Parashat HaShuvah - Ki Tisa - "The Wise Heart Does." Exodus 30:11-34:35, Haftarah, 1 Kings 18:1-39

Last week in Israel I experienced a great deal in a very short period of time.  Anyone who has any kind of pulse on Israel knows that what we read daily in most news outlets doesn't do justice to the reality on the ground.  The society of Israel has many moving parts that we just do not hear about, vital parts that make the whole. Our Torah this week speaks to that very thing.

Here in Ki Tisa we meet two very important people; Bezalel and Oholiav. These men had a skill, a craft assigned to those who were “כל חכם לב“ (col-cacham-leiv), or any wise heart.  In this context כל חכם לב simply means all who are skilled.  Bezael and Oholiav took from some of hat’rumah, “the gifts” that were collected by Moses, and used their skills to cut stones and carve wood, to make the menorah, priestly garments and even the altar.  The Jewish mystical tradition from the Zohar teaches that Bezalel and Oholiav complemented each other.  In this case Bezalel’s soul was rooted in the right side of Divine attributes, those of kindness and love. Oholiav’s soul, on the other hand, was from the left side of judgment and discipline. To build the Tabernacle, a perfect balance of the two sides of the attributes were needed, and that was brought about by Bezalel and Oholiav's diversity of giftings to create something special.

According to the Talmud (Berakhot 55a), “Bezalel was called by that name on account of his wisdom,” a name that means in the shadow of, in this case the shadow of God. Oholiav, literally “fathers tent,” meant that his heart was the “tent” that housed his wisdom.  We further learn in the Talmud (also Berakhot 55a) that wisdom is birthed within us, waiting to be revealed, thus God “only grants wisdom to one who already possesses wisdom.”  In the case of Bezalel and Oholiav their skill is not only a divine gift already possessed within them, but must be exercised to make its mark.  In connection with a person’s gifts, Rabbi Arthur Green in his teaching on Ki Tisa reminds us about the thirteen elements used to build the Mishkan, such as gold, silver, scarlet thread, etc. Rabbi Green likens those 13 elements of material used to the 13th middot of Mussar, which is “devotion,” or mindfulness. Bezalel and Oholiav were mindful of their craft, and devoted their skills to build a holy place for all Israel, recognizing that their gifts were for the benefit of the whole.

Most of the time we hear about the IDF, their efforts to defend a country from detractors who seek their demise all around. Their effort is herculean, not only because they must contend with enemies on every side, but also because they are greatly criticized.  Israel’s attitude despite all the noise and condemnation is very simple: the evil around us must go because it cannot live at our borders any longer. It was beneficial to be there, to hear from the people who are in the midst of this fight, hear about the pain of what is going on and the regret that they must even fight at all, let alone the disappointment with a government that let them down, asking where was our army, why didn't the people who are tasked to protect us see this coming?   But Israel is full of Bezalel’s and Oholiav’s, people who are כל חכם לב, wise of heart, who realize each has a role that is very important, even more so right now.  So not only did we meet with IDF soldiers and other military personal, not to mention the President of Israel - Isaac Herzog,  but we met with representatives of United Hatzalah, Israel Trauma Coalition, Shaarei Zedek Hospital and Zaka, each playing an important role along with the IDF to being about healing and safety throughout the land of Israel and for its people. The fight continues, the tears of loss continue to flow, but so does the determination of those who call Israel home, so much so everywhere you look you read, אנחנו ננצח (anachnu n’netzayach), we will win!

The joint effort of Israel was a lesson for me, a reminder of how each plays a role and no one role is more important than the next.  In Israel, this situation was forced upon them for each to respond, and the “someone else will do it” mentality can mean the difference between life and death. What motivates us if it's not life and death?  Our gifts make the difference in bettering the world around us, our communities, helping those in need and embracing those who feel isolated, using our money and time to support worthy causes and efforts, not to mention as Jews and Jewish families we must support our synagogues to ensure that generations to come will know and live the values of Jewish life. Likewise, we must do what we can to help keep Israel safe from those who seek to wipe Israel off the map. May we too embrace the 13th middot of Mussar, which is “devotion,” or mindfulness, as we use our wisdom of heart to make what is around us better today than it was yesterday. 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam Ruditsky 

Parashat HaShuvah - Ki Tisa - "The Wise Heart Does." Exodus 30:11-34:35, Haftarah, 1 Kings 18:1-39

Last week in Israel I experienced a great deal in a very short period of time.  Anyone who has any kind of pulse on Israel knows that what we read daily in most news outlets doesn't do justice to the reality on the ground.  The society of Israel has many moving parts that we just do not hear about, vital parts that make the whole. Our Torah this week speaks to that very thing.

