Terumah 5772

The opening verses of the Parsha discuss the various materials that were to be collected for the construction of the Mishkan. Certainly the true significance of these items is symbolic; in Chassidic works, based on Kabbalistic sources, gold is associated with fear of G-d and silver with love of G-d.

This association, however, leads to some difficulties. For example, the Torah relates that the structure of the Mishkan was comprised of vertical wooden boards covered with gold (Kerashim) supported from below by sockets of pure silver (Adonim). But is it conceivable that love of G-d should function as the base that upholds fear of G-d?

There appears to be a contrary presumption in our classic Torah literature – that fear is the foundation upon which the higher level of love is built. To cite one example, the Ramban (Shemos 20:8) writes that rationale for the well-known ruling that a Positive Commandment supersedes a Negative Commandment (Aseh Doche Lo Taaseh) is that performance of positive commandments is a function of love and thus a higher attainment than fear which underlies the observance of the negative commandments.

Yet, there is an intriguing statement in the Talmud (Sotah 31a) that may resolve the difficulty:

It has been taught: R. Meir says: It is said of Job that he feared G-d, and it is said of Abraham that he feared G-d.  Just as 'fearing G-d' regarding Abraham indicates (fear) from love, so 'fearing G-d' regarding Job indicates (fear) from love.

The Maharal (Nesivos Olam, Nesiv Yiras Hashem, Chapter 1) explains that the highest level of fear of G-d is rooted in love: A person can attain such a deep, profound love of G-d that he is overtaken by the fear of doing something that might damage that precious, intimate relationship. The Maharal further explains that there are certain extremely difficult tasks that one could theoretically refuse to do even for a loved one; yet the person will perform them for fear of losing the relationship. The illustration of this would be the Akeida, which according to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 105b) was a function of Avraham’s loving devotion to G-d, and yet in the Torah it is described as a demonstration of his fear of G-d (Bereishis 22:12).

Thus, the Adonim of silver, representing love, served as the foundation of the Kerashim of gold representing fear.

The above understanding may resolve an additional difficulty.

We know that the contributions for the construction of the Mishkan were voluntary and this is hardly surprising. The initiation of a relationship cannot be coerced. The Mishkan, which symbolizes the “home” that G-d and the Jewish people share, could only be built through the generosity of the nation. Yet there was an exception. The silver for the Adonim – the very foundation of the Mishkan – was raised by the half-shekel tax (See Shemos 30:16) which, of course, was mandatory. How can we account for this anomaly?

It may be that our assumption is mistaken.

The difference between the silver and the other materials is not that the one was coerced and the other was freely given. Undoubtedly, the Jews, who so enthusiastically contributed gold, copper, wood, and other materials, gave their mandatory half-shekel of silver willingly. The difference is that the gift of the other materials expresses individuality and the gift of silver expresses commonality.

The Sfas Emes (Parshas Shekalim 5649) explains that fear of G-d is a function of our intellectual understanding of G-d, His omnipotence, etc. To the extent that everyone’s level of understanding differs, everyone’s level of Yiras Shomayim is different. Love of G-d, however, is a function of the metaphysical reality that our souls are created by G-d, and that, by nature, all things yearn to be unified with their source. Thus, the root of Ahavas Hashem is common to all Jews.

As a consequence, the gift of silver, representing love of G-d, is fixed for all donors. The other gifts, especially those of gold, representing fear, are a function of intellectual understanding of the worthiness of the cause. Those gifts must be structured in a way that allows for individual differences.

Mishpatim 5772

When you lend money to My people, to the poor person with you, you shall not behave toward him as a lender; you shall not impose interest upon him. (Shemos 22:24)

The prohibition of charging interest only applies to loans between Jews; a Jewish lender may take interest from a Gentile borrower. This distinction lends itself to misunderstanding. One could mistakenly assume that the Torah only demands fairness and integrity in dealings with other Jews. Gentiles are fair game for deceit and abuse.

This error has become enshrined in the conventional reading of Shakespeare’s classic play, The Merchant of Venice. Shylock – the Jewish moneylender but not the Merchant of the title – has become a virtual archetype of interfaith treachery and ruthlessness. (Although in fairness, we must admit that this may not have been Shakespeare’s intention; in modern productions of the play, Shylock is often depicted in a sympathetic way.)

