A Thought on Parshas Ki Sisa

"...va'yisabalu v'lo shasu ish edyo alav..." (33:4) "...they were stricken with grief and none put on their ornaments..." "...hored edye'cha me'alecha..." (33:5) "...take off your ornaments..." HaShem commanded us to remove our ornaments, following the Egel. ibn Shu'aib, however, ponders this: according to the earlier verse (33:4), immediately upon our hearing that HaShem would no longer be sensed in our midst during the trek through the desert, we stopped putting our ornaments on. If that is so, what does the next verse accomplish by stating that we were commanded to remove the ornaments that we had already removed? He first offers the view of ibn Ezra who reconciles the verses with the principle of "ain mukdam u'ma'uchar ba'Torah" - the Torah does not stick to a precise chronological sequence at times. The commandment verse preceded the implementation verse. Its just that they are written, for some reason, in reverse sequence. He next offers the view of the Baalei HaTosfos, that we had received two ornaments at the Giving of the Torah, one upon hearing "I am the Lord Your G-d" (Anochi) and one upon hearing "You shall not have other gods before me" (lo yiyeh lecha). Both of those commandments were heard directly from HaShem. When the Egel was made, our shame over how this was so inconsistent with the literal meaning of "lo yiyeh lecha" led us to remove our first ornaments voluntarily. At that time, our assumption was that whereas some of us may have transgressed "lo yiyeh", and for that we all removed our first ornaments, we had not transgressed "Anochi". We all still accepted that there is but One G-d. However, the second verse commanded us to remove the second ornament, teaching us that anyone who transgresses "lo yiyeh" also automatically transgresses "Anochi." Having any image to which one attributes any power or sanctity actually defiles his observance of the entire Torah. That is why the next verse (33:6) says in plural that we removed our ornaments. He then offers the view of Rabbeinu Bachya that the ornaments were the garments worn by angels when they are sent to appear on earth in mortal form. We had reached an angelic level at the Giving of the Torah and were no longer subject to death (malach ha'mav'es). We became adorned with those protective gear reserved for the malachim. We were the "mortal angels on earth" after receiving the Torah from HaShem. Our shame after the Egel led us to remove those vestments from our outerwear and then don them beneath our regular clothing. That is what the first verse teaches. The second verse was when HaShem commanded us to surrender those garments completely. After the Egel we forfeited our place as "malachei mata"; one may not masquerade as an angel when still behaving like a mortal. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Tetzaveh

"...v'asu Li Mikdash v'Shochanti b'tocham..." (25:8) "...and they shall make Me a Shrine and I will dwell among them..." This week, for a change, I will cite directly from ibn Shu'aib: "... and it is well known that the intention of Creation was, originally, as a dwelling below for the Divine Presence. This is implied in the verse (Berishis 3:8) "and they could hear the Voice of HaShem" in Gan Eden. The iniquities there led to the delaying of that plan, until the time of the departure from Mitzrayim. At that time, the intention of the Exodus, once again, was for the Presence to dwell among us. This is implied in the verse (VaYikra 19:36) "so I brought you from Mitzrayim so that I might dwell in your midst." This would have happened as of the Giving of the Torah, as it says (Devarim 5:21) "for HaShem has revealed His Presence to us." Instead, that moment also was delayed. This is why HaShem then told us (Shmos 25:8) "and they shall make Me a Shrine (Mikdash)." It is well accepted that the essential intention of this verse's Mikdash was for the Presence to dwell in the Eternal Abode (Bais Olamim) - the mundane counterpart to the Throne of Glory (Kisae HaKavod) on high. But when HaShem saw that much time would pass until that era, He commanded us to make instead a Mishkan, a temporary Shrine, until the days would arrive when we would enter the Land. Just as the Presence was manifest at Sinai, it also filled the Mishkan and later, the Mikdash, as it says (Shmos 40:34-5) "and the Glory of HaShem filled the Shrine." In our times with our own iniquities, our Mikdash has been destroyed. We only have left our places of worship, which are called "mikdash m'at" (lesser shrines.) We must attend them with piety and focused prayer just as if one sits before the Divine Presence..." And now we understand the sequence of events. It was always about making the lower world a reflection of the Heavens Above. It is still all about making this world an abode for the Divine Presence. Time after time, we are extended that honor, that glorified role. May we merit fulfillment of our mission speedily in our days. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Terumah

"...v'asisa es ha'mizbe'ach..." "...and you shall construct the altar..." (26:1) Earlier on, the Torah instructs us that, when making an altar of stone in the Mikdash, we must not make it of iron-hewn stones. The verse refers to this prohibition as not "raising your sword against those stones and desecrating them" (20:22). Many of us have heard of the somewhat mystical shamir, which was used to hew or engrave stone and hard substances for Temple use. The Torah does not speak about the shamir, and our sages and commentaries have addressed the conditions and circumstances wherein iron could, or could not, be utilized when constructing materials in the Temple. What we know from the verse cited is that we may not "raise our sword against stone and desecrate the altar." This week, ibn Shu'aib reviews the writings of earlier authorities who sought some meaning or understanding of this prohibition. He begins with a midrash which relates that there is a symbolic meaning to the ban. The altar serves as a medium for prolonging life: when the Jews worship HaShem in the ways which He has instructed, we have a tangible means of offering up our spiritual pleadings. We pray for forgiveness, for atonement, for health, for sustenance, and for life itself. Hence, the altar is a place which is associated with HaShem giving life. Iron, in turn, is in fact used in swords. It is employed by humanity for very un-G-dly endeavors. Swords end or shorten life. Therefore, a life shortener does not belong with a life prolonger. Iron should not come in contact with our altar. ibn Shu'aib then cites the view of ibn Ezra, who looks beyond the contact of iron on stone and instead anticipates the effects of that contact. Hewing stone with iron shortens the stone, which by definition is how we shape and give dimension to the stone, forming it into an altar. However, there will be shards. There will be chips and leftovers, particles and fragments which will not end up as the altar. What will happen to those pieces of stone?They will be discarded. This means that some of stone will become sanctified and some will be useless and rejected. This would be unbefitting - something that had prospective kedusha ending up in the trash heap. This, according to ibn Ezra, would be a reason to ban the hewing of stone. Alternatively, he writes, people might salvage those stone remnants. They might put them to servile use or, worse, they might regard them as sanctified through their having formerly been parts of the present altar stone. People might regard them as holy and worship them, which would mean that the material used in the altar would also be used for pagan worship. Hence, altar stone may not be hewn, based on how the shards might be misused. ibn Shu'aib then cites the Rambam, who explains that the reason to avoid hewing those stones is as a precaution: the cutter might aim at fashioning those fragments, shaping them in the process of removing them from the larger stone. The Torah (VaYikra 26:1) has expressly forbidden the shaping of stones for decorative purposes lest they be employed in pagan rites. Nothing pagan should ever emerge from something sacred. Finally, ibn Shu'aib refers to the Ramban, who was his own rebbe's teacher. The Ramban endorses the view of the midrash, but adds that the wording of the verse may shed light on its meaning. Not only does the verse equate 'hewing' with 'the sword', but it says "using your sword." What is the significance of "our sword"? The Ramban infers that the Torah is signaling that Jews are not supposed to be the people of the sword. The sword, the iron weapon, is the hallmark of Esav. Prayer and worship are the domain of Jews. To bring the tool of Esav to the tool of Yakov would indeed be a desecration. Swords conquer the material world, whereas worship rules the consecrated world. ibn Shu'aib closes by opining that "this is the reason some are accustomed not to leave the knife on the table during the prayers after meals. The table is like an altar and when we worship there, there is no place for the iron of Esav." Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Mishpatim

