Giving generously: Terumah 5785

At a time of financial hardship, Moshe’s call for donations in this week’s parsha is timely, if not in essence challenging, and here are many reasons why people do or don’t contribute to charities and educational and social causes. Moshe offers no convincing reason why he is appealing for monetary help, other than that it is God’s wish that the people of Israel become a nation of donors, each person according to the generous instinct that resides within his or her heart. The Lord phrases His appeal as being a donation symbolically to God Himself. “Let them take for Me” are the words that seek to justify this appeal. In other words, we give because of our relationship with our Creator, and not only because of the justice of causes that require our help.

 Charity is a Torah commandment, one with which we can empathize and claim to understand and appreciate. However, at the root of this commandment is the bald fact that we are bidden to imitate our Creator, and our definition of God is one of goodness and charity.

The Torah tells us that God is with the widow and the orphans, even though we don’t know why He made them such. But it is our duty to pursue goodness and charity as the Lord commands us to do. At the end of the day, charity is an inexplicable commandment. The reason that there is so much charity in the world is that there is, somewhere deep within our consciences and souls, a streak of human kindness and goodness. We really wish to be charitable people.

Since we have freedom of will and choice, we can overcome our inner instincts of goodness, becoming miserly and even cruel towards others and to ourselves as well. Just as there are base instincts that lurk within us, and we possess within ourselves the freedom to overcome and deny them, so too does this power of freedom of will and choice allow us to sublimate our good and charitable instincts. There is a well- known statement of the rabbis that many people regret being put upon for a charitable contribution and yet feel a deep satisfaction within themselves after they have in fact made that contribution. It is that deep instinct towards being charitable that engenders satisfaction after a person has done a charitable deed or made a charitable contribution.

 The Torah wishes to encourage our charitable instinct. It resorts to making what is essentially a voluntary act one that becomes mandatory, being a mechanism to allow the good within us to burst forth. The holy institutions of Israel can only be constructed with the charitable instincts of the Jewish people.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

The Library of Everything, by Rabbi David Ebner (Book of the Month, Adar 5785)

The Library of Everything: Poems and Torah Commentaries is one of the most unusual books in Beit Knesset Hanassi’s collection. It consists of a set of creative and imaginative items, in prose and verse, by Rabbi Dr David Ebner—Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Eretz HaTzvi, Jerusalem. According to the publishers, ATID:

This collection of original poetry on Jewish and religious themes will enlighten and stimulate readers to an array of issues-Jewish learning and teaching; textual understanding and interpretation; prayer, salvation and repentance; and the Holocaust.

Each of the twenty-one poems is accompanied by a short essay, notes, or an excursus, through which the author unfolds the genesis of the poem: how it was distilled from classical Jewish sources, or—moving in the opposite direction—drawing the reader's attention to implications and applications of the poem to contemporary religious life and experience.

Rabbi Ebner has taken an active interest in integration between Jewish studies and English literature. This is apparent to the reader of this slim (94 page) tome, from which the author’s warm and engaging personality can be instantly discerned.

The Mishkan: A Sanctuary of Divine Connection and Symbolism

 One of the most difficult things for us today is to understand and appreciate the rule of the Mishkan, the holy tabernacle that contained the ark of the covenant and the mysterious cherubs that were placed on top of it. In the following piece, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom tackles the topic:

The Mishkan: A Sanctuary of Divine Connection and Symbolism.

וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃

And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.

With just five words, the Torah introduces us to a transformative era in the life of Klal Yisrael. Having journeyed through the experiences of Yetziat Mitzrayim, Matan Torah, the miracles, and the revelation of Hashem, Bnei Yisrael are now called upon to undertake a collective project—the construction of the Mishkan. This was no ordinary building; every detail was imbued with profound spiritual significance.

The Divine Wisdom in the Mishkan

The Talmud (Berachot 55a) teaches us about the extraordinary wisdom of Bezalel, the chief artisan of the Mishkan. Chazal explain that Hashem created the world through the letters of the Aleph-Bet, and Bezalel was granted the unique insight to understand these divine forces. Rashi expounds that Bezalel possessed Chochmah, Binah, and Da’at—Ruach Hakodesh—a sacred knowledge that enabled him to construct the Mishkan as a microcosm of the universe. Just as the physical world was created to manifest Hashem’s presence, the Mishkan served as a concentrated space for sanctity, permeating all aspects of existence with kedushah.

The Aron HaKodesh: The Heart of the Mishkan

At the very core of the Mishkan stood the Aron HaKodesh, a sealed sacred ark housing the Luchot HaBrit—the tablets Moshe received at Har Sinai. The Aron was hidden away in the Kodesh HaKodashim, accessible only once a year on Yom Kippur by the Kohen Gadol. Despite its physical concealment, the Aron served as the spiritual epicenter of the Mishkan, radiating kedushah throughout. 

