S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT VAYAKHEL-PEKUDEI

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            The opening verses of Parashat Vayakhel tell that Moshe assembled Benei Yisrael to instruct them with regard to the Mishkan, and he introduced these instructions with the command to observe Shabbat.  Rashi famously comments, “He first issued to them a warning about Shabbat before the command of the work for the Mishkan to teach that it does not override Shabbat.”  Moshe began his presentation with the mitzva of Shabbat to indicate that notwithstanding the importance of constructing a Mishkan, this project does not override the restrictions of Shabbat.

            A number of writers (including Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi) raised the question of why it was necessary for Moshe to specify the suspension of the Mishkan’s construction on Shabbat.  A famous halakhic principle establishes that although generally a mitzvat asei (affirmative Biblical command) is performed even if this entails violating a mitzvat lo ta’aseh (a Biblical prohibition), a mitzvat asei cannot override a prohibition that consists of both a mitzvat asei and a mitzvat lo ta’aseh.  Shabbat observance is a precept that entails both an affirmative command – to observe Shabbat – as well as a prohibition against committing acts of Shabbat desecration.  Accordingly, no mitzvat asei could override the Shabbat prohibitions (unless the Torah indicates otherwise, as in the case of circumcision and certain sacrifices).  The question thus arises as to why Moshe had to remind the people that the command to construct a Sanctuary must give way each week to the mitzva of Shabbat observance.

            One explanation that has been suggested notes a basic difference between the mitzva of building a Mikdash and ordinary affirmative commands.  The Sefer Ha-chinukh (asei 95) writes in describing this mitzva, “This is among the commands which are not cast upon the individual, but rather on the nation as a whole.”  Benei Yisrael bear this obligation collectively; there is no personal obligation on any individual to construct a Mikdash.  Conceivably, a collective, national mitzva is accorded greater halakhic weight than personal obligations.  Hence, there may have been reason to entertain the possibility that the mitzva to construct a Sanctuary would override the Shabbat prohibitions, despite the fact that Shabbat entails both a mitzvat asei and a mitzvat lo ta’aseh.  For this reason, perhaps, Moshe found it necessary to clarify that the work on the Mishkan must be discontinued on Shabbat.

            If so, then we might wonder why, in fact, the Mishkan’s construction did not override the Shabbat restrictions.  On the one hand, we might explain that our initial assumption, that collective obligations are given greater halakhic weight than personal mitzvot, is mistaken.  In truth, we could claim, all mitzvot asei are treated equally, regardless of whether they are cast upon individuals or upon the nation as a whole.  Alternatively, we might explain that Halakha does, in fact, treat collective mitzvot asei differently from personal mitzvot, but for some unknown reason, the Torah made an exception in the case of building the Mishkan on Shabbat.

            Some have inferred from a passage in Masekhet Yevamot (5b) that collective mitzvot are not given greater weight than other commands.  The Gemara there searches for a Biblical source establishing the rule of asei docheh lo ta’aseh – that an affirmative command overrides a prohibition.  After finding a source, the Gemara turns its attention to finding a source for the power of a mitzvat asei to override a prohibition for which one is liable to karet (eternal excision).  At one point, the Gemara considers inferring this halakha from the mitzva of the daily tamid sacrifice, which was offered even on Shabbat, despite the fact that this entailed slaughtering and skinning the animal.  The punishment for violating Shabbat is karet, and yet the mitzva of offering the tamid sacrifice overrides the Shabbat laws, perhaps establishing a general precedent enabling a mitzvat asei to override even karet prohibitions.  The Gemara then refutes this proof, noting that the mitzva of tamid is perhaps unique, in that it was observed even before Matan Torah (as Benei Yisrael encamped at the foot of Mount Sinai).

