Parsha Overview
The Torah reading this week is mostly a repetition of the many details that go into building the Tabernacle, the portable Temple built by the Jews in the desert. Earlier in the Torah, the directions of how to build it are given, and this week, the Torah explains how they followed through in constructing it. In the directions, they are first told about the vessels and furnishings that go inside the structure, but when it came to actually building it, the structure was completed first and after that, they worked on all the vessels, like the Ark, Menorah and Table. The Torah portion begins with Moshe assembling the people (that is the meaning of Vayakhel– and he assembled) and telling them that even though they are about to embark upon the sacred mission of building a house for the Divine, all of the labor must be done in the six work days of the week, but the seventh, the Sabbath is a day of complete rest. No work may be done to build the Tabernacle on the Sabbath.
Sanctity of Time
In life, we have the sacred and the mundane. Anyone who has ever stood at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, has encountered a sacred place. It is the only remaining wall of the four walls that once enclosed the mountain upon which our Holy Temple was built. God’s presence still resides there, stronger than other places in the world. It is the most visited site by tourists who come to Israel from all corners of the globe to connect with the Almighty in prayer. Before the Temple was destroyed, it was the Temple itself that was the greatest space of sanctity, where God’s presence was both palpable and visible. This Temple, referred to in Hebrew as the Beis Hamikdash, was the holiest place in the world. Before King Solomon built the first Temple in Jerusalem, we had the Tabernacle, or Mishkan, the portable Temple built by the Jews in the desert under the leadership of Moshe. During the era of the Mishkan, wherever it was erected, as the Jews journeyed through the desert, it was considered the most sacred of spaces.
Then we have days and times on our calendar which distinguish themselves as being holier than the average day. Many people think of Yom Kippur as the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. It is a day entirely focused on closeness to God, where we abstain from worldly indulgences, and seek to come closer to our Maker. It is a day when our sins are wiped clean through repentance and prayer, and any barriers that separate between us and the Divine are removed. There is an argument to be made that there is a day of even greater sanctity than Yom Kippur, which may be overlooked because of its frequency. This day is the Shabbos, which we celebrate every seventh day of the week. The Shabbos is referred to, by the Almighty Himself, as “the most desired of days”. The Torah places an even greater emphasis on the observance of Shabbos than it does on Yom Kippur! It is seen as an expression of our belief that God created the world in the six days of creation and then rested on the seventh day.
The question is what do we do when we have a conflict between the most sacred of places and the most sacred of times? When we are working quickly to build a Mishkan, an abode for the Almighty, a resting place for the Divine presence, can we work all seven days of the week, to ensure that the project is completed as soon as possible? We’d like to create the most sacred place in the world, but to do so as efficiently as possible, we will need to violate the most sacred time- that is the dilemma. The Torah resolves this issue by telling us that Moshe gathered all the Jewish people together before they commenced the construction of the Mishkan, and told them the following: “For six days work will be done. But the seventh day will be holy for you, a day of complete rest for the sake of Hashem.” Moshe is telling them that even though the goal is to complete the Tabernacle as quickly as possible, we are precluded from doing any of its construction on the Shabbos. As a matter of fact, there are thirty nine forms of prohibited labor on the Shabbos, and the Talmud teaches that all of these 39 labors are derived from the work that was necessary to build the Mishkan. We know what we are not allowed to do on Shabbos, from the creative acts needed to build the MIshkan. Since beautifully colored wool was used in the woven tapestries that served as a roof of the Mishkan, we know that any process needed to procure dyed wool isn’t allowed on Shabbos. Shearing the wool from the back of the sheep, combing out the strands of wool, and then spinning it into thread are three of the 39 labors that mustn’t be done on Shabbos.
The Torah teaches us that the sanctity of time wins out over the sanctity of place. Time is the most sacred of commodities. It is a cherished gift, and when it passes by it will never return. Here, in the process of building an abode for God, we are taught about the greatest gift God gives us, the gift of time. The value of each irreplaceable day. This is the reason why there is a special prayer recited each morning when we awake to another day. In saying the Modeh Ani prayer, we gave thanks to Hashem for the gift of another day. Another opportunity to spend time with the people that we love. Another block of time we are granted to perform God’s will in this world. In telling us not to build the Mishkan on Shabbos, the Torah emphasises just how sacred time is.
Salt on Bread
Have you ever seen someone cut the Challah bread on Shabbos and then dip it into salt? People will do this even before they taste the bread. Do they automatically assume that their wife didn’t put in enough salt? The explanation is that there is a custom to dip bread into salt, regardless of the amount of salt included in the original recipe. This custom is cited in the Shulchan Aruch, the Code of Jewish Law. What is the reasoning behind this custom?