The construction of the Mishkan and later the Beit HaMikdash stands at the center of Jewish history and law. The Rambam, in Hilchot Beit HaBechirah (Chapter 1), counts the mitzvah of building the Beit HaMikdash as one of the 613 commandments. Every generation is bound by this commandment, though not every era has been capable of fulfilling it. From Shlomo HaMelech’s construction of the first Beit HaMikdash to Ezra’s leadership in building the second, each iteration of this sacred structure fulfilled a divine directive—to establish a spiritual epicenter for Klal Yisrael.

The Gold Within and Without

The Torah specifies that the Aron was made of wood, overlaid with gold inside and out (Shemot 25:11). The Gemara in Yoma 72b extracts a vital lesson from this detail: one who represents Torah must be “tocho kebaro”—their inner self must match their outer persona. True Torah scholars must live lives of authenticity and integrity, embodying the values they espouse. The Rambam in Hilchot De’ot (Chapter 2) extends this idea, prohibiting deceitful behavior and emphasizing the necessity of inner and outer consistency in one’s character.

Additionally, the combination of wood and gold itself holds meaning. Wood symbolizes growth and adaptability, while gold represents stability and permanence. The interplay between these materials mirrors the dual nature of Torah and halacha—immutable principles that must be applied with wisdom and sensitivity to the evolving needs of each generation. Rav Kook encapsulated this idea in his axiom, HaYashan Yischadesh v’HaChadash Yiskadesh—the ancient must be revitalized, and the new must be sanctified. The eternal truths of Torah must be dynamically applied to the realities of contemporary Jewish life.

The Permanence of the Poles

One of the unique aspects of the Aron was that its carrying poles were never to be removed (Shemot 25:15). Unlike the other vessels of the Mishkan, which had removable poles for transport, the Aron’s poles remained fixed even after the Beit HaMikdash was established. This detail carries deep significance.

1. The Mobility of Torah – Rav Hirsch explains that the fixed poles symbolize the universal and portable nature of Torah. While the Menorah, Mizbe’ach, and Shulchan were rooted in the Beit HaMikdash, the Torah is not confined to any one place; it travels with Klal Yisrael throughout history and across all lands.
   
   
2. Supporters of Torah – The Chatam Sofer interprets the poles as representing the machzikei haTorah—those who support Torah learning. Just as the Aron itself housed the Luchot, symbolizing the scholars who dedicate their lives to Torah, the poles represent the benefactors who enable its continuity. Their attachment to Torah is eternal, ensuring its transmission across generations.
   
   
3. The Aron Carries Its Bearers – A remarkable idea found in Sotah 35a teaches that the Aron was noso et nosov—it carried those who carried it. This profound notion underscores that those who dedicate themselves to Torah, whether through study or support, are ultimately upheld by it. Torah does not merely demand effort; it sustains and elevates those who cleave to it.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks ztz”l once illustrated this idea poignantly. At the conclusion of his tenure as Chief Rabbi of the UK, he was presented with a Sefer Torah as a parting gift. In his emotional response, he remarked, “You may think you see me carrying this Torah, but the truth is, it is carrying me.” This encapsulates the eternal truth of Klal Yisrael’s survival—the Torah is our foundation, our guide, and our sustainer.

The Mystery of the Keruvim

On the lid of the Aron were the two keruvim (cherubs). This is what the Torah says of them:

וְעָשִׂ֛יתָ שְׁנַ֥יִם כְּרֻבִ֖ים זָהָ֑ב מִקְשָׁה֙ תַּעֲשֶׂ֣ה אֹתָ֔ם מִשְּׁנֵ֖י קְצ֥וֹת הַכַּפֹּֽרֶת׃

Make two cherubim of gold—make them of hammered work—at the two ends of the cover.

וַ֠עֲשֵׂ֠ה כְּר֨וּב אֶחָ֤ד מִקָּצָה֙ מִזֶּ֔ה וּכְרוּב־אֶחָ֥ד מִקָּצָ֖ה מִזֶּ֑ה מִן־הַכַּפֹּ֛רֶת תַּעֲשׂ֥וּ אֶת־הַכְּרֻבִ֖ים עַל־שְׁנֵ֥י קְצוֹתָֽיו׃

Make one cherub at one end and the other cherub at the other end; of one piece with the cover shall you make the cherubim at its two ends.

וְהָי֣וּ הַכְּרֻבִים֩ פֹּרְשֵׂ֨י כְנָפַ֜יִם לְמַ֗עְלָה סֹכְכִ֤ים בְּכַנְפֵיהֶם֙ עַל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת וּפְנֵיהֶ֖ם אִ֣ישׁ אֶל־אָחִ֑יו אֶ֨ל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת יִהְי֖וּ פְּנֵ֥י הַכְּרֻבִֽים׃

The cherubim shall have their wings spread out above, shielding the cover with their wings. They shall confront each other, the faces of the cherubim being turned toward the cover.

וְנָתַתָּ֧ אֶת־הַכַּפֹּ֛רֶת עַל־הָאָרֹ֖ן מִלְמָ֑עְלָה וְאֶל־הָ֣אָרֹ֔ן תִּתֵּן֙ אֶת־הָ֣עֵדֻ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֶתֵּ֖ן אֵלֶֽיךָ׃

Place the cover on top of the Ark, after depositing inside the Ark the Pact that I will give you.

