Mordechai: loved by not quite all?

The hero of Purim, Mordechai, slips quietly into the end of the long baraita at Avot 6:6 that enumerates the 48 qualities that facilitate kinyan haTorah—acquisition of Torah learning. Although in our tradition Mordechai was a Talmid Chacham of sufficient status to be counted as a member of the Anshei Knesset HaGedolah (“The Men of the Great Assembly”: see Bartenura at Avot 1:1), we don’t actually learn anything from him in his cameo appearance in Avot—he appears in a proof verse that praises Esther for telling Achashverosh, in Mordechai’s name, of the regicidal plot hatched by Bigtan and Teresh (see Esther 2:22). But Mordechai has a handy didactic role in helping us understand a curious mishnah in Avot

In Avot 3:13 Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa teaches:

כֹּל שֶׁרֽוּחַ הַבְּרִיּוֹת נוֹחָה הֵימֶֽנּוּ, רֽוּחַ הַמָּקוֹם נוֹחָה הֵימֶֽנּוּ. וְכֹל שֶׁאֵין רֽוּחַ הַבְּרִיּוֹת נוֹחָה הֵימֶֽנּוּ, אֵין רֽוּחַ הַמָּקוֹם נוֹחָה הֵימֶֽנּוּ

Everyone who is pleasing to his fellow humans is pleasing to God. But everyone who does not please his fellow men does not please God.

Rabbi Chaim Druckman (Avot leBanim) quotes the 14^th century Spanish scholar Rabbi Yosef Even Nachmias, whose explanation of this mishnah—which he heard from the mouth of Rabbi Yitzchak Melamed—has been preserved for us in Midrash Shmuel.

Rabbi Nachmias points to the famous verse in Megillat Esther (Esther 10:3) that bemoans the fact that even Mordechai—who saved the Jews of Persia from genocide—was unable to achieve total popularity:

כִּ֣י  מׇרְדֳּכַ֣י הַיְּהוּדִ֗י מִשְׁנֶה֙ לַמֶּ֣לֶךְ אֲחַשְׁוֵר֔וֹשׁ וְגָדוֹל֙ לַיְּהוּדִ֔ים וְרָצ֖וּי לְרֹ֣ב אֶחָ֑יו דֹּרֵ֥שׁ טוֹב֙ לְעַמּ֔וֹ וְדֹבֵ֥ר שָׁל֖וֹם לְכׇל־זַרְעֽוֹ

For Mordechai the Jew was second to King Achashverosh, and great among the Jews and in favour with many of his brothers, for he worked for the good of his people and spoke for the peace of his whole nation.

Says Rabbi Nachmias, look closely at the words of Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa. He talks of כֹּל שֶׁרֽוּחַ הַבְּרִיּוֹת נוֹחָה הֵימֶֽנּו (“Everyone who is pleasing to his fellow humans”). What he does not say is כֹּל שֶׁרֽוּחַ כֹּל הַבְּרִיּוֹת נוֹחָה הֵימֶֽנּו (“Everyone who is pleasing to all his fellow humans”). In other words, however popular you are, there will always be someone whose feelings will run to contrary effect. This is human nature. You do your best but, as secular wisdom succinctly expresses it:

“You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”.

God knows the truth of this aphorism and Mordechai experiences it.

If you don’t believe this, try an experiment. Go to your browser and search “most popular people in the world”. Your results will include the following:

• Barack Obama
• Elon Musk
• Justin Bieber
• Taylor Swift
• Jennifer Lopez
• Jeff Bezos
• Dwayne Johnson
• Beyoncé

Even allowing for the eccentricities of Google Chrome, how many of these people can you honestly say is pleasing to you? If your score is lower than 8, you’ve proved the mishnah’s point.

Megillat Esther: a story for every generation

The Megillah of Esther tells us that the commemoration of the days of Purim will continue for all time; it will never disappear from Jewish life. Extraordinarily, the Talmud expands this statement to mean that even at the end of days, when other Torah commandments may no longer be needed given the exalted state of spirituality within the Jewish nation and mankind as a whole, the commemoration of Purim will continue.

 Jews live a constant Purim story that unfolds through every generation. The story of Purim, as it has come down to us through the writings of Mordechai and Esther, is replete with individuals whose personalities and actions both define the story and serve as prototypes for the later personalities, ideas, plots and events as they evolve. 

