Parshat Vayakhel-Pekuday

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 [On the Sabbath. And He said...] - The first and last letters of 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, [its meaning is] not that during the week each person be occupied with his 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 mirrors of the tsoveot - [those women who gathered] at the entrance to 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. [The word tsvaot may also be interpreted - and in 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 her husband in the image and seduced them with speech, saying I am more 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. [The reference is to the Sotah ritual. See Bemidbar 5:11-31)

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.

 

 

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