It is perhaps significant that the Gemara did not refute this proof on the basis of the fact that the tamid sacrifice constitutes a collective obligation upon the entire nation, rather than an individual obligation.  Seemingly, the Gemara accepted the possibility of establishing a general rule applicable to all mitzvot asei on the basis of a precedent established by a collective mitzvat asei.  This might indicate that the Gemara drew no distinction between the different types of mitzvot asei in this regard, and a collective obligation is not given greater weight in determining whether it can override a Torah prohibition.

Sunday

            In outlining to Benei Yisrael the various furnishings and accessories that they must construct for the Mishkan, as we read in Parashat Vayakhel, Moshe describes the parokhet (partition curtain) as “parokhet ha-masakh” (35:12).  The term “masakh” refers to the parokhet’s role as a cover, concealing the ark from view.  The parokhet was hung in between the two chambers of the Mishkan – the kodesh, which contained the table, menorah and incense altar, and the kodesh ha-kodashim, which contained the ark.  It thus served as a “masakh” (“screen”) concealing the ark from view.  Likewise, when God instructs Moshe to set up the Mishkan, He commands him to place the ark inside the inner chamber, and then adds, “and you shall cover over the ark [with] the parokhet” (40:3).

            Rav Binyamin Sorotzkin, in his Nachalat Binyamin, noted that in truth, the parokhet served two functions.  Here in Parashat Vayakhel, as discussed, the Torah focuses on the curtain’s role of concealing the ark.  But earlier, in Parashat Teruma, God instructs that that “the parokhet shall divide for you between the kodesh and the kodesh ha-kodashim” (26:33).  The curtain thus served as both a covering for the ark and a partition.  It concealed the aron, and also served to demarcate the dividing line between the two chambers in the Mishkan.

            In this context, Rav Sorotzkin addresses the Rambam’s seemingly puzzling comments in the fourth chapter of Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira (halakha 2).  The Rambam begins this passage by noting that in the first Beit Ha-mikdash, there was a kotel (wall) – as opposed to a curtain – that separated between the kodesh and the kodesh ha-kodashim.  He then proceeds to relate that in the second Mikdash, two curtains hung in between the two chambers, as opposed to the First Temple, in which “there was only a single parokhet.”  Whereas in the beginning of this passage the Rambam speaks of a wall that divided between the two chambers in the First Temple, in the final passage he speaks of a parokhet, a curtain.

            The Kesef Mishneh commentary suggests that in the final clause, when the Rambam mentions the phrase “Mikdash rishon” (“First Temple”), he actually refers to the Mishkan.  In the First Temple built in Jerusalem, there was indeed, a wall, not a curtain, that divided between the two chambers.  But when the Rambam speaks of the parokhet that was hung in the “Mikdash rishon,” he is referring to the Mishkan that preceded the First Temple.

            However, as Rav Sorotzkin notes, a much simpler explanation emerges from a comment made by the Rambam himself elsewhere in his writings.  In his commentary to the Mishna in Masekhet Middot (4:7) the Rambam writes that in the First Temple, a parokhet hung over the entranceway that led from the kodesh to the kodesh ha-kodashim.  Meaning, there was an opening in the dividing wall through which the kohen gadol would walk when he went to officiate in the kodesh ha-kodashim on Yom Kippur, and that opening was covered by a curtain.  This easily explains why in Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira the Rambam mentions both a kotel and a parokhet.  A kotel ran along most of the partition line between the two chambers, but there was a space through which the kohen gadol could walk from one chamber to the other.  This space was covered by the parokhet.

            It thus emerges that in the First Temple, the parokhet served only one of its two functions.  The role of dividing between the two chambers was filled by the dividing wall, and the parokhet was necessary only to conceal the ark from view.  Since the partition wall could not extend along the entire dividing line between the two chambers, as the kohen gadol needed to enter the inner chamber on Yom Kippur, the parokhet was needed to serve the role of “masakh,” to conceal the ark from view.

