To Build a House: Terumah.23

 To Build a House: Terumah

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

February 21, 2023

Former President Jimmy Carter—his unjustified writings about the State of Israel notwithstanding—has set an amazing example for us all. Since leaving office in 1981, the 39th President of the United States has focused not on enriching himself, but rather on promoting human rights throughout the world, earning him a Nobel Peace Prize in 2002.

In the past few years, President Carter’s most notable work was on behalf of Habitat for Humanity. The most remarkable images for which he will be remembered are those where he and his wife, Rosalynn, are seen helping to build homes for the needy.

In this, the former President was following a famous example: that of Moses building the Tabernacle in the Wilderness.

There are, of course, many differences between the humble abodes Habitat provides and the rich and elaborate Tabernacle that Moses created. One could easily be forgiven for asking why God requires such huge quantities of gold, silver and other rich materials for the construction of God’s house. 

Many answers are possible, most of which have to do with our own, human, perception of what is proper and fitting for a structure meant to represent God’s Presence on earth. When we look at cathedrals and temples all over the world, humble isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind.

Yet the process by which the construction of the Tabernacle was carried out belies the richness and intricacy of the result. For it involved the contribution not only of those who were able to give up a measure of their wealth for the sake of a greater good, but rather the free-will offering of every single Israelite, rich and poor alike. 

Terumah (“Contribution,” Exodus 25:1—27:19), this week’s Torah portion, does not ask for mandatory donations, but rather for free will offerings “from every person whose heart is so moved.”

It wasn’t only gold, silver and expensive dyes and wool that were necessary. Brass and copper would be needed for the nuts and bolts that would hold the entire structure together, as well as for forming the vessels and tools used in the Sacred Service. Those who had nothing material to present could offer other abilities and talents instead—designing, measuring and cutting, weaving and embroidering, and even providing food and water for the workers. 

Unlike other ancient temples, which most often relied on slave labor and heavy taxation, the Tabernacle Moses assembles is a community project. There are no taskmasters. No one is judged by how much or how little they contribute, but rather by the uplift of heart and spirit that they bring to this public endeavor.

The craftsmanship and beauty that characterized the Tabernacle continue to provide inspiration to this day. The seven-branch Menorah has become the most enduring symbol in Jewish art, displayed in many homes and at just about every temple and synagogue. The Ark of the Covenant, today housing the Torah, God’s Word, remains the most beautiful piece of furniture in every Jewish house of worship.

But most of all, the building of the Tabernacle is remembered for the community project that it was, where volunteerism and contribution—be it money, time or effort—counted equally. These are still what it takes to build and maintain communities.

It was his faith that motivated Jimmy Carter to become involved in Habitat for Humanity. It is this same force that moves us today as we carry on the mission with which Moses entrusted us: Creating sacred space for God’s Presence in our midst.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman

Being Better: Mishpatim.23

 Being Better: Mishpatim

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

February 15, 2023

Mishpatim (“Laws,” Exodus 21:1—24:18), this week’s Torah portion, contains more commandments (fifty-three in total) than almost any other portion in the Torah. This list of civil laws presents a pretty dismal view of life 3000 years ago. Never-ending wars, slavery, sexual abuse, thievery and murder are only some of the highlights of civilization back then. In hindsight, we can disagree with some of the laws (and penalties), but it’s important to remember that the primitive conditions under which people lived required some primitive solutions. 

Slavery is a perfect example. Wars were often fought for that exact purpose: Slavery was profitable business, and until the Industrial Revolution, slavery not only supplied essential (and cheap) labor, but often was also an economic necessity. As such, the Torah does not forbid slavery but instead attempts to regulate it, defining the length of servitude and the proper way to treat slaves.

Some of the laws in Mishpatim became archaic and were voided almost as soon as they were written down: “He who strikes his father or his mother shall surely be put to death… And he who curses his father or his mother shall surely be put to death” (Ex. 21:15, 17). 

The commandments that prohibit oppressing the stranger, the widow or the orphan, are succinct and to the point. Others, however, were broadened beyond the specific cases they were originally meant to cover. The case of the “goring ox,” the ongoing and persistent danger presented by an animal not restrained by its owner, is one of the most widely discussed topics in Jewish law texts.

Compassion is a common motif throughout this portion. We must show understanding for the plight of the poor and defenseless, and compassion for animals (including those that belong to an enemy). The famous commandment that is fundamental to kashrut—the Jewish dietary laws— “Do not boil a kid in its mother’s milk” (Ex. 23:19) is understood in this light.

All-too-human tendencies are also discussed in this portion: Bribery “blinds clear vision and distorts the words of the righteous.” Our tendency to go along with the majority—right or wrong—is yet another example of how justice can be perverted. Prejudice and bigotry stand in the way of truth and justice, often forming the basis for laws that masquerade as righteousness, yet are neither right nor legitimate.

It's easy to dismiss this portion as arcane, yet studying it not only hones our sense of right and wrong, it reminds us of what it means to be a human being—prompting us to be caring, loving, compassionate and just, especially in a world that sadly lacks these very qualities.

Mishpatim isn’t only about laws and consequences: It’s a training manual for making us better people.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman

Making Eternity Possible: Yitro.23

 Making Eternity Possible

D’var Torah for Parashat Yitro

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

February 8, 2023

The Revelation at Sinai, God’s Presence and voice presenting the Israelites with the Ten Commandments, is both singular and unique, yet also the most universal moment in human history. Expanding on the opening words, “I Am Adonai your God” the Midrash teaches:

“Rabbi Abahu said in the name of Rabbi Yochanan: When the Holy One Blessed Be He gave the Torah, no bird chirped, no fowl flew, no bull lowed, the angels did not fly, the heavenly seraphim did not say their litany of ‘holy, holy,’ the sea did not agitate, none of the creations spoke; rather, the world was silent, and the voice went out: ‘I am the Lord Your God’ (Exodus Rabbah 29).