וְנוֹעַדְתִּ֣י לְךָ֮ שָׁם֒ וְדִבַּרְתִּ֨י אִתְּךָ֜ מֵעַ֣ל הַכַּפֹּ֗רֶת מִבֵּין֙ שְׁנֵ֣י הַכְּרֻבִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֖ר עַל־אֲר֣וֹן הָעֵדֻ֑ת אֵ֣ת כׇּל־אֲשֶׁ֧ר אֲצַוֶּ֛ה אוֹתְךָ֖ אֶל־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

There I will meet with you, and I will impart to you—from above the cover, from between the two cherubim that are on top of the Ark of the Pact—all that I will command you concerning the Israelite people.

One of the most enigmatic elements of the Aron was the presence of the Keruvim—two golden, cherubic figures mounted atop the Aron’s cover. The Torah describes them as having wings that stretched upwards toward Hashem while their faces turned toward each other and downward toward the Luchot. This imagery carries deep symbolic meaning.

The placement of the Keruvim raises a fundamental question: How could the Torah, which explicitly forbids the crafting of graven images (Second Commandment), instruct the creation of these sculpted figures? The Chizkuni offers an intriguing explanation. The Mishkan, and later the Beit HaMikdash, existed in a different spiritual dimension—a sanctified realm where certain prohibitions, such as melachah on Shabbat (there was baking, slaughtering, lighting the menorah) and sha’atnez in the Kohanim’s garments, were suspended. In this space, even the prohibition against graven images did not apply.

The Meaning Behind the Keruvim

Many commentators offer profound insights into the symbolism of the Keruvim:

1. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch: The two Keruvim represent the dual dimensions of Torah observance—mitzvot bein adam laMakom (between man and God) and mitzvot bein adam lechavero (between man and fellow man (chesed, tzedakah). Their facing position signifies that these two aspects must be integrated for a complete Torah life. That is the spiritual and generosity of Torah: emunah and chesed
   
   
2. Ba’al HaTurim, based on Pirkei D’Rebbe Eliezer: The Keruvim symbolize the dynamic nature of Torah study. They face each other, mirroring the way Torah scholars engage in dialogue, sharpening their understanding through Torah discussion. The Torah is not just a written text (Torah She’bichtav) housed within the Aron, but also a living, ever-expanding oral tradition (Torah Sheba’al Peh), embodied in the Keruvim’s interaction.
   
   
3. The Ba’al Shem Tov and Chassidic Thought: The Keruvim reflect three fundamental loves—Ahavat Hashem (love of God), Ahavat Yisrael (love of the Jewish people), and Ahavat HaTorah (love of Torah). The Keruvim’s wings pointed heavenward, symbolizing our yearning for closeness to Hashem. Their faces turned toward each other, representing the deep connection between fellow Jews. Their gaze also directed toward the Luchot, emphasizing the centrality of Torah in Jewish life.

The Mishkan as a Model for the Future

Throughout Bnei Yisrael’s forty years in the wilderness, Hashem’s voice would emanate from between the Keruvim when communicating with Moshe Rabbeinu. This reinforces the idea that the Mishkan was not merely a physical structure but a space where divine presence, Torah, and love converged.

The Mishkan teaches us that holiness is not confined to grandiose displays but is found in the details—each aspect carrying divine intention. The construction of the Mishkan and the Beit HaMikdash was not merely about creating a physical space for divine worship; it was about establishing a perpetual source of inspiration for Am Yisrael. The Aron, with its inner and outer gold, its blend of permanence and adaptability, and its permanently affixed poles, embodies the eternal values of Torah—values that demand integrity, support, and commitment. As we reflect on the meaning of the Aron HaKodesh, we are reminded of our duty to live lives of authenticity, to support and sustain Torah learning, and to recognize that ultimately, it is Torah that carries us through the challenges and triumphs of Jewish history.

The  Keruvim symbolizes the integration of Torah observance, love for one another, and a connection to Hashem which remains the cornerstone of Jewish life today.

 May we all draw inspiration from the Mishkan’s lessons, striving to bring sanctity into our own lives and communities.

The Mishkan: Cherubs, Divine Connection and Symbolism

One of the most difficult things for us today is to understand and appreciate the rule of the Mishkan, the holy tabernacle that contained the ark of the covenant and the mysterious cherubs that were placed on top of it. In the following piece, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom bravely tackles the topic:

The Mishkan: A Sanctuary of Divine Connection and Symbolism

וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃

And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.

With just five words, the Torah introduces us to a transformative era in the life of Klal Yisrael. Having journeyed through the experiences of Yetziat Mitzrayim, Matan Torah, the miracles, and the revelation of Hashem, Bnei Yisrael are now called upon to undertake a collective project—the construction of the Mishkan. This was no ordinary building; every detail was imbued with profound spiritual significance.