Here in Ki Tisa we meet two very important people; Bezalel and Oholiav. These men had a skill, a craft assigned to those who were “כל חכם לב“ (col-cacham-leiv), or any wise heart.  In this context כל חכם לב simply means all who are skilled.  Bezael and Oholiav took from some of hat’rumah, “the gifts” that were collected by Moses, and used their skills to cut stones and carve wood, to make the menorah, priestly garments and even the altar.  The Jewish mystical tradition from the Zohar teaches that Bezalel and Oholiav complemented each other.  In this case Bezalel’s soul was rooted in the right side of Divine attributes, those of kindness and love. Oholiav’s soul, on the other hand, was from the left side of judgment and discipline. To build the Tabernacle, a perfect balance of the two sides of the attributes were needed, and that was brought about by Bezalel and Oholiav's diversity of giftings to create something special.

According to the Talmud (Berakhot 55a), “Bezalel was called by that name on account of his wisdom,” a name that means in the shadow of, in this case the shadow of God. Oholiav, literally “fathers tent,” meant that his heart was the “tent” that housed his wisdom.  We further learn in the Talmud (also Berakhot 55a) that wisdom is birthed within us, waiting to be revealed, thus God “only grants wisdom to one who already possesses wisdom.”  In the case of Bezalel and Oholiav their skill is not only a divine gift already possessed within them, but must be exercised to make its mark.  In connection with a person’s gifts, Rabbi Arthur Green in his teaching on Ki Tisa reminds us about the thirteen elements used to build the Mishkan, such as gold, silver, scarlet thread, etc. Rabbi Green likens those 13 elements of material used to the 13th middot of Mussar, which is “devotion,” or mindfulness. Bezalel and Oholiav were mindful of their craft, and devoted their skills to build a holy place for all Israel, recognizing that their gifts were for the benefit of the whole.

Most of the time we hear about the IDF, their efforts to defend a country from detractors who seek their demise all around. Their effort is herculean, not only because they must contend with enemies on every side, but also because they are greatly criticized.  Israel’s attitude despite all the noise and condemnation is very simple: the evil around us must go because it cannot live at our borders any longer. It was beneficial to be there, to hear from the people who are in the midst of this fight, hear about the pain of what is going on and the regret that they must even fight at all, let alone the disappointment with a government that let them down, asking where was our army, why didn't the people who are tasked to protect us see this coming?   But Israel is full of Bezalel’s and Oholiav’s, people who are כל חכם לב, wise of heart, who realize each has a role that is very important, even more so right now.  So not only did we meet with IDF soldiers and other military personal, not to mention the President of Israel - Isaac Herzog,  but we met with representatives of United Hatzalah, Israel Trauma Coalition, Shaarei Zedek Hospital and Zaka, each playing an important role along with the IDF to being about healing and safety throughout the land of Israel and for its people. The fight continues, the tears of loss continue to flow, but so does the determination of those who call Israel home, so much so everywhere you look you read, אנחנו ננצח (anachnu n’netzayach), we will win!

The joint effort of Israel was a lesson for me, a reminder of how each plays a role and no one role is more important than the next.  In Israel, this situation was forced upon them for each to respond, and the “someone else will do it” mentality can mean the difference between life and death. What motivates us if it's not life and death?  Our gifts make the difference in bettering the world around us, our communities, helping those in need and embracing those who feel isolated, using our money and time to support worthy causes and efforts, not to mention as Jews and Jewish families we must support our synagogues to ensure that generations to come will know and live the values of Jewish life. Likewise, we must do what we can to help keep Israel safe from those who seek to wipe Israel off the map. May we too embrace the 13th middot of Mussar, which is “devotion,” or mindfulness, as we use our wisdom of heart to make what is around us better today than it was yesterday. 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam Ruditsky 

Parashat HaShuvah - Terumah - "The Heart of the Matter." Exodus 25:1-27:19, Haftarah, 1 Kings 5:26-6:13

Last week in Parashat Mishpatim we learned that the listed mitzvot had everything to do with the human heart and therefore are about ndivut (נדיבות), or generosity.  In general these mishpatim sought to protect the vulnerable of society such as widows, orphans, slaves or poor persons, a group in the community who can be taken advantage of by those with aspirations of power and greed.   As such we read one particular mitzvah that says “If you lend money to My people, to the poor among you, do not act toward them as a creditor; exact no interest from them” (Exodus 22:24).

In the multi-volume work, Sefer HaChinuch, its author (a matter of debate in Judaism) tells us that this command is about the partnership between the borrower - what they need - and the lender - what they determine they can give and why.  But lending money to a poor person is also a greater obligation than tzedakah (charity), because the borrower must humble themselves and ask perhaps out of shame, while the giver must not make them feel worse in response and are obligated to help meet that need.  But according to Sefer HaChinuch the purpose of this mitzvah is not to help a poor person get back on their feet in order to fend for themselves going forward. The primary reason has to do with the one who lends the money. In this case we learn that it is the “will” of God to make this a learning opportunity, “teaching” the lender is to be “accustomed” or even “trained” in the Divine inspired inward traits of “kindness and compassion.” Giving to help another is a matter of generosity, but it is also kindness and compassion, which for Torah stems from heart.

But kindness and compassion is far more than a way of being, but is the middah (trait) of ndivut (נדיבות), or generosity we mentioned above. Interestingly we find the same word here in this week's sedra, Parashat Terumah, regarding giving to build the Mishkan; the traveling tabernacle in the wilderness that was the forerunner to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Giving things of value, to help build this “sacred space,” was by yidvehnu libo (ידבנו לבו), literally “to make willing his heart” (or to freely donate or contribute). So we read “Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved - yidvehnu libo” (Exodus 25:2). Both ndivut and yidvehnu are of the root n-d-b (נ-ד-ב), although a different verb pattern, but share a common place. In the same way kindness and compassion are foundational middot in order to “lend” to those in need, one must be “willing of heart” in order to “donate” for the sake of the Mishkhan. This type of ndivut, generosity, can only come from a heart of kindness and compassion to unselfishly give for the betterment of others, therefore for oneself.  Here in Terumah that blessing is tied into helping to create the gathering place of the Mishkhan.

As such we read the well known verse that says, “And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them" (Exodus 25:8). According to Sefer HaChinuch this previous verse is not just a happy suggestion, but a command.  As a command, the Torah is making two underlying assumptions.  First, people need a sacred space.  Second, each person is responsible to help make sure others have it. Yet, this verse must be read in partnership with Exodus 25:2 above that giving is a matter of heart and not of compulsion.  So yes, while a command cannot ultimately control a person's actions - that's an issue of personal motivation and free-will - a command has the ability and fortitude to help frame the human journey.  This command asked the people to have generosity (ndivut) with what they own in order to acquire zechut (merit) to help build a place of worship and community gathering. Yet, in order to do that a person has to be willing to give of, and from, themselves. But for Torah, the giving to protect the needy of the community (from Parashat Mishpatim) and the giving to help build the Mishkan (this week) for community gathering and worship, are no different.

It is no different today either. How many emails do we receive from organizations asking for money to give to Israel right now, let alone other places such as the American Cancer Society or Red Cross (the list can go on of course).  Giving of resources is one thing, but there is the giving of our time and effort, something that always battles the limitations of not only time, but allegiance and obligations to other matters. Whether asked to give generously to the building campaign of our synagogue or to be apart of the team that delivers food to the homeless every Sunday, both are a matter of ndivut, both are a matter of self-sacrifice, and both are a matter of kindness and compassion that is motivated by yidvehnu libo, freely doing so out of goodness, not matter what we may be doing. This is the heart of the matter.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam Ruditsky

Parashat HaShuvah - Mishpatim - "Mutil-Level Living." Exodus 21:1-24:18, Haftarah, Isaiah 66:1-24

Parashat Mishpatim begins, “These are the rules (mishpatim) that you shall set before them.” Jewish tradition teaches that the mishpatim (ordinance, judgements) were also given at Sinai; the “ten words” in the morning and the “mishpatim” in the evening (Midrash, Shemot Rabbah 30:3).  Nevertheless, what can we learn about their placement after the ten words?   