As such, one could expect this section of the portion to have its own freestanding place in the Torah. And yet in this week’s Torah portion, Yitro (Jethro, Exodus 18:1—20-23), it appears as part of a larger narrative. The portion opens with Moses’s father-in-law, the Midianite high priest Jethro, coming for a visit. Observing Moses hard at work as sole leader, visionary, judge and arbitrator for the Israelites, Yitro has sage advice: Select respected people to judge the simpler cases; keep only the toughest for yourself. 

This structural organization should have been obvious. Court systems were in place long before Moses. Yet Moses seems ignorant of this obvious solution to his constant state of exhaustion. To his credit, Moses takes Yitro’s advice and implements it. It’s only at this point that the story proceeds with the Ten Commandments.

We can learn much both from Moses’s inability to see what was clear to others, as well as from the juxtaposition of the two topics in this portion. Perhaps it was his love and concern for his people that stirred Moses to be there for every individual. Or (as is more likely for the rest of us) perhaps it was a simple case of micromanaging. We think we can do it all, or that no one else is capable of doing the work as well as we can. 

But the truth that even Moses has to learn is that communities cannot be sustained by one individual. Committees aren’t always the most efficient solution, but the distribution of work is essential for the health of the community. Everyone must feel that they own a part of the project. The feeling of being left out inevitably leads to discontent. Obviously it is important to find the right individual for each task, but in the end everyone has something to contribute—and that’s a huge part in the successful operation of any system, be it legal, social, educational or economic. 

But there is a second lesson to be learned from this portion. Inspiration and application aren’t one and the same thing. As simple and direct as the Ten Commandments may appear at first reading, implementing them isn’t always clear or straightforward. How is one to interpret “murder?” How do we “honor our mother and father?” And what constitutes “observing and keeping the Sabbath?” These may be a fundamental to our legal and moral system, but for any true justice to exist, interpretation of the law is often necessary. This portion both humanizes the law while at the same time giving it structure and process. It’s a delicate balance that requires constant attention. 

Perhaps that’s why it’s only now, with a judicial system all set and ready to go, that the Israelites are finally given the Ten Commandments. Their meaning and intention must be taught and clarified to every member of the community. Only this arrangement—by thousands, hundreds and tens—makes it possible for each of us to have a role in the sacred mission of pursuing justice. 

And maybe that’s why the Midrash explains that when God spoke these Words the entire world was silent. The holiness of Ten Commandments must reach every one of us. No one must be left out of the sacred partnership between God and us. We are all the architects, builders and caretakers of a great, universal Hall of Justice. 

Spirit and body, vision and realization. When both elements combine, the possibilities are endless.

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman

 Making Miracles: Beshallach

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

January 31, 2023

Miracles and wonders about in this week’s Torah portion, Beshallach (“At the Time of Setting Free,” Exodus 13:17—17:16). 

First and foremost is the parting of the Red Sea. The image is forceful and eternal, representing God’s power over water and earth, life and death. It is both a moment in history and also symbolic of the survival of the Jewish People through the thousands of years of its existence, overcoming oppression, hatred and bigotry. It has always represented the touchstone of the Jewish faith in a redeeming God.

But faith—even in the face of such miracles—is fickle; doubt pierces faith and often causes it to shatter. And when that happens, trust has to be rebuilt—a long and difficult process. 

There are those for whom faith is, at best, a treacherous path. The conflict between faith and reality causes many of us to become skeptical. We tend to see miracles as no more than fairy tales. Survival and success are attributed to coincidence and luck as much as hard work and cunning. God’s hand becomes obscured by human blood, sweat and tears.

The early rabbis recognized this all-too-human tendency and, to some extent, vindicated it. In explaining the marvel of the parting of the Red Sea, they added a human component to the story. As the Torah describes it, the Sea parts as a result of the partnership between God and Moses: God causes a strong easterly wind to rise just as Moses holds his staff over the waters. In the Midrash, the Rabbis spend considerable time to also relate the fear and doubt of the Israelites, even at that awesome moment. Overcoming this reaction called for an act so heroic that it would set an example for everyone. And so the Rabbis told of the courageous deed of one individual: Nahshon Ben Aminadav. Leader of the tribe of Judah, Nahshon—whether because of despair or hope—leaps into the swirling water. It was at that exact moment, say the Rabbis, that the Sea parted. It was this combined effort—the power of God, the inspiration of Moses and the courage of Nahshon—that combined to make the miracle happen.

In survival, teach the Rabbis, the human component must always be there. We cannot depend on marvels and miracles alone. Much is up to our individual as well as community effort.  

Trust is no simple matter. It has to grow and develop over time. When it is shattered, as all too often happens, it needs to be rebuilt step by step. In Beshallach, as the Israelites begin their journey through the Wilderness, brutal enemies as well as the lack of food and water will challenge the emerging relationship between God and the Israelites. At first, the needs will be seen to by God and Moses. Water will gush from the rock; manna will mysteriously appear each and every morning. God will fight Israel’s battles with its enemies. And with each ensuing challenge and battle, the Israelites grow more confident and stronger, and so does our trust in God.

That’s what makes the parting of the Red Sea an eternal symbol: We believe that God does intervene in nature and history. Our faith in God’s redeeming power is at the heart of our faith. But so is the teaching of Moses—the Torah—which continues inspiring us, giving us direction and purpose. But in the end, this miracle also involves our participation. It is up to each of us to add our effort to the combined thrust of our people. When we overcome our fears and doubts, when we—like Nahshon Ben Aminadav—take the first step forward, we find that miracles can, and do, indeed happen. 

© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman