You shall not kindle a fire

 in all your

dwelling places

 on the Sabbath

day

(Shemot 35:3)

You shall

not kindle fire – Said the Holy One, blessed be He: My fire, meaning the

fire of Hell, rests for you; let your fire also rest. Hashabbat, Vayomer

form the word Torah, hinting

that the main time for Torah is on the Sabbath, when man is free of his occupation.

(Baal Haturim, ibid ibid)

You shall

not kindle fire in all your dwelling places on the Sabbath day – It is

proper that throughout the week the fire of love and adherence to God should

burn in one's heart by effort of studying the Torah and prayer, so that when

the Sabbath arrives the flame will ascend on its own, 'its darts are darts of

fire, a blazing flame'; this is the work, the holy work, that we are here

commanded to perform the six days, so that this [seventh] day be holy on its own,

vineyard and olives, thus requiring that on the Sabbath day we will have to

kindle from start the flame to ignite the fiery darts with smoldering coals – this

is [the meaning of] "You shall not kindle fire in all your dwelling places

on the Sabbath day".

 (Chatam Sofer

ibid., ibid.)

You shall

not kindle fire – The kindling of fire is not, at first glance, a creative

act but rather one of destruction. Yet it is manmade fire which is the power

which enables and guarantees man true rule over the physical world. Only by

fire can man manufacture his tools, penetrate the depths of material,

separating and fashioning them.

 (Rashar Hirsch

ibid., ibid.)

Why a basin of mirrors

Eilon Langbenheim

Most of the passages in Parashat Vayakhel dealing with exact descriptions

of the Tabernacle construction are quite uncomplicated, and therefore require

few words of explication. The Tabernacle was made entirely of materials readily

attainable from the Children of Israel themselves (the women's golden ornaments

or the goat wool) or from the desert surroundings (acacia trees, skins of tachash

[suggested translations include "dolphin", "dugong", "seal",

"giraffe", and "ocher-colored"]). As a rule, the Torah did

not cite the source of the materials employed in the fashioning of the

utensils. For example, it is written that the altar and its utensils were made

of bronze, but we know not what was the source for this bronze. The exception

is the bronze basin adjacent to the altar, which was made of the mirrors that

belonged to the women who gathered near the entrance to the Tent of Appointment:

"And he made the basin of bronze and it is pedestal of bronze with the

the Tent of Appointment". (38:8). Why

did the Torah specify the fact that the basin and its pedestal were made of

women's mirrors? And what is the meaning of that gathering of the women

whose mirrors were taken for the making of the basin? [Translator's note: The meaning of hatsoveot is uncertain.

Suggestions include: "The serving women" (J.P.S. 1917); "the

women who performed tasks" (J.P.S., 1985);

"the women's working-force" (Fox, 1983);

"the women who flocked (Alter, 2004)]

Attempts by commentators to explain the irregular description of the

mirrors fall into two main categories:

A. The instrumental – the basin was made of mirrors in order to

facilitate reflection of light.

B. The symbolic – the fact that the basin was made of women's mirrors gave

it symbolic significance.

Prof. Admiel Cossman¹

presents two explanations which fall into the instrumental category: The first,

offered by the "Yalkut David", claims that the basin was made of

mirrors so as to serve as a mirror itself, enabling those on the outside the Tabernacle

to view that which was inside. Others explain that that women wanted to witness

the ritual service and the prayers, but were forbidden to mix with the men,

therefore the basin at the entrance to the Tent was made of mirrors, so as to facilitate

viewing within" (Torah Sheleima, P. 132)². In

a similar vein, the Rakanati on Parashat Vayikra writes that the priests could discern,

by means of the basin, the faces of women offering sacrifices, because to look

at them directly was prohibited: "And also, during the sprinkling of the

blood, the priest must see the man and the women for whom the sacrifice atones,

and because it is forbidden to look at a women therefore he made the basin with

the mirrors of the women, because when the priest offers a woman's sacrifice he

looks into the basin and sees the face of the woman who is bringing the sacrifice".

The purpose of the mirrors in the basin, then, was to "kosherize" priest

and woman looking at each other by means of an intermediary instrument that

reflects the lines of the face but somewhat blurs the exact features.

The instrumentalist explanations attribute to the basin the function of

coping with desires which are liable to be aroused during the service of God in

the Tabernacle. It is not mere coincidence that that the phrase "women who

gathered at the entrance to the Tent of Appointment" appears again in the

Bible in the context of those same desires, as the priests and female

supplicants meet at the Tent: "And Eli was very old. When he heard what

his sons were doing to all Israel,

and how they lay with the women who gathered at the entrance to the Tent of

Meeting" (I Samuel 2:22). The 'women

who gathered' had certainly come for the purpose of serving the Lord, whether

by praying (Onkylos, ibid) or in order to donate of their belongings to the

service in the Tent of Meeting. The semantic similarity between the two quotes

raised a difficult question regarding the instrumental function of the basin

mirrors: The women who gathered at the entrance to the Tent in the times of Eli's

sons were drawn to sin³. The sons of Eli exploited their high

position in order to abuse women, and who knows if that was because of that

look which passed by way of the mirrors?

In my opinion, this is the reason that a number of exegetes, led by Rashi,

were driven to exchanging – by way of drash [homiletic exposition] – the plain meaning

of hatsoveot (in the sense of gathering and waiting) for a remote association,

that of fecund fertility:

The daughters

of Israel

possessed mirrors into which they looked as they decorated themselves, and even

these they did not refrain from contributing to the Tabernacle. Moshe looked

down upon them, because they were created to serve the yester hara – the

evil inclination. Said to him the Holy One, blessed be He: Accept them, because

they are more dear to me than everything, for through them the women gave birth

to many armies in Egypt.

contemporary Hebrew is almost exclusively interpreted – as "armies"].

In the commentaries of Rashi (and of Ramban) the waiting women become

women who gave birth to an army of children, and the mirrors played an

important part in this:

When their husbands

were fatigued because of heavy labor, they would bring them food and drink and

would feed them and they took along the mirrors, and each saw herself with

pleasant than you, and thereby they aroused passion in their husbands and

they had intercourse with them and they became pregnant […] and the basin was

made of them, for its purpose was to make peace between man his wife, that she

drink of its waters because he was jealous of his wife and she had secreted herself.

Thanks to the joint looking into the mirror the Jewish people were saved

from annihilation. The mirror, like the pictures in a wedding album, made it

possible for the men to see themselves in a committed relationship even within

a difficult reality of servitude and decrees, to maintain intimacy with their

spouses. In other words, according to Rashi, the basin, made of mirrors, symbolized

the commitment to a tie between husband and wife, and that commitment to

continuity will triumph even should jealousy arise.

Ibn Ezra also assigns the mirrors symbolic-rather than instrumental-

significance, but in complete contrast to Rashi (who saw the mirrors as factor

which strengthens the marital tie and fecundity), Ibn Ezra turns the basin into

a symbol for abstinence:

The rationale

behind the tsoveot [commandment] was that all women are wont to prettify

themselves daily in front of mirrors […] for the custom of Israel was like

that of Yishmael until this very day. But here we find in Israel God-serving

women who left this world's passionate desires and gave their mirrors as a

donation because they no longer had need for them in order to beautify

themselves. They would come daily to the Tent entrance only to pray and learn

the commandments.

The construction of the basin, according to Ibn Era, embeds the mirrors

in a vessel whose form and function are totally different. The women took an

object which assists in the magnification of external beauty and the material

world, and transformed it into a spiritual vessel which prepared the priests

for the service of God. The function of the basin in the creation of a

connection between man and woman does not appear in Ibn Ezra's commentary; in

its stead it emphasizes the basin's basic function of cleansing the priests: "And

you shall make a basin of bronze and its pedestal of bronze for washing… and

Aharon and his sons shall wash their hands and their feet as they enter the

tent of Meeting…" (30:18-20).

In summation – for most of the exegetes, the use of mirrors for

manufacture of the basin is tied to the physical attraction between man and

woman. The instrumentalist school sees the mirrors as important for the

physical structure of the basin; the symbolist approach understands the mirrors

as alluding to the way in which the basin symbolizes the preservation of

national continuity (Rashi, Ramban and others) or as abstinence from physical

custom (Ibn Ezra).

The passage regarding the gathering women (as well as other passages)

focuses the reader's attention on the centrality of women's contribution to the

building and organization of the Mishkan as a ritual site shared by men and

women. The commentators (male) may differ in their understanding of the women's

devotion and of their influence on the function of the Mishkan's vessels, but

none attempt to belittle the partnership itself and its importance. To our joy,

we, too, live in a generation in which women gather at the entrances to halls

of study and synagogues, and demand to participate in study and prayer.

