PARASHAT VAYAKHEL - PEKUDEI

By Rav David Silverberg

            Parashat Vayakhel describes Benei Yisrael’s enthusiastic response to Moshe’s call for donations of materials for the Mishkan.  The people donated so generously that the artisans appointed over the project “complained” that they received more materials than were needed, at which point Moshe announced that people should stop bringing donations (36:6).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (96b) establishes an additional level of interpretation, viewing Moshe’s announcement as related to the laws of Shabbat.  Moshe called upon the people to stop donating not only because the necessary materials had already been supplied, but also because it was Shabbat, and the Torah forbids transporting items from one domain to another on Shabbat.  The Gemara thus points to this verse as the Biblical source for the prohibition of hotza’a – carrying objects from one domain to another on Shabbat.

            The question arises as to why a separate inference is necessary for this prohibition.  Generally speaking, Chazal did not search for a Biblical source for each of the thirty-nine categories of melakha (forbidden activity) that apply on Shabbat.  Rather, these categories were established on the basis of an overarching association between Shabbat and the Mishkan, whereby the activities performed during the construction of the Mishkan are viewed as models for the kinds of activity forbidden on Shabbat.  Why, then, did the Gemara find it necessary to identify a specific source for the prohibition of hotza’a?

            Tosefot in the beginning of Masekhet Shabbat (2a) explain by describing hotza’a as a “melakha geru’a” – an “inferior” category of forbidden activity – which requires a separate source.  Apparently, hotza’a differs from the other thirty-eight categories of melakha in that it does not change the item itself.  When a person performs hotza’a, he changes only the object’s location, but not any of its inherent qualities, or even its appearance.  This sets hotza’a fundamentally apart from the other melakhot, which may explain why it is treated differently.

            One might then ask, why is this “inferior” activity forbidden on Shabbat?  Or, to phrase the question differently, does this “inferior” status mean that hotza’a constitutes a distinct category of melakha, one which reflects a fundamentally different theme than the other categories of forbidden activity?

            Rav Zvi Sobolofsky (http://torahweb.org/torah/2005/parsha/rsob_vayakhel.html) suggested that whereas the other melakhot of Shabbat relate to the theme of God as Creator, hotza’a expresses the theme of divine kingship.  With regard to most melakhot, the Torah commands us to withdraw from creative activity, from enhancing and developing the raw materials of the physical earth, in order to remind ourselves that only God is the true Creator.  The prohibition against transporting items, by contrast, relates not to creativity, but rather to subservience.  When Pharaoh appoints Yosef vizier over Egypt, he declares that “No man shall lift his arm or leg without your authority throughout the land of Egypt” (41:44).  One of the hallmarks of royal authority is the ability to restrict the movement of people and their assets.  Thus, hotza’a is the prohibition that establishes Shabbat as a day commemorating divine kingship and expressing our subservience to the Almighty.  Indeed, we recite in the Shabbat prayer service, “Yismechu be-malkhutkha shomerei Shabbat” – “Those who observe Shabbat shall rejoice in Your kingship.”  And in the Shalom Aleikhem hymn sung Shabbat eve, we emphasize that God is “Melekh malkhei ha-melakhim” (“the King over the kings of kings”).  On Shabbat we proclaim not only God’s exclusive role as Creator, but also His exclusive status as King over the universe.  The thirty-eight categories of “creative” melakha serve to express the theme of Creator, while the melakha of hotza’a emphasizes the theme of our subservience to divine kingship.

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            The Torah relates in Parashat Vayakhel that the kiyor, the laver used by the kohanim to wash their hands and feet before entering the Mishkan, was made from copper mirrors (38:8).  Rashi famously comments that the women who donated the mirrors had used them during the period of Egyptian bondage, when many among the nation had despaired and preferred to cease reproducing.  The women would adorn themselves and entice their husbands to intimacy, thereby ensuring the continued growth of Benei Yisrael despite the pain and persecution they endured during this period.  God told Moshe that these mirrors, which represented the nation’s hope in the face of suffering, were the most precious of all materials donated toward the Mishkan.

            Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his Divrei Shaul, suggests that the use of mirrors may have been significant for another reason, as well.  Mirrors, which provide an accurate reflection of one’s appearance, perhaps symbolize the importance of honest self-assessment.  People quite often evaluate their character and conduct partially, with a distinctly favorable bias.  The use of mirrors in the construction of the Mishkan perhaps symbolizes the need for brutal honesty and objectivity in evaluating oneself, a critical prerequisite for spiritual growth.  Just as a mirror presents an accurate, objective reflection of one’s outward appearance, similarly, someone who truly strives to improve must look at his inner “reflection” with accuracy and impartiality, as unsettling and discomfiting as this process could often be.

            Significantly, the mirrors were used specifically for the kiyor, which, as mentioned, was used for washing.  In order to properly cleanse oneself, he must first identify the stains.  While it might be more comforting to overlook one’s shortcomings and focus his attention on his strengths and accomplishments, the process of growth and improvement requires approaching the kiyor and taking a good, hard look at its mirrors – honestly identifying the “soiled” areas of one’s being, and then “cleansing” those areas with the sacred waters.

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            Parashat Vayakhel tells of the construction of the Mishkan, which, as the Gemara already noted, did not follow the sequence in which God had commanded.  A cursory reading of Parashat Teruma reveals that God first presented the instructions concerning the keilim – the various furnishings of the Mishkan – and only then proceeded to outline the guidelines for building the structure of the Mishkan.  (The exception is the mizbach ha-ketoret, which, for reasons discussed by the commentators, is mentioned only at the end of Parashat Tetzaveh.)  In Parashat Vayakhel, however, we read that the artisans of Benei Yisrael first constructed the Mishkan, and only then fashioned the keilim.

            A famous passage in the Gemara (Berakhot 55a) tells that Betzalel, the artisan assigned over the project, intuited this sequence.  Moshe presented to Betzalel the instructions as he had heard them from God – with the commands regarding the keilim preceding those relating to the structure of the Mishkan.  Betzalel then commented to Moshe, “The way of the world is to first make a house and only then place the furnishings inside it.”  Moshe then confirmed that this is indeed what God had told him, and he said to Betzalel, “Were you in the shadow of the Almighty?”

            Clearly, this passage requires explanation on several different levels.  Questions such as the significance of each sequence, and why Betzalel assumed the right to correct Moshe, have vexed numerous writers.  But Rav Yerucham Lebovitz of Mir noted one broader message that undoubtedly emerges from the Gemara’s comments – the importance of sequence and proper timing.  The underlying assumption of this dialogue between Moshe and Betzalel is that the sequence of building mattered; it made a difference whether the building was constructed first or only after the furnishings.  It was clear to Betzalel that this decision was not left to his personal preference, or to considerations of convenience, but rather had to be determined by God.

            What this demonstrates, Rav Yerucham noted, was that when it comes to matters involving kedusha, timing is as important as substance.  He writes:

Here, regarding the Mishkan, what difference, at first glance, would the sequence of its construction make to us?  Whether one thing preceded the other or occurred after it, in the end, the Mishkan would be completed with everything that it needed!  Behold, we see that the concept of sequence was integral to the building and reality of the Mishkan.  An act performed at the improper time has no sanctity at all – similar to a person who lays tefillin at nighttime to make it easier for him the next day; he has performed no mitzva of tefillin.  The mitzva must be performed at the time of its command.

            The Gemara’s discussion here relates to the issue of prioritization, knowing what to do first when confronted with a range of tasks.  Betzalel had numerous exalted missions to fulfill, and had to choose which to address first.  An inherently worthwhile endeavor must at times give way to an even more worthwhile endeavor, and it is not always obvious which undertaking should take precedence.  These decisions require a degree of wisdom, insight and intuition, and for this reason Moshe described Betzalel as residing “in the shadow of the Almighty,” infused with a degree of “Godlike” intuition.  The lesson that emerges is that of careful consideration when building our scale of priorities, to ensure that we not only do the right things – but that we do them in the right sequence, knowing what to do first.

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            The Torah in Parashat Vayakhel tells of Benei Yisrael’s overwhelming response to Moshe’s call for donations of materials for the Mishkan.  We read (35:27-28) that the nesi’im, the tribal leaders, donated the precious stones affixed to the kohen gadol’s garments, as well as the oil (used for the menora and anointing oil) and spices (for the incense).  Rashi cites the famous comment of the Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba12:16) criticizing the nesi’im for their delayed response to the call for donations.  The Midrash relates that the nesi’im did not initially donate, figuring instead that they would provide whatever materials were missing after the people made their donations.  In the end, the people donated all that was needed, with the exception of the precious stones, oils and spices.  Rashi adds that the Torah “penalized” the nesi’im for their delayed response by omitting the letter yod from the word “nesi’im” in this verse.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch noted that this reading may perhaps shed light on the verse that immediately follows the description of the nesi’im’s donation: “Every man and woman whose heart stirred them to bring for all the work that the Lord had commanded…the Israelites brought as a donation to the Lord” (35:29).  The Torah here first speaks of “every man and woman,” but then calls them “the Israelites.”  Rav Hirsch suggested that the Torah perhaps sought to draw a sharp contrast between the sense of national belonging that characterized the masses, and the elitism of the tribal leaders.  While the leaders felt too important to participate in this endeavor together with the rest of the people, the masses – “every man and woman” – joined the effort with a sense of “the Israelites,” recognizing the important role they played as members of Benei Yisrael.

            Interestingly enough, some commentators explain this verse differently, such that the nesi’im did not act wrongly at all.  Ibn Ezra (Peirush Ha-arokh) notes that Benei Yisrael obtained their wealth when they asked the Egyptians for their possessions just prior to the Exodus.  It stands to reason, Ibn Ezra contends, that the people requested possessions in accordance with their stature.  The more prominent members of the nation naturally asked for – and received – more expensive items, and larger quantities.  For this reason, it was the nesi’im who had in their possession the precious stones and spices, and who, even after many months, still had oil.  According to Ibn Ezra, it appears, the nesi’im deserve no criticism for their response; they simply donated the materials that they had and the rest of the nation did not.

            Chizkuni and Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor explain differently, noting that the stones worn by the kohen gadol contained an engraving of the names of the twelve tribes.  The purpose of these stones was to ensure that the kohen gadol would carry the names of the tribes upon him as he ministered in the Mishkan, as a reminder that he served as the nation’s representative.  It was only appropriate that the tribal leaders – representing their respective tribes – would donate these stones, whereby each tribe was represented in the Mishkan.  The oil was used for anointing the nation’s leaders – the kings and kohanim gedolim – and it was thus befitting for it to come from the tribal leaders.  As for the spices for the incense, these commentaries note that incense was the only offering ever brought inside the kodesh ha-kodashim – the innermost sanctum of the Mishkan – and therefore it, too, was donated by the most prominent members of the nation.

            According to this view, then, the nesi’im did not act improperly in their response to the call for donations.  To the contrary, they donated these specific materials in fulfillment of their unique duties as tribal leaders.

            How might we explain the absence of the letter yod from the word nesi’im according to this view?  As mentioned, the Midrash viewed this unusual spelling as indicative of the Torah’s disapproval of their conduct in this context.  Is there any other significance to this spelling, that would accommodate the view that the nesi’im acted properly?

            Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar, suggests that this spelling alludes to the fact that the tribal leaders had not yet been formally assigned to that role.  The people had willingly accepted them as leaders, but they were not appointed by God until Sefer Bamidbar.  Thus, the missing letter yod reflects not any sort of criticism, but rather the simple reality that their stature stemmed from the consent of the people, and not from divine appointment.