The Divine Wisdom in the Mishkan

The Talmud (Berachot 55a) teaches us about the extraordinary wisdom of Bezalel, the chief artisan of the Mishkan. Chazal explain that Hashem created the world through the letters of the Aleph-Bet, and Bezalel was granted the unique insight to understand these divine forces. Rashi expounds that Bezalel possessed Chochmah, Binah, and Da’at—Ruach Hakodesh—a sacred knowledge that enabled him to construct the Mishkan as a microcosm of the universe. Just as the physical world was created to manifest Hashem’s presence, the Mishkan served as a concentrated space for sanctity, permeating all aspects of existence with kedushah.

The Aron HaKodesh: The Heart of the Mishkan

At the very core of the Mishkan stood the Aron HaKodesh, a sealed sacred ark housing the Luchot HaBrit—the tablets Moshe received at Har Sinai. The Aron was hidden away in the Kodesh HaKodashim, accessible only once a year on Yom Kippur by the Kohen Gadol. Despite its physical concealment, the Aron served as the spiritual epicenter of the Mishkan, radiating kedushah throughout. 

The construction of the Mishkan and later the Beit HaMikdash stands at the center of Jewish history and law. The Rambam, in Hilchot Beit HaBechirah (Chapter 1), counts the mitzvah of building the Beit HaMikdash as one of the 613 commandments. Every generation is bound by this commandment, though not every era has been capable of fulfilling it. From Shlomo HaMelech’s construction of the first Beit HaMikdash to Ezra’s leadership in building the second, each iteration of this sacred structure fulfilled a divine directive—to establish a spiritual epicenter for Klal Yisrael.

The Gold Within and Without

The Torah specifies that the Aron was made of wood, overlaid with gold inside and out (Shemot 25:11). The Gemara in Yoma 72b extracts a vital lesson from this detail: one who represents Torah must be “tocho kebaro”—their inner self must match their outer persona. True Torah scholars must live lives of authenticity and integrity, embodying the values they espouse. The Rambam in Hilchot De’ot (Chapter 2) extends this idea, prohibiting deceitful behavior and emphasizing the necessity of inner and outer consistency in one’s character.

Additionally, the combination of wood and gold itself holds meaning. Wood symbolizes growth and adaptability, while gold represents stability and permanence. The interplay between these materials mirrors the dual nature of Torah and halacha—immutable principles that must be applied with wisdom and sensitivity to the evolving needs of each generation. Rav Kook encapsulated this idea in his axiom, HaYashan Yischadesh v’HaChadash Yiskadesh—the ancient must be revitalized, and the new must be sanctified. The eternal truths of Torah must be dynamically applied to the realities of contemporary Jewish life.

The Permanence of the Poles

One of the unique aspects of the Aron was that its carrying poles were never to be removed (Shemot 25:15). Unlike the other vessels of the Mishkan, which had removable poles for transport, the Aron’s poles remained fixed even after the Beit HaMikdash was established. This detail carries deep significance.

1. The Mobility of Torah – Rav Hirsch explains that the fixed poles symbolize the universal and portable nature of Torah. While the Menorah, Mizbe’ach, and Shulchan were rooted in the Beit HaMikdash, the Torah is not confined to any one place; it travels with Klal Yisrael throughout history and across all lands.
   
   
2. Supporters of Torah – The Chatam Sofer interprets the poles as representing the machzikei haTorah—those who support Torah learning. Just as the Aron itself housed the Luchot, symbolizing the scholars who dedicate their lives to Torah, the poles represent the benefactors who enable its continuity. Their attachment to Torah is eternal, ensuring its transmission across generations.
   
   
3. The Aron Carries Its Bearers – A remarkable idea found in Sotah 35a teaches that the Aron was noso et nosov—it carried those who carried it. This profound notion underscores that those who dedicate themselves to Torah, whether through study or support, are ultimately upheld by it. Torah does not merely demand effort; it sustains and elevates those who cleave to it.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks ztz”l once illustrated this idea poignantly. At the conclusion of his tenure as Chief Rabbi of the UK, he was presented with a Sefer Torah as a parting gift. In his emotional response, he remarked, “You may think you see me carrying this Torah, but the truth is, it is carrying me.” This encapsulates the eternal truth of Klal Yisrael’s survival—the Torah is our foundation, our guide, and our sustainer.

The Mystery of the Keruvim

On the lid of the Aron were the two keruvim (cherubs). This is what the Torah says of them:

וְעָשִׂ֛יתָ שְׁנַ֥יִם כְּרֻבִ֖ים זָהָ֑ב מִקְשָׁה֙ תַּעֲשֶׂ֣ה אֹתָ֔ם מִשְּׁנֵ֖י קְצ֥וֹת הַכַּפֹּֽרֶת׃

Make two cherubim of gold—make them of hammered work—at the two ends of the cover.

וַ֠עֲשֵׂ֠ה כְּר֨וּב אֶחָ֤ד מִקָּצָה֙ מִזֶּ֔ה וּכְרוּב־אֶחָ֥ד מִקָּצָ֖ה מִזֶּ֑ה מִן־הַכַּפֹּ֛רֶת תַּעֲשׂ֥וּ אֶת־הַכְּרֻבִ֖ים עַל־שְׁנֵ֥י קְצוֹתָֽיו׃

Make one cherub at one end and the other cherub at the other end; of one piece with the cover shall you make the cherubim at its two ends.