One of the first topics of mishpatim (53 of the 613 mitzvot are here) has to do with the laws about slave ownership (Exodus 21:2-11).  Ibn Ezra teaches, “There is nothing more difficult for a person than to be subjugated to another person. This is why the Parshah begins with the laws of how the Hebrew slave is to be treated.” The Torah does not speak against the idea of slavery (“servant” in this context), but is concerned about the dignity, rights and honor of a slave.  Issues such as the mistreatment of a slave, to also include bodily injury and even death, as well as slave property rights, are listed in juxtaposition with the responsibilities of the owner. This is held in contrast to Pharaoh who owned the slaves in Egypt but had no responsibilities or accountability to how those slaves were treated.  As Torah teaches, both slave or master (analogous to employee-employer) are (supposed to be) equally free since both are created in the image of the divine and receive the same honor. 

Parshat Mishpatim is also a further explanation of the “ten words.”  Such themes in Mishpatim include crimes against others (do not kill, do not steal), animal rights, respect of another person's property and awarded damages (do not covet), fair treatment of others and ethical behaviors (honor your mother and father, do not lie), equal rights in law and judgment (Keeping the Sabbath is equal for all, servant or master alike). The general message here, as it is with the slaves, has to do with equal rights that are framed as civil order. The divine mandate of equality is found as the standard of continuity between disputing parties rather than the genesis of the commandments (see. Exodus 22:8), or as a bridge linking the fair treatment between a creditor and a borrower with ethical business practices (Exodus 22:27).  The entire premise of such laws again begins with the theme that all are equal in judgment regardless of the situation. 

Rashi also embraces (per the above Midrash) that both the ten words and the ordinances (the mishpatim of this parasha) are a product of Sinai.  But Rashi raises the following issue: "Why is this section dealing with the ‘civil laws’ placed immediately after that commanding the making of the altar?” (see Exodus 20:21-22).  His answer, “To tell you that you should seat (i.e. provide quarters for) the Sanhedrin in the vicinity of the Temple.”  The “ten words” (law) stood next to the Altar (religious/spiritual).  In the same way the Sanhedrin adjudicated (law) everyday life sitting next to the Holy Temple, the Beit Hamikdash (religious/spiritual).

In his work, Shmirat HaLashon (Guarding our speech), the Chofetz Chaim teaches that all human good is impeded by the acts of “lashon hara” (evil speech) and “rechilut” (gossip).  But it is not just those sins per our tradition that Chofetz Chaim compares to murder (Talmud, Arachin 15b), but also harm from bad behaviors. Thus the Sages taught "Blessed is he who does not smite his friend,” which for the Chofetz Chaim includes acts of “theft, robbery, cheating, and the like” that have everything to do with the denigration of human dignity and rights. As such, the Chofetz Chaim further teaches that “because of the sin of lashon hara the Shechinah (presence of the Divine) departs from Israel,” disconnecting basic human decency from the divine image within.  Putting it another way, Rabbi Arthur Green says this belief that all is One (think Shema) “rejects that there is a sharp division between the spiritual life and the commitment to societal transformation.”  In Judaism our worldly behaviors are intertwined with our divine spark within. This is part of the message in Mishpatim.  

Daily we are reminded of that relationship, in Jewish morning prayer we read, “Lord of all Worlds” (רִבּוֹן כָּל הָעוֹלָמִים), notice not “world” (עוֹלָם) but “worlds” (עוֹלָמִים).  We are human on many levels, and while our bodily presence is intertwined with our divine image, we also live in the physical world being guided from the inner convictions of that image. That is Judaism, wide enough to fit us all, but a multilevel existence.  Mishpatim makes it clear that within the boundary of Law (and their laws differ from ours naturally) if human rights and ways are subjugated to others the result will be transgressions against human equality.  Avoiding all that can be said about happenings around the world, as our hearts continue to be heavy regarding Israel and other events both abroad and at home, I will say this; while the subject of Law will always include disagreement and frustration, the subject of human equality must be the forerunner in every Jewish conversation, either in Washington or at home.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam Ruditsky 

Parashat HaShuvah - Yitro - "The Experience." Exodus 18:1-20:23, Haftarah, Isaiah 6:1-7:6, 9:5-6

In Parashat Yitro we come to one of the more well known parts of Torah, Israel stands together at Mt. Sinai to receive the ten words, or the colloquial language is the ten commandments.  At Sinai, who is Israel?  That was Moses’ question when he wrote later about God who would “make this covenant, with its sanctions, not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before our God and with those who are not with us here this day” (Deuteronomy. 29:13-14). Those standing here?   “Here” is right before they entered Canaan, but what about those who stood “there” at Sinai some 40 years earlier?  A teaching from Talmud (Shevuot 39a) says “here” was “there,” as not only “those who stood at Mount Sinai'' who were receivers of Torah, but also “ the subsequent generations, and the converts who will convert in the future." In the same vein we further learn from a Midrash (Midrash Tanchuma, Nitzavim 3) the answer to the question, “Why does it say, Those who are here; and those who are not here without using the word, standing?”  Rabbi Abbahu (an earlier Talmudic Rabbi) supplies the answer; “Because all the souls were there, even though their bodies had not yet been created.”  If that is so then our connection to Sinai is more spiritual as we were not there, but really it is both/and.  How might we understand this?  First, the passing down of Torah, which we commonly say came from God at Sinai, is the role of the parents (not just fathers) to their children and was foremost in Moses’ mind.  We see this as he gathers the people at Sinai where he speaks “to the house of Jacob and declare to the children of Israel'' (Exodus 19:3).  A Midrash (Pirke de-Rabbi Eliezer [41]) defines just who that is, thus we read:  “Go, speak to the daughters of Israel [and ask them] whether they wish to receive the Torah.' Why were the women asked [first]? Because it is the way of men to follow the opinions of women, as it is said, ‘Thus shall you say to the House of Jacob’ – these are the women -- ‘and declare to the Children of Israel’ -- these are the men.”  This is suggested in Proverbs 1:8 that says “My son, heed the discipline of your father, And do not forsake the instruction of your mother,” which was understood by Rabbi Yitzchak Yaacov Reines (an early Zionist Rabbi) to mean that the guidance of the mothers Torah carried more weight than just the fathers instruction.  Our lesson - words give meaning, words are tangible. Second, Sinai itself. While we are charged with the need to pass these words down to every generation, today our relationship to Sinai is more existential as we were not there physically.  Regarding Sinai as a historical event Rabbi Arthur Green, probably to the chagrin of some, “makes no claim for the historicity of Sinai,” which he sees in the arena of “myth and symbol [of] a much deeper truth than that history,” the idea being that Sinai became a “sacred tale around which our lives are woven.”  Teaching a view that is consistent with a Neo-Hasidic ideology, Rabbi Green would say that the human-God interactions (that would also include Sinai) began in Gan Eden (garden of Eden) when God asks Adam, “Ayekha,” where are you, words that for Green are “the call from God within.”  Were those words audible or were they just perceived?  While there is conversation about what language God spoke the real question is how and what did Adam hear?  Adam heard God because he was fashioned as B’tzelem Elohim, and since Adam was in the image of God he could hear his inner “divine silence” although it was not audible.  Another lesson - what we hear is not always words. The same is so for Moses. While Moses was physically at Sinai his instructions and teachings were more so his response to the same question, ayekha, where are you?  What Rabbi Green is saying is that the words Moses spoke to Israel that day did not come directly from God although they were divinely inspired. As such, what Moses responded to was the question ayekha that produced words birthed from his “divine silence,'' only to be made tangible when spoken and written (remember Green calls Sinai a myth). Regarding those who were present during that Sinai myth we read,  “On the third day, as morning dawned, there was thunder, and lightning, and a dense cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud blast of the horn; and all the people who were in the camp trembled” (Exodus 19:11). What they heard was an experience, the experience of ayekha. What they experienced and responded to were sounds that had no particular language.  What they heard was a language they each knew and could understand. What does that mean and what does that have to do with those of us who were not at Sinai? The Midrash (Exodus Rabbah 5:9) about hearing the Torah in multiple languages was about a diversity of languages to make Sinai’s message universal. Yet I think it can be individualized to each who stood (and stands) at Sinai even if it was only in their (or our) soul before the donning of the body (see Midrash Tanchuma above). Therefore in closing, borrowing once more the words of Rabbi Green, Sinai became an experience that is a “sacred tale around which our lives are woven.”  Rabbi Green would say that today the question ayekha continues to call “out every human to participate in it, each in our distinctive way.”  We too, being at Sinai, will experience sounds (maybe words, maybe nature, maybe our inner divine silence) that we can also understand if we listen. Sinai was not an ordinary event but a life altering experience.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Adam Ruditsky