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Surf A Little Torah PARASHAT VAYAKHEL-PEKUDEI By Rav David Silverberg
Parashat Vayakhel describes the construction of the mishkan. As we already know from Parashat Teruma, which records God's commands regarding the mishkan, the structure was covered by a layer of "techashim" skins (Shemot 26:14, 36:19). What are "techashim"? The Gemara (Masekhet Shabbat 28b) cites Reish Lakish's identification of this creature as a one-time phenomenon. God provided Benei Yisrael with the "techashim" to use their skins to cover the mishkan; never before or after did they exist. After the mishkan came into disuse, the skins were hidden, never heard of or seen again. One may flag Reish Lakish for inconsistency in light of another statement of his, this one in the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 35:1): "The world was not worthy of using gold. Why, then, was it created? For the mishkan and Bet Ha-mikdash." Here, too, we find a material created only for use in the mishkan. However, unlike the techashim, gold stuck around and endured in order that it may adorn the Bet Ha-mikdash. The obvious question arises, why did God take away the techashim with the disbanding of the mishkan, while gold remained for use in the Mikdash? One explanation given points to the different functions of these two materials as the basis for this discrepancy. Gold adorned the interior of both the mishkan and Mikdash. The Ark of the Covenant, interior altar ("mizbach ha-zahav"), show-bread table and menora all either consisted of or were plated with gold. The techashim, by contrast, formed the outermost layer of the mishkan. As such, the two materials symbolize different aspects of the Jewish religion. The gold, the metal that dominated the interior of the mishkan, represents the core of our religion, the eternal values, laws and principles that form the bedrock of our beliefs and required conduct. By contrast, the "techashim" skins mark the meeting point between these objective, rigid guidelines and the ephemeral realities of the world. They signify the manner in which the laws and values of the Torah will be practically applied within the framework of reality. This explains why the gold remains forever while the "techashim" disappeared. The "gold" - the pure, priceless essence of the Torah, is rigid, permanent, unchanging, and never subject to modification. The abstract rules and regulations articulated by the Almighty and, later, by the Sages empowered to interpret and legislate, forever remain as part of the core of Judaism. However, how these immutable principles apply on a practical level necessarily changes along with reality. The application of Torah and mitzvot in the wilderness differed from that in the conquered and settled Eretz Yisrael. Likewise, how the values of the Torah expressed themselves during the glorious period of David and Shlomo will not necessarily correspond the manifestation of these same ideals under the oppressive conditions of exile. Challengers of the authority of the rigid system of halakha often point to various changes that have evolved in religious life over the generations. These modifications, they contend, prove Judaism's flexibility and vulnerability to changing ideals. They fail to recognize this distinction between the mishkan's interior and its contact with the outside world. The secret to Judaism's immortality lies in the balance between the two. On the one hand, the essential ideals are never subject to question or modification. Yet, the practical implementation of these ideals necessarily depend on the unique realities of every given generation. ***** In the beginning of Parashat Vayakhel, Moshe introduces his presentation regarding the construction of the mishkan with a brief reminder of the obligation of Shabbat observance. Somewhat surprisingly, he singles out one particular Shabbat prohibition for explicit mention: lighting fires. Rashi cites a dispute in the Gemara as to the reason for Moshe's specific emphasis of this prohibition. One position claims that this verse introduces a provision unique to this form of forbidden activity. Whereas violation of the other thirty-eight categories of forbidden work on Shabbat renders one liable for the severe penalties of death and "karet," lighting a fire on Shabbat equals in severity a standard negative prohibition. Meaning, a violator is punishable by the more lenient penalty of "malkot" (lashes). The second view argues that Moshe singles out this prohibition not because of any unique characteristics thereof, but rather to teach a general principle called "chiluk malekhot." This axiom dictates that each of the thirty-nine categories stands independently. The classic ramification of this notion involves a mistaken violation of Shabbat, where one was unaware of either the day of week or the prohibition of the activity he performed. A person violating Shabbat in one of these circumstances must bring a sin-offering. The concept of "chiluk melakhot" means that one must bring multiple sin-offerings for the inadvertent violation of multiple forms of activity. While one may have thought that all Shabbat violations belong to the same category and in such a case only a single offering would be required, this verse teaches otherwise. Each area of forbidden activity stands on its own, and, hence, one