Every generation is charged with reviewing the story of Purim in its time, to view contemporary events and characters in the light of the grand heavenly scheme that Purim represents. Surveying today's scene and events, I think that I can identify someone who can fill the bill as far as King Achashveirosh is concerned. I can also cast someone as a humble and destroyed Queen Vashti. There is also an abundance of tyrants, Jew-haters and corrupt officials who certainly resemble Haman in our reconstruction of the Purim story. Even some of the minor characters of the Megillah, such as Charbonah, can be discerned in our current world. But my fantasy Purim story has not, as yet, been able to match the two main characters, the heroic figures that make the story of Purim timeless and eternal.

 Who is to play the roles of Mordechai and Esther in our current Purim scenario? Where are they when, seemingly, we need them most? Against all odds, ignoring advice from friends and threats from foes, Mordechai will not kneel nor bow down to false gods and cruel tyrants. Queen Esther for her part risks life and limb, position and honor, wealth and comfort, to come to the aid of her people in their hour of need. She is a Jewess first and only secondarily is she the queen of Persia. These two people, Mordechai and Esther, have set very high standards for Jewish behavior for later generations. Criticized from within and persecuted from without, they persevered and through their loyalty and commitment to the Torah and the Jewish nation, brought about salvation and triumph.

 There are such people amongst us today as well. Our task is to recognize and identify them, strengthen them in their efforts and support them against misguided other Jews and non-Jews. We all have the ability to do this.

 It apparently requires dangerous circumstances to bring about some semblance of Jewish unity. Even then, there are always those who dissent, carp and criticize. They were present in Persia long ago when the original Purim story unfolded, and they exist today in various forms, organizations and institutions. They profess support for great human goals and deep concern for the future of the Jewish people while at the same time taking actions that are detrimental to the Jewish present and totally dangerous to the Jewish future. Mordechai and Esther are a little too Jewish for them: too brash, too stubborn, too clannish and unnecessarily provocative. Mordechai and Esther in their time did not receive universal approbation. It is only history, in its unfolding of events, that has validated their heroism. We cannot expect that people who aspire to be Mordechai and Esther in our time should be universally accepted, loved, admired…. and followed.

 This is a reality of Jewish and human life that must be accepted and factored into the general pursuit of that which is good and noble. Hidden miracles do abound in our world, for us at any rate. Anyone who has the good fortune of living in the Land of Israel today instinctively realizes this on a daily basis. Let us strengthen ourselves and be determined and strong as our current Purim story unfolds around us.

Purim same'ach, Rabbi Berel Wein

Mordechai: does the end justify the means?

The Purim story is a collection of unlikely events and almost irrational decisions by all parties involved in this drama. There is ample evidence of the mercurial instability of Achashveirosh and of the diabolical wickedness of Haman. What is however the most perplexing, of all of the behavior of the major participants in the story, is that of Mordechai. What impels him to publicly disobey Haman’s orders and provoke and insult him? And did he have halachic and moral justification to so endanger the Jewish community by his behavior?

There is an opinion in the Talmud that showing homage to Haman was not necessarily forbidden by Jewish law. And Mordechai had other practical options such as hiding and not appearing publicly when Haman appeared. Yet Mordechai emerges in Jewish history and tradition as a hero and an exemplary role model for his courageous defiance of Haman. He is viewed as being the one whose behavior saved the Jewish people and not as one whose behavior was an endangerment.

Rarely do we find potentially foolhardy and bravado behavior universally judged as being heroic, necessary and most praiseworthy. We do find Mordechai being mildly criticized by some of his colleagues on the Sanhedrin for deserting them in order to enter public governmental life. Yet on the main issue – the central theme of the story of Purim itself – Mordechai is essentially the hero of Purim. The Torah, in all of its books, gives no one a free pass.  Everyone’s faults and mistakes are referred to and commented upon. Yet Mordechai, in the Book of Esther, appears to us to be without blemish or error. 

Perhaps the main, practical reason for this is that ultimate success and triumph are sufficient to erase all doubts as to the wisdom of past decisions and conduct. Mordechai’s persistence, fortitude and stubbornness eventually topple Haman (he actually hangs him) and destroy him.  Mordechai’s actions strengthen and enhance the status and position of the Jewish people as a minority in the polyglot Persian Empire. 

Success always brings its own rewards. Heaven has a vote in all human activities, even if unseen and unrecognized. And there is no doubt that Heaven, so to speak, sided with Mordechai in his public stance against Haman and the idolatry and tyranny that he represented. That is the only possible explanation for the otherwise unbelievable series of events that make up the Purim story. 

