Trumah

5753

 This week's Torah portion reads like the latest newspaper headlines. The Ledger could have printed "President says we need to raise more money for government projects" -- while the Torah reads, "And the Lord spoke unto Moses, saying, speak unto the children of Israel, that they take for me an offering;"

 Obviously, in both cases, the money to fund the (hopefully worthwhile) projects is public money. Such money is arrived at through that most abhorred concept and even worse sounding word: taxes. Now, it interesting to examine the Hebrew for the word tax. In modern Hebrew we use the word "mas." A mystic commentator noted that " mas" is the reverse of the Hebrew "Sam" which means poison. The commentary goes on to say, poison is swift and merciful, while mas goes on and on, never endingly. We first encounter this word in Exodus 1:11, "Therefore they did set over them taskmasters to afflict them with their burdens." Taskmasters are "ministers of taxes" -- and therefore a task is a tax. It was only in the post Talmudic era that the concept of tax changes from that of labor to the value of the labor -- a financial levy. Yet, what we have to note and notice is not the form of the tax but its effect upon the population, and the Torah is very descriptive: "to afflict them with their burdens!" Ask anyone who is paying significant amount of taxes, and they will tell you how much they are afflicted!

 This week’s portion asks the Children of Israel for funds -- and just as the saying goes, "a rose by any other name would smell the same..." it is still taxes that we are talking about! Just read on in chapter 25 verse 3: "And this is the offering which ye shall take of them: gold and silver and brass and blue and purple and scarlet and fine linen and goats hair..." Sounds like the list a tax collector would carry with him when going to collect an over-due account. Yet there is something that sets it apart and makes it totally different.

 The Hebrew word for ‘offering’ is " Trumah" -- and the root of that word is " ram" which means elevated. The Torah recounts that all the funds needed to build the Tabernacle were brought as a gift before it was even called for. There are a number of lessons to be learned from this story. The first is one of purpose: The children of Israel, in the desert, were not "a holy people" but a rabble of former-slaves -- yet they willingly brought their wealth to Moses to build the tabernacle. Why? Because they realized that this was a worthwhile project, and because Moses succeeded in achieving a consensus.

 The second lesson is one of style: Had Moses set taskmasters (tax collectors) to bring in the funds, the Israelites may have tried to evade their responsibility to contribute. But Moses realized that he would achieve more by asking for a free offering, and therefore it became a challenge for the people to offer more, as it has been taught, " and whosoever increases, he is considered praiseworthy."

 The thirst and last lesson I will mention this time is that of the privilege of giving. Moses established in the Israelites a sense of communal responsibility. The text says, "of every man whose heart makes him willing ye shall take my offering..." If you can make the people understand that it is their civic responsibility to participate, you shall have complete communal participation.

 Take as an example the privilege, the right of every American to vote for his elected officials. Don’t try to take away this prerogative -- you’d be stepping on an inalienable civil license etched into our communal consciousness. Yet, note that about half the population has chosen not to exercise this entitlement in the last election.

 The Torah teaches us that our rights are sacred privileges that we must treasure and enshrine and pay for with the fruit of our labor. If we can understand that the communal good is a privilege and not a burden, maybe taxes can become an uplifting and ennobling contribution. Surely, the dedication of the people in giving must be matched by the purity of purpose and efficiency in execution of the public needs. What is needed is a new outlook and a new spirit, imbued with holiness and reverence for God and for humanity. Only in this way shall we do God’s bidding and build His dwelling place in our midst. 

5757 -- What is essential?

This week's portion begins with the words, "And the Lord spoke unto Moses, saying, 'Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that gives it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering.'" [Ex. 2:1,2] I believe that for the last thirty five hundred years the Children of Israel have not gotten over the fact that God asked them to give Him a gift! Some of them made a religion out of it, either the giving or the collecting of "Trumah" -- gifts to God. Others built an ever growing resentment toward the very idea. "What a khutzpa," they think, they proclaim, they reason. "For anyone, just anyone, it is absolutely tasteless and tacky to ask for a gift... For God to do so, why, it's enough to turn you off from religion." Of course, they have no case at all! The text makes it very clear that God is not demanding but rather trying to make sure that the gift of well meaning people who are truly desirous of making a contribution is handled in the proper manner -- but this concept gets lost in the clatter of constant complaints.

Once we get over the hurdle of fund raising, we arrive at the detailed description of the building of the first sanctuary for worship of the God of Israel.

