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.

Borer: it's your choice

 Last Sunday Rabbi Kenigsberg's Tzurba shiur started on a new book (volume 19) but an age-old topic--the melachah of borer, choosing an item and separating it from others. The previous volume concluded with an in-depth analysis of the classical case of borer (separating foods) which should fulfil the three conditions of miyad, beyad and ochel min hapesolet (the separation should be for immediate consumption, it should be done manually and should involve taking the food you want from the food you don't want).  

Volume 19 moves on to borer where non-consumables are involved: clothes, utensils and even books. Why, you may ask? Surely the first eleven melachot are only relevant min HaTorah to the various acts involved in growing and then processing the raw materials needed for the showbread! Why does Rashi take us further? Are we all at risk of breaking Shabbat when we burrow through the weekly pile of divrei Torah that await our attention in the entrance to the shul, looking for something to take our fancy?

Want to know more? You can enjoy Rabbi Kenigsberg's shiur by clicking here.

The courage of the convert: Yitro 5785

The Torah describes in detail the visit of Yitro to the encampment of the Jewish people in the Sinai desert, as well as the advice Yitro gives Moshe as how to organize the Jewish people’s justice system.  Though rabbinic scholars disagree as to whether Yitro came before or after the revelation and the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, they generally concur that Yitro remains the template and role model for converts to Judaism.

Why is this so? Yitro is sincere in joining the Jewish people and in abandoning the pagan gods that he had worshipped earlier in his life. He is also willing to give advice for the benefit of the administration of justice in his newly adopted community. New converts are frequently hesitant to counsel Jewish society. After all, the word “ger” (“convert” in Hebrew) has the connotation of being a stranger, an outsider, a mere sojourner and not yet necessarily a fully-fledged citizen. It is most understandable that such a person may feel reticent about offering advice to those who have been Jews for generations.

 Yitro’s boldness in asserting himself immediately by seeking to improve Jewish society is a testimony to his comfort level, sincerity and commitment regarding the Jewish people and its Torah values and strictures. That is why he is given so much respect and prominence in the Torah. Converts bring with them a mindset and range of experience quite different to that of Jews raised exclusively in Jewish society, a milieu that needs constant revitalization and freshness. Our Torah is eternal and ageless but our strategy for promoting and teaching it varies from time to time and from locality to locality.

. In Yiddish there is a famous phrase, “a guest for a while sees for a mile”, and it is so often the newcomer, the former stranger who has newly entered the fold of Judaism and Jewish society, who provides the spark of energy and innovativeness that ignites Torah Judaism and propels it to the next stage. It is no coincidence that the Gaon of Vilna is buried next to the grave of the Ger Tzedek – the righteous convert to Judaism in eighteenth century Vilna. The Gaon was an innovator, a departure from the other scholars of his time and even from many of those who preceded him. Converts on the whole – those who are sincerely attracted to Judaism and not influenced by other factors or are converted by ersatz methods and insincere and non-observant courts – are an inspiration to Jewish society and prompt them to progress further and accomplish more.

This is also an important lesson that we can glean from the events described in this week’s parsha. Proper treatment of the convert is mentioned thirty-six times in the Torah – more than any other commandment or value. We should take heed of this and assess the new convert correctly, not condescendingly.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein     

The Profound Structure of the Aseret Hadibrot

Among the many teachings of our faith, one of the most foundational verses in the Torah is

תּוֹרָ֥ה צִוָּה־לָ֖נוּ מֹשֶׁ֑ה מוֹרָשָׁ֖ה קְהִלַּ֥ת יַעֲקֹֽב

"Moses commanded us the Torah, an inheritance for the congregation of Jacob" (Devarim 33:4).

Moshe Rabbeinu, our greatest teacher, was the conduit through which the Torah was given to Klal Yisrael. Yet a deeper look into the words of Chazal reveals an intriguing nuance to this idea.

The Gemara in Makkot (23b) teaches that, while the Torah consists of 613 mitzvot, Moshe Rabbeinu directly taught us 611 of them. The gematria of  תורה is  611 . The other two mitzvot—the first two of the Aseret Hadibrot, "Anochi Hashem" and "Lo Yihyeh Lecha"—were heard directly from Hashem at Har Sinai. These mitzvot were so fundamental that no intermediary was necessary; Klal Yisrael experienced a moment of direct nevuah, an unparalleled revelation that became the cornerstone of our emunah.

The Singular Experience of Har Sinai

Parashat Yitro details the extraordinary moment when Bnei Yisrael stood at Har Sinai, experiencing the divine revelation firsthand. This event was unique and unrepeatable. The Aseret Hadibrot were not just laws; they were the foundation of an eternal covenant, a moment of spiritual elevation that bound the Jewish people to Hashem for all time. But why these ten? Why were these specific commandments chosen as the "headlines" of the Torah? What is their deeper structure?

