Korbanot -- the meaning and the mystery

In this thought-provoking piece, Rabbi Paul Bloom throws some highly relevant light on the concept and practice of ritual sacrifices in the Mishkan and Beit HaMikdash.

A Small Reminder

Our Sages of blessed memory refer to the Book of Vayikra as Torat Kohanim ("The Law of the Priests"), as it primarily deals with the laws of sacrifices, which were performed by the kohanim. The very first word of Parashat Vayikra sets the tone for the entire book:

“ויקרא אל־משה וידבר ה אליו מאהל מועד לאמר”
 

"And He called to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying" (Vayikra 1:1).

A well-known peculiarity of this verse is the small alef (א) in the word Vayikra (ויקרא). Many commentators understand this as a symbol of Moshe's humility—despite his unparalleled sanctity and closeness to Hashem, he sought to minimize his own importance. However, the Zohar offers a radically different perspective. According to the Tosafot HaZohar (quoted in Itturei Torah, vol. 3, p. 7), the small alef signifies imperfection. Why? Because this Divine calling took place in the Mishkan (Tabernacle), which was situated outside the Land of Israel. True perfection, the Zohar teaches, can only be found in Eretz Yisrael.

This idea is striking. Was there ever a time in history when the Jewish people experienced a more intimate relationship with Hashem than during their forty years in the wilderness? They were enveloped by Heavenly clouds, sustained by manna, and led by Moshe Rabbeinu himself. Most significantly, they had a portable Beit HaMikdash, the Mishkan, where they could offer sacrifices and connect directly with God. Yet, despite these miracles, something was missing. The Jewish people were in the wrong environment. Only in Eretz Yisrael—where they would work the land, wage wars, and engage in the struggles of physical existence—could their avodat Hashem reach its full potential.

This lesson resonates powerfully today. Many Jews feel deeply fulfilled in their spiritual lives outside of Eretz Yisrael. Baruch Hashem, vibrant communities thrive in the Diaspora, boasting yeshivot, Torah institutions, and extraordinary chesed organizations. Yet, the Zohar reminds us that even the most elevated existence in Chutz LaAretz is inherently lacking. If the generation of the desert, who lived under direct Divine protection, still fell short because they were outside of Eretz Yisrael, how much more so must we recognize the importance of returning to our true spiritual home.

Thus, the small alef at the beginning of Vayikra serves as a subtle but powerful reminder: our ultimate goal is to serve Hashem in utter perfection—in His Chosen Land.

Korbanot: A Bridge Between Heaven and Earth

With this understanding of Vayikra’s opening words, we can better appreciate the role of korbanot. The Torah immediately introduces us to this world:

"Adam ki yakriv mikem korban laHashem" (Vayikra 1:2)

"When a man among you brings an offering to Hashem."

From this point forward, the Torah details the various offerings, their procedures, and their spiritual significance.

On one level, korbanot are deeply familiar to us. From the days of Kayin and Hevel to Avraham's offering of Yitzchak, from the korban Pesach in Egypt to the sacrifices in the Mishkan, korbanot played a central role in Jewish worship. Yet, on another level, they remain an enigma. The physical actions—slaughtering an animal, sprinkling its blood, burning its flesh—seem foreign to our modern spiritual sensibilities. How did this serve as an uplifting experience? This is a question for Eliyahu HaNavi and Mashiach to explain when the time comes. For now, we continue to study Torah, whose messages are eternal. Each generation uncovers new depths of understanding, and korbanot are no exception.

The Universal Message of "Adam"

One striking feature in the opening verses is the use of the word "Adam" rather than the more common "Ish" (man). Why "Adam"? This word holds profound meaning. First, it is a reference not only to an individual but to all of humanity, recalling Adam HaRishon. Additionally, "Adam" is encoded with deeper significance:

●      Aleph represents Hashem, the infinite One.

●      Dam means blood, the physical life force.

Man is thus a fusion of the divine and the earthly.

The Arizal further explains that "Adam" is an acronym for three fundamental aspects of Avodat Hashem:

●      Aleph – Emunah (Faith): Strengthening one’s belief in Hashem.

●      Daled – Dibur (Speech): Using speech properly in Torah, tefillah, and relationships.

●      Mem – Ma’aseh (Action): Performing mitzvot and righteous deeds.

