The Hafetz Hayyim on the Siddur (Book of the Month, Nissan 5785)

The Hafetz Hayyim on the Siddur is not the only English-language book to explore the deeper meaning and functionality of Jewish prayer, but it was the first to delve into the subject from the viewpoint of one of the holiest and most learned rabbis of modern times, the Chafetz Chaim (Rabbi Israel Meir HaKohen Kagan). It is the product of considerable team effort: the text was gathered and arranged by Rabbi David Zaretsky, then translated from the Hebrew by Charles Wengrov and edited by Rabbi Isaiah Aryeh and Joshua Dvorkas. 

This work comprises a collection of thoughts, reflections and interpretations of Jewish prayers. Its highly detailed contents list reveal that the text embraces not merely daily prayers but also the period of compassion and penitence surrounding and including Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, as well as the festive period that follows them. 

You can find this book, which is part of the Marvin N. Hirschhorn collection, on the shelves of Beit Knesset Hanassi.

Natural brilliance meets artificial intelligence

 Last week Rabbi Wein (that's the "natural brilliance" bit) gave a lecture on living as a Jew in a non-Jewish environment (see our note by Bill Gerber here).  Rabbi Paul Bloom fed notes on the same lecture to AI (that's "artificial intelligence" for the uninitiated) and asked it to turn them into an essay. This is what it came up with. For the record, Paul has checked the text before sending it to us. 

Jewish Responses to Dominant Empires: A Historical and Philosophical Perspective

Throughout history, the Jewish people have lived under the rule of major empires—Assyrian, Babylonian, Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Christian civilizations. Each era presented unique challenges, prompting Jews to develop different responses to the dominant cultures surrounding them. Broadly speaking, Jewish reactions to these ruling powers have fallen into three main categories: rejection, accommodation, and assimilation.

Three Approaches to Empire

1. Rejection: Standing Firm in Torah

One group within Jewish society consistently rejected the values and culture of the dominant empire, holding steadfast to Torah and Jewish traditions. This stance was easier to maintain when the ruling empire had little to offer in terms of intellectual or material advancement. When the surrounding culture was unappealing, resistance to assimilation came naturally.

2. Accommodation: Balancing Jewish and Non-Jewish Culture

A second approach saw Jews selectively incorporating aspects of the dominant culture while maintaining their Jewish identity. This response was particularly evident under Greek rule, where Hellenistic culture had much to offer in philosophy, art, and governance. Some Jews found ways to integrate elements of Greek thought while preserving their Jewish beliefs and practices. This middle ground allowed for coexistence but carried the risk of gradual assimilation.

3. Assimilation: Abandoning Jewish Identity

The third response involved complete assimilation—viewing the ruling empire’s culture as superior and replacing Jewish traditions with those of the majority. This approach has been seen at various points in Jewish history, where segments of the Jewish community embraced foreign philosophies or lifestyles at the expense of their own heritage.

The Debate Over Cultural Influence

Jewish history is filled with debates over how much external influence should be allowed. During the early Middle Ages, Aristotelian philosophy became a major force in Jewish thought. Maimonides (Rambam) integrated Aristotelian principles into his theological and philosophical works, arguing that reason and Torah could coexist. However, not all Jewish scholars agreed with this approach.

This debate extended into modern times. The Reform movement, for example, promoted the idea that Jews should adopt the culture of the majority while maintaining a redefined version of Jewish identity. In contrast, figures like Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch sought to find a balance, encouraging Jews to engage with German culture while remaining firmly committed to Torah values. Even Rabbi Joseph Hertz, the Chief Rabbi of the British Empire, quoted non-Jewish scholars to demonstrate the wisdom found outside Jewish sources—yet he remained deeply rooted in Jewish tradition.

The Danger of an Attractive Culture

Throughout Jewish history, cultural assimilation has been most dangerous when the surrounding culture is attractive. In Eastern Europe, where conditions were harsh and non-Jewish society often unappealing, Jews found it easier to maintain their distinct identity. However, in Western Europe and America, where the dominant culture offered social and economic opportunities, assimilation became a real threat.

