The Israel Koschitzky
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PARASHAT
VAYAKHEL
Rav David
Silverberg
In Parashat Vayakhel the Torah describes the construction of the
Mishkan, including the yeri'ot, or cloths that were draped over the wooden
structure and formed the actual tent of the Mishkan.
The Torah lists the materials used in weaving the yeri'ot, and then describes the cloths
as "keruvim ma'aseh chosheiv" – "a woven design of cherubs" (36:8). This means that decorative designs of
keruvim were woven into each cloth of the Mishkan. The yeri'ot resembled in this
regard the parokhet, the cloth partition that separated between the two
chambers of the Mishkan, which the Torah describes as "ma'aseh
chosheiv…keruvim" (36:35). It,
too, featured designs of keruvim woven into its
fabric.
As the Meshekh Chokhma noted, however, the Torah employs different sentence structures in regard to the yeri'ot and the parokhet. Whereas the yeri'ot are described as keruvim ma'aseh chosheiv, when it comes to the parokhet the Torah reverses the terms – ma'aseh chosheiv…keruvim.
The Meshekh Chokhma explained this discrepancy as reflecting two
different functions served by the keruvim designs in the two contexts. The designs on the yeri'ot served a purely decorative purpose, to
adorn the cloths and thus enhance the appearance of the Mishkan generally. The keruvim designs on the parokhet, by contrast, served a halakhic
purpose. We find later in the Torah
two rituals that required sprinkling of sacrificial blood on the parokhet.
The first is the sacrifice known as the par he'elam davar shel tzibur – the bull offered to atone for a
nationwide transgression caused by a mistaken ruling issued by the High Court:
"The kohen shall dip his finger in some of the blood and sprinkle
seven times before the Lord, towards the parokhet" (Vayikra 4:17). Later, in the Torah's description of the
Yom Kippur service, we similarly read, "He [the kohen gadol] shall take from the blood of the bull and
sprinkle with his finger toward the
How did the kohen identify the spot? The parokhet obstructed his view into the inner chamber, so how did he know where to sprinkle the blood?
The Meshekh Chokhma explains that this was precisely the function
of the keruvim designs woven into the parokhet.
The designs of the two keruvim on the parokhet corresponded
precisely with the location of the two actual keruvim atop the
Aron. These designs enabled the kohen to determine the spot of bein ha-badim and he thereby determined where to sprinkle
the blood. The Meshekh Chokhma adds that the parokhet in the Beit Ha-mikdash
(as opposed to the parokhet in the Mishkan) did not feature these designs
of keruvim.
For this reason, as the Gemara tells in Masekhet Yoma (54a), the
For this reason, the Meshekh
Chokhma claimed, the Torah employs different formulations in describing the
designs on the yeri'ot and on the parokhet, to indicate that they served different
functions in each case.
(The Meshekh
Chokhma does not explain how the
different sentence structures – "keruvim ma'aseh chosheiv" and "ma'aseh chosheiv…keruvim" – allude to
the different functions served by the designs. Rav Yehuda Kuperman, in his annotation
to the Meshekh Chokhma, suggests that the underlying assumption of this
analysis is that the final word of the clause is the term the Torah wishes to
emphasize. Thus, with respect to
the yeri'ot, the Torah first writes "keruvim" followed by the term "ma'aseh chosheiv" – "skillfully woven" - to emphasize the
decorative quality. With regard to
the parokhet, however, the Torah emphasizes the word
"keruvim," as the critical factor is not the
adornment of the parokhet, but rather the images of the keruvim that corresponded to the actual
keruvim atop the
******
Parashat Vayakhel begins with Moshe's restatement of the command to
observe Shabbat, emphasizing in particular the prohibition against kindling a
flame on Shabbat ("Lo teva'aru eish be-khol moshevoteikhem be-yom
ha-Shabbat" – 35:3). The Gemara (Shabbat 70a), as Rashi
cites, addressed the question of why the Torah found it necessary to single out
one of the thirty-nine categories of forbidden activity on Shabbat. One view (hav'ara le-lav yatzat) maintained that the Torah here assigns a
lower status, of sorts, to kindling, relegating it to the level of a standard
Torah prohibition (which is punishable by lashes), whereas the other
thirty-eight categories are capital crimes. A second view (hav'ara le-chaleik yatzat) contends that by singling out one of the
thirty-nine forbidden categories, the Torah instructs that they are all treated
as independent transgressions.
Thus, one is liable for Shabbat desecration when he transgresses even one
of these categories; one would have otherwise concluded that liability depends
on the violation of all thirty-nine melakhot.
Ibn Ezra, both in his Peirush Ha-katzar and Peirush Ha-arokh (see also Chizkuni and Ramban), suggests a different explanation for the Torah's specific designation of kindling, on the level of peshuto shel mikra (the straightforward reading of the text). Earlier in Sefer Shemot (12:16), amidst the Torah's discussion of the laws of Pesach, it mentioned that although melakha is forbidden on Yom Tov, an exception is made for food preparation; it is permissible to perform melakha necessary for preparing food for the holiday. Moshe therefore found it necessary to emphasize to the people that Shabbat differs from Yom Tov in this regard, that although cooking is permissible on Yom Tov, it remains forbidden on Shabbat.
This basic distinction between Shabbat and Yom Tov likely reflects a fundamental difference in the purpose underlying the melakha prohibition on these occasions. On Yom Tov, the Torah forbids melakha in order to ensure that we spend the day focused on the celebration of the festive occasion. Naturally, then, food preparation, which is necessary for the celebration, is permissible. On Shabbat, however, melakha is proscribed because by the essence of Shabbat is a sense of completion, the feeling that nothing else needs to be done. The Torah does not allow preparing food even for the Shabbat meals because this would undermine one of the essential themes of Shabbat – the theme of the world's completion. During the week we must exert effort and toil in order to sustain ourselves, but on Shabbat we are bidden to recall the primordial Shabbat, when after the six days of preparation everything was completed and prepared for Adam and Chava. Before the sin of the forbidden fruit, which resulted in the decree "By the sweat of your brow shall you eat bread," everything was prepared and ready for man. It was only due to Adam's failing that the earth was cursed and the rigors of the workweek became necessary. Thus, on Shabbat we remind ourselves that God created the world in a state of perfection, with everything prepared for us, and it was man's wrongdoing that required that we exert ourselves in securing a livelihood.
This theme of Shabbat perhaps relates to the Mishkan, as well, the context in which Moshe speaks here in Parashat Vayakhel. The concept of a Mishkan also became necessary only as a result of Adam's sin. In Gan Eden, the relationship between God and man was natural and constant; only after man's banishment from the garden was he distanced from the presence of God, to which Benei Yisrael seek to draw near through the medium of the Mishkan. On Shabbat Benei Yisrael were to pause from the construction of the Mishkan to remind themselves that there was a time when a formal building designated for communion with the Almighty was not necessary. Shabbat reflects the perfect world that once existed, and to which we still long to return, where all man's material and spiritual needs are readily available, without the toil and exertion that both areas of life require outside Gan Eden.
******
In Parashat Vayakhel we read of the construction of the Mishkan, which began with the building of the actual structure, which was then followed by the fashioning of the keilim – the various appurtenances such as the altars and the menora. Earlier, however, in Parashat Teruma, where the Torah records God's command to build the Mishkan, the sequence is reversed. He first instructs building the keilim, and then issued the command to build the structure in which the keilim would be placed.
The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (55a) tells that this discrepancy formed the basis of a curious dialogue between Moshe and Betzalel, the individual chosen to lead the construction of the Mishkan. Initially, the Gemara relates, Moshe conveyed to Betzalel the instructions as they appear in Parashat Teruma, namely, that the keilim should be prepared before the actual Mishkan. Betzalel then noted that it is customary to first construct the building before the furnishings; otherwise, there is nowhere to store the furnishings in the interim, while the building is being built. Betzalel then asked if perhaps God had in fact told Moshe the opposite – that the Mishkan should be built before its appurtenances.
Moshe responded to Betzalel's objection by asking, "Perhaps you were in
'the shadow of the Almighty,' that you know this?"
What great wisdom and insight did Betzalel display by intuiting that God
had in fact commanded building the structure of the Mishkan before building the keilim?
The Meshekh Chokhma explains that Betzalel here expressed
the notion that the sanctity of the Mishkan in its totality exceeded that
of any of its individual parts. In
Parashat Teruma, the Torah arranges its instructions according to the respective
levels of sanctity of each individual feature of the Mishkan. It thus begins with the Aron,
which was situated in the most sacred chamber, followed by the shulchan
and menora, which were located in the exterior chamber. The Torah then proceeded to describe the
structure of the tent and the courtyard, which possessed a lower level of
sanctity. (The jarring exception to
this pattern is the incense altar, which the Torah does not describe until after
presenting the other features of the Mishkan.)
This sequence follows the individual level of sanctity possessed by each
component of the Mishkan.
Betzalel, however, focused his attention on the sanctity of the final product. When assessed in its totality, the Mishkan possesses a degree of kedusha that far exceeds that of any individual component. As the place where Benei Yisrael assemble to serve God, it as a building is holier than any other site. Betzalel therefore insisted on first constructing the building, before the keilim, in order to emphasize the unparalleled kedusha of the final product, that exceeded that of any single element.
The Meshekh Chokhma cites in this context a different comment made by the Gemara there in Masekhet Berakhot, "Betzalel knew how to combine the letters with which heaven and earth were created." This statement, too, reflects Betzalel awareness of the unique greatness of the finished product, which exceeds that of any individual components. We read in Parashat Bereishit that after each stage of creation, God saw the result and deemed the given creation "good." Upon completing the entire process, however, God saw that the earth was "very good" (Bereishit 1:31). Betzalel understood that "letters" need to be "combined," to lose their individual identities for the sake of contributing to something far greater, which can emerge only through the merging of many different components into an aggregate whole.
The significance of this notion perhaps relates to the importance of
combining the many different values and precepts of the Torah into an integrated
religious lifestyle. The Torah
contains many laws, ideals and values, some of which may in fact assume greater
importance than others – just as the Aron was of a greater level of
sanctity than the other components of the Mishkan.
However, an integrated life of avodat Hashem which incorporates all the Torah's values
together produces something far greater than exclusive commitment to even the
highest and most important of those values. Even though there indeed exists a scale
indicating the various levels of individual importance of the ideals championed
by the Torah, the overarching ideal is to incorporate them all together into a
single, integrated whole.
******
We read in Parashat Vayakhel of Benei Yisrael's exuberant response
to the request for materials for the construction of the Mishkan.
The people donated so generously, the Torah tells, that the artisans
reported to Moshe that the donations exceeded the amount needed. Moshe thus announced that no more
materials should be brought for the Mishkan.
One might wonder why Moshe chose to instruct the people not to continue
bringing materials. If the nation
truly desired to donate goods for the Mishkan, then why didn't Moshe and artisans
consider building a more elaborate structure, or additional ornaments? Presumably, Betzalel and his team of
artisans could have designed on their own special furnishings and accoutrements
to adorn the Mishkan and the surrounding courtyard. Why was this not done? Why did they not capitalize on the
people's generous response to the appeal by enhancing the Mishkan beyond the specifications given by
God?
Instinctively, we might suggest that adding onto the contours of the
Mishkan would have undermined one of its primary
purposes. Rashi, in a number of
places, writes that the Mishkan served to atone for the sin of the
golden calf. The calf signified a
misguided attempt at religious initiative and innovation, to achieve
spirituality through one's own independent, creative thinking, rather than
through strict obedience to God.
Both the Mishkan and the
golden calf were physical images intended as a medium to foster the people's
relationship with God, but whereas the former was commanded by God Himself, the
latter was the product of the people's own intuition and creativity. Throughout the narrative of the
construction of the Mishkan in Parshiyot Vayakhel-Pekudei, the Torah
repeatedly emphasizes that this project was executed "as the Lord had commanded
Moshe," and thus successfully rectified the flaw that led to the golden
calf. The people internalized the
message that the quest for spirituality must be conducted "as the Lord
commanded," in strict accordance with the Almighty's instructions, and not on
the basis of personal feeling and intuition.
For this reason, perhaps, the artisans did not consider using the extra
materials for additional adornments or enhancements of the
Mishkan. They
understood that the Mishkan could serve to atone for the sin of the
calf only if it was constructed precisely as God commanded Moshe, without any
creative innovations on the part of the people.
Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks, in his work Menachem Tziyon, suggested a different reason for why no additional furnishings were made with the excess materials. He noted that unlike the Mishkan, the Beit Ha-mikdash was indeed a lavishly decorated building that was larger and more elaborate than strictly required. The difference, Rav Zaks claimed, stems from the simple fact that the Mishkan – unlike the permanent Mikdash – had to be transported. Additional furnishings would have added to the work required of the Leviyim who were responsible for dismantling, carrying and reassembling the Mishkan before, during and after travel. It is certainly admirable to accept upon oneself additional, voluntary measures beyond his strict obligations – but not at the expense of somebody else. Even if, intrinsically, additional decorative furnishings would have indeed enhanced the Mishkan, the artisans refused to initiate such projects as this would have intensified the burden of the Leviyim. They therefore declined the extra donations and appealed to Moshe to order that the people stop bringing materials.