וְהָי֣וּ הַכְּרֻבִים֩ פֹּרְשֵׂ֨י כְנָפַ֜יִם לְמַ֗עְלָה סֹכְכִ֤ים בְּכַנְפֵיהֶם֙ עַל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת וּפְנֵיהֶ֖ם אִ֣ישׁ אֶל־אָחִ֑יו אֶ֨ל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת יִהְי֖וּ פְּנֵ֥י הַכְּרֻבִֽים׃

The cherubim shall have their wings spread out above, shielding the cover with their wings. They shall confront each other, the faces of the cherubim being turned toward the cover.

וְנָתַתָּ֧ אֶת־הַכַּפֹּ֛רֶת עַל־הָאָרֹ֖ן מִלְמָ֑עְלָה וְאֶל־הָ֣אָרֹ֔ן תִּתֵּן֙ אֶת־הָ֣עֵדֻ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֶתֵּ֖ן אֵלֶֽיךָ׃

Place the cover on top of the Ark, after depositing inside the Ark the Pact that I will give you.

וְנוֹעַדְתִּ֣י לְךָ֮ שָׁם֒ וְדִבַּרְתִּ֨י אִתְּךָ֜ מֵעַ֣ל הַכַּפֹּ֗רֶת מִבֵּין֙ שְׁנֵ֣י הַכְּרֻבִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֖ר עַל־אֲר֣וֹן הָעֵדֻ֑ת אֵ֣ת כׇּל־אֲשֶׁ֧ר אֲצַוֶּ֛ה אוֹתְךָ֖ אֶל־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

There I will meet with you, and I will impart to you—from above the cover, from between the two cherubim that are on top of the Ark of the Pact—all that I will command you concerning the Israelite people.

One of the most enigmatic elements of the Aron was the presence of the Keruvim—two golden, cherubic figures mounted atop the Aron’s cover. The Torah describes them as having wings that stretched upwards toward Hashem while their faces turned toward each other and downward toward the Luchot. This imagery carries deep symbolic meaning.

The placement of the Keruvim raises a fundamental question: How could the Torah, which explicitly forbids the crafting of graven images (Second Commandment), instruct the creation of these sculpted figures? The Chizkuni offers an intriguing explanation. The Mishkan, and later the Beit HaMikdash, existed in a different spiritual dimension—a sanctified realm where certain prohibitions, such as melachah on Shabbat (there was baking, slaughtering, lighting the menorah) and sha’atnez in the Kohanim’s garments, were suspended. In this space, even the prohibition against graven images did not apply.

The Meaning Behind the Keruvim

Many commentators offer profound insights into the symbolism of the Keruvim:

1. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch: The two Keruvim represent the dual dimensions of Torah observance—mitzvot bein adam laMakom (between man and God) and mitzvot bein adam lechavero (between man and fellow man (chesed, tzedakah). Their facing position signifies that these two aspects must be integrated for a complete Torah life. That is the spiritual and generosity of Torah: emunah and chesed
   
   
2. Ba’al HaTurim, based on Pirkei D’Rebbe Eliezer: The Keruvim symbolize the dynamic nature of Torah study. They face each other, mirroring the way Torah scholars engage in dialogue, sharpening their understanding through Torah discussion. The Torah is not just a written text (Torah She’bichtav) housed within the Aron, but also a living, ever-expanding oral tradition (Torah Sheba’al Peh), embodied in the Keruvim’s interaction.
   
   
3. The Ba’al Shem Tov and Chassidic Thought: The Keruvim reflect three fundamental loves—Ahavat Hashem (love of God), Ahavat Yisrael (love of the Jewish people), and Ahavat HaTorah (love of Torah). The Keruvim’s wings pointed heavenward, symbolizing our yearning for closeness to Hashem. Their faces turned toward each other, representing the deep connection between fellow Jews. Their gaze also directed toward the Luchot, emphasizing the centrality of Torah in Jewish life.

The Mishkan as a Model for the Future

Throughout Bnei Yisrael’s forty years in the wilderness, Hashem’s voice would emanate from between the Keruvim when communicating with Moshe Rabbeinu. This reinforces the idea that the Mishkan was not merely a physical structure but a space where divine presence, Torah, and love converged.

The Mishkan teaches us that holiness is not confined to grandiose displays but is found in the details—each aspect carrying divine intention. The construction of the Mishkan and the Beit HaMikdash was not merely about creating a physical space for divine worship; it was about establishing a perpetual source of inspiration for Am Yisrael. The Aron, with its inner and outer gold, its blend of permanence and adaptability, and its permanently affixed poles, embodies the eternal values of Torah—values that demand integrity, support, and commitment. As we reflect on the meaning of the Aron HaKodesh, we are reminded of our duty to live lives of authenticity, to support and sustain Torah learning, and to recognize that ultimately, it is Torah that carries us through the challenges and triumphs of Jewish history.