Ask any expert what was the core, the essence of the Tabernacle built by the Israelites in the desert -- and I'll bet you that ninety nine out of a hundred will say that it was the altar, the place where the sacrifices were offered to God. But, if you consider the order in which things are mentioned to be an indication of what is essential and what is secondary, consider the text we read this week. Immediately after the list of valuables that may be donated we read, "And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them. According to all that I show thee, after the pattern of the tabernacle, and the pattern of all the instruments thereof, even so shall ye make it. And they shall make an ark of shittim wood: two cubits and a half shall be the length thereof, and a cubit and a half the breadth thereof, and a cubit and a half the height thereof. And thou shalt overlay it with pure gold, within and without shalt thou overlay it, and shalt make upon it a crown of gold round about." [Ex. 25:8-11] So the Torah tells us to build an ark, describing the measurements and construction of this ark in great detail. A close examination of the text makes it clear that this "ark" was not a cabinet or closet, but rather a crate, as the Ark had no legs. The Ark stood on the ground and its opening was from its top. Again, from the text we learn that the Ark was a three layers crate, an outer shell of Gold, a body made of Acacia wood, and an inner overlay of pure Gold. On the outer Ark there were gold rings on all four corners, one third of the way up from the bottom. Into these rings were placed the poles used for lifting and carrying the Ark. The Holy Ark was so important that it became the subject of mythical legends. Everyone knows about it in our times because of the famous film, one of the first successes of Steven Spielberg, "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

What was the purpose of this "ark?" The text tells us, "And you shall put into the ark the testimony which I shall give you." [Ex. 25:13] The ark was to be a repository of all that was most holy, most important to the continued existence of the Israelite people. So, what were you likely to find in this "holy ark" if you found it, suddenly? By Jewish tradition, as expounded in the Talmud based on Torah text and later commentary, you would find: all the fragments of the First Tablets given to Moses by God after the revelation at Sinai and broken by him upon his descent from Mt. Sinai and his discovery of the golden calf; the Second Tablets which he hewed out and God inscribed; and the Scroll of the Torah -- written by Moses before his death in the Wilderness of Moab. Our great Sepharadic sage and teacher, Maimonides, in his introduction to Mishneh Torah said: "Moses wrote the entire Torah in his own hand before his death, and he gave a Sefer Torah to each one of the tribes and placed one in the Ark for posterity..." -- this is precisely the reason for the name "Torat Moshe," the Teaching of Moses. In addition, there were deposited in the Ark the flowered staff of Aaron and the Jar of Manna.

So, the Israelites built this box, and placed in it these items -- and made that the center, the most important part of Tabernacle, their mobile sanctuary. There is only one problem with this account: the ark, it's content and its decorations -- had to weigh close to a ton! How could it have been possible for four men to carry such an Ark on their shoulders? How could they have possibly borne such a heavy burden? In fact, how could it have been possible to even lift the Ark off the ground by means of the poles? They would have broken the moment an attempt was made to lift the Ark! Or, it the poles were strong enough, the rings would have been torn off their base, since they were attached to the very thin walls of gold of the outer crate only! The only conclusion we can reach, therefore, is that the Ark could not have been moved by natural means -- it had to be a self-propelled ark.

This conclusion explains the reason for the Talmudic explanation of the verse "Va'yhi binso'a ha'aron va'yomer Moshe kuma adona'y ve'yafutzu oyvekha ve'yanusu mesan'ekha mipanekha -- And it came to pass, when the ark set forward, that Moses said, Rise up, Lord, and let your enemies be scattered; and let them who hate you flee before you." "The Ark bore its bearers and passed" [Sota 35a]. This also explains why God became angry at Uzzah [2 Samuel 6], when he reached out to grasp the Ark to prevent it from falling from the wagon: "The Holy One Blessed Be He said to him: Uzzah, it bore its bearers - it can certainly carry itself".

The Holy Ark is also called "Aron Ha'edut" -- the witness box! Those who stand by this box cannot but see clearly His all encompassing power. Those who stand by this box cannot but bear witness to his grandeur and sovereignty. As it is written, "Etz kha'yim hi lamakhazikim ba -- She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her; and happy is every one that retains her." [Prov. 3:18] May we all live by its teachings all our days. Amen

5758

This week's Torah portion is Terumah, beginning in Exodus 25 with the words, "Vayomer Adona'y el Moshe, daber el b'ney Yisrael v'yik'khu li trumah -- The Lord said to Moses: Tell the Israelites to take for me an offering; from all whose hearts prompt them to give you shall receive the offering for me." This passage is the source of much complaint and disaffection among the followers of God, be they Jews, Christians, Moslems, or any other religious group. Everyone complains that the religious institutions stand there with the hand stretched out, asking for a donation. Indeed, more than once in the course of the reading of the Torah, which is to say in the course of the calendar year, you hear the theme recur: Give us money.

Well, you are getting tired of it. Of that I am sure. For that matter, so am I. Yet, how else is one to go about doing what needs to be done, which is the very next item on the agenda in this weeks portion: "And have them make me a sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them." God wants to dwell among the Children of Israel -- but a dwelling place is not a spiritual place, it is a real dwelling, make in the desert of wood, copper, brass and skins and ornaments of silver and gold.

Many non-believers decry the progression of events in the Torah: first you stand at mount Sinai and hear God speak, giving Israel lofty ideals to strive for. Then the text continues with "mishpatim -- sentences," where the speech of God is turned into legalities that make life ordinary and mundane -- and finally you arrive at Trumah, this week's portion, where we are presented with a bill for the party: it is time to pay the piper. Ah, yes, they say, it is all a racket -- a plan to siphon the money out of the people into the priesthood's pockets!

Of course, this is not the case at all. There is a noble and good cause to create sanctuaries and build edifices where we can come and worship. We need to have physical manifestations of our own generosity towards God, which is a mirror image of His beneficence and love for us.

It was only last week that read in the Torah the ordinary laws that deal with the most mundane issues: "And he who strikes his father, or his mother... He who steals a man, and sells him... He who curses his father, or his mother... If men quarrel together, and one strikes another with a stone, or with his fist, and he dies not, but keeps to his bed; he rises again, and walks out with his staff... And if a man strikes his servant, or his maid, with a rod, and he dies under his hand... If men quarrel, and hurt a pregnant woman, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no further harm follows... If an ox gores a man or a woman, that they die... But if the ox was wont to gore with its horn in times past, and its owner had been warned, and he has not kept it in, but it has killed a man or a woman... And if a man shall open a pit, or if a man shall dig a pit, and not cover it, and an ox or an ass falls in it... If a man shall steal an ox, or a sheep, and kill it, or sell it; he shall restore five oxen for an ox, and four sheep for a sheep... If a thief is found breaking in, and he is struck so that he dies, there shall no blood be shed for him... If a man shall cause a field or vineyard to be eaten, and shall put in his beast, and shall feed in another man’s field; of the best of his own field, and of the best of his own vineyard, shall he make restitution.... If fire breaks out, and catches in thorns, so that the stacks of grain, or the standing grain, or the field, be consumed with it; he who kindled the fire shall surely make restitution..." Well, it all prepares us to better spend our time in search of God. "Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near;" [Isiah 55:6] This week we learn about the relation of Torah to Israel, the relation of Torah to God, and consequently, the relation of God to Israel. God has given the Torah to Israel because of His love for our forefathers, because of his love for Torah, and because he had made Torah for Israel and Israel for Torah. The midrash explains with a story: A king had one daughter and he loved her very dearly. A young prince came and married the girl. The king said, 'you had every right to marry her, and it is natural that you shall take her to your home to live with you in love and harmony. However -- I do love her, too, and I shall miss her all the time. Why don't you prepare a place for me in your home, and nice room that I can dwell in. That way we shall all live happily every after.' So, also, the Holy One, Blessed be He, said to Israel, I have given you my Torah, and I cannot abstain from it, Myself. Therefore, take from each of you a 'trumah' and make a 'mikdash' for me.

So, what is the word "trumah?" If you look it up in a Hebrew-English dictionary, you will find the meaning 'contribution, offering, choice.' While we all know the meaning of the first two words -- and we feel it to be a slight threat, the third meaning is a big surprise. The whole concept of giving -- in Judaism -- is a question of personal choice. We have to live our life in such a way that it becomes our choice to make the offering, to give the appropriate gift. However, beyond this, the word 'trumah' comes from the root 'rom,' meaning height, or 'herim,' meaning raise -- and it teaches us the true purpose of the offering: to elevate the giver and raise him/her to new heights of personal realization. In the Torah the word 'truma' is often associated with the word 'tnufa' -- which means to wave as a banner, but which is also the word for launch and propel. Thus, the contribution we offer propels us into a higher existence.

God commands Moses to raise funds for the purpose of building a 'mikdash' -- a sanctuary dwelling for the Torah, and for God's presence. God loves Torah and wishes to be near it. Torah is the heritage of the Jewish people -- "Torah tziva lanu Moshe, morasha kehilat ya'akov" [Deu. 33:4] Now, in the days of the sovereignty of Israel, we had the Holy Temple, Beit Hamikdash, standing in the city of Jerusalem. That was two thousand years ago! What happened since then? Beit Hamikdash was replaced with beit hamidrash -- the great schools and academies of Torah study. The Talmud teaches us, "Rabbi El'azar said, any man who has knowledge, it is as if the Holy Temple was built in his days." [Berakhot 33,1] What does this mean? It means that the Mikdash is more than a building -- it is an attitude, a state of mind, and a state of being. Through the learning of Torah we come to fulfillment of mitzvot. Through fulfillment of mitzvot we are pleasing our Creator and sanctifying Him in the world which He created 'likhvodo' -- to manifest His honor.