The Structure of the Aseret Hadibrot

Rashi, in his commentary on Parashat Mishpatim, brings down a teaching from Chazal that all 613 mitzvot are embedded within the Aseret Hadibrot. Rav Saadia Gaon even developed a system demonstrating how every mitzvah in the Torah connects back to these foundational ten.

Various mefarshim, including Seforno, Rav Hirsch, and Ibn Ezra, highlight that mitzvot engage us on three different levels:

1. Machshavah (Thought/Belief) – Our internal convictions, such as emunah and yirat Shamayim.
2. Dibbur (Speech) – The sanctity of speech and how we express ourselves.
3. Ma’aseh (Action) – Physical deeds, from mitzvot like kashrut to donning tefillin.

The Ari HaKadosh notes that the very word "Adam" (man) is an acrostic for these three dimensions: Aleph (Emunah – Thought), Dalet (Dibbur – Speech), Mem (Ma’aseh – Action). The Aseret Hadibrot reflect this deep structure.

The Two Tablets: A Mirror of Human Existence

The Aseret Hadibrot are famously divided into two tablets:

• The first five commandments focus on bein adam laMakom—our relationship with Hashem.
• The second five address bein adam lechaveiro—our ethical conduct with others.

A fascinating pattern emerges within each group:

The First Five Commandments: Machshavah to Ma’aseh

1. "Anochi Hashem" – The foundation of emunah (Thought).
2. "Lo Yihyeh Lecha Elohim Acherim" – Rejection of idolatry, reinforcing belief (Thought).
3. "Lo Tisa Et Shem Hashem Lashav" – Proper use of Hashem’s name (Speech).
4. "Shabbat" – Observance of Shabbat through specific behaviors (Action).
5. "Kibbud Av V’Em" – Honoring parents, expressing gratitude for life (Action).

These mitzvot progress from pure belief (emunah) to speech (dibbur) and then to concrete actions(ma’aseh).

The Second Five Commandments: Ma’aseh to Machshavah

1. "Lo Tirtzach" (Do not murder) – The ultimate wrongful action (Action).
2. "Lo Tinaf" (Do not commit adultery) – Physical morality (Action).
3. "Lo Tignov" (Do not steal) – Ethical interactions (Action).
4. "Lo Ta’aneh L’Reiacha Eid Sheker" (Do not bear false witness) – Integrity in speech (Speech).
5. "Lo Tachmod" (Do not covet) – The final level, governing thought and desire (Thought).

The first set moves from thought to action, while the second set moves from action to thought, forming a perfect symmetry.

It is also interesting to note that Hashem's name is found in the first five commandments, but is not found  in the second  five.

A Map for Life

This structure is more than an intellectual insight—it is a blueprint for spiritual growth. The Torah teaches us that our avodat Hashem must be holistic, engaging our minds, speech, and deeds. In the realm of bein adam laMakom, our journey begins with belief and culminates in action. In the realm of bein adam lechaveiro, we begin with ethical behavior, progressing toward refining our very thoughts and emotions.

The Eternal Lesson

The revelation at Har Sinai was not just about receiving mitzvot; it was about internalizing emunah at its deepest level. The first two mitzvot, heard directly from Hashem, embedded within us an unshakable awareness of Hashem’s existence. The remaining mitzvot required Moshe Rabbeinu’s transmission and explanation, demonstrating the essential role of Torah sheb’al peh in our understanding of mitzvot.

Thus, we return to our original verse: "Torah tzivah Moshe, morashah kehillat Yaakov." The Torah is our inheritance, a gift from Moshe Rabbeinu. Yet, at its core, the foundation of all mitzvot—the recognition of Hashem—was given to us directly. This direct experience of divine revelation remains the bedrock of our faith, ensuring that Klal Yisrael remains forever connected to Hashem, through both our Torah and our ma’asim tovim.

Through the Aseret Hadibrot, we see the structure of mitzvot, the depth of Torah, and the profound nature of our relationship with Hashem and with each other. It is a lesson that continues to shape our lives, guiding us toward spiritual perfection and eternal connection to our Creator.

Never mind Peel, just look at the fruit!

As Tu b'Shevat approaches, we are delighted to offer you this piece by Rabbi Berel Wein.

I think that if we all stopped to contemplate the growth and success of the state of Israel in our time, we would truly realize that we are living in a miraculous age. Though the miracles are consistent and regular, oftentimes, perhaps even most times, we take them so for granted that the miraculous become mundane.