The use of "Adam" also teaches another powerful lesson: korbanot were not exclusively for Jews. The Gemara (Menachot 73b) states that a God-fearing non-Jew could bring voluntary sacrifices. The Beit HaMikdash was called "Beit Tefillah le’chol ha’amim", a house of prayer for all nations (Yeshayahu 56:7). Shlomo HaMelech, in his inaugural speech for the Beit HaMikdash, acknowledged that non-Jews who sought to pray and offer korbanot were welcome.bThis universal invitation highlights the korbanot as a bridge between humanity and Hashem, emphasizing that all people can strive for holiness.

The Tamid Offering: A Lesson in Constancy

Among all the korbanot, the Korban Tamid stands out. Each day, without exception, began with the morning Tamid and ended with the afternoon Tamid. This concept of constancy—temidut—has deep significance. Rabbi Moshe Isserles (the Rema), in his commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, emphasizes two core themes:

1. Emunah – The opening words of the Shulchan Aruch cite "Shiviti Hashem lenegdi tamid", that Hashem should always be before us.
   
   
2. Simcha – The final words quote "Tov lev mishteh tamid", that one with a good heart is always celebrating.

These two constants—faith and joy—parallel the two Tamid offerings. No matter what challenges arise, a Jew’s foundation remains rooted in emunah in Hashem and simcha in the privilege of serving Him. Even though we do not bring korbanot today, these two principles guide our daily avodah. Our lives must be anchored in faith, and our service of Hashem must be infused with joy.

As we enter the month of Nissan, the month of redemption, may we merit to see the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash and the restoration of the korbanot. Until then, we continue to draw inspiration from their eternal lessons, deepening our faith and joy in serving Hashem—in Eretz Yisrael, our true spiritual home.

The Principle of Accountability

As we reach parashat Pekudei, the conclusion of Sefer Shemot, we find ourselves at the culmination of five parshiyot detailing, in meticulous repetition, the construction of the Mishkan. There are three significant lessons drawn from Chazal, each with deep and contemporary relevance. Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

The Principle of Accountability

The first lesson relates to Moshe Rabbeinu’s scrupulous account of every donation contributed towards the Mishkan. He meticulously records all the gold, silver, and other precious materials that were given, ensuring full transparency. This raises an important question: Was such an account necessary? If there was ever an individual about whom there could be no doubt regarding integrity, it was Moshe Rabbeinu. The Torah itself testifies to his unparalleled trustworthiness, humility, and devotion to transmitting the word of Hashem with absolute fidelity. Why, then, does he feel the need to present a detailed financial report?

Chazal explain that Moshe Rabbeinu was not merely providing an account of the funds—he was teaching a fundamental principle in Jewish life: accountability. No matter how righteous and beyond suspicion one may be, communal leaders, particularly those entrusted with financial matters, must demonstrate transparency. This principle has guided Jewish leadership throughout the ages. Those appointed as treasurers of communal funds, whether in the Beit HaMikdash, charitable organizations, or synagogues, must maintain a standard of conduct that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

The Mishnah in Shekalim reinforces this idea by describing how the treasurer of the Temple would wear a special garment without pockets or folds and go barefoot to ensure that no one could suspect him of wrongdoing. The reason given is that Jewish leadership must be just not only in the eyes of Hashem but also in the eyes of people. There will always be cynics and detractors, and the only way to counteract baseless accusations is to act with complete transparency and integrity.

The Spiritual Significance of Simplicity

The second lesson is drawn from the commentary of the Sforno, who highlights an often-overlooked aspect of the Mishkan. While the Jewish people contributed generously, producing gold, silver, and other costly materials, the Mishkan itself remained remarkably small. The Aron, the most sacred object, was only about 1.5 meters in length and barely over a meter in width—smaller than an average breakfast table!

Why was the Mishkan built on such a modest scale? The Sforno explains that as Jewish sanctuaries increased in external grandeur—from the Mishkan to the First Temple and then to the opulent Second Temple under Herod—their intrinsic spiritual content declined. There exists an inverse relationship between external magnificence and inner sanctity. The Mishkan, though physically small, was the dwelling place of the Shechinah in its fullest form. In contrast, Herod’s Temple, though awe-inspiring in appearance, lacked the same level of Divine presence.