The correct understanding of this law is provided by Ramban (Devarim 23:20), who explains that a Jew is obligated to treat non-Jews in accordance with the principles of justice. Theft, deception, and fraud of any kind are prohibited. But there is nothing morally wrong with charging interest. It is simply the cost of money, and those who provide money should have the right to charge for it. Nevertheless, one would not charge a family member for a loan for this is a courtesy that relatives routinely extend one another. Jews are meant to regard one another as family and therefore they must lend money gratis.

This concept is perhaps best expressed by a famous Mishna in Pirkei Avos (3:14):

Beloved is man, for he was created in the Divine image; it is a sign of even greater love that it has been made known to him that he was created in the Divine image…

Beloved are Israel, for they are called children of G-d; it is a sign of even greater love that it has been made known to them that they are called children of G-d…

All human beings are meant to be treated with the dignity due to a being created in the Divine image. But Jews – all being children of G-d – are brothers and that special relationship is expressed in ways that transcend considerations of justice.

One added point: The prohibition of interest is not only a refection of group solidarity but it actually promotes group solidarity.

When capital for investment is provided through the traditional channels of usury (the practice of lending on interest), lenders become enriched at the expense of the true creators of wealth – entrepreneurs and laborers. These lenders have no genuine interest in the success of the enterprises to which they lend except to the extent that their loans are secured; their relationship to the enterprises can even be characterized as parasitic (This is one aspect of the Marxist critique of capitalism.)

A system that proscribes usury compels capitalists to become investors in an enterprise rather than lenders to an enterprise. As a result, they now have a vested interest in the ventures in which they invest. The resulting mutual concern strengthens the fiber of the group and ultimately, the entire nation.

Yisro 5772

The story of Yisro is comprised of two parts. The first tells of Yisro’s arrival at the encampment of B’nai Yisrael and his reception; the second tells of the advice that Yisro gave Moshe, his son-in-law, to appoint subordinate judges, thus sparing him the burden of dealing with the entire nation’s litigation. Whether Yisro’s arrival took place before or after the revelation at Mount Sinai is a matter of dispute (Avoda Zara 24a; Zevachim 116a), but the second part of the story, in which Yisro is prompted to make his suggestion by the sight of Moshe judging from morning to night, must have taken place after the Torah was given; otherwise, on what basis was Moshe doing the judging? (See Rashi Shemos 18:13.)

Yet, this part of the story is also written before the account of the Sinai revelation. Of course, the rule אין מוקדם ומאוחר בתורה – the Torah does not follow a strict timeline – can be applied here, but the rule must be properly understood. It cannot mean that the Torah is in disarray. It must rather mean that the Torah is not in chronological order but rather in thematic order. This leads us to the inescapable conclusion that the story of Yisro’s advice is in some way the thematic introduction to the story of the giving of the Torah. How is this to be understood?

The concept of מתן תורה – the giving of the Torah – is not simply G-d’s sharing His wisdom with us; it is actually the conveyance of a proprietary right. With the giving of the Torah, it became our possession. This can be well illustrated by a famous story recorded in the Gemara (Bava Metziah 59b):

On that day R. Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument, but they did not accept them. Said he to them, “If the halachah agrees with me, let this carob-tree prove it!”  Thereupon the carob-tree was torn a hundred cubits out of its place — others affirm, four hundred cubits. “No proof can be brought from a carob-tree,” they retorted.

Again he said to them: “If the halachah agrees with me, let the stream of water prove it!” Whereupon the stream of water flowed backwards — “No proof can be brought from a stream of water,” they rejoined.

Again he urged: “If the halachah agrees with me, let the walls of the schoolhouse prove it,” whereupon the walls inclined to fall. But R. Joshua rebuked them, saying: “When scholars are engaged in a halachic dispute, what have ye to interfere?” Hence they did not fall, in honour of R. Joshua, nor did they resume the upright, in honour of R. Eliezer; and they are still standing thus inclined.

