us, people will be safe and secure, protected from all physical harm and danger, from sickness and imprisonment, how will it be possible for a thanksgiving sacrifice to be brought? The conditions that necessitate such an offering will simply not exist!

 

Let us think for a moment about a phrase most polite people use very often and very casually. What exactly do we mean when we say “thank you” to someone who has done us a good turn?

 

What have we actually given him by thanking him? And why is he gratified? The answers lie in a deeper understanding of gratitude and thanksgiving. In essence, an expression of gratitude is an acknowledgment. By saying “thank you,” we declare that we recognize what the other person has done for us, that we value it and that we do not take him for granted. This is all he needs in return for what he has done – recognition, no more, no less. But a sincere expression of gratitude can only result from a genuine appreciation of the value of what we have received. Without this appreciation, the words “thank you” are but an empty, meaningless formality.

 

If this holds true in our relationships with other human beings, how much more so in our relationship with our Creator. We are endlessly beholden to Him for all the good He does for us, and as a result, we should be endlessly grateful. Unfortunately, however, we live in a benighted world of illusions and delusions, and we often fail to recognize the innumerable gifts and bounty that flow to us from Hashem’s generous hand. And even when we pay lip service to it, how deeply do we actually feel it? How real is it to us? The only things we face with stark reality are life-threatening situations. In the face of danger, our affectations and pretensions quickly dissipate, and we realize how dependent we are on our Creator for our safety. As the old adage goes, “There are no atheists in a foxhole.” It is only when we are ultimately delivered from danger that we are capable of expressing genuine gratitude.

 

In the End of Days, however, the Presence of the Creator will illuminate the entire world and dispel all the foolish delusions which so becloud our vision and befuddle our minds. Then we will see Hashem’s hand with perfect clarity, and our acknowledgments of His guidance and benevolence will carry the ring of true conviction. At that point, we will no longer have to face life-threatening situation to inspire genuine gratitude in our hearts. We will thank Him endlessly for every minute detail of our lives and bring thanksgiving sacrifices to give expression to the transcendent feelings of gratitude that will permeate our souls.

 

A great sage once ordered a cup of coffee in an elegant restaurant. When the bill came, he saw he had been charged an exorbitant sum. “So much for a cup of coffee?” he asked the waiter.

“Oh no, sir,” the waiter replied. “The coffee cost only a few cents. But the paintings and tapestries on the walls, the crystal chandeliers, the Persian carpets, the luxurious gardens, the marble fountain, these cost a lot of money, and every patron must pay his share.”

 

“Aha!” said the sage. “You have taught me an important lesson.

 

When I recite a blessing over a glass of water, I must thank the Creator for the ground on which I stand, the air I breathe, the blue sky over my head, the beauty and scent of the flowers, the twittering of birds, the company of other people. Thank you.”

 

In our own lives, we all too often take for granted all the blessings we enjoy, and we forget to express our gratitude to our Creator, the Source of all this bounty. Indeed, when we experience hardship, we are inclined to confront Hashem, saying, Oh, why do we deserve this? But when we experience good fortune, are we as inclined to thank Him? Common courtesy, of course, requires that we acknowledge Hashem’s bounty, but if we offer words of gratitude to Hashem in all situations, we will also discover a deeper dimension to our appreciation and enjoyment of the blessings of life.

 

Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

 

The Jewish Problem

Come, let us deal wisely with them…” (1:10).

 

The Torah relates that the Mitzrim were afraid that Bnei Yisroel were becoming too numerous. Looming over their heads was the possibility that in the case of a war Bnei Yisroel would join forces with the enemy and drive the Mitzrim out of their land. Pharaoh and his advisors devised a course of action to prevent their worst fears from materializing.