The traditional view of Purim is that it was a miraculous event, even though the miracles were hidden, incremental and cumulative and not of the purely supernatural kind, as were those of the Exodus from Egypt. And Mordechai’s conduct is part of this hidden miraculous story. Heaven apparently responds favorably to sincere acts of courage and loyalty. And those were the qualities that Mordechai exhibited throughout the Purim story.

Mordechai’s actions were perhaps inscrutable and not understandable to the average onlooker. But so was, and apparently is, Heaven’s reaction. 

There is an interesting and highly volatile concept in Jewish tradition that countenances behavior which somehow contradicts accepted halachic practice. Based upon the verse that appears in Psalms:

“It is a time to take action for the sake of God; they have violated Your Torah.”

The Talmud allowed for a reinterpretation of the verse to state:

“When it is time to act for the sake of God and save the Torah and Israel then in such extreme circumstances, the Torah itself can apparently be violated.” 

This rare exception to traditional norms was invoked by Mattityahu in rebelling against the Syrian Greek oppressors and their Jewish Hellenist allies. Based on this principle, the great Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi allowed the Oral Law to be written down and disseminated as a book, though the Torah itself counseled that the Oral Law should forever remain in its oral state. 

However, this concept is very dangerous in its application, as Jewish history has shown us. Those who consistently violate or ignore halacha and tradition doom themselves to eventual assimilation and extinction. In all instances in Jewish history there have been very few times when this principle has actually been used. 

Only rare and holy people have successfully behaved in such circumstances and I believe that Mordechai must be counted in that group.  Mordechai saw that it was a time to do something for God, to save the Jewish people and to alter the course of history. As pointed out above, Heaven agreed with his decision and hence our joy in commemorating the Purim holiday. 

Purim same’ach, Rabbi Berel Wein 

Be Proud!

Speaking in shul yesterday between minchah and maariv, Rabbi Wein spoke positively about something we usually associate with the negative: pride. When it’s attached to an individual, pride can be a big problem: people who are proud are, by definition, not humble. They may crave honour and status and their pride can be at the expense of other people on whom they look with disdain. But this wasn’t the sort of pride that Rabbi Wein was talking about.

Next Shabbat’s leining begins with the mitzvah of counting the Children of Israel—but the Torah doesn’t give the usual word for counting. Instead, it says “Ki Tiso”, when you lift up the heads of those whom you are counting. Holding up one’s head is a sign of pride.

Secular Jews, Rabbi Wein continued, are rarely proud of being Jewish and, as Jews, have little sense of self-respect. This is why the Purim story offers an explanation for the gezerah, the decree of destruction that was made against the Jewish people: they joined in the six-month-long party celebrations of Acheshverosh while that king was seeking to embarrass and humiliate them. Dressed in the garb of the Kohen Gadol and serving food and drink from vessels pillaged from the Temple, he was blatantly mocking his Jewish guests—yet they came, they ate and they drank.  It was not avodah zarah (idolatry) that sealed their fate. Rather, it was their abandonment of any pretence of self-respect. They had no pride.

Rabbi Wein added that it is not a mitzvah to be proud of being Jewish. No-one commands us to do it. But it is a value, and an important one at that. Without proudly recognizing our status as Jews, we have missed the whole point of our Judaism. In short, without being proud of who and what we are, we are doomed.

Concluding with a litmus test that we can all apply in our lives, Rabbi Wein quoted an aphorism from his cheder rebbe: “If your grandparents can look at you and take pride in who you are, and if your grandchildren can look at you and take pride in you, then you know you are doing something right”.

Purim same’ach—and have a proud Purim!

Doing it the best way: Tetzaveh 5785

The Torah ordains that the olive oil used to light the perpetual menorah (the candelabra) must be the purest and best available. There is obvious logic to this requirement. Impure oil will cause the flames to stutter and flicker; it may also exude an unpleasant odor. All of this can make the task of the daily cleaning of the oil lamps difficult and unpleasant. Yet I feel that the basic underlying reason why the oil must be pure lies in the value that the Torah places on the performance of all positive things in life being done correctly, enthusiastically and with exactitude.

In 'halachic’ parlance this is called kavanah—the intent to perform a commandment properly and in the best possible way. That is the story of the pure container of oil that is the core of the miraculous story of Chanukah. The Hasmoneans could have used regular, even impure oil and still not have violated any strong ‘halachic’ stricture. Yet the idea of kavanah, of acting in the best way possible, introduces an element of special dedication and holiness into what otherwise would be a matter of routine. This is what drives the spirit of holiness and eternity that accompanies the performance of mitzvot. Thus the requirement of the Torah for the purest possible oil to fuel the holy menorah is readily understandable when kavanah is factored in.