One of the classic explanations given is based on the fact that all offerings brought on the altar in the Temple were first salted with a generous amount of salt. Through placing salt on our bread, which is known as the staff of life, we are demonstrating that even something as simple as eating can be viewed as a spiritual act. When we eat because we want the sustenance and strength to do what God wants from us, then we have elevated our tables to be like an altar, and our food is seen as an offering to God. If food becomes the means for me to live meaningfully, then I have elevated that food into something sublime. When I break bread in the morning, I give thought to the fact that I am soon heading out to work to earn a living and support my family, and in order to work productively, I need energy. With this perspective, eating becomes something spiritual. If I am studying Torah, but feeling a bit drowsy, so I make a cup of coffee, then drinking that coffee is like bringing an offering to Hashem. In Judaism, even the most mundane things can be elevated, when approached by the right perspective. We salt our bread to show this point; I am eating for the correct reasons and therefore, it’s like I am bringing something up as an offering on the Temple’s altar.
There is another explanation behind the salt on the bread, and this one is connected to a phrase used at the beginning of this week’s Torah portion. When speaking about the Shabbos, the Torah writes, “For six days work will be done.” It doesn’t say that for six days you will work, but it speaks about the work as being done, almost as if it happens on its own! We all know that we work hard for our income, so why does the Torah phrase it this way?
Let’s learn a lesson from the salt we add to our bread. Bread is one of the most labor intensive foods that we eat. It begins with plowing, to ready the soil for planting. We then place the wheat kernels in the ground, and wait for them to grow into tall golden stalks, with plenty of watering along the way. Then, we harvest the wheat and gather it into bundles. We then have to dislodge the kernels from the chaff through threshing, and then separate the kernels from the rest of the stalk by winnowing. We then grind the kernels into flour, followed by sifting the fine flour from the bran. Only then can we knead the dough, fire up our ovens and bake the bread. By the time I’m shmearing some butter on a warm slice, I can sit back and say, “Wow! This is all me. The fruit of my labor. The reward of all my hard work.” But we all know that in life, hard work doesn’t guarantee results. We’ve all had the experience where we worked hard on a project, only to see it fail in the end. For success, we need more than just hard work; we also need God’s blessing. And this is where the salt comes in. Salt is given to us as is. God gives us salt in two forms; Either it lies as a deposited mineral in the earth and we mine it from there, or we evaporate sea water and utilize the remaining salt. We humans do not create salt from scratch, it is a gift from God. That is why we combine that salt with the bread, to demonstrate that just like the salt is a divine gift, so is the bread. Yes, we worked very hard to make the bread, but without Hashem’s blessing we would not have succeeded.
This is why the Torah, in describing the work we do during the six work days, phrases it as work is done. Even though we do the work, and put a lot of effort into it, we must realize that we alone, without Divine help won’t accomplish the results we seek. To a certain extent, it is out of our hands. Yes we put in the effort, but at the end of the day, work is done. A blessing from above.
Cholent & Tradition
Chulent is a traditional Jewish food eaten for lunch on Shabbos. It’s a thick stew made from onions, potatoes, beans, barley and meat. It is made in a slow cooker at some point on Friday, and then simmers throughout the night, filling one’s home with a unique aroma associated with Shabbos. Every family has their own unique recipe with nuanced ingredients differentiating it from the chulent of the neighbor next door. In the shtetls in Europe, long before the invention of the slow cooker Crock Pot, cholent was placed in a regular pot, and left on a metal sheet that went over a gentle fire. It cooked the whole night and was enjoyed for lunch on Shabbos day.
Like many Jewish foods, which are connected to our national history and traditions, chulent also has a story, and it is based on a verse in this week’s Torah portion. In speaking about Shabbos, the Torah says that we may not burn a fire in our homes on the Sabbath day. Taken literally, the words of the verse imply that one may not leave a fire burning in his home for the entire Shabbos. But based on our Oral Tradition, which is recorded in the pages of the Mishna and Talmud, our sages explain that it is permitted to leave a fire burning, provided that it was kindled before sundown on Friday. The Torah means that we may not ignite and kindle a fire anew on Shabbos. A fire that was already burning is fine to be left burning.
When the Torah was given to Moshe at Sinai, it was given in two forms. We got the written Torah, which is the text that we have today written in a Torah Scroll. And we also got the Oral Torah, a tradition that was given to Moshe and passed on from teacher to student throughout the generations. Eventually, the Oral Torah was written down in the Mishna and Talmud. There was a group of Jews, known as the Sadducees, who only accepted the validity of the written Torah, but denied the authenticity of the Oral Tradition. They took everything at face value, just how the words of the Torah were written, and disregarded the explanations of our Sages from the Oral Traditions. When the Torah describes the mitzvah of Tzitzis, the fringes worn on the corners of a four cornered garment- like our Tallit, the Torah says, “And you shall see them.” The Talmud explains this verse to mean that the mitzvah only applies at a time when you can see them, but not for a garment that is usually worn at night, when the Tzitzis cannot be seen. But the Sadducees took the verse quite literally, and hung the Tzitzis on the walls of their homes, in order to be able to “see them”.