5759

This week we read in the Torah the portion of Trumah, which begins in the 25th chapter of the book of Exodus with the words, "Speak to the people of Israel, that they bring me an offering; from every man that gives it willingly with his heart you shall take my offering." It then goes on to say that each may bring anything from gold and silver to skins and cloth for the making of the desert sanctuary, Ohel Mo’ed, the Appointment Tent or the Tent of Meeting.

Well, the days of the Temple are long gone, and the work of the priests has long been replaced by Rabbi and public servants. In the synagogue this work has been done by the officers of boards of trustees, by worthy men and women who held the interest of the congregation above all else. People of means have contributed of their wealth to make sure that the Jewish community remains vital and productive. Rabbis received honor and respect, and their counsel was sought for every issue, from matters of community to matters of family and of individuals.

Rabbis have been held in high esteem – and why not? After all, it was not easy to become a Rabbi! The amount of knowledge one had to accumulate was enormous, the burden of responsibility placed upon them was gargantuan, and the scope and demands of their profession were such that no reward was commensurate to their labor, a labor of love for God and His people Israel. Those days are over, though, and nowadays Rabbis are often held in the same view that has been reserved in modern society to teachers: Those who can, do – and those who don’t, teach (or preach).

Of course, this view is rather narrow-minded. Just consider the fact that without the building blocks of education no progress would take place. Without learning the ‘nuts and bolts’ of human knowledge, which begins with language, with reading and writing skills, and with the transmission of information – and the tools that make it possible to use that knowledge to establish new science, new industry, and new commerce, we would have no progress. Every generation would have to reinvent the wheel! Similarly, in the synagogue, without practice, without congregational commitment to the service of God and the welfare of the community, no Rabbi could function to bring about Godliness. Without the backing of the community, a Rabbi becomes a voice in the wilderness. His life is in the congregation – but if the congregation is not there to hearken, to hear and to learn from his experience, he is as that proverbial tree in the depth of a forest. Does anyone know if he did or did not make a noise when he fell. Is their beauty and amazing tonal quality to a Stradivarius violin that sits in a case gathering dust?

Can one measure the gift offered to God as a Trumah? The text tells us quite clearly, "From every man that gives it willingly with his heart you shall take my offering." But what of those who stand and measure every gift, who deign to judge the gift not by its value – but by what they establish as the ‘standard of giving?’ What happens when these arbiters of the values of the gift are, in fact, ignorant of any measurement standard?

Members of this congregation owe the Rabbi a debt of gratitude. You never thought about it, and the Rabbi never asked for it -- but still it is true. Any of you who have had a son or daughter who was bar-mitzvah in the past thirteen years, and there are 66 of you out there, without tears and without trauma; those of you who have had a loss in the family -- and there have been more than 120 of you, and for whom the Rabbi devoted time and emotional energy to console and comfort, to say a good word and help overcome your loss; those of you whom the Rabbi visited in the hospital; those who brought your problems to the Rabbi, to help solve, or even just to lend a sympathetic ear; those of you for whose relative the Rabbi made a prayer of quick recovery from illness -- all of you know what this Rabbi has been to this community. After thirteen years of service to the community, to dismiss the Rabbi by simply saying "I don't wish to renew your contract" is a travesty of justice and an act not worthy of a Jewish congregation. It is also against the standards of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism -- and the claim that because this Rabbi is not a member of the Rabbinical Assembly absolves from treating him by the United Synagogue standard is as absurd as it is immoral and unethical.

The Board of Trustees of Temple Emanuel has voted not to renew the congregations Rabbi’s contract. I believe that this is a very bad decision. The congregation can overturn the board’s decision. It is up to each and every member of the congregation to make up their minds. You have a chance to make a contribution to the future of this congregation and its Rabbi. I sure hope you will speak up!

5760 -- What is a fitting gift?

5761

 5762

The portion we read in the Torah this week is Trumah, beginning in Exodus 25 with the words, "Vayomer Adona'y el Moshe, daber el b'ney Yisrael v'yik'khu li trumah -- The Lord said to Moses: Tell the Israelites to take for me an offering; from all whose hearts prompt them to give you shall receive the offering for me." This request for "offerings" to be made to God comes on the heels of last week's special Shabbat - called "Shkalim" - in which each person of the Children of Israel was requested to give a "set gift" of half a shekel. So it does not take a clairvoyant to perceive that the request made in this week's Torah reading is the source of much disaffection in the religious community, be it Jewish, Christian, Moslem, or any other religious group. Everyone complains that religious institutions all stretch out their hand, asking endlessly for donations. It seems to us that there is always someone looking to get a "cut" of our hard earned wealth. If it is not the Synagogue, it is charitable organizations, and if not them, it's Uncle Sam - the government is taking too much in taxes!

Yet, how else is one to go about doing what needs to be done? Our government needs to tax us to keep our army strong, our roads and highways in good repair, our schools excellent, our air clear and our less fortunate citizens from starving. The Torah, immediately after asking for the "gifts" exhorts Moshe to ask the Israelites to "have them make me a sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them." Can you imagine, can you believe that God wants to dwell among the Children of Israel! However, a dwelling place (even for God) is not some kind of a spiritual place, in our heart! It needs to be a real dwelling, constructed in the desert of wood, copper, brass and animal skins and ornaments of silver and gold. Such a sanctuary is every member of the community's pride. It is only right that they should help its establishment with their gifts.

God does not demand the impossible, or the unreasonable of anyone. Every person is obligated to do only that which he or she can – as the text says, "from all whose hearts prompt them ." As King Solomon said in Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 9:10, "All that you find within your ability to do, act upon it" – which is to say, only that which is within your ability. We must act and do only that which has been placed upon us - but no less than what has been given to us to do, either. We must recognize what our ability is. For anyone to claim that doing a minimal amount for their community is "that which he or she can" is to sell oneself short! The Torah suggests for us some guidelines. The tenth of our fruit, plus a "love offering" that will demonstrate our attachment to our Creator. Think of the gifts you make for love - the ring you give the one you wish to marry; the home you provide for your wife and children – can you treat your God, Master of the Universe, Almighty Lord with less?

What does God demand of you? Every person is obligated to study – according to one's abilities, to be sure! Some learn folk-tales and history, some learn Torah and Talmud, Ethics of the Fathers, and Mishna – while others train in Halakhah, the Law. God does not expect every person to sit down and learn like a great scholar. However, all must learn – and one way of learning is by attending services Friday evenings and Shabbat mornings. Another obligation is to make a gift to the synagogue according to one's wealth. A wealthy person cannot give only a small amount and claim to have fulfilled his or her obligation; neither should a poor person give away everything trying to meet the standards of the rich. One must ask oneself: is the house we build for God a reflection of my love, my ability to praise and glorify my God? Can I spare my wealth and keep my integrity?

There are rumors flying – that Beth El Beaches synagogue is not going to build a permanent home, that we cannot afford it, that we are doomed to remain a minimalist congregation in a modular building "on the edge" but nor quite part of the main. Ask yourself, is this your self image? Is that how you see yourself?

If your answer is "no," then you need to do something about it. There is a core group of determined people here. We have resolved to make this "Beth El" - the House of God. We shall move heaven and earth, turn every rock, whisper in every ear, and shout at the top of our lungs so that all those who try to turn a deaf ear to us will have no choice but to hear. We proclaim that we shall raise the funds, that we shall not rest until the corner-stone is placed, until the walls stand proud and the roof covers our sanctuary. We shall endeavor with all our might to establish the work of our hands, and to make everyone proud of the house we build. It will be a house of God – and a reflection of our community, our Jewish family, our heritage - and our hope for the future.

So please, don't give up! Open your ears to our voice, open your heart to our plea, open your pocket to our need, and open your eyes wide to behold the Glory of our God manifest in the sanctuary we shall build together!

5763

This Shabbat's portion in the Torah is is called "Trumah," and comes from Shmot, Exodus 25:1 to 27:19. The text begets its name from the first words, "And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, 'Speak to the people of Israel, that they bring me "trumah" – an offering; from every man that gives it willingly with his heart you shall take my offering.'" [Ex. 25:1,2] Years ago, when I first approached the portion I asked why God would choose to ask for an offering, feeling that it was more than a little tacky – and even though the text does say "every man that gives it willingly with his heart," it does not mitigate the tackiness...
The sages tell us that the first mitzvah mentioned in this week's portion is, "V'asu li mishkan vshakhanti betokham – And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them." [ibid 25:8] Tradition tells us that all the funds needed to build the Tabernacle were brought as gifts even before it was called for. The reason for this strange behavior of the Israelites may well be the fact that they had a purpose for their giving, namely the building of "God's Dwelling," the Mishkan. A second reason may have been the 'name' of the giving, it was called "Trumah" -- from the root 'ram' meaning to elevate. So the people felt good, elevated, when they gave.
Then, three years ago last week – or at least when last week's portion in the Torah was read, I spent a blink of an eye, a week, in my home town of Jerusalem. On Shabbat I went to pray at the Kotel, and I had an encounter I reported on. Because I am a cohen I was asked to pronounce the Priestly Benediction during the Musaf service. I took off my shoes, I raised my Tallit to cover my head, and I repeated after the leader of the service, in my clear, far reaching voice, "Yevarekhekha Hashem ve'yishmerekha -- may the Lord bless you and keep you; May the Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace." [Num. 6:24-26] I had a good feeling about doing this, a feeling that was increased by dancing and singing immediately after the service, "Mishenikhnas Adar marbin besimkha -- as the month of Adar begins, we increase our joy." Finally I put my tallit back in its bag and walked away from the Wall, to begin my trek home.
It was then that I was approached by a woman who said to me, "I heard your pronouncement of the Blessing of the priests. Where were you last week? Last week I was here with my son, Ro'ee. I gave him that name because he was the answer to my prayers. Avraham Avinu said "Hashem Ro'ee" -- the Lord will be seen in this place. I came here to pray for a son, I never failed to come here with my son. But not today!"
I could have turned away and gone on my way, but I saw that the woman was not done, that she wanted to say more, and so I asked her, "Why not?" And, of course, she was waiting for my query.
"My son, Ro'ee, the light of my life, my comfort and my eternity, is fighting for his life this Shabbat at a hospital in the north." She stopped and took a deep breath before she continued. "You know, next week we shall read the portion of 'trumah,' and I have been thinking of it a week ahead of time. My son made his own 'trumah,' his contribution to the eternity of Israel. He always exaggerates. When he plays, he plays too hard. When he laughs, he does not stop until he has tears in his eyes and the hiccups. When he loves he gives his heart away and allows the girl to break it to small pieces. And when he went to the army he became a scout, the one who leads the platoon, twenty paces in front, with a bomb sniffing dog for companion, the tip of the sword. Well, his faithful dog found an explosive charge last Sunday, and set it off. Ro'ee was badly hurt in the explosion, and his very life hangs in the balance." Her eyes searched my face, and I tried to soften my features without seeming to smile like an uncaring idiot.
"He saved the lives of everyone in the platoon. But what a price he paid. You know, when we read the portion of trumah next week, I think I shall cry out to God. I shall say to Him, 'I did not volunteer my son as a sheep for the sacrifice. Enough has been sacrificed, enough has been given. The time is at hand. You must make peace. You must stop the slaughter. You must have pity on the children -- and on the mothers." I must tell you that my eyes were filled with tears, my chest was heavy with sorrow and sympathy for her and her wounded son. I wanted to speak back, to tell her that God Himself is brokenhearted, that He is bemoaning His grief, His sorrow, and His helplessness at the triumph of evil in the world. I wanted to remind her of the father who brought his son here, bound him up and put him on a makeshift altar – a supreme "trumah" of faith in the Almighty. Here we stand, I wanted to tell her, at this site – the only remaining wall of our destroyed Temple, a people steeped in sorrow, bruised and beaten and yet still so full of hope that we recite the words He gave us, praying for peace, wishing to bring it about by force of our resolve. I looked into her eyes, and she looked into mine, and she turned to leave.
"What more can we give, dear God," she asked, "why don't you listen to the words of the cohen, why don't You make a trumah for us, as Your heart drives you to do. 'Rak ten lanu Shalom!' -- only grant us peace." She was out of earshot after those last words, I did not hear if she said anything else. I surely hope she heard my fervent 'amen.' I fervently want to believe that her son lives, and recovered from his wounds.
Last week, while conducting services, I received the news that the Shuttle Columbia broke up upon reentry. All seven astronauts were killed. Again, my whole being was crushed by the weight of this terrible news. Every time a shuttle goes up we tremble a little; every time we hear of a Jewish astronaut, David Wolf, who lived on the Russian Mir space station; Jeff Hoffman, who took a menorah into space with him during one of his shuttle missions; and, of course, our first lady of space, Judy Resnik, who made her first flight in 1984, and who died aboard the Challenger – we cringe. "Dangerous business, this space travel," we think to ourselves.
Then came Ilan Ramon, and broke all the norms, changed all the preconceived ideas. Ilan made it normal and natural to travel into space. A married father of four, at the age of 48, he was a former fighter pilot and weapons specialist who fought in the 1973 Yom Kippur War and in the 1982 War in Lebanon. In 1981, he was the youngest pilot to take part in the Israeli air raid that destroyed Iraq's nuclear reactor at Osirak. He was an unsung hero, with more than 3,000 hours of flight experience.
Though he came from a secular background, he said that during the mission he represented all Jews around the world. He asked NASA for kosher food for the mission and consulted with rabbis on how to observe the Sabbath while whizzing above the earth. He took with him a microfiche Tanakh presented by Israel's president, a mezuzah and a dollar bill from the late Hassidic Rabbi Schneerson of Lubavitch. Ramon, whose mother was a holocaust survivor, was born in Ramat Gan, near Tel-Aviv, but grew up in Be'er Sheva, the capital of the Negev, Israel's southern district. He also took a drawing lent by the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial, titled "Lunar landscape." The drawing was made in the Teresienstadt Ghetto by Peter Ginz, a 14-year-old Czech Jew who was a fan of Jules Verne. The picture, dark and dreamy, showed the earth as seen from the moon. Unbeknownst to him, the little boy's sister survived the war and moved to Be'er Sheva, where the little boy's niece was in Ilan's high school class. "My brother is finally getting a chance to go into space," said the slain artist's sister, as Columbia lifted off last month.
"There is no better place to emphasize the unity of people in the world than flying in space. We are all the same people, we are all human beings, and I believe that most of us, almost all of us, are good people," Ilan said.
Ilan Ramon made the ultimate "trumah." May God keep his soul, and may we all be inspired and instructed by his valor, his values, and his virtue. Yehi zikhro barukh – may his memory be a blessing to us all.
Amen
Shabbat Shalom