Monday

            The opening verse of Parashat Vayakhel tells of the national assembly that Moshe convened, during which he conveyed to the people the mitzva of Shabbat and the instructions regarding the construction of the Mishkan.  Rashi, commenting to this verse, writes that this assembly took place on the day after Yom Kippur, when Moshe descended from Mount Sinai for the final time after securing God’s forgiveness on behalf of the people.  It was at this point, Rashi writes, that Moshe assembled the people to convey to them the instructions regarding the Mishkan.

            The Keli Yakar notes that Rashi’s comments here bring to mind his comments earlier in Sefer Shemot, in Parashat Yitro (18:13).  There the Torah tells that Moshe spent the day presiding over the nation’s legal cases, until his father-in-law recommended that he instead establish a network of judges.  Rashi comments that this incident took place on the day after Yom Kippur – the same day when Moshe sat to present the people the instructions regarding the Mishkan.

            The Keli Yakar suggests that these two activities – resolving legal disputes and issuing the command to build a Mishkan – are very closely related.  For one thing, the Keli Yakar writes, rightful ownership had to be established before the treasurers could begin accepting donations of materials for the Mishkan.  The sacred structure could not possibly be built through the means of corruption or dishonesty.  Any materials donated for this purpose had to be from “clean money,” legally obtained and owned by the donors.  It was therefore necessary for Moshe to resolve all outstanding legal disputes before the process of donating materials could begin.  But more generally, the Keli Yakar adds, the goal of bringing the divine presence into the Israelite camp required the peaceful resolution of all outstanding conflicts.  Moshe’s legal work was necessary not merely to determine the ownership of property, but also to eliminate ill-will and resentment.  He sat with the people to help them iron out their conflicts and restore peaceful relations among family members, neighbors and friends.  Moshe’s tireless efforts to resolve conflicts served to “clear the air” to allow for the aura of sanctity that would prevail with the construction of the Mishkan.

            Rav David Milston, in his The Three Pillars: Am Yisrael, Torat Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael (vol. 2, p. 261), elaborates on the significance of the Keli Yakar’s observation:

The implied message is…of extreme importance.  We often spend hours in public expressions of unity, peace, and goodwill, but nothing tangible is actually being done to ensure real unity prevails.  One cannot bond the people with emotional slogans and parades of pomp and circumstance.  There needs to be real intent to tackle the most uncomfortable issues.  All parties concerned have to share a common interest in finding an amicable solution to somewhat appease all those involved.  Once this mutual tolerance and sensitivity has been established, there will be no need for any public expression of unity, for it will express itself automatically!

Moshe didn’t just speak to the people about unity.  He sat down with quarreling factions to have the issues resolved.  In order to lay the groundwork for the Mishkan, it was not enough to brandish slogans and deliver impassioned speeches.  Rather, Moshe entered the thicket of controversies and conflicts in the hope of finding workable and effective solutions.  Only through this kind of dedicated work and direct, intensive involvement was he able to succeed in eliminating friction and resentment and preparing the people for the lofty project of constructing the Mishkan.

Tuesday

            Among the accessories that were included in the Mishkan, as we read in Parashat Vayakhel, was the kiyor, the copper laver from which the kohanim would wash their hands and feet before entering the Mishkan to perform the ritual service (38:8).  Rashi, in his comments to this verse, cites a famous passage from the Midrash Tanchuma regarding the copper from which the laver was made:

The women of Israel brought [copper] mirrors which they looked into when they adorned themselves; even these they did not refrain from bringing as a donation toward the Mishkan.  But Moshe rejected them because they are made for the evil inclination.  The Almighty said to him, “Accept [them], for these are more beloved to Me than anything, because through them the women established many multitudes in Egypt.  When their husbands were weary from the grueling labor, they [the wives] would go and bring them food and drink and feed them.  They would take the mirrors, and each would look at herself with her husband in the mirror and entice him with words…”