When it came to this verse in our Torah portion about a fire on Shabbos, the Saducees understood it to mean simply that one cannot have a fire burning in his home the entire duration of Shabbos. On Friday night, they sat in darkness, unwilling to light a candle to provide light. On Shabbos day, they ate only cold food, with no burning fire to keep anything warm. We know that the Oral Tradition not only allows us to keep a fire burning on Friday night, but actually mandates it. One of the great Mitzvahs of Shabbos is to light candles before Shabbos begins at sundown, so that we should have light and serenity in our homes.
The Sages instituted that Jews loyal to the Oral Traditions eat hot food during the Shabbos day. This is done to show our pledge of fealty to the teachings of the Mishna and Talmud, that one may have a fire burning in his home throughout Shabbos. The only way to eat hot food on Shabbos day is if a fire is still burning. That is how cholent came to be. A hot food made with ingredients that were plentiful in Europe, and is an entire meal in just one bowl.
I’d like to add one more point about our Oral Traditions. When reading parts of the Torah it should be obvious that they were not meant to be studied alone, but rather with the compendium of the Oral Tradition. When speaking about Teffilin, the Torah says that we should bind Totafos between our eyes and on our arms. Totafos is an obscure word, the meaning of which is unknown. It is only through the Oral Tradition that we learn that Tefillin are boxes made of leather, square, and painted black. If the Torah was meant to stand alone, then it did a poor job in teaching us about how to practically wear Tefillin. It should be evident that the Written Torah relies on the Oral Torah, to further elaborate with many of the critical details.
Bezalel- Architect of the Mishkan
There was one man in charge of the entire project to construct the Mishkan, its furnishings and the priestly garments. Bezalel was in charge, and he together with his partner, Ohaliav, oversaw all of the craftsmen and laborers, ensuring that each one was doing the job correctly. There are two points I would like to address about Bezalel. First, the Torah tells us that God called out Bezalel by name to serve as the master architect behind all the work. But nowhere do we actually find Hashem calling Bezalel and telling him that he is the man to oversee the whole project.
And second, when the Torah speaks of Bezalel it states the following: “Bezalel ben Uri ben Chur from the tribe of Judah.” We are told not only who Bezalel’s father was, Uri, but also who his grandfather was, Chur. Usually, when we give someone’s name in Hebrew, we reference back only one generation; so-and-so ben (son of) so-and so. This is what the Torah does for Bezalel’s partner, it says “Oholiav ben Achisamach from the tribe of Dan.” It goes back only to Oholiav’s father, omitting who the grandfather may be. Why does the Torah tell us that Bezalel was the grandson of Chur?
Let’s go back to the first question: Rabbi Sampson Raphael Hirsch in his commentary to the Torah explains the meaning of Bezalel having been “called by name”. Bezalel looked within himself and saw that he was gifted with a wide variety of talents and skills. Remember, we are dealing with a nation that had been enslaved in crude physical labor for centuries; making bricks and building them into structures. The fact that Bezalel found himself able to perform the finest, most delicate of crafts, like setting precious gems into gold, or the weaving of ornate tapestries, was something amazing and miraculous. He looked within himself and upon seeing his skill sets, felt that he had been called by name. He found his calling based on his belief that these God given talents with which he was blessed, were given to him for a purpose. That is the meaning of God having called Bezalel by name.
Often in life, when one is setting out and unsure of which path to take, it makes sense to look within, and ask oneself, “What am I good at? What are my natural talents and interests?” As people of faith, we believe that everything we have was given to us by God for a reason. Our natural talents may often serve us as a guide for what our purpose in life is.
When addressing our second question, of why the Torah tells us that Chur was the grandfather of Bezalel, we will need to explore who Chur was. Chur was the nephew of Moshe. He was the son of Moshe’s sister Miriam, who had Chur together with her husband, Caleb. When Moshe went to the top of Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah, he left his brother Aaron and his nephew Chur in charge. When the people felt that Moshe was delayed in returning and began building a golden calf to worship, Chur rose up and tried to stop them. In their frenzied mob state of mind, they murdered Chur, and continued their work of making and worshipping a golden calf. Chur gave his life to try to prevent the people from perpetrating our nation’s greatest mistake in history. But he didn’t succeed. Rashi, the great Torah commentary explains that the construction of the Tabernacle was a response to our sinning with the golden calf. If we hadn’t sinned, there would be no need for a central structure to house God’s presence. Each individual would have been capable as a receptacle for the divine. We sought atonement through this project of building a Mishkan. When it was complete, and the cloud representing the presence of Hashem hovered over the Mishkan, we then knew that our sin had been forgiven. The Torah tells us that Bezalel was the grandson of Chur, because it was Bezalel who carried on the mission of his grandfather. Chur tried to stop the sin before it happened, but he couldn’t. His grandson was able to atone for the sin after it was committed, through his efforts of building the MIshkan.
We think back to our own grandparents. What was important to them about being Jewish? Perhaps they started something but weren’t able to finish it. It is on us to pick up the pieces and do our best to finish what they started.