This principle applies broadly. While it is important to build beautiful synagogues, schools, and homes in honor of Hashem, we must be mindful of the point at which aesthetics overshadow spiritual substance. Beauty enhances a mitzvah, but an obsession with grandeur can detract from inner meaning. The same holds true for individuals. While outward appearance has value, when excessive focus is placed on external beauty, it risks eclipsing inner virtues. The Sforno’s insight serves as a reminder that true greatness is found not in size or splendor, but in sanctity and purpose.

The Foundations of the Mishkan and the Power of Berachah

The third lesson comes from the structural foundations of the Mishkan. The Torah describes the adanim—solid silver sockets that served as the base for the Mishkan’s wooden beams. These foundations were formed from the half-shekel contributions of every Jew, totaling exactly 100 adanim.

The Ba’al HaTurim makes a fascinating connection: the word adanim shares a root with Ad-onai, one of Hashem’s names. He links this to the teaching in Masechet Menachot that Jews should strive to recite 100 blessings daily. Just as the adanim provided the physical stability of the Mishkan, so too do our daily berachot serve as the spiritual foundation of a Jewish life.

A Jew’s day is built on constant awareness of Hashem’s presence. Whether through blessings over food, mitzvot, or daily prayers, each berachah strengthens our connection to Hashem and reinforces the holiness in our daily actions. By uttering these blessings with mindfulness, we mirror the stability and strength of the Mishkan’s adanim, building a life of sanctity and devotion.

Conclusion

As we reflect on parashat Pekudei, we find powerful lessons that remain deeply relevant. We are reminded of the necessity for accountability in leadership, the importance of prioritizing inner spiritual depth over external grandeur, and the foundational role of daily blessings in our lives.

May we merit to build strong and stable foundations in our communities, infusing our lives with transparency, sanctity, and gratitude. May the Shechinah rest upon our efforts, just as it did upon the Mishkan, guiding us toward a future of spiritual and communal strength.

When there's more to beauty than meets the eye: the craft of Betzalel

Who is Betzalel--and can he really be so important when the Torah says so little about him? Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom lifts the lid on this remarkable personality whose contribution to the building of the Mishkan earned him eternal renown.

Betzalel: The Hidden Leader Who Built the Mishkan

A new name emerges in the history of the Jewish people, playing a crucial role in the leadership of the nation at a defining moment. This individual is not a figure we have encountered before, nor does he reappear later—yet his impact is profound. Betzalel ben Uri is entrusted with the monumental task of constructing the Mishkan, the sacred dwelling place of the Divine, in all its intricate detail, glory, and beauty.

Betzalel’s Lineage and Spiritual Legacy

Betzalel’s yichus (lineage) is notable. According to Rashi and Midrashic sources, he is the great-grandson of Miriam HaNeviah. Miriam married Calev ben Yefuneh, one of the two spies who remained faithful to Moshe Rabbeinu and resisted the negative report of the other ten spies. Their son, Hur, according to Chazal, was tragically killed during the episode of the Golden Calf. Hur’s grandson, Betzalel, now emerges in Parashat Vayakhel, chosen for his exceptional qualities and unique spiritual gifts.

The Torah describes Betzalel as being endowed with “wisdom, understanding, and knowledge” (Chochmah, Binah, and Da’at). These three attributes encapsulate the full spectrum of wisdom—intellectual acumen, deep comprehension, and divine inspiration. But why would an artisan need such profound spiritual qualities? Wouldn’t craftsmanship alone suffice for building the Mishkan?

The Spiritual Dimensions of Construction

The Mishkan was not just an architectural endeavor; it was a spiritual construct, mirroring the very fabric of creation. The Gemara (Berachot 55a) states that Betzalel knew how to arrange the letters with which Hashem created the heavens and the earth. This alludes to the Kabbalistic idea found in Sefer Yetzirah, which describes how each Hebrew letter contains divine energy. Betzalel was not merely assembling physical components; he was imbuing each element of the Mishkan with spiritual significance. Every detail corresponded to an aspect of Ma’aseh Bereishit, the creation of the world.

This concept has parallels in Halacha. Certain mitzvot require kavanah—intention—to sanctify objects. For example, matzot for Pesach must be made leshem mitzvat matzah, and a sofer writing a Sefer Torah must have the proper intent when inscribing the Name of Hashem. Betzalel’s task was to infuse each component of the Mishkan with the right spiritual intent, ensuring it became a true vehicle for Divine presence.