requires a sin-offering for each activity performed. Rav Barukh Epstein (Tosefet Berakha) suggests yet another reason why Moshe emphasized this particular Shabbat prohibition. As we know from the Ten Commandments (as recorded in Parashat Yitro), the requirement to refrain from work on Shabbat commemorates God's having ceased, as it were, His work of creation on Shabbat. Now the Gemara (Pesachim 54) relates that fire was not created until after the first Shabbat of creation. As such, it would seem that starting a fire would involve no violation of Shabbat; God did not "cease" from work with fire on Shabbat, since fire had yet to exist! Therefore, Moshe felt it necessary to specifically mention this prohibition. One may, however, dispute this explanation of Rav Epstein. Although the general concept of cessation of work on Shabbat does indeed commemorate that of the Almighty, one cannot draw any correspondence between the particular Shabbat prohibitions and the specific activities from which God "rested." As humans, we are incapable of understanding the actions taken by God as He fashioned the universe, not to mention that we cannot classify them into thirty-nine distinct categories. Therefore, fire's nonexistence prior to the onset of the first Shabbat of all time should raise no doubts whatsoever as to the possibility of forbidding lighting fires on Shabbat. ***** As preparations got underway for the construction of the mishkan, Moshe announces to the people, "See, God has singled out the name of Betzalel, son of Uri son of Chur… " (35:30). Moshe here employs the same terminology used by the Almighty Himself when disclosing to Moshe His choice for head of the mishkan project (31:2). Why does God stress the "name" of Betzalel for specific mention? Why could He not have simply said, "I have singled out Betzalel…?" The Chatam Sofer explains based on a distinction he draws between three different "names," or, more accurately, identities, that a person earns over the course of his life. First, one carries the name given to him by his parents; a person takes on an identity by virtue of having come from a given family background. Secondly, one's peers and colleagues refer to him by a different name. One's identity is formed in large measure by the people with whom he finds friendship and company. Lastly, and, as the Chatam Sofer emphasizes, most importantly, one earns an absolute, objective "name," the identity he creates through his conduct. This identity emerges from the totality of his behavior, rather than through his association with one group of people or another. It is tthis, final "name" that God refers when singling out Betzalel. He earned this privilege not for his having descended from the royal tribe of Yehuda nor on account of his reputation among his friends. Rather, God designated him in light of his most accurate identity, the one that only the Almighty Himself knows, which is fashioned by one's public and private conduct. This approach perhaps underscores the need for sincerity in one's religious observance. While we often identify ourselves and others in light of the movements or organizations with which we choose to affiliate, we better serve ourselves by focusing on our absolute identity, the one by which we are classified in the heavenly records. We form this identity most effectively specifically when we do not find ourselves among peers or those in whose eyes we wish to paint a certain image; it is then that our true identity emerges. And, after all, when all is said and done, it is God's perception of us that is most accurate and most critical. ***** One chorus that runs through the parshiyot of Vayakhel-Pekudei reads, "as God had commanded Moshe." A brief overview of these parshiyot will show that at the completion of every stage of the construction of the mishkan, the Torah sees fit to emphasize Benei Yisrael's strict compliance with God's orders. One common explanation for this phenomenon arises from the mishkan's role as atoning for the sin of the golden calf. Many commentators posit that Benei Yisrael did not actually worship the calf as a deity; after all, they heard God's voice - whatever that means - a mere forty days earlier! Rather, in Moshe's absence, they needed a medium, a physical representation of the Almighty. Herein lies their sin: no physical entity can remotely represent God without His specific instruction to this effect. The mishkan served to highlight this point. God allowed them to fashion a representation of sorts, only in specific accordance with His command. The Torah therefore stresses that indeed Benei Yisrael ensured to execute every detail of God's instructions concerning the mishkan. Rav Yitzchak Hutner zt"l, however, is cited as presenting a different explanation for the repetition of this clause. Generally, the execution of an abstract plan results in a disappointing dilution of that plan. When a theoretical ideal is transformed into reality, much of the idea itself is lost in the process. Not so the mishkan. The transcendent value of "I will dwell among Benei Yisrael" managed to fully penetrate into the wood and metal of the completed structure. The final product of the mishkan accurately reflected the ideals that warranted its construction. The verses therefore stress that Benei Yisrael achieved the very goal that God has commanded Moshe. Translating this notion