Unfortunately, rabbis and many public figures still find it difficult to truly

explain women's demand for partnership and recognition. Perhaps a close look in

the mirror can help, as per the suggestion of the Maggid of Mezeritch:

Every person

must look at the other as if he were looking into a mirror; just as the mirror

reflects the looker's ugly aspects, so, when looking at the flaws of another he

should discern them also in himself, and learn from this how to remove them […]

therefore, when the priests came to wash their hands and their feet prior to

the service, they also had to cleanse themselves of every spiritual flaw, of

every deficiency, personal interest and favor. The basin was made of the

mirrors to remind them that in order to discern their own flaws, they should

look at the other.

1.

The Making of the Basin and its Pedestal with the Mirrors of the Gathering

Women and Feminine Wisdom" Univ. Bar-Ilan, weekly Torah letter , number

279, Parashat Vayakhel 5759

2.

Some exegetes argue that the mirrors themselves where hammered into the body of

the basin; others, such as the Ramban, believe that the bronze from which the

mirrors were fashioned was high quality bronze, highly and very beautiful"

with sharp and clear reflection.

3.

Even if we accept the view of most commentators that the women referred to were

not actually guilty of adultery but rather of some lesser sin, the punishment

of Eli's sons for their actions testifies to very problematic behavior.

Eilon Langbenheim teaches physics and is a college in

the doctorate program of the Mandel Institute for Educational Leadership

The loving man

I wish to write about David

Hartman from a personal point of view. The personal angle differs from the

objective image of the legacy which the man bequeaths: his books which unite

into an corpus of thought, crystallized and developing; the Institute and its

branches he founded; the schools established under his inspiration; the many

and varied students who studied his teachings, whether in acquiescence or in

the disagreement which he so loved and made room for. The personal angle is

that of a halacha-committed Orthodox person who met him, with his surging

persona bursting beyond all routine definitions.

David's words found open ears among members of the many identities

which compose the Jewish nation in our time and among many intellectuals beyond

the borders of the Jewish people. It is not coincidental that the walls of the Institute

which he established enclosed secularist, Reform, Conser-vative and Orthodox

Jews, as well as Christians and Moslems. This phenomenon was derived from that

essence which was a reflection of the heart and consciousness of David. I am one of many, an Orthodox religious

person who met David, and it is

about this meeting and from this point of meeting that I wish to write.

Where I come from, David was

perceived as an Acher­- as Elisha ben Abuya, who 'studied and then

abandoned [the Torah]'. A controversy existed among the students of Rav

Soleveietchik, and in the eyes of the group to which I belonged, David was

perceived of as one who had deviated from the framework. But what did I find

when I met him? I found a man who did not deviate from the framework, but who

painted a new picture which extended beyond frameworks. Instead of a picture

fragmented into various Jewish identities in which everyone found himself

within specific boundaries, constantly in conflict with other identities

existing within other boundaries, there stood a man who roared in a voice that

was also known to break into a rolling laugh: "I am a Jew". The Talmud

says in reference to the words of the Master of the Universe: Said R. Yochanan;

What is the meaning of "The Lord gives a command; the women who bring the

news are a great host" (Psalms 68)?

Every word emanating from the mouth of the All Powerful is divided into seventy

languages. The students of R. Yishmael taught: "And like a hammer that

shatters rock" (Jeremiah 23). Just

as the hammer bursts into many sparks, so every word which comes from the mouth

of Holy One, blessed be He, divides into seventy languages. Similarly (but with

obvious difference) such an exposition can be applied to the thought of great

teachers. R. Nachman of Breslav, HaRav Kook, HaRav Soleveitchik, Yeshaayahu

Leibowitz: "Each one of these thinkers produced different students, each

interpreting his master's teachings differently from his companion. The

phenomenon is amazing: Two contemplate the teaching of HaRav Kook, one

understands it as emphasizing the exclusivity of the Jewish people and derives

from it the negation of general studies and the application of academic tools

to Jewish sources; the second group derives from these very same teachings a

universal approach which obligates such studies. This phenomenon may be generalized

as follows: A teacher whose thought is complex and multi-faceted, with students

who reveal each one a different aspect of said teaching. Each thinker has a

unique explanation. David Hartman

belonged to this latter group or teachers and thinkers. Words like a hammer

shattering rock, exciting and basic words, reached the ears of various

students, suiting each one. I shall attempt to decipher the unique secret of

this man which brought about this phenomenon, resulting in the fact that one

like myself finds interest and content in his words even as alongside me sit

people very different from myself who also find meaning in the same Torah.