One example of this struggle can be seen in the development of Yiddish theater and literature. These cultural expressions allowed Jews to engage with modern artistic forms while preserving Jewish values. However, in other cases, exposure to mainstream culture led to a dilution of Jewish identity.

The Modern Challenge: Cultural Pressures and Antisemitism

Today, Jews continue to face difficult choices regarding their relationship with majority cultures. The issue of abortion, for instance, serves as a flagship example of how external ideologies can influence Jewish thought and practice. While Jewish law approaches the issue with nuance, modern political and social movements often push extreme positions that do not align with traditional Jewish perspectives.

Another contemporary example is the presence of antisemitism on university campuses. Many Jews seek to integrate into mainstream academic and social environments, only to find that they are not fully accepted. The hostility faced by Jewish students raises an important question: If segments of society continue to reject Jewish identity, why should Jews work so hard to blend in?

Conclusion: Navigating the Future

The Jewish people have always faced difficult decisions regarding their engagement with external cultures. Whether resisting, accommodating, or assimilating, each generation has had to weigh the benefits and dangers of their surroundings. The lessons of history suggest that when Jews remain firmly rooted in their traditions while engaging selectively with the outside world, they are best positioned to thrive. The challenge of maintaining a strong Jewish identity in an attractive but often hostile culture remains as relevant today as it was in the days of ancient empires.

This essay shows what Artificial Intelligence is capable of, when used as a tool in the hands of a responsible rabbi who checks it out. Thanks, Paul, for sharing with with us.

Relating to God, at home and beyond: Pekudei 5785

Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 13^th century Barcelona) points out that the conclusion of the book of Shemot, with its detailed recording of the construction and expenditures involved in completing the Mishkan, places the entire Jewish people at the level of spirituality that was present in the homes of our patriarchs and matriarchs at the conclusion of the previous book, Bereshit. Just as the spirit of the Lord hovered over the tents of our forebears, so too was it recognizably present amongst the nation of Israel. Constructed for that purpose, the spirit of the Lord dwelled within the Mishkan.

This observation contains an important message. Jewish tradition teaches us that there are two places, so to speak, where the Lord’s presence may be experienced and should be cultivated. God’s glory fills the entire universe; He is omnipresent. We puny human beings, however, need a personal God to whom we can somehow relate.  That God can be found in two places in our small and narrow world. One place is in our home, in our family and our daily lives. The second place is in the house of worship, study and Torah service. That is our substitute Mishkan, where we can discern the spirit of God if only we are attuned and sensitive enough to experience it. These two pillars of Jewish life have accompanied us on our long journey in the world—and throughout our history.

 Both these bastions of Jewish strength and vitality—the home and the synagogue or study hall—are the meeting places so to speak of Israel with its God. But they are besieged and under attack in today’s society. The home, marriage, children and a sense of family have yielded to casual relationships, later marriages, more divorces, increased spouse abuse, and the sacrifice of children and family on the altars of career and hedonism.

Without strong Jewish families there cannot be a viable Jewish nation or a strong State of Israel. Certainly, intermarriage has eroded the concept of Jewish family but, even when this does not occur, the bonds of family are frayed by television, the internet and by society generally.

Sometimes, even well-meaning gestures are counterproductive. During my years as a rabbi in Miami Beach we always had many Shabbat guests. Because of that, contact between us and our own young children was pretty much eliminated. One Friday one of our younger daughters said to my wife: “Mommy, are children also guests?” We got the message and then made certain that one of the Shabbat meals would be exclusively with our children.

 The synagogue also has lost much since it became subject to the whims and comfort of the attendees and was no longer the House of God where He is to be glimpsed and served according to His wishes as expressed in Torah and halacha. I hope that the message of the Ramban will certainly not be lost upon us.

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.

Chametz after Pesach: why are we so worried about it?

What is the big deal with the status of chametz once Pesach is over? Here's a fascinating piece by Rabbi Wein that addresses not just the halachic, commercial and legal considerations but also a spot of metaphysics. 