 

The Ba’al Haggada states “vayarei’u osanu hamitzrim” – “the Mitzrim dealt with us in a malevolent manner”, as it is recorded in the Torah “havah nischakmah lo” – “come let us deal wisely with them”. Why is Pharaoh’s strategizing as to how to deal with a perceived threat viewed as a malicious act against Bnei Yisroel? His solution and the manner in which his orders were executed should be cited as examples of his evil behavior, not his desire to protect his nation’s security.

 

In contemporary society we search continuously for methods by which we can categorize different conditions and behaviors. By identifying and labeling a problem we gain a certain confidence that the problem can be corrected. Unfortunately, often in our haste to identify a situation which we are having difficulty controlling, we mislabel a condition and create a problem where no problem exists. Particularly when dealing with children, care must be taken to ensure that we, as parents and educators, do not label our children as “problems”. Even when the correct diagnosis has been made, we must proceed with caution to ensure that we do not transform a child with a problem into a “problem child”. The grossest injustice that can be done to a person is to label him as a problem. The damage caused to a child’s self-esteem due to the manner in which he is perceived by others and consequently comes to view himself, can be irreparable.

 

Whereas the harm which Bnei Yisroel suffered at the hands of the Mitzrim lasted only for the duration of time they spent in servitude and affected only those who were present, the perception created by Pharaoh that Jews are a public menace still haunts us today. The ultimate act of evil perpetrated against Bnei Yisroel by Pharaoh was labeling them as “the Jewish Problem”.

 

1.1:9,10

 

Saturday, March 12, 2022

 

A Man from Among Us

Parshas Vayikra

Posted on March 17, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

It was certainly much easier to expiate a transgression two thousand years ago than it is today. In ancient times, the transgressor would bring a sacrificial offering to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. He would confess his sins, repent and offer up the sacrifice as a symbol of his desire to rededicate himself to his Creator. The sanctity of the place and the sublime spirituality of the process would cleanse his soul and purify his spirit, and he would go home spiritually rejuvenated.

 

The Torah, while describing the process of the sacrificial service at great length and in exhaustive detail, introduces the topic with a curious statement. “When a man (adam) from among you brings a sacrifice . . .” The Torah usually refers to a man with the Hebrew word ish, yet here the Torah chooses the unusual word adam, which brings to mind Adam, the first man.

 

What is the point of being reminded of Adam when we bring a sacrifice to atone for a sin?

Furthermore, why does the Torah speak of a man “from among you” that brings a sacrifice? What is added by this seemingly superfluous phrase? Isn’t every man “from among you”?

 

The commentators explain that the purpose of a sacrifice is not only to express contrition for the sin but also to repair the damage that sin caused in the world. A person does not live in a vacuum, an island unto himself. Every sinful act creates a void of the Creator’s presence in the spiritual ecosystem, causing the retraction, so to speak, of the Divine Presence and the proliferation of negative energy. A sinful act causes the spiritual level of the world to fall, just as a mitzvah causes it to rise. Therefore, a person committing a sin affects not only himself but also his surroundings, his family, his friends, his community and to a certain extent the entire world.

 

Adam was the first man in the world, and in his mind, his decision to eat the forbidden fruit was a private decision. He thought it affected no one but him. But he was wrong. His one sinful act had tremendous ramifications for all future generations. It introduced death to the human experience.

 

This is the lesson we learn from Adam. There are no private decisions. Every act we commit has far-reaching implications for the spiritual condition of our environment. This is what a person should have in mind when he brings a sacrifice to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. He must realize that, like Adam, he mistakenly considered his sinful act victimless, affecting only himself. But he was really “from among you.” His sinful act affected others as well, and it is the purpose of the sacrifice to repair the damage he has wrought.

A young man booked passage on a pleasure cruise ship. He took a cabin on the lowest deck, because those were the least expensive. After a few days, he locked himself in his room and ordered his meals delivered to his door.

 

The waiter who brought the meal noticed that the passageway was damp, and as he approached the young man’s door, he saw water pulsing out from under his door. He bent down to smell it, and to his horror, he discovered that it was seawater. In a panic, he banged on the young man’s door, but there was no response.

 

He ran to get the captain, and in a few minutes, the captain arrived with two crew members carrying axes. They broke down the door and found the young man drilling holes in the side of the ship.

 

“What are you doing?” screamed the captain. “Do you want to kill all of us? Do you want to sink this ship?”

 

“What are you talking about?” the young man retorted. “This is my private cabin. I paid for it, and I have the right to do anything I want in it.”

 

In our own lives, we are all living in cabins on the great cruise ship of life. We may sometimes think we are independent individuals, answering only to ourselves. But as the popular saying goes, we are indeed all connected. The things we say or do, a harsh word, a thoughtless act, a spiritual transgression can harm the people around us. On the other hand, a warm smile, an act of kindness, a word of encouragement can touch, move and inspire. Our acts may cause a ripple effect whose extent cannot be measured. And even if we manage to keep certain behaviors in total isolation, they still leave a mark in the spiritual world. We may think we are “Adam,” but let us always remember that we are really “from among us.”

 

Text Copyright © 2008 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

 

 

Listen to Your Still Small Voice

Parshas Vayikra

Posted on March 17, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

Moshe hears the voice of the Lord as G-d calls to him. However, it is not the same experience that it was at Mount Sinai. There, it was with noise and fanfare, thunder and lightning, pageantry, and awe. At Mount Sinai, even the soundwaves were visible and real. But here, according to the Midrash, it is a private revelation exclusive to Moshe. The great heavenly voice is not heard outside the precincts of the Tabernacle itself.

 

According to some commentators, this is one of the reasons why the word Vayikra itself is spelled with a small letter –Aleph zeira – the small Alef at the end of the word Vayikra. It is interesting to note that one of the celestial powers of the Almighty is that of tzimtzum – the ability to diminish the godly presence, so to speak, in the universe, to allow for nature and human beings to function in the so-called vacated space.

 

We find that when the prophet Elijah searches for G-d, he does not find Him in the great wind or in thunderous sound, but, rather, in the still small voice of silence itself. I have written many times about the importance of being able to find G-d within our own being, within our own soul, for only by discovering G-d in that manner can a person achieve permanent elevation of spirituality and faith.

 

External events may make a great impression upon us, both physically and spiritually. But they are usually only a temporary influence, a momentary catalyst. Determined pursuit of spiritual and moral attainment is always dependent upon that still small voice that Elijah heard within himself and is the voice that all of us can also hear for ourselves, if we will do so.

 

We are all aware that it is much easier to hear loud sounds than furtive whispers. To hear a low voice or a whisper requires concentration. It demands a desire to hear, not an automatic reflex of our auditory senses, but, rather, an intentional expression of our inner desire to hear the seemingly inaudible. The gurus of espionage and counterespionage, of police and governmental surveillance, have constructed elaborate technological methods for blocking out all the extraneous noise that their microphones pick up, so that they are able to eavesdrop on the whispered conversations of enemy agents, spies, saboteurs, and criminals. Only one extraneous noise can cancel a surveillance project and prevent a consequence or benefit.

 

I would hazard to say that this is true in the pursuit of a meaningful spiritual life as well. All the outside static of everyday life, of the mundane and the tawdry, foolish and the distracting, must be eliminated, for us to hear our own still small voice in our soul. We live in a very noisy world, and the ruckus of life often prevents us from hearing what we ourselves wish to say to ourselves, because of the outside static of noise that constantly engulfs us. We should certainly concentrate more on hearing our own inner self and soul.

 

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein

  

 

Listen to Your Still Small Voice

Parshas Vayikra

Posted on March 17, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

Moshe hears the voice of the Lord as G-d calls to him. However, it is not the same experience that it was at Mount Sinai. There, it was with noise and fanfare, thunder and lightning, pageantry, and awe. At Mount Sinai, even the soundwaves were visible and real. But here, according to the Midrash, it is a private revelation exclusive to Moshe. The great heavenly voice is not heard outside the precincts of the Tabernacle itself.

 

According to some commentators, this is one of the reasons why the word Vayikra itself is spelled with a small letter –Aleph zeira – the small Alef at the end of the word Vayikra. It is interesting to note that one of the celestial powers of the Almighty is that of tzimtzum – the ability to diminish the godly presence, so to speak, in the universe, to allow for nature and human beings to function in the so-called vacated space.

 

We find that when the prophet Elijah searches for G-d, he does not find Him in the great wind or in thunderous sound, but, rather, in the still small voice of silence itself. I have written many times about the importance of being able to find G-d within our own being, within our own soul, for only by discovering G-d in that manner can a person achieve permanent elevation of spirituality and faith.

 

External events may make a great impression upon us, both physically and spiritually. But they are usually only a temporary influence, a momentary catalyst. Determined pursuit of spiritual and moral attainment is always dependent upon that still small voice that Elijah heard within himself and is the voice that all of us can also hear for ourselves, if we will do so.

 

We are all aware that it is much easier to hear loud sounds than furtive whispers. To hear a low voice or a whisper requires concentration. It demands a desire to hear, not an automatic reflex of our auditory senses, but, rather, an intentional expression of our inner desire to hear the seemingly inaudible. The gurus of espionage and counterespionage, of police and governmental surveillance, have constructed elaborate technological methods for blocking out all the extraneous noise that their microphones pick up, so that they are able to eavesdrop on the whispered conversations of enemy agents, spies, saboteurs, and criminals. Only one extraneous noise can cancel a surveillance project and prevent a consequence or benefit.

 

I would hazard to say that this is true in the pursuit of a meaningful spiritual life as well. All the outside static of everyday life, of the mundane and the tawdry, foolish and the distracting, must be eliminated, for us to hear our own still small voice in our soul. We live in a very noisy world, and the ruckus of life often prevents us from hearing what we ourselves wish to say to ourselves, because of the outside static of noise that constantly engulfs us. We should certainly concentrate more on hearing our own inner self and soul.

 

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Saturday, March 5, 2022

 

Unlimited Partnership

Parshas Pekudei

Posted on February 28, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

 

The Mishkan was finally complete. The nation looked at the magnificent work with great joy, and Moshe was proud. So proud, in fact, that he did something that he only did once more– just before his death: he blessed the entire nation.

 

Actually, the erection of a Mishkan was the greatest blessing in itself. Hashem had promised the Jewish nation in Parshas Terumah, “Build me a Mishkan — and I will dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8). But Moshe felt that he, too, would add a blessing.

 

Rashi tells us what Moshe told the people: “May Hashem rest His presence in your handiwork.”

At first it seems that Moshe is reiterating the promise that Hashem Himself made. Hashem had promised to dwell in the midst of the Sanctuary that the Jewish nation would build. Why, then did Moshe repeat G-d’s promise as a blessing? Is he blessing them that Hashem should keep His word? Or is he perhaps bestowing a more powerful message?

 

A man once approached Rabbi Yehuda Assad for advice. “There is an old, run-down store in the downtown area of the city. I can get it a very reasonable price. I think that with my marketing skills I may be able to turn that location into a profitable venture. Do you think I should buy it?”

 

Rav Assad made a face. “I don’t think that it would be prudent to enter that part of the city for a business venture.” The man left somewhat dejected.

 

A few days later another man entered the Rabbi’s study with the identical question about the same property. “There is an old, run-down store in the downtown area of the city. I can get it a very reasonable price. I think that with my marketing skills, and of course with Hashem’s help, I may be able to turn that location into a profitable venture. Do you think I should buy it?”

 

This time Rabbi Assad nodded in approval. “I think you should make a go of it. I have no doubts that it will be a success.”