In response to Moshe’s hesitation, God informed him that not only should these copper mirrors not be rejected, but, to the contrary, they were “more beloved…than anything.”  Moshe initially refused to accept this donation because he found it inappropriate to include in the Mishkan objects used for the sake of physical beauty and attraction.  God told Moshe that these mirrors indeed deserve a special place in the Mishkan, because they were partially responsible for ensuring Benei Yisrael’s continued growth in Egypt.  The wives utilized these mirrors in their efforts to entice their despondent husbands to intimacy and thereby sustain the nation’s birthrate.  The weary husbands had despaired from marital fulfillment and building families, but the wives, with the help of the copper mirrors, succeeded in overcoming the men’s despair and continuing the process of building the nation.

            The institution of a Mishkan, a site designated as a place of unique sanctity and service of God, could raise questions in some people’s minds concerning the relationship between the holy site and everywhere outside, between the sacred and the mundane.  If the Mishkan is designated as a site of sanctity, then what does that say about the rest of the Israelite camp?  Is the Mishkan the only site where the ideals of kedusha can be realized?  If God resides in the Mishkan, then does this mean that we cannot bring Him into our lives outside the Mishkan – into our homes, relationships, occupations and communities?  If the only the kohanim serve the Almighty in the Mishkan, then is the rest of the nation excluded from avodat Hashem?

            In short, the establishment of a special religious site runs the risk of disconnecting day-to-day life from the ideals of kedusha.  After all, people might conclude, if sanctity is restricted to the Temple, then outside the Temple they may live as they please, and are not bound by the dictates of sanctity.

            For this reason, perhaps, God reacted so favorably to the copper mirrors and deemed them “more beloved than anything.”  The mirrors, more that any other donation, expressed the notion that kedusha can and must be applied to every area of life.  The concept of the Mishkan, of a place of God’s representative residence, is meant to impact upon daily living outside the Mishkan, rather than divorce daily living from kedusha.  The kohanim ministering in God’s “home” are to serve as a model of living one’s life in the devoted service of God, even outside the Temple.  And perhaps nothing more clearly demonstrated this understanding of kedusha then the copper mirrors.  These mirrors showed that even something as inherently “mundane” as physical attraction and marital intimacy can be made sacred.  Religious responsibility indeed extends into all areas of life, even those which seem the furthest removed from the spiritual realm.  The mirrors earned their place in the Mishkan because they serve as the clearest example of the concept of injecting holiness into every area of life.

            The opposite threat to the Torah’s concept of sanctity can be seen from the tragic story told in Sefer Bamidbar (chapter 25) of cheit Ba’al Pe’or, when Benei Yisrael were enticed by the women of Moav to indulge in idolatry and illicit sexual relationships.  The Sages teach that the followers of the Ba’al Pe’or cult worshipped their idol by performing their bodily functions in front of it.  Significantly, in the incident related in Sefer Bamidbar, the worship of Ba’al Pe’or was accompanied also by unrestrained sexual indulgence.  As the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yehuda Amital shelit”a, frequently explained, the Ba’al Pe’or cult promulgated the worship of nature as intrinsically sacred.  The worshippers of Ba’al Pe’or held that all natural tendencies are inherently holy and do not require any refinement, discipline or restraint.  This belief led them to glorify activities such as defecation and illicit intercourse, which signify man’s basest physical needs.  The Torah strongly opposes this outlook, and insists upon the distinction between sacred and mundane.  This distinction is not intended to divest the mundane areas of life of value or worth, but rather reflects the need to raise the mundane to a level of spiritual importance.  The mundane realm is not intrinsically sacred, but can become sacred by living a disciplined life in strict accordance with the divine will.

Wednesday

            Parashat Pekudei begins with a detailed accounting of the precious metals donated toward the Mishkan.  This accounting, which was done by Aharon’s son Itamar at Moshe’s behest, detailed the amounts of metals donated and the specific purposes for which all the metal was used.