Sale and repurchase

There is a strong rabbinic decree forbidding the use of chametz after Pesach by a Jew if that chametz was actually in Jewish possession during the holiday of Pesach. The rationale for this decree is to prevent Jews from having chametz in their possession during Pesach, so to speak hoarding it for use after Pesach. The obvious danger is that this chametz will be used on Pesach and there is a prohibition not only against eating chametz on Pesach but also as to possessing chametz. So, in order to insure that no chametz remains in Jewish possession during Pesach, the rabbis ruled that Jews could not benefit from such chametz even after Pesach. How then can one resolve the challenges this decree poses? The answer lies in the long-accepted Jewish tradition of “selling” the chametz to a non-Jew before Pesach and of reacquiring it afterwards

The legal sale of mechirat chametz is of ancient origin, though it really only came into general use in the late Middle Ages. Jews then were increasingly occupied in operating distilleries for the production and distribution of liquor derived from chametz grain and fermenting agents. Because of the heavy financial implications, the use of a legal sale of the chametz to a non-Jew took hold and has become de rigueur for Jewish individuals and companies in our time and for the past many centuries.

While this solution avoids any problems regarding use and benefit from chametz, stores and companies need to notify their Jewish customers after Pesach that they in fact did sell their chametz before Pesach, thus obviating any hesitation on the part of their Jewish customers in purchasing chametz goods.

When solutions bring their own problems

As the economies of the world became more complex and intertwined, our rabbinic decisors had to deal with new situations and financial arrangements. What about Jews who own shares in public companies that do business on Pesach with chametz goods? What about large supermarket chains outside of Israel that sell their chametz before Pesach but nevertheless continue to sell those products on a regular normal basis in their stores on Pesach itself? Does this not render the sale of their chametz to a non-Jew before Pesach a sham? In countries that require that tax stamps be affixed to the sale documents, is this necessary for the sale of the chametz to the non-Jew and the reacquisition of the chametz after Pesach by the Jews as well? Whose loss is it if the chametz became damaged or destroyed during Pesach while technically under the ownership of the non-Jew?

Ultimately we need to know how real an apparently unreal sale really has to be. All the questions we have just listed have been thoroughly discussed and argued over by the great halachic decisors of the past centuries. Needless to say, proper solutions to all these issues have been found and implemented. It is an irony, but a very true one, that it is the very rigidity of halacha and its absolute adherence to traditional norms and constructs that allows it to be so flexible and fresh in addressing problems of this nature.

A world of chaff

In Jewish kabbalistic and philosophical thought, chametz on Pesach represents our evil inclination and immoral desires. The holiday of Pesach is instrumental in making us more focused Jews and better people. But, for this self-improvement mode to take hold within us, the chametz after Pesach that still somehow remained within us must be removed from our midst. The rabbinic decree regarding chametz after Pesach should not be reduced to its simple, practical terms. Rather it should be elevated to its highest spiritual form.

In a world of chaff, we should be the true kernel of nourishing grain and, in a world of self-promotion and puffery, we should continue to be the unleavened matzah with its low profile and holy form. Perhaps this spiritual lesson is one of the very reasons that our rabbis so emphasized the problems associated with the concept of chametz after Pesach. The lessons of disciplined freedom that Pesach created within us have to be reinforced and nurtured after Pesach too. The temptations of chametz on Pesach are well known to all of us. The harm that undisposed of chametz after Pesach can cause us should also be recognized and dealt with.

Living in a Non-Jewish Environment

UPDATE (31March): Rabbi Nachum Amsel has kindly furnished us with a recording of Rabbi Wein's speech. It comes in two parts. The first 52 seconds are here; the subsequent 28 minutes are here.  Thanks, Rabbi Amsel, for sharing.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** 

Last Motzaei Shabbat, at Rabbi Nachum Amsel’s double book launch, Rabbi Wein gave a lecture under the title “A Jew Living in a Non-Jewish Environment Today”. A packed house sat in rapt attention while he expounded his theme.  Our member Bill Gerber was among that audience. We thank him for the following note.

The essential problem faced by the Jewish people in this regard is the relatively small numerical size of the Jewish people in comparison to the numbers of those in the non-Jewish world. Even during the Davidic era and the years before that, after the Exodus, Jews found themselves confronted by empires and cultures (Rabbi Wein here lisred the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Seleucid Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Arab-Islamic, and so on, up to and including the British). These non-Jewish cultures and civilizations have all been based on concepts alien to those which animate Jews.

Rabbi Wein opined that, speaking generally, Jews have responded in three broad ways to the unfamiliar environments which have confronted them:

·       total rejection,

·       partial accommodation, and finally

·       surrender and assimilation.

Thus, in antiquity, Jews rejected and fought the Seleucid Greeks even though their culture was rich in many ways. The second modality of partial accommodation stems from recognizing that an alien culture has qualities and values that may be valuable to Jews. Thus, for example, in nineteenth century Germany, some great rabbinic authorities wrote in German and studied great German authors.

Rabbi Wein then observed that our situation is similar to the mixed reaction in that there can be both some acceptance of the majority culture along with a push-back in other areas. But the same issues remain such matters as

·       how much accommodation should there be?

·       How much of the majoritarian culture do we accept?

·       do we expose our children to these cultures, especially given that ,in some instances, these cultures include genocidal and destructive inclinations?

Thanks, Bill, for letting us know what we missed!

Red heifers and redemption

Last Wednesday, HaNassi members were treated to a fascinating talk given by Rav Eitan Kupietzky on the subject of the Parah Adumah—the Red Heifer as described in Bemidbar 19.  There have been just nine of these creatures that are recorded in our history. The first of these was used in the time of Moshe Rabbeinu, the second in the time of Ezra the Scribe.

Rav Kupietzky spoke enthusiastically of the utility and commercial value of these animals in Israel today, even before the restoration of the Beit HaMikdash. For example, when our Kohanim are no longer tamei, they can receive the priestly portion of terumah (at present, hundreds of thousands of litres of Israeli wine are poured away because there are no Kohanim tahorim to whom it may given). Challah too must be disposed of in the absence of appropriately purified Kohanim.

An animal can only be considered a Red Heifer if its hair is reddish brown and possesses no more than two hairs of a different colour, in addition to other halachic requirements.  Since such animals are exceedingly rare, it was with some considerable excitement that five Red Heifers were found on a farm in Texas. These beasts belong to a breed of cow known as the Red Angus, whose meat is particularly tender.

These five animals have been transported to Israel and are now being carefully raised on a farm in Shiloh, with the anticipation that one of them may become the tenth Parah Adumah in Temple service, whose ashes will be required for purification once our Third and final Beit HaMikdash is built in our beautiful and holy city of Yerushalayim.

We can actually go to Shiloh and see these animals for ourselves (this seems like a good suggestion for a Beit Knesset HaNassi outing!)  The presence of these designated Porot Adumot in Eretz Yisrael is yet another sign that we are getting even closer to our ge’ulah – may it happen very soon.

This report is based on a note by our member Jackie Sharman. Thanks, Jackie, for your help.

Peaking too early: Vayakhel 5785

This week’s haftorah describes the efforts of the great King Shlomo in the construction of the First Temple. He is a great and tragic figure; the attitude of the Talmud towards him is ambivalent.  On one hand, he is the builder of the Temple, he expands the kingdom, builds great fortresses, and administers twelve districts of his country. The wisest of all men, he understands even the cries of animals and the songs of birds. The author of three of the great books of the Bible, he was someone upon whom the Divine Spirit rested.

 On the other hand, the Talmud questions his right to immortality, criticizes his excesses and hubris, condemns his tolerance of the idolatry practiced by his foreign wives and even attributes the rise of Rome and the destruction of the Second Temple to his marrying the daughter of the Egyptian Pharaoh. Jewish legend has him driven off of his throne by a demon, being made to wander in exile for part of his life. All of this naturally dims the luster of his earlier accomplishment of building the Temple.

The haftorah parallels our parsha, which deals with constructing the Mishkan and its artifacts, with the artisanship employed in the creation of the Temple and its artifacts. Shlomo, so to speak, becomes a second Moshe, supervising the building of the house of God. But, in the case of Moshe, the building of the Mishkan was only one of his career’s accomplishments, dwarfed by the massive achievement of teaching and instilling Torah within the people of Israel. The building of the Temple by Shlomo was the high point of his career, but he slipped off the lofty pedestal of greatness that he had attained.

 The Talmud teaches us that “happy are those whose later years do not shame their earlier accomplishments.” My old law school professor assured us that every lawyer makes a bad mistake at least once in his professional career. He also stated that those who are fortunate enough to make that mistake early in their career are truly blessed, because they can recover and advance. Making it late in one’s professional life can be disastrous to one’s life and reputation. The same can be said of one’s actions.  Early success can be dangerous because it sets a standard and may cause a degree of complacency that inhibits further achievement. Only a gradual ascent and mature consideration, usually part and parcel of advancing years, can guarantee that those early achievements become lasting, untarnished by later behavior. The comparison between the two great builders of God’s house—Moshe and Shlomo—illustrates this. While building God’s house is a great achievement, maintaining it and using it to increase spiritual guidance and instruction to the people of Israel is even greater.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

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.

Two parshiyot, joined by a single thread: Zachor and Parah

At first glance the messages of Parshat Zachor and Parshat Parah—this week’s parsha—seem  to be unconnected. Parshat Zachor deals with the age-old enemy of the Jewish people, Amalek. In every generation Amalek assumes different guises but he is always there, threatening the very existence of Israel and the Jewish people. His threat is real and very palpable and he minces no words in declaring his goal: the annihilation of Jews. Parshat Parah deals with a completely esoteric spiritual matter, the laws and rituals of the purification of people who became tamei (ritually impure) and may not therefore participate in certain activities, including Temple worship and sacrifices. 

 Amalek and ritual purification appear to be entirely unconnected, being no more than part of the preparations for Purim and Pesach respectively. But there are no mere coincidences in Jewish lore. The Torah, Jewish tradition and custom are so multilayered that everything contained in them requires study, analysis and additional insight.

Study of the Torah makes one realize that every subject and custom is truly interlinked one with another at its deepest level. Superficial understanding is dangerous: it leads to wrong conclusions and false theories. Just as in modern medicine the physician relies on CT scans and MRI imaging to make a correct diagnosis, so too does the Jew have to search for the underlying principles that unite the Torah and Jewish life and make it an indivisible whole. 

I think that the common thread between Parshat Zachor and Parshat Parah lies in the irrationality of the elements in each of them. Amalek’s hatred of Israel over the millennia defies any rational explanation. Why should Norway and Sweden hate Israel so? Why do the Arabs not see peace as being to their advantage, as a chance to bring a better life to their millions? Why the hatred and incitement and the refusal to see things as they are and not as they somehow would wish them to be? 

It is by now clear that all the peace-making efforts here in the Middle East over the past many decades were based on a single error: reliance on rationality and practicality. They deal with a reality that can be rationally explained and thus confronted, compromised and eventually solved. But the Amalek conundrum is an irrational one. It is not given to explanation or reasoning. From the first unprovoked attack by Amalek on the Jews in the Sinai desert through the Holocaust and now the terrible threats and words of Hezbollah and Hamas, it is all simply insanity and irrationality. But that is the reality of an irrational world. And the Torah wishes us to realize that there are many things that are beyond our rational abilities to control. The Torah tells us to remember this lesson at all times. 

Parshat Parah is also based upon an irrationality. The Talmud points out that the ritual laws regarding purity and impurity, the power of the ashes of the red heifer to contaminate the pure and simultaneously purify the impure, are irrational. We have no explanation for them. They are the exception to the otherwise generally rational and well-reasoned structure of Torah life and ritual. The Torah purposely introduces into the structure of Judaism an element that lies beyond human comprehension. It does so with intent to impress on us the fact that Torah and its attendant halachic principles are not always capable of being fully comprehended by the human mind. There is always an area of faith that is beyond our reach and understanding. 