The Gift of Teaching

Another remarkable quality of Betzalel was his ability to teach. The Torah states that Hashem not only granted him wisdom but also lehorot natan belibo—the ability to instruct others (Shemot 35:34). Ibn Ezra notes that possessing wisdom and knowing how to convey it are distinct skills. Many brilliant scholars are poor teachers, unable to translate their knowledge into lessons others can grasp. Teaching requires empathy, generosity of spirit, and a desire to share wisdom.

The Mishkan’s construction was a communal effort, relying on the contributions and labor of the people. The Torah repeatedly emphasizes kol nediv lev—the voluntary generosity of the donors. Just as the materials for the Mishkan came from willing hearts, its construction needed to be guided by a leader who could transmit wisdom with a generous spirit. Betzalel embodied this ideal, ensuring that his fellow craftsmen understood not just the technical skills but the deeper sanctity of their work.

The Danger of Beauty

The name Betzalel—"in the shadow of God"—hints at his unique role. The Mishkan was designed to be a place of unparalleled beauty, and beauty carries inherent risks. Art and aesthetics can become ends in themselves, seducing people into valuing external appearances over inner truth. This was a hallmark of Greek philosophy, as expressed by the 19th-century poet John Keats: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” In contrast, the Jewish perspective, as seen in Shema Yisrael, emphasizes hearing and understanding rather than seeing alone. Beauty must serve a higher purpose—enhancing our connection to Hashem rather than becoming an object of worship.

This is why Betzalel required special divine protection. Tehillim 91, which begins with Yoshev beSeter Elyon, speaks of dwelling in the “shadow of the Almighty” (Betzel Shakkai). Chazal associate this chapter with protection from spiritual dangers. Betzalel’s artistic mastery had to remain in service of holiness, ensuring that the Mishkan’s beauty elevated rather than distracted.

A Leader of Vision and Integrity

Betzalel’s role was not just that of a master craftsman but of a spiritual architect. He understood that sacred work requires kavanah, generosity, and humility. He was a teacher who uplifted his people, ensuring they shared in the holiness of the Mishkan’s creation. Most importantly, he was a leader who maintained perspective—using beauty as a tool for Avodat Hashem rather than an end in itself.

When Hashem introduces Betzalel to Moshe, He says, Re’eh karati beshem Betzalel—“See, I have called Betzalel by name” (Shemot 31:2). The word Re’eh (see) is unusual; the Torah generally prioritizes hearing (Shema) over seeing. The Mishkan was a visual masterpiece, but its true essence was in its purpose—to create a dwelling place for the Divine. Betzalel ensured that this goal was never lost.

Though his name fades from the narrative after the Mishkan’s completion, Betzalel’s legacy endures. His wisdom, generosity, and devotion remind us that true leadership is about more than skill—it is about vision, intent, and a deep connection to a higher purpose.

Responding to global barbarism: insights from Purim and beyond

As we mark a second Purim at war with Hamas and Hezbollah, writes our member Rabbi Paul Bloom, we are once again confronted with the age-old struggle against hatred and oppression. The Purim narrative, with its cast of characters—Haman, Achashverosh, and the resilient Jewish people—offers profound insights into our response to the barbarism of Hamas and Iran.

The Plot Unfolds: Haman’s Hatred and Achashverosh’s Dilemma

Haman, driven by irrational animosity, sought to annihilate the Jewish people. His malevolence knew no bounds; he envisioned a cruel and humiliating end for an entire community. Yet Achashverosh, the Persian king, hesitated. He rejected Haman’s brutal plan, opting for a more restrained approach. The Talmud (Megillah 14a) highlights Achashverosh’s sensitivity, noting that while he allowed Haman's decree, he was not as bloodthirsty himself.

This early instance of anti-Semitism echoes through history. Today, anti-Semitism persists in politics, international forums, sports, entertainment, education, and even within our own governments and social circles. Worse, it appears to be intensifying. How do we respond to this rising tide of hatred?

Drawing Strength from Our Identity

The Jews of Persia faced annihilation, yet they did not retreat into anonymity. Instead, they embraced their Jewish identity more fervently. In the face of irrational hate, they remained steadfast in their faith and traditions. Their response teaches us a vital lesson: our identity is not defined by external forces but by the blessings of happiness, family, love, life, and the moral compass bestowed upon us by the Torah.

This phenomenon is unfolding in Israel today. We hear stories of hostages and their families rediscovering their faith—saying Shema for the first time, lighting Shabbat candles, donning Tefillin and Tzitzit, and celebrating Shabbat and Yom Tov. This war has ignited a Jewish awakening.