            A number of Midrashic passages indicate that this accounting was necessary in order to avoid any suspicion of mishandling or worse.  The Tanchuma Yashan (4) comments that after the collection of materials for the Mishkan, some members of Benei Yisrael noticed that Moshe appeared especially healthy and robust.  The more cynical observers remarked, “The person who was in charge of the work for the Mishkan – don’t you expect that he would be wealthy!”  They suspected Moshe of appropriating some of the precious materials for himself, of pocketing donations made toward the Mishkan.  He thus had a precise accounting made for the sake of transparency, showing exactly how the funds were used.  Other sources (see Torah Sheleima, chapter 38, note 14) cite in this context the famous halakha of “vi-hyitem nekiyim mei-Hashem u-mi’Yisrael” which obligates one to ensure to not only act correctly, but to make it outwardly clear that he acts correctly, and leave no room for suspicion.

            Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (based in part on the comments of Seforno), suggests that the accounting is recorded in the Torah to underscore the relatively small amount of precious metals used for the Mishkan:

…the total sum of the precious metals spent on this Mishkan is mentioned, to show how small this total is in comparison to the treasure spent on the later Temple, and yet no other Temple achieved the importance in heaven that this simple modest Temple-Tent reached.  In it alone was the presence of the Shekhina visibly shown by the Cloud of the Glory of God.  It alone never fell into the hands of an enemy.  The buildings of the second Temple even lacked that which was the real visible inhabitant of the Temple, the Ark of the Testimony and also the Urim and Tumim.  So little does splendor mean to the real nature of the Temple.

The Torah here draws our attention to the fact that the greatest “Temple” ever constructed was this small, modest Mishkan which paled in comparison to the majestic edifice that succeeded it.  We are thus reminded that the value and importance of a structure does not depend upon its aesthetic magnificence or the fortunes of money its construction required.

            Rav Moshe Feinstein (Kol Ram, vol. 1) suggested that the presentation of this accounting serves to convey a broader message concerning the “accounting” that all people must make.  Just as the Torah presented a precise accounting of how the donated materials were used, similarly, we must all make an “accounting” of how we use our resources and talents.  As Rav Moshe commented:

A person must make an accounting of everything that God has given him, including the time in his life, what he used it for, whether [he used it] for Torah and mitzvot or, Heaven forbid, it went to waste, and the plentiful livelihood, what he did with his money… For a person must not think that he could do whatever he wants with that which God has given him…

Just as Benei Yisrael brought materials to the artisans for the purpose of constructing a Mishkan, similarly, God has given each of us “materials” that we are to use for constructing our own individual “Sanctuaries.”  The accounting in Parashat Pekudei reminds us of the need to ensure that we use all that God gives us constructively, for the purpose for which we have received it, and not allow it to be wasted.

Thursday

            The Torah in Parashat Vayakhel tells of the collection of materials for the Mishkan.  We read that Benei Yisrael responded generously to Moshe’s call for donations, and they brought the required materials “ba-boker ba-boker” (“each morning” – 36:3).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Yoma (75a) draws an association between this verse and a verse earlier in Sefer Shemot where the same phrase – “ba-boker ba-boker” – is used.  The Torah writes in describing Benei Yisrael’s daily collection of manna, “Va-yilketu oto ba-boker ba-boker” (“They collected it each morning” – 16:21).  The Gemara, surprisingly, comments, “This teaches that precious stones and pearls rained down for Israel together with the manna.”  Simply understood, the Gemara informs us that some of the materials needed for the Mishkan rained down from the heavens each morning during the collection period together with the daily rations of manna.