The light of the menorah has never been dimmed over the long history of the Jewish people.  Though the menorah itself has long ago disappeared from the view of the Jewish public—it was not even present in Second Temple times—the idea of its light and influence has continued throughout Jewish life.

The flame is not a tangible item. Rather, it is a matter of spirit, not substance. It provides light, warmth and psychological support in very difficult times.  Yet its influence and support is somehow directly connected to the investment in kindling it. That is the import of the words of the rabbis in Avot that according to the effort invested, so is the reward.

 All things spiritual depend on the effort invested in creating that sense of spirit: the purer the oil, the brighter and firmer the flame. This simple yet profound message forms the heart of this week's parsha. It also forms the heart of all values and commandments that the Torah ordains for us.

 Tetzaveh speaks to all of us in a direct and personal fashion.  It encompasses all of Judaism’s goals and is, in itself the light of spirituality that illuminates our souls and lives.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

Surviving the threat of Amalek

This coming Shabbat is Shabbat Zachor, when we remind ourselves of the ever-present threat of Amalek and the imperative of blotting out this existential threat.  Rabbi Wein's devar Torah on this week's parasha is also posted on The Hanassi Blog, here -- but the words that we reproduce below were composed by Rabbi Wein some years ago. They are as current now as they were when he first wrote them.

The current spate of anti-Semitic media cartoons, op-eds and boycott movements serve to remind us that Amalek is alive and thriving as usual. There was a short period of time a few decades ago when many Jews were lulled into thinking that all this baseless hatred and nastiness was a thing of the past. Even the most naive among us today realize that this is unfortunately not the case. Therefore, remembering Amalek is a relatively easy commandment to fulfill today, One need only read a newspaper, listen to the radio or TV or view the internet to meet Amalek face to face, live and in person. 

How to counteract and deal with Amalek has been a continuing problem throughout Jewish history.  Apparently, no satisfactory permanent solution to the problem has ever been found. Perhaps that in itself is the basic lesson of the commandment of remembering Amalek. We must remember that the problem is unceasing and that it has remained insoluble for millennia. 

We should not be surprised or even overly discouraged by its sinister presence in our lives and world today. We must do everything possible to combat it but we should always remember that it is not given to pat solutions or wishful thinking. It is apparently part of the Jewish condition—our very terms of existence. 

The story of Purim is the story of Amalek contained, but not completely defeated or destroyed. Haman is hydra-headed and has always had disciples and followers. Haman and his sons were thwarted and hanged but that did not prove to be much of a deterrent to all the Hamans who have followed throughout history. 

 In terms of the destruction of Jews, Hitler was far more successful than was Haman, having killed six million Jews in five years of hate and terror. Yet Hitler destroyed Germany completely as well, with far more Germans than Jews being killed in that terrible and tragic war. 

 So again, one would think that the lesson of Amalek would have been learned by now. But the reality of Amalek is that it defies logic, self-interest and history and its lessons. Purim is our only hope in containing Amalek.  Purim is always hidden, unpredictable, surprising and unexpected. Yet it is also a constant in Jewish life and history. 

The survival of the Jewish people remains as the miracle of all history and that miracle is omnipresent in our current world. The existence and accomplishments of the State of Israel are offshoots of this constant and continuing miracle. Israel and its achievements give us a sense of Purim every day of the year. The miracle may not be superficially visible, but it is certainly present and alive. 

The Talmud's statement about the inability to distinguish between Haman and Mordechai is indicative of the mystery of Purim. Purim is not always what it appears to be at first glance. It is the hidden part of Purim that fascinates and confuses us. Our salvation is always unexpected and many times defies any form of human wisdom and expertise. 

Purim tells us never to despair or lose hope regarding our current difficulties and uncertain future. It is easy to fall into a funk when viewing all the difficulties that surround us. Purim preaches to us that such a dark attitude is inconsistent with Jewish faith and Torah values. That is why the rabbis stated that Purim is the only eternal holiday on the Jewish calendar. 

We will always need Purim and its message to continue to function and achieve. For without Purim present and operative, we fall into fearing that Amalek may yet, God forbid, triumph. So let us rejoice in the knowledge that Purim is here with us and all will yet be well for the nation and people of Mordechai and Esther. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

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.