Again he said to them: “If the halachah agrees with me, let it be proved from Heaven!” Whereupon a Heavenly Voice cried out: “Why do ye dispute with R. Eliezer, seeing that in all matters the halachah agrees with him!” But R. Joshua arose and exclaimed: “It is not in heaven.” What did he mean by this? — Said R. Jeremiah: That the Torah had already been given at Mount Sinai; we pay no attention to a Heavenly Voice, because Thou hast long since written in the Torah at Mount Sinai, “After the majority must one incline.”

R. Nathan met Elijah and asked him: What did the Holy One, Blessed be He, do in that hour? — He laughed saying, “My sons have defeated Me, My sons have defeated Me.”

Upon refection we can understand that this Divine grant of ownership is an absolutely necessary element in the entire scheme of Judaism. As no human being could possibly fathom the inscrutable, impenetrable wisdom of G-d, how could he be expected to comply with the Divine Will? How could we ever have confidence in the correctness of our legal and moral judgments? There are only two possible answers to these questions: Either we would require ongoing access to Divine Revelation and thus be provided with the necessary corrections, or that the Divine Will would be defined by the interpretations of the mortal earthly authorities.

This is the issue which underlies the story of Moshe and Yisro. Moshe initially believed that he would have to be the sole judge of the people; as a prophet with whom G-d communicates, there would be assurances that his judgments are correct. No one could possibly replace him. (But what would happen when Moshe was no longer present?)

Yisro understood the concept which lies at the very basis of the giving of the Torah – it is no longer in heaven and that it was given to man. Thus, even in the lifetime of Moshe, legal issues could be adjudicated by subordinate judges whose rulings would be valid and authoritative. As this principle is the correct understanding of the “Giving of the Torah”, the story in which the concept is revealed is the most appropriate introduction possible to the account of the Sinai revelation.

Beshalach 5772

And Moshe said to Yehoshua, “Choose for us men and go out and battle Amalek…” (Shemos 17:9)

“Choose for us”: For me and for you; Moshe equated Yehoshua to himself. From here the Sages concluded that the honor of your student should be as precious as your own honor. (Rashi)

Needless to say, honoring students is extremely important. But why did the Torah choose to transmit this lesson through the story of the war against Amalek?

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 91b) teaches: If one withholds teaching from his student it is considered as if he robbed him of his ancestors’ legacy. In other words, the Torah that a Rebbe teaches to his student is not a gift which he bestows from his own assets. The Rebbe’s Torah may have been given to him specifically for the sake of the student he is destined to teach; he is merely holding it in trust until the appropriate time. Thus, the failure to transmit is tantamount to an act of theft. This is the rationale of the imperative to honor one’s students. If the Rebbe treats his students lightly for their lack of knowledge, he is making a mistake: His Torah is really theirs!

This has some practical consequences. When a Rebbe contemplates accepting a potential student, he must properly conceptualize the issue. The question is not whether the Rebbe should give Torah to the student as a gift. The question is, rather, are their grounds for denying and withholding this person’s entitlement. When put the first way, the answer may be an emphatic “No”; when put the second way, the answer may be an equally emphatic “Yes”.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 99b) tells an amazing story about the lineage of Amalek: Timna was a royal princess…Desiring to become a proselyte, she went to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but they did not accept her. So she went and became a concubine to Eliphaz the son of Esav, saying, “I would rather be a servant to this people than a mistress of another nation.” From her Amalek who afflicted Israel came. Why so? They should not have rejected her.

This is nothing short of astounding. The hatred of Amalek was a consequence of a mistaken decision on the part of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov regarding the acceptance of a potential convert!

We certainly should not second-guess their decision, but undoubtedly it was a difficult one and perhaps the verdict to deny admission might have been rooted in a failure to see the Torah as the candidate’s entitlement rather than a gift that she was seeking to acquire.

When Moshe and Yehoshua discussed the plans for the war against Amalek, undoubtedly the discussion turned to the root cause of the conflict – the rejection of Timna. Moshe undoubtedly stressed the importance of not withholding Torah from students,the recognition that Torah knowledge is their entitlement, and, as explained above, that this is the very basis of the obligation to honor students. These ideas which Moshe put into action in his choice of words in instructing Yehoshua to muster the army against Amalek were thus especially relevant to that war.