We do not combat emptiness by becoming more empty. Instead, we stand proudly and defiantly, trusting in Hashem and remaining loyal to our people. Our resilience lies not in assimilation but in unwavering commitment.

Beyond Identity: Political and Military Measures

Yet the Jews of Persia did not rely solely on faith. They took practical steps to protect themselves. Similarly, in our complex world, we must blend hope with action. Here are some modern parallels:

●      Advocacy and Education: We combat ignorance with knowledge. Educating both Jews and non-Jews about our history, culture, and contributions helps dispel misconceptions. Advocacy organizations play a crucial role in countering anti-Semitism.

●      Community Unity: Like the Jews of Persia, we must stand together. Our strength lies in unity. When anti-Semitism rears its head, we must respond as a cohesive community, amplifying our voices.

●      Political Engagement: We engage in the political arena, advocating for policies that promote tolerance, inclusivity, and justice. Our votes matter; they shape the world we leave for future generations.

●      Military Response: Just as the Jews of Persia protected themselves militarily, the IDF—guided by Hashem—defends the Jews of Israel. The bravery and morality of the IDF are unparalleled. We have witnessed open miracles—from protection against hundreds of missiles to bombs failing to detonate in crowded areas.

The IDF: Defending Our Existence with Unprecedented Ethics

The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) embody the fusion of faith and action. Their mission extends beyond military defense; they uphold ethical warfare even when facing a barbaric enemy. Colonel Richard Kemp, former Commander of British Forces in Afghanistan, has stated that the IDF surpasses other armies in safeguarding civilian rights during combat.

Unparalleled Measures for Civilian Safety

• Advanced Warnings: The IDF takes extraordinary steps to warn Gaza civilians before striking. They drop millions of leaflets, broadcast radio messages, send texts, and make tens of thousands of phone calls. Imagine: Israeli soldiers personally calling Gazans, urging them to evacuate. No army in history has ever directly informed its enemy where bombs will fall.

• Risking Their Own Safety: IDF missions that could have neutralized Hamas military capabilities were often aborted to prevent civilian casualties. This self-imposed restraint increases risks for Israeli soldiers and citizens but underscores the IDF’s commitment to preserving innocent lives.

• Combating Misinformation: Despite these efforts, antisemites accuse Israel of genocide. Yet the truth is clear—the IDF fights not only to defend Israel but to uphold humanity.

• Feeding the Enemy: No other army in history has provided food, water, and fuel to its enemy—especially one actively seeking its destruction.

Drawing Inspiration from Haman and Purim

Haman was consumed by an insatiable void, an emptiness that ultimately led to his downfall. Yet his malevolence gave birth to Purim—a holiday where Jewish children joyfully drown out his name with groggers. Why? Because we refuse to be swallowed by darkness. Instead, we fight evil with light, filling voids with hope.

Our Miraculous Victory

We look forward to soon celebrating another miraculous victory—the defeat of Hamas and Iranian aggression, along with the safe return of our hostages. This triumph will not only mark the protection of the Jewish people but serve as a victory for the entire civilized world. It will symbolize our resilience against cruelty and barbarism.

Conclusion: A Call to Action

As we honor Purim, let us remember that our fight extends beyond borders. The IDF’s mission echoes through history: to protect lives, uphold justice, and bring light to a world often shrouded in darkness. May we draw inspiration from our ancient past and apply it to our present reality. May we remain unyielding in our identity, compassionate in our actions, and resolute in our pursuit of a world free from barbarism.

Shabbat: a pllar of Jewish identity and faith

Though this week’s Torah reading, Ki Tisa, is best known for the episode of the Golden Calf and its aftermath, it has some positive content too when it addresses the all-important mitzvah of Shabbat. Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

This week's parsha, Ki Tisa, presents the mitzvah of Shabbat in a profound and unique light, offering insights that deepen our understanding beyond what has been previously discussed. Although the concept of Shabbat had already been introduced at Marah, reaffirmed at Har Sinai, and reinforced through the giving of the manna in Parashat Beshalach, Ki Tisa brings additional dimensions to its significance.

One striking feature in this parsha is the reference to Shabbat in the plural form: "Shabtotai" (שבתותי). The Torah could have used the singular form, yet it deliberately chooses the plural, hinting at a dual aspect of Shabbat that requires exploration.