Carol's hamantaschen: the prune with a pedigree

 Hamantaschen (Oznei Haman) are an integral and unforgettable part of Purim for us all. They are rich in symbolism as well as calories, and we all have our favourite recipes.  For many of us, the gold standard is the hamantasch filled with poppy seeds; for others -- including our member Carol Sundick -- the authentic hamantaschen are filled with prunes.  

The prune hamantasch has a fascinating history. It was invented in 1731 by David Brandeis of Jung-Bunzlau, Bohemia. And the story runs like this: the daughter of a Christian bookbinder purchased from Brandeis powidl (plum jam) which, she claimed, had made her family ill, as her father coincidentally died a few days after eating it. The burgomaster of the city ordered the closure of Brandeis's store and imprisoned him, his wife, and son for selling poisonous food to Christians. Investigations by municipal authorities and the court of appeal in Prague revealed that the bookbinder had died of consumption and the charges were dismissed.

Brandeis wrote a scroll which he called Shir HaMa'alot l'David ("A Song of Ascents to David"), to be read on 10 Adar, accompanied by a festive meal. He was freed from prison four days before Purim after the charges against him were proven to be false, and in celebration of his release, Jews from his city celebrated with povidl or plum hamantaschen.

Carol Sundick Family’s Favorite Hamentaschen Recipe

Dough ingredients

4 c. all-purpose flour. I have always mixed 2c. white flour and 2 cups whole wheat or spelt

1 tsp. baking powder

1 c. sugar

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. baking soda

_________________

¾ c. olive oil

3 eggs

½ c. water

Instructions

Combine first five ingredients (the ones above the line) in a bowl. Make hole in center, add eggs (unbeaten), oil, and water. Beat vigorously to blend well, then knead with fingers until smooth. Place a handful on a floured board, roll out as for pie crust with a rolling pin.

Cut in circles with glass tumbler with a diameter of about 6 cm. If the glass sticks to the dough, dip it in flour or add small amounts of  flour to the bowl of kneaded flour until it is not sticky. 

Mix the filling ingredients (which are listed below) together in a food processor. Add a tsp. of filling and bring sides of dough together to form a triangle as shown in the illustration above. Press sides well, so they don’t split open while baking (I like to brush beaten egg white on top of each hamentasch, to give it a shiny glaze). Bake at 185-190 degrees for approximately 25 minutes until light brown. Check it occasionally to make sure it is not getting too dark. Put finished hamantaschen on a cooling rack or oven rack. Enjoy!

Filling ingredients

½ kg prunes (pitted and chopped)

¼ c. chopped nuts

¼ c.toasted crumbled bread crumbs

1 Tbs. honey

1 c. raisins (chopped)

½  lemon (juice and rind)

½ c. sugar

Why should we have simcha in Adar?

In shul yesterday morning Rabbi Wein asked a great question: why should the month of Adar be greeted with the slogan mishenichnas Adar, marbim besimcha (Ta'anit 29a: "When Adar comes in,we increase simcha")? If it's because God performed miracles for us on Purim, haven't we picked the wrong month? Adar is followed immediately by the month of Nisan, when God performed far more miracles for us--and bigger ones too. Shouldn't we be told to increase our simcha (whatever this hard-to-translate word truly means) in Nisan instead?

Quoting Rabbi Tzadok HaKohen, Rabbi Wein offered us an answer. Yes, God did amazing miracles for us in Nisan, not least of which were the Splitting of the Red Sea and the single-handed destruction of what was at the time the world's most state-of-the-art army.  But what were we? Nothing but an appreciative audience, passengers if you like, while God did everything on our behalf. In the story of Purim, however, we see that God's intervention was behind the scenes, leaving us the opportunity to play a part in the turn of events that led to our salvation. 

The point is this: there is more simcha to be derived from something that we have had a hand in, because we were part of the resolution of the problem. We were participants in Purim--and participation, doing something ourselves, is the source of real simcha. Of course we were hugely grateful for the miracles of Pesach and we remember them every year. And to commemorate our participation in the Purim miracles, we have been given a festival based on participation and involvement: we have the mitzvot of mishlo'ach manot and matanot le'evyonim. 

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Those of us who are fortunate enough to have brought up children, or to have taught them, will know the empirical truth of Rabbi Wein's words. A small child will generally derive much more satisfaction from being able to do something for himself than if that same thing is done for him by an adult. And some of us are blessed with the ability to derive pleasure from doing things for ourselves even when we are no longer small children.

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.