5764
This Shabbat we read in the Torah the portion called "Trumah," which comes from Shmot, Exodus, 25:1 to 27:19. The text begets its name from the first words, "And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, 'Speak to the people of Israel, that they bring me "trumah" – an offering; from every man that gives it willingly with his heart you shall take my offering.'" [Ex. 25:1,2] Why does God ask Moshe to become a fundraiser? For a very specific reason, which we read a little ways into the portion, "Va'asu li mikdash veshakhanti betokham – And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them." [ibid. 25:8] The sages tell us that this is the first mitzvah mentioned in this week's portion.
Based on this mitzvah the funds were raised to build the Tabernacle – and tradition tells us that the gifts were brought even before it was called for. The reason for this strange behavior of the Israelites may well be the fact that they had a purpose for their giving, namely the building of "the Mikdash, God's Dwelling," which was also called the "Mishkan." I would like to discuss this matter for a few minutes.
The text speaks of a "mikdash," a word that was used in the Torah only once before – in the Song of the Sea – in a passage that is not clearly understood. Having praised God for the miracle at the sea, we come to this verse, "till your people pass over, O Lord, till the people pass over, whom you have purchased. Tevi'emo vtita'emo b'har nakhlat'kha; makhon leshivtekha pa'alta adona'y, mikdash adona'y konenu yadekha – You shall bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of your inheritance, in the place, O Lord, which you have made for you to dwell in, in the Sanctuary, O Lord, which your hands have established." [ibid. 15:16,17] Well, what does this mean? Surely God has not built the Temple in Jerusalem, nor even the "mishkan" in the dessert. In fact, at the Red Sea He had not built anything, except a watery grave for Israel's enemies.
The dessert sanctuary was called "the Tabernacle"in English, "Ohel Moed" (meaning the tent of appointment) in Hebrew. It was not called mikdash. And looking at this week's text we see an amazing riddle, "let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them" – the text does not say that God will dwell in the sanctuary, the Mikdash – it says that if they make the mikdash He will dwell among them!
Let us go back to the first verse, and the name of our portion – "Trumah." - This word comes from the root 'ram' in Hebrew, meaning to elevate. So the people felt good, elevated, when they gave. Maybe the giving was not so much because it was necessary to build a tent or later a magnificent Temple – it was just giving for the sake of elevating their own spirits. It has been three months now since that Shabbat that I spent in my hometown of Jerusalem, where I went to pray at the Kotel, the one remaining wall of the Temple. There is definitely something different and inspiring standing there by that huge, solid wall. You feel inspired, closer to God. I remembered participating in the Priestly benediction during the Musaf service. I took off my shoes, I raised my Tallit to cover my head, and I repeated after the leader of the service, in my clear, far reaching voice, "Yevarekhekha Hashem ve'yishmerekha -- may the Lord bless you and keep you; May the Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace." [Num. 6:24-26] I had a good feeling about doing this, a feeling that was increased by dancing and singing immediately after the service, "Mishenikhnas Adar marbin besimkha -- as the month of Adar begins, we increase our joy." Finally I put my tallit back in its bag and walked away from the Wall, to begin my trek home.
Last year when we read this portion, we were mourning the seven astronauts who were killed in the shuttle Columbia tragedy. I remember my feeling, how crushed my whole being was by the weight of this terrible news. I remember saying that every time a shuttle goes up we tremble a little; every time we hear of a Jewish astronaut, David Wolf, who lived on the Russian Mir space station; Jeff Hoffman, who took a menorah into space with him during one of his shuttle missions; and, of course, our first lady of space, Judy Resnik, who made her first flight in 1984, and who died aboard the Challenger – we cringe. "Dangerous business, this space travel," we think to ourselves.
But the loss of the Columbia included an Israeli astronaut - Ilan Ramon. He broke all the norms, changed all the preconceived ideas. Ilan made it normal and natural to travel into space. A married father of four, at the age of 48, he was a former fighter pilot and weapons specialist who fought in the 1973 Yom Kippur War and in the 1982 War in Lebanon. In 1981, he was the youngest pilot to take part in the Israeli air raid that destroyed Iraq's nuclear reactor at Osirak. He was an unsung hero, with more than 3,000 hours of flight experience.
Though he came from a secular background, he said that during the mission he represented all Jews around the world. He asked NASA for kosher food for the mission and consulted with rabbis on how to observe the Sabbath while whizzing above the earth. He took with him a microfiche Tanakh presented by Israel's president, a mezuzah and a dollar bill from the late Hassidic Rabbi Schneerson of Lubavitch. Ramon, whose mother was a holocaust survivor, was born in Ramat Gan, near Tel-Aviv, but grew up in Be'er Sheva, the capital of the Negev, Israel's southern district. He also took a drawing lent by the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial, titled "Lunar landscape." The drawing was made in the Teresienstadt Ghetto by Peter Ginz, a 14-year-old Czech Jew who was a fan of Jules Verne. The picture, dark and dreamy, showed the earth as seen from the moon. Unbeknownst to him, the little boy's sister survived the war and moved to Be'er Sheva, where the little boy's niece was in Ilan's high school class. "My brother is finally getting a chance to go into space," said the slain artist's sister, as Columbia lifted off last month.
"There is no better place to emphasize the unity of people in the world than flying in space. We are all the same people, we are all human beings, and I believe that most of us, almost all of us, are good people," Ilan said. Ilan Ramon made the ultimate "trumah." He is a ‘mikdash' – a holy vessel that makes us feel close to our Maker. May God keep his soul, and may we all be inspired and instructed by his valor, his values, and his virtue. Mikdash Adonaý konenu yadekha -- Your hands have established the sanctity of God.

Shabbat Shalom

Trumah 5765

This week's portion is in the book of Exodus, Shmot, from Chaper 25 to chaper 27, verse 19, and begins with the words, "And the Lord spoke unto Moses, saying, 'Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that gives it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering.'" [Ex. 2:1,2] The Hebrew text actually says “veyik’khu li trumah – that they should take for me and offering” – a difference that bespeaks volumes of what offerings are all about. “bring me an offering” suggest charity, the giving of what one “feels like giving” – while “take for me and offering” suggest that they need must gird themselves with moral strength, and “grab” (a synonym of ‘take’) what is needed.
Why go with this concept of doing what is necessary rather than what one’s heart dictates? Because of the purpose. This offering, the “Trumah,” this gift that God is asking the Israelites to bring to Him is for a special purpose, as we read in the text: “V’asu li mikdash veshakhanti betokham – and they shall make for me a mishkan, and I shall dwell in their midst.” [Ibid. 25:8] The sages had many questions and at least to different opinions as to what this verse means. There is no question as to beginning of the sentences: they will do their part, and God will do His. What is not so clear is just what their part IS – and what God will do in return.

The first question that is asked is, what is a “mikdash?” Some texts translate the word as ‘sanctuary,’ others (based on what was actually built) call it ‘a tabernacle,’ while still other use the term ‘temple.’ However, based strictly on the meaning of the Hebrew word, from its Hebrew roots, the word should be translated as ‘a sanctified place.’ Here is where the matter becomes a little difficult for our sages: how can you build a sanctified dwelling place for an amorphous Holiness? A God that cannot be seen, that has no physical attributes – does He needs a ‘place?’
As if that was not enough, we have a problem with the second half of the verse: God informs Moshe that should this dwelling place be build, “and I shall dwell in their midst” – not I shall dwell in IT, no! “and I shall dwell in their midst!” If he shall dwell in the midst of the people Israel, what is the need for a “mikdash?”

The Midrash tries to explain by saying that sometimes when you become owner of a valuable treasure, you also become responsible for its history and origin. You “buy” a work of art, and you “carry” the artist with you, for while you own the art, it is still, and always, the fruit of the artist. How do you relate to the artist? By hanging the artwork on the wall or displaying it is some way. How do you become “holy” before God, by displaying His holiness by means of His “mikdash” – a physical place dedicated to His glory. However, the Lord is not an artist, nor is he a human being, nor any kind of existence of this world – so He will not dwell in the mikdash – he will dwell in the midst of His people, as He has dwelt among them since the days of Abraham, Yitzkhak and Ya’akov. The whole world is filled with His glory, His children all declare Him sovereign, and His metaphorical dwelling place is the Mount of the Lord, Mount Moriah, in the City of David, His anointed one.

“Vihi no’am adona’y eloheynu aleynu – And may the pleasance of the Lord our God be upon us; and establish the work of our hands upon us; O prosper it, the work of our hands.” [Psalms 90:17]

Amen

Shabbat shalom

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