Additionally, the Torah states, "Loda’at ki ani Hashem mekadishchem" (לדעת כי אני ה' מקדשכם), implying that Shabbat is not merely about observance but also about attaining a new mindset, a deeper awareness of our relationship with Hashem. It is through Shabbat that we gain an elevated understanding of our connection to the Divine.

The Ramban explains this duality of Shabbat as stemming from the two expressions found in the Aseret Hadibrot: "Zachor" (זכור) in the first set of commandments and "Shamor" (שמור) in the second. He elucidates that "Zachor" represents Ahavat Hashem (love of God), while "Shamor" signifies Yirat Hashem (fear of God). Observing Shabbat involves both dimensions: Yirah, expressed through the meticulous guarding of its sanctity, and Ahavah, reflected in the joy and positive remembrance of the day. This synthesis of love and reverence encapsulates the essence of Shabbat.

The Kli Yakar approaches the dual nature of Shabbat from a different perspective. He posits that Shabbat connects us both to the beginning of time—Ma’aseh Bereishit (the act of Creation)—and to the ultimate destiny of mankind—Ge’ulah Acharonah (the final redemption). Thus Shabbat serves as a bridge between the origins of existence and its ultimate fulfillment, offering us a glimpse of both past and future. This is symbolized in the korbanot of Shabbat, the "shnei kevasim" (two lambs), which reflect this dual connection.

Rashi, in his commentary, adds another layer of understanding, explaining that "loda’at" (לדעת) signifies that the nations of the world recognize the unique status of Shabbat as the defining covenant between Hashem and Klal Yisrael. Shabbat is our national hallmark, a distinction that sets us apart from all other nations.

The Kli Yakar further notes an interesting pattern in the structure of the Torah’s discussion of the Mishkan and Shabbat. The Torah dedicates six chapters to Hashem instructing Moshe regarding the construction of the Mishkan and another six chapters to Moshe relaying these details to Bnei Yisrael. However, there is a key difference between these two sequences: when Hashem commands Moshe, Shabbat is mentioned at the end, after the details of the Mishkan. Yet when Moshe conveys these laws to the people in Parashat Vayakhel, he first mentions Shabbat and only afterward discusses the Mishkan.

This reversal is significant. When Hashem speaks to Moshe, He first emphasizes the Mishkan, highlighting the presence of the Shechinah among Bnei Yisrael. Only afterward does He introduce Shabbat as an eternal covenant. In contrast, when Moshe addresses the people, he first underscores the importance of Shabbat before discussing the Mishkan, emphasizing that spiritual connection to Hashem takes precedence over the physical construction of the sanctuary. This distinction underscores a fundamental principle: while the Mishkan is a place of holiness, Shabbat is a time of holiness. The sanctity of Shabbat is intrinsic and unchanging, whereas the Mishkan, though sacred, is a physical entity subject to destruction.

This idea aligns with a well-known teaching from Chazal regarding the structure of various mitzvot in the Torah. The Gemara in Berachot (6a) discusses the reciprocal relationship between Hashem and Klal Yisrael, stating that just as we declare Hashem’s oneness in Kriat Shema, so too does Hashem "praise" Bnei Yisrael. This reciprocal recognition is reflected in the prioritization of Shabbat when Moshe speaks to the nation—emphasizing that before we engage in any physical construction, we must first acknowledge our spiritual foundation.

A parallel concept is found in the way we refer to Pesach. While the Torah refers to the holiday as "Chag HaMatzot", emphasizing our obedience in eating matzah, we commonly refer to it as "Pesach," highlighting Hashem’s kindness in passing over our homes during the plague. This linguistic distinction mirrors the relationship between Hashem and Bnei Yisrael—each side recognizing and honoring the greatness of the other.

In conclusion, Parashat Ki Tisa presents Shabbat not merely as a day of rest, but as a fundamental pillar of Jewish identity and faith. It encapsulates both Yirat Hashem and Ahavat Hashem, connects us to the beginning and end of time, and serves as an eternal covenant distinguishing Klal Yisrael from the nations. The contrast between the divine and human perspectives on the Mishkan and Shabbat further illustrates the profound significance of this holy day, reinforcing its centrality in our spiritual lives.