First, as I pointed out, the man experienced from a place in the depths

of his self his overall identity: the Jew. This Jew transcends all the partial

identities – without negating or ignoring them – coalescing with the most

encompassing identity of all: Man. This identity received expression

both in the Jewish sources on which he focused – redeeming them from neglected

corners of the Bible and the Talmud, placing them center stage – and also in

the spontaneous speech which rolled into peaks of affection and nadirs of pain.

Second, the man brought with him a vibrant tradition which also cracked

the borders of language. He spoke a personal language, unique to himself,

composed of Hebrew, English and Yiddish. This was not only a technical

language; the Yiddish brought with it all the tradition of the Jewish world

from whence he came, the English carried the American democratic values he

brought with him to Israel, the Hebrew expressed all the Zionism embodied in

the act of his aliya to the land which merged in his consciousness with

the entire Zionist phenomenon. Within him the Tower of Babel

was reconstructed, only this time not with a single tongue, but with all the languages

jumbled one with the other. The single tongue led people to pride rising to the

heavens. The mixed tongues led David

to a humble and sober position which truly understood that there are many

tongues, many people, and that their unification is essential and that it does

not erase the limitations and the fractures of the single language which

enables embracement of all.

Third, the man brought with him not only a penetrating intellectual

position, but also much emotion and love of man and love for his brother,

children of his people. It seems to me that this is the reason why his

teaching, when studied by some of his students, takes on an appearance of

academic alienation. Without the existential religious position of love of God

and man – which were expressed by him in his close conversation with the Master

of the universe, similar to that we find with R. Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev – without

this the external cover could seem alienated and incapable of encompassing the

deep religiosity. But the man was not a researcher who studies his subject with

total objectivity. The man was a believer who spoke with God face to face,

intimately. When his cellular would ring in his pocket during a probing and

penetrating statement, he would jump up and say: "Maybe the Ribono shel

Olam is calling to say I've exaggerated". This was not a stand-up shtick;

it was an expression of a rare experiencing of proximity to God, the likes of

which few – to my personal knowledge – have merited. When a person such as this

marked halachic areas requiring change, the intensity of emotion and the tie to

tradition gave them colors and shadings which permitted even persons with

Orthodox religious identification to listen: "Wounds by a loved one are

long-lasting".

Fourth, the man was blessed with a tremendous sense of humor. Humor is

an important instrument of Jewish traditionalists which got lost in the previous

generation. There is no vessel for holding the absurd like humor, and whoever

has lost his sense of humor – will, in all probability, take simplistic and

one-dimensional positions. The ability to simultaneously hold a living and

stormy religious view and a penetratingly critical secular position is reserved

only for those with a sense of humor. David

possessed such a sense of humor, and he shared it generously with his listeners.

Fifth, the man was a hedonist of the spirit. The study of Torah and his

occupation with philosophy gave him satisfaction as does a good meal for a bon

vivant. He would smack his lips and gurgle sounds of pleasure when he

quoted a beloved Talmudic reference. A chapter of his book "A Heart of Many Rooms" bears the title "Celebrating

Religious Diversity". He celebrated indeed. He strolled through the paths

of the Talmud like Dionysius [god of wine]. Not without reason did he differ

with Yeshaayahu Leibowitz regarding Abraham's defining feature. Leibowitz, like

Kierkegaard, considered the Akeida [the binding of Yitzchak] to be the

expression of Abraham's greatness. David

considered the high point

to be Abraham's challenge to God: "Will not the Judge of all the earth do

justice?!" There are many aspects to this controversy, one of them being: David did not see his Judaism being realized by man's

binding his will, but on the contrary, through the open expression of his full

power and freedom. From this derives a Judaism of joy, not a Judaism of decree

and restriction.

All these five points combine into a sense of

the vitality and intense life which pulsated in David's stormy heart. In his

good years – and even in his years of illness – his intensity of life made him

unique. It was possible to disagree with him – and he loved that – and it was

possible even to be angry with him. But it was not possible to remain

indifferent to the storms of his life. He forced his interlocutor to re-examine

the sources of his being which sometimes flicker and are extinguished during

life, and to study anew life and its values, the Judaism which lives within

ourselves. This is how I met the man, and this is how he infused me with new

life, both in spheres of concurrence and in spheres of controversy.

About

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promoting the ideals of tolerance, pluralism, and justice, concepts that have

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