into terms relevant to daily life, the particulars of the Torah, the detailed halakhot, may not overshadow the broader ideals of our religion. As Rav Hutner suggests, the detailed work of the mishkan could have potentially faded the sublime goal of "hashra'at Shekhina," God's symbolic residence among Benei Yisrael. To their credit, however, the nation successfully found the delicate balance between strict adherence to detail and keen awareness of the general ideal. Torah and mitzvot present us with precisely this challenge. No better example of this challenge can be found than the weeks ahead - the preparations for Pesach. Countless volumes of scholarly literature has emerged to clarify the requirements and prohibitions relevant to Pesach; even more hours have been invested by Jews throughout the centuries to comply therewith. Without compromising our commitment to the detailed halakhot relevant to this demanding festival, we must try to recall the general message of Pesach, our freedom from external pressures that allows us to serve our true Master - the Almighty. ***** Many students, teachers, rabbis and scholars of Chumash have questioned the need for Parshiyot Vayakhel-Pekudei, read this Shabbat. In a nutshell, these two parshiyot take Parashiyot Teruma and Tetzave, which records God's instructions regarding the mishkan, and transform their contents from the imperative form to past tense. In other words, these parshiyot recount Benei Yisrael's loyal observance of every instruction presented in Teruma and Tetzave. Couldn't the Torah have simply written, "Benei Yisrael did exactly as God told Moshe," thus saving a lot space and the voices of many a "ba'al korei" (reader)? We present here two popular answers corresponding to two opinions among the commentators concerning the commandment of the mishkan. A famous dispute exists between Rashi and the Ramban as to when Parshiyot Teruma and Tetzave - God's commands regarding the mishkan - took place. Ramban assumes the sequence of the Torah's presentation to be chronologically accurate; thus, God commanded Benei Yisrael to construct a Sanctuary before the incident of the golden calf. Rashi, however, rearranges the Torah's sequence. He maintains that God issued the command of the mishkan only after, and in response to, the sin of the golden calf. Rashi's position allows for an explanation of Vayakhel-Pekudei that directly relates to a notion raised in yesterday's edition of "S.A.L.T." Namely, the perpetrators of the calf erred in their presumptuous attempt to fashion a physical representation of the Almighty. The mishkan corrects this mistake by compelling Benei Yisrael to build such a representation only in the precise, detailed manner outlined by God Himself. Understandably, then, the Torah reiterates time and time again that Benei Yisrael followed God's instructions down to the last detail. This marked the primary function of the mishkan's construction: to teach Benei Yisrael that their sincere desire for closeness with the Almighty must express itself solely through their obedience to His command. The Ramban's approach would yield a different basis for the repetition of Vayakhel-Pekudei. The critical point according to this view is that Teruma-Tetzave is separated from Vayakhel-Pekudei by the incident of the calf. Precisely for this reason, the Torah finds it necessary to repeat all the details. One would have thought that the nature of God's symbolic residence among Am Yisrael underwent a fundamental change in the wake of the calf. After such a brazen demonstration of disloyalty, could the Almighty really establish the same relationship with His people as for which He had hoped? Vayakhel-Pekudei provides the answer, a resounding "Yes." The construction of the mishkan proceeded exactly as planned in Teruma-Tetzave; in spite of the tragic, interim events, no fundamental change occurred. The mishkan was erected just as God had originally planned. In this sense, Parshiyot Vayakhel-Pekudei effectively embody the power of teshuva, the ability of a sinner to restore his relationship with his Creator to the point where it had been prior to the misdeed. ***** Parashat Vayakhel opens with Moshe's reminder to Benei Yisrael concerning the prohibition of Shabbat. Rashi explains that Moshe introduces the laws of the mishkan with a reiteration of the institution of Shabbat in order to teach Benei Yisrael that the construction of the mishkan does not override the prohibitions of Shabbat. However important the project of building a mishkan was, it could not prevail over the laws of Shabbat. Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi and others questioned the need for such a reminder on Moshe's part. After all, a bona fide halakhic principle dictates that a single positive commandment cannot override another Biblical law that involves both a positive and negative commandment. In our case, the construction of the mishkan constituted a positive mitzva, while Shabbat observance involves both a negative commandment - the prohibition against forbidden activity - and a positive commandment - to observe Shabbat as a "shabbaton" (day of rest). As such, standard halakhic guidelines already negate the possibility of building the mishkan on Shabbat. Why, then, did Moshe feel the need to stress this point? One answer cited in the namof the "Yismach Moshe" raises a possible distinction between the positive commandment of Shabbat and others. One may have thought that when the Torah ordered, "You shall rest," this essentially amounted to a variant formulation of the prohibition, "You shall not do any work." That is, the "positive" and "negative' are essentially one in the same. Therefore, Shabbat becomes no different than any other negative commandment, as it involves no additional positive commandment. As such, the positive commandment of building the mishkan should, it would seem, override the restrictions of Shabbat. Moshe Rabbenu comes in the beginning of Parashat Vayakhel to dispel precisely this notion. Shabbat requires far more than the cessation of work; it calls upon us to actively observe and celebrate this special day. Thus, the institution does, indeed, feature two distinct elements: the prohibition against certain types of activity and the obligation to infuse it with the proper level of sanctity and serenity. Given its dual nature, Shabbat cannot be overridden by the mitzva of the mishkan. We may, however, suggest a different approach. Moshe perhaps felt compelled to remind the people of the halakhic guidelines of which they were already fully aware because they may not have been thinking in such terms. Particularly if we adopt the view that the mishkan served primarily to atone for the golden calf (recall yesterday's discussion), the nation likely felt eager and anxious to complete the project ASAP, in a frantic attempt to achieve atonement. Perhaps more generally, the prospect of God "residing" among Benei Yisrael may have aroused immense excitement that could have potentially resulted in the neglect of the rigid halakhic system that called for a tempering of this zeal on Shabbat. Moshe therefore reminded the people that even positive, spiritual energy remains subject to the strictures of the Torah's legal system. As much as religious fervor is to be encouraged, it must also conform uncompromisingly to the detailed provisions established by halakha. ***** Parashat Vayakhel, as we have seen, features the prohibition against lighting fires on Shabbat. Chazal explain that this prohibition applies not only to the kindling of fire, but to the active sustaining of fire, as well. This expresses itself most clearly in the prohibition against adding oil to a fire (Beitza 22). Although this does not create a fire, since it facilitates a fire, it is forbidden. The Terumat Ha-deshen, cited by the Rema (O.C. 277:1), draws a distinction in this regard between adding oil to a flame and a different case from which one may have drawn the same conclusion. If a candle stands on a table before an open door or window, allowing for the threat of a gust of wind extinguishing the fire, one may close the door or window and thereby save the flame. Since in this instance one merely blocks an external force from extinguishing the candle, this case does not fall under the same category as adding fuel to a flame. Hence, it is permissible. Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (Minchat Shlomo 14; cited as well in Shemirat Shabbat Ke-hilkhato 13:25) derives from this halakha an important rule concerning "Shabbat clocks." Consider a case of one who had set the lights before Shabbat to go off at 10:30 PM Friday night. However, the rabbi that night delivered an unexpectedly long speech, it took fifteen minutes to find the washing cup for "netilat yadayim," and the divrei Torah and zemirot continued almost endlessly during the main course. May one move the pegs on the Shabbat clock to extend the period during which the lights will remain on? Based on the aforementioned Rema, Rav Shlomo Zalman permits extending the clock. As we have seen, one may block an external force from extinguishing a flame. Here, too, one merely moves the pegs such to prevent the clock from shutting off the lights. We should note, however, that this permission applies only to extending the status quo of the Shabbat clock. Meaning, one may move the pegs while the clock is set to "on" to keep it on for a longer period of time, or, conversely, when the machine is off one may set the clock to go on later. One may not, however, move the pegs to change the status quo earlier than for which it had been previously set. Additionally, it is important to mention that this ruling has not earned universal acceptance. Rav Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe 4:91), among others, distinguishes between this case and that of the candle in front of an open door. Unlike the instance of the open door, here the action one wishes to perform applies directly to the apparatus in question. When one closes the door to prevent the wind from extinguishing the candle, he performs an action entirely divorced from the candle itself; the effect is entirely indirect. By contrast, since the Shabbat clock is connected to the given appliance, moving the pegs to extend the operation (or cessation from operation) constitutes direct involvement with the apparatus's functioning and is hence forbidden. For practical guidance, please consult a competent halakhic authority.
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This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds. MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the (c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion Yeshivat Har Et | ||||||||||||||||||||