The  Keruvim symbolizes the integration of Torah observance, love for one another, and a connection to Hashem which remains the cornerstone of Jewish life today.

 May we all draw inspiration from the Mishkan’s lessons, striving to bring sanctity into our own lives and communities.

Purim three times over!

Over the past few days, several members have been asking exactly what’s going on this year, with Purim spread over three days. To clarify the issue, the position is like this:

If you live in any city that was walled at the time of Joshua (this traditionally includes Jerusalem), Purim is normally celebrated on 15 Adar, a day after it is celebrated everywhere else. This late Purim is called Shushan Purim.

Regular Purim can never fall on a Shabbat, but Shushan Purim can.  This is a bit of a problem since we can’t read the Megillah on a Shabbat. The Gemara advances several reasons for this, one being that we might have a problem reading it so we carry it more than four amot through a public throughfare when seeking the assistance of a chacham.

How do we spread the mitzvot of Purim across our three-day festival? The Shulchan Aruch [Orach Chayim 688:6] explains that we read the Megillah on the Thursday night and Friday morning. Then, on Shabbat, we lein the parsha of Amalek out of a second sefer and recite Al HaNissim. On the following day, Sunday, we have our Purim seudah and give mishloach manot.

On Tuesday and Thursday evening of this week, between Mincha and Maariv, Rabbi Kenigsberg spoke in Shul on this very topic. These instructive shiurim can be accessed on our YouTube channel here and here respectively.

There’s more to come: This coming Sunday, in place of the regular Tzurba shiur, Rabbi Kenigsberg will be devoting an entire hour to this topic, starting at 10 am in Shul and on Zoom.

The Profound Lessons of the Half Shekel

This week we mark Parshat Shekalim, the first of four special parshiyot that we encounter in the lead-up to Pesach. To explain its deeper meaning, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom offers us some points to ponder. 

The Significance of Parshat Shekalim

Parshat Shekalim is read when Shabbat coincides with the period leading up to Rosh Chodesh Adar. This special Torah reading reminds us of the mitzvah of the Machtzit hashekel (“half-shekel”), a tax levied on all Jewish males above a 20 years old. Today, the value of a half shekel is about 50 dollars. The collected money was used to finance communal sacrifices in the Beit HaMikdash, including the daily Tamid offering, the Musaf offerings on Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, and the festivals, as well as other Temple necessities such as incense and oil for the Menorah. These all were from publicly collected money.

One of the unique aspects of this mitzvah is its timing. The Jewish fiscal year for communal sacrifices did not begin in Tishrei, as we might assume, but in Nissan. From Rosh Chodesh Nissan onward, all offerings had to be purchased with newly collected funds. You could not use money from the previous year. They used the previous year’s surpluses for city improvement.

 The Torah explicitly commands that both rich and poor must give the same amount—neither more nor less. This raises an intriguing question: Why prevent the wealthy from contributing extra? One answer is that the half-shekel also functioned as a census. Since Jewish law prohibits counting people directly, the number of contributors was determined by counting the collected coins. If some individuals gave more than a half-shekel, the count would be inaccurate. However, this explanation is incomplete, as the half-shekel was not always used for a census.

A deeper explanation is provided by the Sfat Emet: Wealth and poverty are not merely financial conditions; they also reflect differences in intelligence, talents, charisma, and other personal gifts. Some people are naturally more capable in certain areas, while others struggle. However, when it comes to serving Hashem, all individuals stand equally before Him. Hashem does not judge based on objective accomplishments but rather on how much effort a person invests in serving Hashem. A person with limited abilities who gives their all is viewed as even greater than a talented person who does not fully utilize their gifts in divine service.

The Mabit gives an example. The rich and poor start out equal, but it is the effort that differentiates people in olam haba. So if we have two Gemara students , one of whom can learn a 100 blatt a day, but only did 50 blatt a day while the other is trying to do one daf a week and accomplishes that task through hard work, who is greater? Most people would say it is the student who learnt 50 blatt a day. But in olam haba, it is the one who gave the most effort who is greater—and that would be the student who learnt a single blatt a week. This is not like the position in this world, where you are compensated for results, not effort. So our parents were right when they told us that what is important is the effort you put into a project, not the final results.

The Half-Shekel as a Symbol of Unity

Another profound lesson emerges from the fact that the required contribution was specifically a half-shekel. Why not a full shekel?

The Torah is teaching us that no individual is complete on their own. Each person is only a half, so we must join together to form a whole. This lesson functions on two levels:

1. Humility and Connection: No matter how accomplished a person may be, they remain incomplete without others. Recognizing this fosters humility and a willingness to learn and grow through connection with the community. This is a corrector to arrogance

2. Self-Worth: Just as I need others to complete me, others need me to complete them. This is a powerful message of self-esteem—every individual has a vital role to play in the collective whole of Am Yisrael. I matter, I am important as well, because other people need me.

Consider a space capsule—an engineering marvel composed of hundreds of thousands of intricate parts. At first glance, one might assume that the most critical component is the high-powered computer that navigates and controls the mission. However, even the most advanced technology would be rendered useless if something as small as a single screw failed to do its job. A tiny defect could cause the entire capsule to break apart. Similarly, in Hashem’s grand design, each of us, no matter how small we may seem, plays a vital role. Just as every part of the capsule is essential to its success, so too is every individual indispensable in fulfilling Hashem’s divine plan.

Conclusion

The mitzvah of the half-shekel teaches timeless lessons about equality, humility, and communal responsibility. It reminds us that our worth is not measured by external achievements but by how much of ourselves we dedicate to Hashem. Furthermore, it reinforces the idea that we are all interdependent; our greatest strength comes from recognizing our need for one another. As we prepare for Purim and embrace the spirit of unity and giving, may we internalize these lessons and strive to serve Hashem with our full hearts—together.

Facing up to resentment

Giving his parashah shiur on Friday morning, Rabbi Wein spoke powerfully about his own personal experiences in tackling the mitzvah of lending money to others. The difficulties involved in performing this mitzvah are recognized in Shakespeare's Hamlet, where Polonius (right) advises his son Laertes (left):

            Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
            For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
            And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

For the practising Jew, Rabbi Wein explained, lending to others is a mitzvah like any other -- and it is certainly one of the more difficult ones, not least because of the complexity of the psychology that attaches to any relationship based on loan and repayment.

This shiur, recorded on YouTube, drew the following comment from an unnamed viewer:

This was so validating. To hear we are not the only ones who've held on to the slight resentment of being taken advantage of after giving a significant so-called loan. Maybe now that I've heard this, I'll be able to fully let it go after all these years. Thank you.

Most of the Hanassi shiurim by Rabbis Wein and Kenigsberg appear on the shul’s YouTube channel, but not everyone knows that it is possible to post comments. If you enjoy our shiurim—and even if you don’t—you are all invited to share your comments.

Rabbi Wein’s shiur on borrowing and repaying loans can be accessed here.

Revelation and Legislation

Last Wednesday Rabbi Kenigsberg replaced regular speaker Rabbi Anthony Manning in the Wednesday morning program that Hanassi hosts with OU Israel. His subject? “Revelation and Legislation”—a fascinating review of the dramatic transition the Torah makes when it switches from telling the story of our people to itemising many specific rules within the code of Jewish law. 

In the time allotted to him, our rabbi set himself a steep challenge, examining the adjacent parshiyot of Yitro and Mishpatim in terms of their juxtaposition. Along the way he discussed the view of Rabbi Tzevi Yehudah Kook that we can learn from construing each parashah in the Torah together with its "pair" (in this case Yitro and Mishpatim). He also contrasted the views of Ramban and Rashi regarding the chronology of the Torah's content. Ultimately this powerful shiur forced us to consider a profound question: what, apart from literally laying down the law, does the parashah of Mishpatim teach us? 

You can watch and listen to Rabbi Kenigsberg's shiur on the OU Israel YouTube channel here.

Putting principles into practice :Mishpatim 5785

The Torah follows its exhilarating and inspirational description of the revelation at Mount Sinai with a rather dry and detailed set of various laws. It is one thing to be inspired and thus acquire great ideals—but it is quite something else to be able to transfer those ideals and inspiration into everyday life on a regular basis.

 We are all aware that the devil is in the details. It is natural to agree that one should not steal. But what is the definition of stealing or murder? Is taking something that originally did not belong to you always considered stealing? How about grabbing my neighbor’s rope and using it to save a drowning person? Is that also stealing? Is self-defense murder? Are court- imposed death penalties murder?

 How are we to deal with such complex moral issues?   This is the crux of all halacha and this week’s parsha introduces us to the intricacies of Jewish law. Without an understanding of halacha in practice, the Torah’s great ideals and inspiration are rendered almost meaningless and unachievable.

The Torah concentrates not only on great ideas but on small details too. From these minutiae spring forth the realization of the great ideals and the ability to make them of practical value and use in everyday life. Hence the intimate connection between this week’s parsha and the revelation at Mount Sinai discussed in last week’s parsha. There is a natural and necessary continuity in the narrative flow of these two parshiyot.

 I think that this idea is borne out by the famous statement of the Jewish people when asked if they wished to accept the Torah. In this week’s parsha their answer is recorded as: “We will do, and we will listen.” All commentators and the Talmud comment on the apparently reverse order of this statement. People usually listen for instructions before they “do.” But the simple answer is that the people of Israel realized that listening alone would be insufficient.  The great and holy generalities of the Torah are valid only if they are clearly defined, detailed and framed within the context of everyday activities. We have to “do” in order to be able to fully “listen” and understand the Torah’s guidance and wishes. The Talmud records that a non-Jew once told a rabbi that the Jews were a “hasty and impulsive people” in accepting the Torah without first checking out its contents. But that hastiness was actually a considered and mature understanding that the Torah could not be sustained by fine ideas alone.

 Only those who are willing to “do” and who know what to “do” will eventually appreciate intellectually and emotionally the greatness of Torah. Only then will they be able to truly “listen” and appreciate the great gift that the Lord has bestowed upon Israel – the eternal and holy Torah.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein   

Consent and Coercion

It seems strange that the Bnei Yisrael should be affirming their commitment to acceptance of the Torah yet again, having already said they would accept it--and even stranger that a midrash should teach us that there was an element of coercion in what appears to be an act of free will. But what do the words Na'aseh v'Nishma really mean? Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom offers an array of six explanations.

In parshat Yitro, which we leined last week, we learned that Bnei Yisrael stood at the foot of Har Sinai, prepared to receive the Torah. This was the pivotal moment when, having been asked to give their consent, they expressed their willingness to accept Hashem’s commandments.

In this week's parshah, Mishpatim, we encounter their famous declaration: "Na’aseh v'Nishma"—"We will do, and we will listen”—yet Chazal point out an element of coercion in this acceptance. The Midrash teaches that Hashem held Har Sinai over them like a barrel and declared, “If you do not accept the Torah, this will be your burial place.” How do we reconcile this with their seemingly voluntary acceptance of the Torah? On one hand, Bnei Yisrael willingly proclaimed their commitment; on the other hand, they were seemingly forced into it.

This moment was not just about Bnei Yisrael accepting the Torah—it was about their transformation into Am Hashem, the nation uniquely tasked with carrying Hashem’s values throughout history. To fully appreciate this, we must delve into the profound meaning behind "Na’aseh v'Nishma."

Six Interpretations of "Na’aseh v'Nishma"

1. Unconditional Commitment (Talmud, Shabbos 88a). The simplest understanding, found in the Gemara, is that Bnei Yisrael declared their commitment to fulfill Hashem’s commandments even before fully understanding them. This highlights an essential principle in Avodat Hashem: the mitzvot contain infinite depth, but performance should never be conditional on our comprehension. We begin observing mitzvot at the age of Bar/Bat Mitzvah, trusting that understanding will come with time. This concept is symbolized by putting on Tefillin Shel Yad (representing action) before Tefillin Shel Rosh (representing understanding).
   
   
2. Na’aseh for Mitzvot Aseh, Nishma for Mitzvot Lo Ta’aseh (Malbim). The Malbim explains that "Na’aseh" refers to positive mitzvot—actively performing Hashem’s will—while "Nishma" signifies our commitment to observe prohibitions and restrictions, i.e. negative mitzvot. This interpretation presents Na’aseh v'Nishma as a comprehensive acceptance of all aspects of the Torah.
   
   
3. Serving Hashem Without Ulterior Motives (Sforno). The Sforno emphasizes that Bnei Yisrael’s commitment was purely lishmo—motivated by love of Hashem rather than expectation of reward. While mitzvot bring both this-worldly and spiritual benefits, their ultimate purpose is to fulfill Hashem’s will simply because it is the truth.
   
   
4. A Desire for Continuous Revelation (Kli Yakar). According to the Kli Yakar, "Na’aseh" signified their commitment to the mitzvos they had already received, while "Nishma" expressed their eagerness to learn more. This reflects an intuitive recognition that there was still much more Torah to be revealed, and they longed to receive the entirety of Hashem’s wisdom.
   
   
5. Na’aseh as Torah Shebichtav, Nishma as Torah Sheb’al Peh (Or HaChaim, Rav Hirsch). The Or HaChaim and Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch suggest that "Na’aseh" represents acceptance of the Written Torah, while "Nishma" refers to the Oral Torah, which evolves through the interpretations of Chazal in every generation. This understanding combats the notion—espoused by reformers—that Torah Sheb’al Peh was a later human invention rather than divinely given at Sinai.
   
   
6. Two Distinct Commitments (Zohar, Beit HaLevi). The Zohar and the Beit HaLevi explain that "Na’aseh" represents a commitment to perform all mitzvot, while "Nishma" signifies a separate kabbalah—to engage in Torah lishmah, purely for its own sake. Thus Na’aseh v'Nishma embodies both action and immersion in Torah study as integral parts of Jewish life.

Why the Coercion?

If Bnei Yisrael had already accepted the Torah in multiple ways, why was coercion necessary? The Meshech Chochmah offers a profound insight: at Matan Torah, the revelation was so overwhelming that free will momentarily ceased to exist. The direct encounter with Hashem’s absolute truth left no room for doubt or choice. The world of free will was momentarily suspended. In this sense, the coercion was not a threat but a consequence of experiencing ultimate clarity.

However, after receiving the Torah, history resumed its natural state, requiring each Jew to continually reaccept the Torah in a world where free choice exists. Every time we open a sefer, we reenact Kabbalat HaTorah. Each mitzvah we perform is another expression of Na’aseh v'Nishma, reinforcing our role in carrying Hashem’s eternal wisdom forward.

May we all be zocheh to live a life imbued with the kedushah of Matan Torah and to continuously recommit ourselves to Hashem’s Torah with devotion and understanding.