            Rav Yitzchak Kunstadt, in his Lu’ach Erez (Vienna, 1915), suggests an allegorical interpretation of the Gemara’s puzzling remark.  What the Gemara perhaps means, he writes, is not that precious materials actually fell from the heavens each morning with the manna, but rather that the miracle of the manna is what inspired the people to donate costly items toward the Mishkan.  The supernatural means by which Benei Yisrael were sustained in the wilderness afforded them a new perspective on wealth, demonstrating to them that, as Moshe famously noted in reference to the manna in Sefer Devarim (8:3), “not on bread alone shall a person live, but rather on anything God says a person shall live.”  Recognizing their dependence on the Almighty for their daily sustenance, the people reassessed the value of the precious treasures in their possession.  The experience of the manna enabled Benei Yisrael to break free from the material obsession that normally prevents people from parting with their wealth.  “Ba-boker ba-boker,” each morning, as the manna fell, they were reminded that they could be adequately sustained and nourished even without their gold, silver, diamonds and jewels.  This perspective motivated them to donate generously toward the Mishkan, rather than be held back by the natural tendency to anxiously keep all their wealth for themselves.

Friday

            The Midrash (Shemot Rabba), commenting on the first verse of Parashat Pekudei, relates that after the Mishkan was constructed, Moshe found that were some excess materials that had been donated toward the Mishkan but were not needed for the construction.  God instructed Moshe to use these extra materials to build a “Mishkan la-eidut” (“Sanctuary of Testimony”).  The Midrash does not clarify what exactly this structure was.

            Some writers assume that the Midrash refers to a building that served as a study hall where Moshe would teach Torah.  However, Rav Yaakov Ettlinger (author of Arukh La-ner) is cited as explaining this comment differently, as referring to a gold plating for the kodesh ha-kodashim (interior chamber of the Mishkan).  The Mishna in Masekhet Shekalim (4:2) tells that in the times of the Beit Ha-mikdash, leftover funds collected through the annual machatzit ha-shekel tax were used to make a gold plating for the walls and floor of the kodesh ha-kodashim.  Thus, Rav Ettlinger suggested, it stands to reason that this was also what God instructed Moshe to do with the leftover materials donated toward the Mishkan.

            A different Midrashic passage tells of other “leftovers” from the donations.  Rabbenu Bachya cites a comment from the Midrash that when Moshe prepared the accounting of the precious metals donated toward the Mishkan, as the Torah records in the first section of Parashat Pekudei, he found some silver unaccounted for.  We read that each of the nation’s 603,550 adult men donated a mandatory half-shekel tax toward the Mishkan, and the silver collected from 600,000 of them, which amounted to one hundred kikar of silver, was used to make the sockets which formed the Mishkan’s foundation (38:27).  The remaining 3,550 men donated a total of 1,775 shekels of silver (a half-shekel for each man).  The Midrash relates that when Moshe prepared his accounting, he at first could not remember for what these 1,775 shekels of silver were used.  A Heavenly voice then announced that the extra silver, which was not needed for the foundation of the Mishkan, was used as adornments for the pillars in the courtyard of the Mishkan.

            Rav Zev Wolf, in his Birkat Shalom (London, 1958), makes an insightful observation concerning these two “leftovers” – the extra gold used for the kodesh ha-kodashim, and the extra silver used to decorate the pillars in the courtyard.  The surplus gold went toward beautifying the inner chamber of the Mishkan, whereas the excess silver was used in the outermost area, in the courtyard.  What this might represent is the need to properly balance the needs of the “kodesh ha-kodashim” and the needs of the “courtyard.”  We must utilize our resources for strengthening both the “sacred chambers,” our institutions of prayer and Torah learning, as well as the “courtyard” – general communal needs.  Neither may be neglected in deference to the other.  Even though the kodesh ha-kodashim served its role without the gold plating, God instructed Moshe to use the extra gold to adorn and enhance the chamber.  Likewise, even though the pillars in the courtyard could stand without adornments, the extra silver that was needed for the Mishkan’s foundation was used for the purpose of decorating the courtyard and thus enhancing the experience of visitors to the Mishkan.  Both goals – improving our “inner chambers” and enhancing the lives of those outside the Mishkan – are important and worthwhile endeavors that must be properly balanced against one another.