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            Toward the beginning of Parashat Pekudei (38:25-27), we read of the half-shekel coins that Benei Yisrael donated toward the Mishkan and which served as the means of counting the people.  These silver coins, the Torah relates, were used mainly for fashioning the adanim, the sockets that formed the foundation of the walls and pillars of the Mishkan.  (The extra silver was used for the hooks and adornments of the pillars.)

            The Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yehuda Amital shelit”a, explained the significance of forming the foundation of the Mishkan specifically from this half-shekel tax.  All the other materials needed for the Mishkan were supplied through voluntary donations, as the Torah emphasizes at length toward the beginning of Parashat Vayakhel.  The half-shekel tax used for the census marks the only compulsory contribution imposed upon Benei Yisrael.  And for good reason, Rav Amital suggested, these mandatory donations went toward the basis and foundation of the entire structure.  This symbolizes the fact that while there is certainly room for creativity and ingenuity in avodat Hashem, the basis of religious observance is subservience, obeying the divine command.  If we serve God strictly on a voluntary basis, how and when we see fit and only when we are so inspired, then we are essentially serving ourselves, not God.  Volunteerism in religious life must come only on top of the adanim, after one has built a firm foundation of unconditional compliance and obedience.

            We might also note the significance of the fact that the Mishkan was built upon a foundation provided by the entire nation.  While other components of the Mishkan stemmed from individual donations, the silver for the adanim came from the joint contribution of all Benei Yisrael.  This perhaps reflects the notion that the presence of the Shekhina among the people depends upon their collective efforts, the joint involvement of all segments and sectors of the population.  As we saw yesterday, tradition teaches that the nesi’im, the twelve tribal leaders, initially did not take part in the donation of materials of the Mishkan.  According to the version in the Midrash Ha-gadol, the nesi’im’s refusal was due to sheer elitism and arrogance:

The nesi’im said to him [Moshe]: We will make the Sanctuary by ourselves, and Israel should not participate in it.  He said to them: But this is not what the Almighty commanded me, but rather, “Speak to the Israelites that they bring Me a donation.”  They [the nesi’im] immediately withdrew and did not participate with the nation.

The nesi’im failed to realize that the project of the Mishkan had to include the entire nation – because God specifically chose to reside among the entire nation.  While undoubtedly some members of the nation will rise above the rest in certain respects, the foundation of the Mishkan, the basis of God’s special relationship with Am Yisrael, depended upon the involvement and participation of each and every member, and could not be restricted to the elite classes.

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            Toward the end of Parashat Pekudei, the Torah tells of the assembly of the Mishkan and the preparation of its various accessories.  In this context (40:31), the Torah reiterates the law requiring the kohanim to wash their hands and feet before entering the Mishkan, a mitzva that was first introduced earlier, in Parashat Ki-Tisa (30:19).  There is, however, one difference between the two instances where this command appears.  In Parashat Ki-Tisa, the Torah writes that “Aharon and his sons” – the kohanim – must wash before entering the Mishkan.  Here, however, in Parashat Pekudei, the verse states, “Moshe, Aharon and his sons shall wash from it [the laver]…”  Curiously, Moshe is now included in the obligation washing before performing the service in the Mishkan.

            Rashi explains that this verse in Parashat Pekudei refers specifically to the eighth and final day of the milu’im – the period of the kohanim’s consecration.  Throughout the first seven days of the milu’im, as we read in Parashat Tetzaveh (chapter 29), Moshe functioned as the kohen, tending to the sacrifices brought by Aharon and his sons for their consecration.  On the eighth day, Rashi comments, Aharon and his sons finally assumed the formal role and status of the priesthood, but Moshe still retained his status as kohen, as well.  Therefore, on that day, all six people – Moshe, Aharon and Aharon’s four sons – were required to wash their hands and feet, and it is to this day that the Torah refers when it includes all of them in the command.

            The Riva (one of the Tosafists), in his commentary, notes that Rashi here appears to contradict his own remarks in his commentary to Masekhet Zevachim (19b), where he writes explicitly that Moshe and Aharon never served as kohanim simultaneously.  Rashi there maintains that Moshe officiated as a kohen only during the first seven days of the milu’im process, and on the eighth day, when Aharon and his sons formally assumed kehuna status, Moshe no longer held this status.  The Riva notes that this issue is likely dependent upon a debate among the Tanna’im recorded later in Masekhet Zevachim (102a), as to whether or not Moshe retained his status as kohen after the milu’im period.

            According to the view that Moshe did not function as kohen on the eighth day, why does the Torah describe the kiyor (laver) as serving “Moshe, Aharon and his sons,” if they never used it simultaneously?

            One simple solution, perhaps, would be to suggest that the verse here refers to different periods.  Moshe was required to wash during the seven days of the milu’im, when he served as a kohen, and Aharon and his descendants bore this obligation subsequently, once they assumed the formal status of kehuna.  Rav Menachem Kasher (Torah Sheleima to this verse) cites this interpretation from Rabbenu Meyuchas and Rabbenu Avraham ben Ha-Rambam.

            Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar, suggests a different approach, claiming that Moshe had to wash his hands and feet even after the seven days of the milu’im because he would enter the Mishkan to speak with God (see Bamidbar 7:89).  According to Netziv, washing was required before entering the Mishkan even if one did not enter for the purpose of performing the avoda (ritual service in the Mishkan).  Therefore, the obligation to wash applied to Moshe regardless of his status as kohen, since he in any event had to occasionally enter the Mishkan to receive prophecy.

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            The Tanchuma Yashan (Parashat Pekudei, cited in Torah Sheleima, chapter 39, note 26) presents the following account of the events that transpired after Benei Yisrael completed the construction of the Mishkan:

Once the Almighty told him [Moshe] to erect the Mishkan, he began laughing at them [the cynics who doubted him]… He said to them, “Bring [the parts of the Mishkan], so we can erect the Mishkan.”  Each one began carrying and bringing to him.  There were numerous wise people there but they could not erect the Mishkan.  King Shelomo said, “Many women have achieved [but you have surpassed them all]” (Mishlei 31:29).  Why?  Because they made the Mishkan but did not know how to put it together.  Each one took his work and went to Moshe.  Each one said, “Here is my clasp, here is my plank, here is my beam.”  The Shekhina rested upon Moshe and he erected the Mishkan.

            The Midrash makes these comments in reference to the verses in Parashat Pekudei (39:33-41) that describe, in laborious detail, how the people brought to Moshe each part of the Mishkan and each accessory.  The Torah makes a point of mentioning each article by name, rather than simply stating that Benei Yisrael brought the finished products to Moshe.

            While the Midrash’s comments are not entirely clear, it appears that they are intended to explain the detailed manner in which the Torah describes this scene.  “There were numerous wise people” among the nation, who succeeded in fashioning the various articles of the Mishkan with skill in precise compliance with God’s commands.  They were each very skilled in their particular areas of expertise, and produced the articles just as God had instructed.  These people were indeed talented, dedicated and accomplished artisans – but only in the specific roles that they filled.

            Only Moshe, however, succeeded in assembling all the different parts into a final product.  The Midrash viewed the Torah’s elaborate list as intended to underscore the difference between the skilled artisans and Moshe.  They were talented in their narrow fields of expertise, but Moshe had the broad wisdom to put all the pieces together. Moshe “surpassed them all” because he had broad, overarching knowledge, wisdom and perspective.  The artisans understood the clasps, planks or beams, but Moshe understood the overall edifice of the Mishkan.

            Jewish life, like the Mishkan, consists of many different components – many different laws and values.  Naturally, and by necessity, we each focus on specific areas in which we try to excel.  This Midrash perhaps urges us to be mindful as well of the “Mishkan” as a whole, the general flavor and aura of Torah life.  Our focus on the individual trees should never diminish from our appreciation for the forest.  Even while we exert ourselves in certain limited areas, we must maintain a broader perspective on what Torah life is and what it means to live as an eved Hashem.