******
Towards the end of Parashat Vayakhel the Torah tells of the construction
of the kiyor – the laver used by the kohanim for washing before
entering the Mishkan (38:8).
We read that the kiyor was made from brass mirrors donated by the
"tzov'ot," a term which Rashi explains as a reference to the women
credited with Benei Yisrael's rapid propagation in
Interestingly, however, later in the Midrash Tanchuma
(Parashat Pekudei, 9), we find a similar comment, though with one significant
difference. In this context, the
Midrash focuses not on the kiyor's function as part of the sota
ritual, but rather on its more frequent role, in providing the water for the
daily washing of the kohanim: "The Almighty said to Moshe: …These mirrors
are what established all these multitudes in Egypt. Take them and make from them a laver and
its base for the kohanim, from which the kohanim will wash…"
Wherein lies the connection between these mirrors and the obligation of kiddush yadayim ve-raglayim – the kohanim's washing of their hands and feet before performing the service in the Mishkan? Why, according to this passage, did God designate the mirrors specifically for the purpose of the kohanim's washing?
The answer, as suggested by Rav Yekutiel Hoffman in an article in the journal Hadarom (vol. 57), likely relates to the symbolic meaning of the kiyor, which expresses the theme of outward physical appearance. Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch develops this theme as it relates to mirrors in his Torah commentary:
Mirrors are articles which lay stress on the physical bodily appearance of people being an object of special consideration. So that it was shown that the physical sensual side of human beings is not merely not excluded from the sphere which is to be sanctified by the Mikdash, but that it is the first and most essential object of this sanctification. After all, at rock bottom, as Man has complete free will in moral matters, it is just this side of human nature which is necessary to come under the influence of the Mikdash, if the sanctification of life which is aimed it, is to be achieved.
The kohanim's washing of the hands, according to Rav Hirsch, represents "the moral keeping holy of one's acts and efforts"; the cleanliness of hands and feet symbolizes the moral purity required in all of a person's pursuits and areas of involvement. The introduction of mirrors in this context points to the fact that this purity extends even to areas of sensuality, and that, moreover, this realm is "the first and most essential object of this sanctification." A person "cleanses" himself by adhering to the Torah's guidelines in each and every area of his life, including those areas which at first glance appear to be outside the framework and reach of religious obligation.
******
Earlier this week, we discussed Moshe's announcement to the people asking them not to donate further materials for the Mishkan, as more than sufficient materials had already been provided. We addressed the question of why Moshe chose not to accept additional materials and use them for further adornments and enhancements of the Mishkan, and we raised two possible explanations.
Another approach appears in Rav Moshe Feinstein's Derash Moshe. Rav Moshe suggested that this decision was perhaps intended to convey the message that one can utilize his assets and wealth for the honor of God even without donating it directly to the Mishkan. He writes:
Even that which each person keeps for himself can be used for the honor of Heaven and the will of God, by realizing that it has been given by God which one should utilized and through which one should be glorified for the honor of Heaven…and in everything one must perform the will of God, and not only in the construction of the Temple and the like, which are things that are understood by and known to all.
Had Moshe
allowed the people to donate as many materials as they wished towards the Mishkan, they may have reached the erroneous
conclusion that the only way to "sanctify" one's possessions, to fulfill the
dictum of "Kabed et Hashem mei-honekha" ("Give honor to the Lord
from your wealth" – Mishlei 3:9), is by donating funds to sacred
institutions. Moshe sought to teach
the people that this is incorrect, that in truth, the way one conducts himself
and his assets in all respects, can be a reflection of Godliness and
holiness. If a person's wealth is
used to lend honor and dignity to his life of avodat Hashem, and to
enable him to devote his time and energies to the study and practice of the
Torah, then this, too, facilitates the "sanctification" of his wealth. Moshe therefore urged the people to
refrain from bringing further materials, in order to impress upon them the
importance of using one's assets in the service of the Almighty beyond the
obvious need to contribute towards important causes such as the Mishkan.