 

When word got out that the Rabbi was behind this new endeavor, the first man stormed into his study quite upset. “Why did you tell me not to buy the property and then tell my friend just the opposite?” he demanded.

 

“My dear student,” answered the Rabbi, “there is a great difference. Your friend took in a partner. He said that with the help of Hashem he could make a go of it. When someone includes Hashem in his plans, I am sure that he will succeed!”

 

For the first time since the exodus the Jews had become accomplished craftsman, artisans, tailors, and contractors. They built a magnificent edifice in the wilderness. Moshe knew that a feeling of self-gratification might accompany their accomplishments. Perhaps they may begin to think that it was their wisdom, their skills and only their abilities that made this beautiful Mishkan possible. So, he blessed them with words that were meant to dissuade any such delusion.

 

“May Hashem’s presence rest in your handiwork.” Of course, Hashem promised that he would dwell in the Mishkan. Moshe’s question was, “would the Jews let him in?” Would they make him a partner? Would they recognize Hashem as a significant factor even in the physical handiwork that they themselves had wrought? To that end, Moshe’s blessing incorporated the standard for every action, accomplishment, and success that anyone achieves. May Hashem be a part of your success. May the Shechina rest upon your handiwork.

 

 

 

Text Copyright © 1996 by Rabbi M. Kamenetzky and Project Genesis, Inc.

The author is the Dean of the Yeshiva of South Shore.
Drasha is the e-mail edition of FaxHomily, a weekly torah facsimile on the weekly portion
which is sponsored by The Henry and Myrtle Hirsch Foundation

 

Firm Footing

Parshas Pekudei

Posted on February 28, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Shlomo Jarcaig | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

 

The building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) was a process through which mankind used various earthly elements to create an edifice in which G-d’s Divine presence would dwell. Our Sages expound upon the lessons derived from the myriad steps and details incorporated in this process. They serve as direction for the fulfillment of our ultimate mission in this world as Jews: How we create a greater awareness of G-d in the world, and how we come closer to Him.

 

Different components of the Mishkan were built from different types of donated materials. While most of the construction materiel was from voluntary donations dependent upon the will and means of the donor, there was an additional mandatory donation incumbent upon all males of 20 years and older at the time of the census. This donation demanded an identical sum from each Jew, regardless of means. “The silver of the census was one hundred talents (of 3,000 shekels each) and 1,775 shekels in the sacred shekel; a beka for every head, a half shekel in the sacred shekel for everyone who passed through the census takers…The hundred talents of silver were to cast the sockets of the Sanctuary and the sockets of the Partition; a hundred sockets for a hundred talents, a talent per socket.” (Shemos/Exodus 38:25-27) The silver was used to make the sockets that held together the beams of the Mishkan’s walls. These sockets essentially served the foundation of the entire Mishkan.

 

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (1895-1986; Rosh Yeshiva/Dean of Mesivtha Tifereth Jerusalem in New York City; the leading Halachic/Jewish legal decisor and foremost leader of Torah Jewry of his time) explains that the foundation upon which our personal, internal Mishkan is built is our Emunah (faith in G-d). The use of this silver in the casting of the sockets for the foundation of the Mishkan – silver that was donated in like amounts from throughout the Jewish people – teaches that our Emunah must be employed equally in all precincts of our life experience. Emunah is not only an expression of dedication to the Divine in the synagogue or study hall, it is a statement of G-d consciousness in all activities: how we conduct our business, how we interact with our family members, how we choose to recreate.

 

Furthermore, each socket was the product of 6,000 donations. No part of the foundation could be the gift of one man alone; each Jew contributed an equal portion. We learn that, as Jews, we need to value the input and contributions of others. To truly accomplish and build stable structures, we need to work as a cohesive unit. If the foundation is strong in some areas but weak in others, the Mishkan will not stand. Only by helping another reach his potential can we develop the necessary foundation upon which the Mishkan can stand.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!