 One of the great miracles of the state of Israel is its agricultural industry. Israel has an arid, rock-filled landscape with very large patches of desert mixed in. It is not the lush landscape that exists in other parts of the world where agricultural industries bloom and prosper. Nevertheless, the prophets of Israel guaranteed that as part of the process of redemption and the Jewish return to its homeland, the desert would somehow bloom and the land would produce delicious fruits in abundance and variety.

 As late as a half century ago this seemed to be an unlikely dream that would never come to fulfilment. The original Jewish pioneers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries faced harsh and unforgiving challenges as they strove for the development of any sort of agricultural success.

 Climate, the earth itself, mosquitoes and malaria, the Arab marauders, and the lack of proper agricultural tools and training all conspired to make it almost a hopeless venture. But they persisted in tilling the soil, removing the rocks and eventually beginning to see the results of their labor and sacrifice. Their rate of mortality was high and many gave up on the project and returned to Europe. The hardy few stuck it out and eventually were rewarded with the miraculous success of their efforts.

Even so, there were grave doubts as to whether the land of Israel could ever feed the people of Israel. The main agricultural products were grapes, oranges and dates. The infamous Palestine Royal Commission (the so-called Peel Commission, under the chairmanship of Lord Peel, right) issued its learned conclusions in 1936 stating that the entire land of Israel – then Palestine under British mandate – could not support a population of greater than two and a half million souls.  As a result, it recommended the curtailment of immigration into the country at a time when Hitler was forcing the Jews of Germany to find refuge outside of the German borders. The recommendations of the Peel Commission led inevitably to the White Paper of the British foreign office that closed off Jewish emigration to the country for the next nine years, both during the Holocaust and its aftermath.

 It seemed that the conclusions reached by the Peel Commission were not far-fetched since food was scarce throughout this period in the land of Israel and of infinitely meager variety. When Israel gained its independence in 1948, for almost the next decade there were great shortages of food in the country, especially in the light of the doubling of its population in five years with the influx of the Jewish refugees from Europe and the Moslem Middle East.

 Food packages were sent from the United States to families throughout Israel to help supplement their meager diet. I remember how my father and mother scrimped and saved, often to my childish and foolish feelings of deprivation, in order to send food certificates to our Israeli relatives who could then redeem them for food packages in American warehouses located in Israel.

 But Israel struggled on in war and in peace. It developed a national water carrier that began to make the desert bloom. Its scientists and researchers developed new techniques, created drip irrigation and pioneered new methods of agriculture that began to make the country self-sufficient and plentiful in food and its varieties.

 In 1959, Moshe Dayan was the Minister of Agriculture. He introduced the planting of tomato vines into Israeli agriculture. The first year’s crop was hard, tasteless, and green in color, and understandably was not popular. The appreciative Israeli public nicknamed them ‘moishelach’ in honor of Dayan and his experiment. But soon the Israeli farmer developed the finest and tastiest tomatoes, as well as so many other types and of vegetables and fruits.

 Bananas, mangoes, kiwis and other fruits previously unknown to the Eastern European Jewish palette made their appearance and rapidly gained popularity. Israeli fruits and vegetables were produced in such abundance that a large export market developed and for a long period of time agriculture remained one of the mainstays of the Israeli export economy.

 All of this should be remembered by us as we commemorate Tu B’Shvat, a new year and holiday for the trees in the land of Israel. The prophecies long ago uttered by our holy sages have come true before our very eyes. What a blessed country the land of Israel truly is!

Something to sing about: Hava Nashira

Late last year, we posted this feature on the Dorot Choir, a popular Jerusalem-based women’s choir that is supported by many members of Beit Knesset Hanassi. Since then, we have been reminded that we have never featured a women’s choir that is even closer to home—the Hava Nashira choir.

Hava Nashira, originally named Kolot Simcha, was started in 2008 by Sandy Chesir and Reva Ehrlich—both members of Bet Knesset Hanassi. Joy Chesterman, also of BKH, was the conductor for many years. Sandy is still in the choir, along with several other long-time members of both Shul and choir.

Our current conductor, Temeema Weil, was taught piano by Joy, and remembers going from the home of her grandparents (Jenny and Max Weil) to Joy’s home in Diskin for her lessons. So the connections to BKH are close. We also participate in the annual Women’s League Tea.

Hava Nashira is run by Avelyn Hass, who adds:

We are a friendly group of women who love singing together, led by our inspirational conductor Temeema Weil. There is no formal audition, but a good ear for a melody and familiarity with musical notation are an advantage. We meet at no1 Diskin on Mondays, from 1.45pm to 3.15pm.

Our repertoire is a mix of popular Israeli, texts from Siddur and Tanach and folk songs from all over the world. If you have a favourite—just ask, we may be able to incorporate it.

Every rehearsal will send you home feeling invigorated and happy!

Are you interested in joining—or in booking Hava Nashira for an event? If so, call Avelyn on 054 447 2684.