The garments of the Kohanim: more than meets the eye

 The Torah goes into great detail when it specifies precisely what a Kohen must wear when performing divine service. This is not just a matter of sartorial concern, as our member Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

The Sacred Garments of the Kohanim: A Reflection of Divine Honor and Human Dignity

Parashat Tetzaveh shifts its focus from the intricate construction of the Mishkan to the appointment of Aharon HaKohen and his four sons as the Kohanim, the exclusive priestly family entrusted with divine service. At this time, there were only five Kohanim in the entire world, and they were given an unparalleled role of sanctity and responsibility. The Torah details their consecration, their anointment, and, most significantly, the special garments they were required to wear while serving in the Mishkan and later in the Beit HaMikdash.

The significance of the Kohanic garments is underscored by the fact that, without them, the Kohanim were not permitted to serve. Their ability to perform the sacred avodah (service) depended entirely on wearing these garments. This tradition continued for centuries, spanning both the First and Second Temples, emphasizing the enduring importance of these garments in the service of Hashem.

The Garments as Symbols of Royalty

Rabbenu Bachya provides a profound insight into the nature of these garments, referring to them as "Bigdei Malchut" (royal clothing). Just as a king's garments signify his status, the Kohanim's attire reflected their exalted role in serving Hashem. The Midrash highlights that, in addition to the crown of kingship, there was also a crown of priesthood, signifying that the Kohanim bore a regal status within Am Yisrael. This concept is echoed in Megillat Esther, where Esther adorns herself in royal attire before approaching King Achashverosh, symbolizing the power and dignity conveyed through clothing.

The Dual Role of the Kohanim

The Kohanim held a dual role in their service. On one hand, they were agents of Hashem, receiving terumot, korbanot, and other sacred offerings on behalf of the Jewish people. On the other hand, they also acted as representatives of the people, offering sacrifices and facilitating atonement. This dual identity is reflected in the Torah's description of their garments as embodying both "kavod" (honor) and "tiferet" (splendor). The Kohanim served as messengers both to Hashem and to the people, bridging the spiritual gap between them. Rav Kook, in his writings, expressed the highest privilege of being a servant of Klal Yisrael, a mission embodied by the Kohanim.

The Symbolism of the Kohen Gadol’s Garments

The Kohen Gadol wore eight special garments: four white garments shared with all Kohanim and four additional unique golden vestments—the ephod, the choshen, the me’il, and the tzitz. These garments symbolized two aspects of Hashem’s Name. The four white garments represented the ineffable, transcendent aspect of Hashem (the Tetragrammaton, which is never pronounced), while the four golden garments reflected Hashem’s revealed presence in this world. This idea captures the balance between Hashem’s hidden essence and His interaction with creation.

A Contemporary Reflection: Shabbat Garments

Though we no longer have the Beit HaMikdash, the concept of sacred garments remains relevant today through the tradition of Bigdei Shabbat—special clothing designated for honoring Shabbat. The prophet Yeshayahu (58:13) speaks of Shabbat as a day of "Oneg" (delight) and "Kavod" (honor), which Chazal interpret as including wearing dignified attire. The Shelah HaKadosh writes that, just as the Kohanim achieved atonement through their garments, so too can Jews elevate themselves spiritually through their Shabbat clothing. The dignity and honor of Shabbat attire serve as a modern-day echo of the priestly garments, emphasizing the sanctity of the day and the nobility of the Jewish people.

The Contemporary power of the Kehuna and Birchat Kohanim

While we are all anxiously are awaiting the rebuilding of the Bais Hamikdash and the reestablishment of the the Kohen Gadol with all his Begadim, we can all actively participate in the last vestige of the Kohen’s service and that is Birchat Kohanim. This blessing is recited over 500 times a year in Eretz Yisrael (only 13 times in Chutz La’aretz). While you are in Israel, you will also move us to a period of time where the majority of Jews will be in in Israel, allowing for the the Third Beit HaMikdash to be rebuilt (in a non-miraculous fashion).

The Power of Clothing and Human Dignity

Clothing is not merely a physical necessity but a reflection of human dignity. Rav Kook points out that when we recite the morning blessing "Malbish arumim" (Who clothes the naked), we are not only thanking Hashem for providing us with garments but also acknowledging the fundamental distinction between humanity and the animal kingdom. Clothing symbolizes the divine spark within us, our spiritual potential, and our unique mission in this world.

In this light, the legacy of the priestly garments extends far beyond the Beit HaMikdash. It inspires us to honor Hashem, embrace our spiritual responsibilities, and uphold the dignity of the Jewish people—both through our service and through the way we present ourselves before Him.

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.