"...V'aila ha'mishpatim asher tasim lif'nai'hem..." (21:1) "...and these are the ordinances which you shall place before them..." Over forty years ago I studied in the yeshiva of the Gaon haDor Rav Moshe Feinstein z'l. During my second year there, we studied the difficult tractate of Yevamos. This covers the laws pertaining to the responsibilities incumbent upon a man who had a married brother who died childless. During the winter zman. I recall coming across a fascinating passage in one of the commentaries known as the Meiri (Rabbeinu Menachem from the House of Meir, who lived in Spain until the early 1300s). In that passage, he explained a midrash which comments on the famed story of Shlomo HaMelech who was asked to judge and determine who was telling the truth about a small child. In the "Book of Kings" (Melachim I 3:16) we learn of the two women, both of whom had given birth to sons, only one of whom survived. Each woman now claimed that the surviving son was hers. Solomon sat in judgement, and was able to bring out the truth. The episode is well known. The deeper issues involving such a dispute have been the topic of many interpretations. This week, ibn Shu'aib, also of Spain during the same general era, cites the same midrash as the Meiri, and interprets it in similar striking fashion. The midrash says that these two women were actually "yevamos" - women whose husbands had died. Then the midrash says that they were "a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law." First, ibn Shu'aib deduces a compelling reason for the midrash to reveal these hidden details. Then, he works with them: If these women had both lost their husbands yet each one had given birth to a child, regardless of that child's subsequent death, the Torah frees them to remarry as they wish, and there is no longer any mitzvah for them to "have yibum" with their respective brothers-in-law. If so, why did they now have to bring the surviving son before the king to resolve their dispute? What was the issue, other than a matter of who would raise the child? ibn Shu'aib reasons that it must be that the mother-in-law gave birth first. Then, the husband of the daughter-in-law died. This would mean that the new born child of the mother-in-law was the brother of the deceased husband, and thus the brother-in-law of the daughter-in-law. Since the daughter-in-law's late husband had still been alive when his little brother was born and then this man died, his widowed wife now had a brother-in-law to make yibum. The practical problem was that since he was still an infant, the widow would need to wait for him to mature and to grow up, at which time he could perform the mitzvah of yibum and marry her. She would be much older by that time, as well as much older than the man, the brother-in-law, who would marry her through yibum. However, she was meanwhile pregnant. Once she would give birth to a son, even after the death of her husband, she would no longer need yibum, since he late husband would then have had a living descendant. Tragically, however, that woman's child died within 30 days of the birth. That creates a problem in halacha, for which the only solution is for her to get chalitza instead of yibum. Her little brother-in-law would grow up, but not be able to marry her. He would only be able to perform the chalitza ritual to free her to marry someone else. When the widow realized this, she was not keen on waiting single for so many years, only to have to go through a chalitza when the little brother-in-law matured. So, she in essence "kidnapped" him, took her dead child and put him next to her sleeping mother-in-law, then claimed that it was her son who was alive, which would then mean that her late husband had left a viable descendant and she did not require yibum or chalitza. Moreover, the prospective (false) brother-in-law, she reported, was dead. A double dispensation. Solomon suggested that the only way to resolve the overt dispute between the two women was to slice the child in half and share the remains. The real mother, the mother-in-law of the worried daughter-in-law, could not face such a tragic solution and insisted that her daughter-in-law just take the child and allow him to live. However, the daughter-in-law refuses to take him and opts to have him dissected per the king's recommendation. Why was this? Beyond the fact that her reaction revealed to Solomon that she could not be the real mother - for what mother would agree to have her child killed? - ibn Shu'aib suggests that the daughter-in-law could not deal with the thought of living with a child who was in fact the man she was supposed to marry. Her distress at this point led her to the most irrational decision to let him be killed. ibn Shu'aib asks, why didn't she just kill him herself when she first realized that she was going to be stuck, the night that her own child died? That would have freed her of all complications. ibn Shu'aib proposes that she was afraid of being caught, and moreover, murder feels worse to most people than setting someone up to be killed by someone else. And with this interpretation, we see deeper into the Talmudic mind of ibn Shu'aib, talmid of the Rashba. Good Shabbos. D Fox