The Torah points out our human limitations; the finite can never quite reach an understanding of the infinite. Rationality is, as it must be, the basis for human actions and behavior. However, part of rationality is the realization that there is much that exists beyond our powers of rational thought. And the Torah emphasizes this by teaching us Parshat Parah. It also does so by linking Parshat Parah to Parshat Zachor it as examples of the underlying irrationalities that govern our world, society and even our faith and beliefs. Thus do these disparate parshiyot become linked in purpose and thought. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

Pesach: paying for the pleasure! A note on Maot Chittim

What exactly is Maot Chittim? Why is such a fuss made about it at this time of year? Is it the same thing as kimcha depischa? The following note, which seeks to explain Maot Chittim, is based on a longer article by Rabbi Ari Enkin (OU Torah) that you can read here.

Maot chittim, also known as "kimcha depischa", is the duty of us all to donate funds before Pesach to help the poor to cover their holiday expenses. Pesach isn’t just the festival of freedom: it is also intended to impart within every person a feeling of royalty—and we have to ensure that even the poor can feel this way. That’s why Pesach is the only holiday which comes with its own charity collection.

Everyone who has been living in a city for 12 months or more is obliged to contribute to that city's ma'ot chittim fund. Conversely, anyone who has been living in the city for at least 30 days is entitled to receive such funds (though all poor people should be assisted in some manner). No one is exempt from giving to ma'ot chittim charity—not  even the greatest Torah scholars who are generally exempt from paying taxes and other communal collections. Only those who make an effort to help others have the right to begin their Pesach seder with the words: "Let all who are hungry come and eat with us". According to the Kaf HaChaim, those who refuse to donate to the ma'ot chittim fund can be compelled to do so.

Today, ma'ot chittim is distributed in many different ways. Some communities give out food and supplies for free or at a great discount. Others give out cash. But never mind the details! The important thing is to give with a good heart in order to help our fellow Jews.

If you'd like to donate to the shul's Maot Chittim appeal for this year, payment details are here.

Between Man and the Divine

Apropos of this week's double book launch by Rabbi Nachum Amsel, we thought it would be a good idea to open the pages of one of the books in question and see what lies beneath the covers.

The book we've picked is The Encyclopedia of Jewish Values: Between Man and the Divine, a substantial volume penned by the author, whom many readers of this blog will already know as the Director of Education at the Destiny Foundation. 

In common with encyclopedias as a genre, this is no small book. The English section, inclusive of a comprehensive index, comes to 389 pages. Then there are 235 pages of Hebrew source materials--an indication of the author's determination to show the reader exactly where his information is drawn from.

Most of us do not read encyclopedias for the very good reason that normal encyclopedias are reference works into which we dip in search of information on a specific topic. Between Man and the Divine is not however a typical encyclopedia. It is broken up into 40 chapters, each of which addresses a topic on which, typically, we all recognise that a problem exists but it's clear that rabbinical scholarship has offered more than one approach to dealing with it. Rabbi Amsel seeks to offer a fair and balanced view of the for-and-against rulings that have emerged through the years. Where possible he has sought to provide a summary of the conflicting issues.

What sort of topics does the encyclopedia cover? Readers will soon appreciate that many of them are issues that generate heated discussion in shiurim or around the Shabbat table. Examples include the extent to which children owe a duty to parents suffering from dementia, whether God sends us messages today, the permissability of davening to or through the meritorious dead, what the concept of "the real world" actually means, euthanasia and abortion. This reviewer's favourite chapter is the one that addresses the ethical issues of driverless cars, where Rabbi Amsel discusses the Trolley Car dilemma, a famous philosophical problem that has entangled generations of law students.

In short, this is a highly readable work. The text is crisp and clear and the chosen subject matter beguiling. The last word goes to our own Rabbi Wein, who has this to say about it:

“This is a wonderful research book that can be read directly as an informative and necessary work of knowledge about Judaism and the Jewish attitudes towards the moral and ethical issues of general and Jewish society. This is a book for every Jewish home and school".

If you can't get to the Hanassi book launch (details here), you can buy it on Amazon here. Rabbi Amsel's other books are The Encyclopedia of Jewish Values (here) and Jewish Values in the Torah Portion (here).