******
In the opening verses of Parashat Vayakhel, we read Moshe's exhortation to Benei Yisrael to observe Shabbat, which he concludes by specifying the prohibition of hav'ara – kindling a flame (35:3). Rashi cites two views from the Gemara (Shabbat 70a) in explaining the significance and implication of this mention of hav'ara. According to Rabbi Yossi, the Torah here relegates hav'ara to a lower status of prohibition, whereby its violators are liable to malkot (lashes), rather than capital punishment. For whatever reason, the Torah chose to treat kindling differently from the other categories of forbidden activity on Shabbat, by assigning to it the standard punishment for Torah violations, as opposed to capital punishment. Rabbi Natan, by contrast, maintains that the Torah singled out hav'ara simply to introduce the concept of chiluk melakhot, meaning, that the thirty-nine melakhot (categories of forbidden activity on Shabbat) are to be looked upon as separate Torah violations. Thus, for example, if a person mistakenly thought it was a weekday and performed ten different melakhot, upon realizing his mistake he must bring ten sin-offerings. Since we treat each melakha as a separate prohibition, this individual has committed ten forbidden acts, for which he is required to bring ten separate offerings. By singling out one of the thirty-nine categories, the Torah indicates that they are to be treated as separate prohibitions.
The Gemara there notes that Rabbi Yossi, too, accepts the notion of
chiluk melakhot. Even though
he interprets the verse in Parashat Vayakhel as relegating hav'ara to a
lower status, rather than establishing chiluk melakhot, he nevertheless
subscribes to the principle of chiluk melakhot, only on the basis of a
different verse. In Sefer Vayikra
(4:2), in the context of the obligation to bring a sin-offering for inadvertent
violations, the Torah describes a case of a person who mistakenly committed
"achat mei-heina" ("one of these" – referring to prohibitions for which
one is liable to karet).
Rabbi Yossi understands this phrase as alluding to the fact that at times
a person must bring "one" sin-offering, whereas in other cases he must bring
"these" – several sin-offerings.
Meaning, in the case of a mistake made concerning Shabbat, a person may
be required to bring multiple sin-offerings, despite violating only the single
prohibition of Shabbat, if he committed several different melakhot.
Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Gevurot Yitzchak, comments that although both Rabbi Yossi
and Rabbi Natan agree on the notion of chiluk melakhot, they disagree with regard to its precise
definition. Rabbi Natan presents
his view with the expression le-chaleik – "to distinguish" – indicating that the
Torah here in fact mandates viewing the thirty-nine melakhot as separate prohibitions. Rabbi Yossi, however, extracts this
principle from a verse alluding to the possibility of multiple sin-offerings
being required for a single violation.
It would appear that in his view, the thirty-nine categories of forbidden
activity are in fact viewed as simply different manifestations of a single Torah
prohibition – desecrating Shabbat – but the Torah nevertheless requires
individual sin-offerings for each.
Thus, whereas Rabbi Natan looks upon the thirty-nine melakhot as independent Torah prohibitions, Rabbi
Yossi sees them as comprising a single prohibition – even though both agree that
one must bring a separate sin-offering for every melakha inadvertently
performed.
The practical ramification of this issue, Rav Sorotzkin writes, relates
to hatra'a – the warning that witnesses must convey to the
perpetrator before the act in order for him to be liable to punishment. As a rule, the witnesses must inform the
perpetrator precisely in which of the Torah's laws he will be in violation by
committing the act in question.
When it comes to Shabbat violations, then, the debate between Rabbi Yossi
and Rabbi Natan becomes critically important insofar as hatra'a is
concerned. According to Rabbi
Natan, as we saw, the thirty-nine melakhot constitute independent Torah
violations, and therefore the witnesses must specify the precise category of
forbidden activity for which the perpetrator will be liable. Rabbi Yossi, by contrast, maintains that
the melakhot are simply different forms of a single
prohibition. In his view, then, it
suffices for the witnesses to alert the prospective violator that he will be
violating the general prohibition against melakha on Shabbat, without specifying the specific
category of forbidden activity.
Indeed, the Gemara later in Masekhet Shabbat (138a) raises the question
of how the witnesses must warn a prospective violator who prepares to perform an
act of meshamer – pouring sediment through a filter – on
Shabbat. One view classifies this
act under the prohibition of borer (separating) whereas another claims that it
violates meraked (sifting). Clearly, the underlying the assumption
of the Gemara is that the witnesses must specify in their warning which of the
thirty-nine melakhot the violator will transgress if he commits
the act. The Tosefot Rid, commenting on this Gemara, explains that
the Gemara here works within the view of Rabbi Natan – which is accepted as the
final Halakha – that the Torah in Parashat Vayakhel
singles out hav'ara to establish the concept of chiluk melakhot. Once we assume Rabbi Natan's position,
we must also assume that witness' warnings to a prospective violator must
specify the particular melakha
entailed. Hence, the Gemara
questioned which melakha they must mention when issuing a warning in
a case of meshamer.