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).

Hava narishah - rash, rash, rash!

How many times have we heard our children gleefully singing “Chag Purim”? But where does this song come from. It seems that it was composed by Levin Kipnis, employing a traditional melody. Kipnis (1894 to 1990) was an Israeli children's author and poet who wrote mainly in Hebrew and Yiddish. He won the Israel prize in 1978. Max Stern has set this song for unaccompanied female voices (the Antifona Women's Choir, conducted by Constantin Ripa) here. For the lyrics in Hebrew, transliterated Hebrew and English click here.

Max has also arranged “Shoshanat Ya’akov” for a group of instrumentalists from the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. We all sing this song with great gusto when we conclude the recitation of Megillat Esther, but where does it come from? It is actually the concluding section of a poem, Asher Heni, an anonymous acrostic dating to early medieval times (the closing lines are not part of the acrostic scheme). You can enjoy Max’s orchestration here. For the lyrics in Hebrew, transliterated Hebrew and English click here.

Calves may come and calves may go: Ki Tisa 5785

This week’s Torah reading is dominated by the tragedy of the Golden Calf and its consequences. This episode follows teachings regarding the sanctity of the Shabbat. The rabbis attributed the presence of Shabbat as an indication that even the construction of the Mishkan cannot take precedence over the sanctity of Shabbat.  But that is not all. The dangers of Golden Calves, false gods, superficially bright and enticing ideals that only lead to eventual disaster, are ever-present in Jewish society. Our long history as a people contains is a long list of Golden Calves that have led us astray, to our great cost.

 Paganism, Hellenism, false messianism, Marxism, secularism, nationalism, humanism and unbridled hedonism—to name but a few—have all exacted a terrible toll over our history. But Shabbat, its holiness and its withdrawal from the mundane and impious world have always stood as a refuge, a bulwark against these Golden Calves. Shabbat is our first and strongest line of defense against the wave of falsehood and evil that constantly threatens to engulf us.

Without Shabbat we are lost. With Shabbat we are ever strong. Few things in history are that simple to discern, but the saving grace of Shabbat for Jewish society is plainly obvious. This is why, in parshat Vayakhel, the admonition regarding the laws of Shabbat is repeated in conjunction with a further review of the construction of the Mishkan. The Torah wishes to emphasize, that short of human life itself, no cause—no matter how seemingly noble—takes precedence over the sanctity of Shabbat which, in its eternity and God-given holiness, is likened to the World to Come. How often, when we rush to build, do we destroy and, in our desire to accomplish great things, trample on nobility and moral righteousness.

In the Talmud the great sage Baba ben Buta warned King Herod not to destroy the old until the new has already been erected. The world often believes that the destruction of the old is somehow a necessary prerequisite to constructing the new. The Torah however comes to teach us that the old Shbabat already observed by the People of Israel, even before it was given at Mount Sinai, will outlive and outperform any shiny new Golden Calf that is worshipped so avidly. Golden Calves come and calves may go but Shabbat and Torah remain valid for all times and circumstances. This reflection is buttressed in the Torah by its repetition. The message: our Mishkan is built only with Shabbat and never in contravention of it.

 Shabbat shalom,  Rabbi Berel Wein