Feeling and Acting as Part of a Greater Community
R.
Yaakov Bieler
Parashat
Teruma, 5770
During the annual Tora reading cycle,
whenever we come to most[1]
of the readings for the latter portion of Shemot—Parshiot Teruma, Tetzave,
VaYakhel and Pekudei—we face the quandary of how to understand the abundance
and even excess of verses that are devoted to the construction of the Mishkan,
its contents and the clothing of the Kohanim. What are we to make of these manifold
verses dedicated to strange and esoteric ritual artifacts and structures? Are
the verses supposed to be only of historical and cultural interest, or are we
expected to interpret these texts in such a manner that would lead to deriving
important spiritual and ethical lessons, in the same way that we approach the
rest of the Tora?
I have discovered that this quandary is not
the same for everyone. Last year, when Joanie and I spent a Shabbat visiting
our son at Brandeis around this time of year, we met one of his friends who was
an art major specializing in sculpture.[2]
She told us how these were in fact her
favorite Parashiot, because she enjoyed visualizing the contents of these
verses, readily imagining what the objects being described actually looked
like. With respect to various sensual experiences, there clearly are
individuals who are capable of constructing or experiencing in purely mental
terms phenomena that most others require more immediate and concrete sensual input in
order to comprehend. Oliver Sacks, the prolific author-neurologist, in his most
recent book Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain,[3]
describes such an ability that his father had:
…my
father seemed to have an entire orchestra in his head, ready to do his bidding.
He always had two or three miniature orchestral scores stuffed in his pockets,
and between seeing patients he might pull out a score and have a little
internal concert. He did not need to put a record on the gramophone, for he
could play a score almost as vividly in his mind, perhaps with different moods
or interpretations, and sometimes improvisations of his own. His favorite
bedtime reading was a dictionary of musical themes; he would turn over a few
pages, almost at random, savoring this and that—and then, stimulated by the
opening line of something, settle down to a favorite symphony or concerto, his
own kleine Nachtmusik, as he called it.
Sacks goes on to describe how Beethoven,
particularly after he became completely deaf, was able to imagine entire
symphonies in his mind. Similarly,
But just as most musicians are not be expected to be able to hear an
entire symphony in their heads, with the same being true for most poets and
cooks with respect to their ability to “translate” written text into richly
imagined mental constructs, so too most of us are unable to imagine the Mishkan
and its furniture in our minds by simply reading the verses that describe them.
Even pictures and models will not yield objectively satisfying results
vis-à-vis the appearance of these artifacts, let alone their symbolism and
overall religious significance, since there are disagreements among the
Rabbinic commentators with respect to the specific appearance of the Tabernacle
and its contents.
An approach to trying to understand
the verses of the Mishkan that does not depend upon a spatial visualization of
the contents of these Parshiot, is reflected in the words of certain Rabbis and
commentators who attempt to derive meaning from the manner in which the specific verses
used to describe the Tabernacle and its contents differ slightly but
significantly from one another. Interpreting such nuances can lead to
conclusions that not only applied to the ancient Mishkan, but also to
contemporary religious life. An example of this interpretive approach focuses
upon the introductory verbs for the various components of the Tabernacle:
Shemot 25
(V. 10) “VeAsu” (and they will
make—pl.) an ark of acacia wood…
(V. 23) “VeAsita” (and you will
make—sing.) a table of acacia wood…
(V. 31) “VeAsita” (and you will make—sing.) a
candelabrum of pure gold, hammered you will make the candelabrum…
Shemot 27
(V. 1) “VeAsita” (and you will make—sing.) the
altar of acacia wood…
Shemot 30
(V. 1) “VeAsita” (and you will make—sing.) the
altar for offering incense of acacia wood…
The
inconsistency between the verb introducing the ark as opposed to the other
pieces of furniture in the Mishkan illicited a number of interpretations on the
part of the Rabbinic commentators. One Midrash underscores the idea that were
only certain individuals to be involved in the Ark’s construction, they might
falsely conclude that they are disproportionately more invested in the Tora
which the Ark ultimately housed:[4]
Midrash
Tanchuma, Parashat VaYakhel #8
God
Commanded all of Israel to make it (the Ark) in order that one should not say
to another, “Since I contributed so much to the Ark, therefore I study more,
and I have a greater portion in it than do you. You, who gave virtually nothing
to the construction of the
Midrash Tanchuma’s deducing from the plural verb the
lesson of the importance of a universally- shared feeling of the Tora belonging
equally to each member of the Jewish people evokes a sensibility that is
paralleled in Avot
D’Rabbi Natan, Chapt. 41, where devotion to and expertise in Tora are depicted
as the most significant individual Jewish accomplishments, and therefore
universally attainable:
R. Shimon (R. Shimon bar Yochai or a different R. Shimon?)
says: There are three crowns (of specific personal status, in contrast to
having a good reputation that is a less well-defined position within the
general society), and they are the crown of Tora, the crown of priesthood and
the crown of kingship, with the crown of a good name being superior to all of
them. What is the crown of priesthood? Even if one gives all of the silver and
gold in the world, the crown of priesthood cannot be conferred upon him (if he
is not a descendent of Aharon; if he is, then he receives the status, again
without paying,) as it is said, (BaMidbar 25:13) “And it will be to him
(Aharon) and his descendents after him a covenant of priesthood for eternity.”
The crown of kingship, even if he gives all of the silver and gold in the
world, the crown of kingship cannot be conferred upon him, as it is said,
(Yechezkel 37:25) “And David My Servant is a prince for them for eternity (to
the exclusion of the descendents of others.)” But the crown of Tora is not
like this. The work of Tora, whomever wishes to take it, let him come and take
it, as it is said, (Yeshayahu 55:1) “Let it be that all who are thirsty, come
to the water (water serves here as a metaphor for Tora).[5]
[6]
Therefore, while those who
potentially are candidates for kingship and priesthood by definition are
determined by geneology and these institutions could therefore be viewed as
discriminatory and exclusive—this after all was Korach’s complaint against what
he perceived was nepotism in Moshe’s leadership appointments[7]—a connection with Tora in general and mastery
of it in particular, are functions of personal initiative and commitment and it
is particularly democratic that these achievements are accessible to all.
A second approach for accounting for
the difference in verbs introducing the various artifacts of the
…Perhaps
the Tora is hinting at the fact that the entire corpus of Commandments can be
fulfilled only by the entire collective of the Jewish people, since there is no
person in the world capable of doing all of the essential aspects of the Tora.
And here are examples of this: If one is a Kohen, he cannot fulfill the
bestowing (upon Kohanim) the 24 Priestly gifts or the redemption of the
firstborn, etc. (since these are things that priests are supposed to receive
rather than give.) And if he is an Israelite, he cannot fulfill the positive
Commandment of offering up sacrifices and the many positive Commandments
associated with them (since only priests can perform the sacrificial service.)
And similarly if he is a Levi…[9]
In contrast to the concept of
everyone seeing himself as a “shareholder” in the Tora advanced by the
Midrashim cited above, Ohr HaChayim’s interpretive approach promotes the
realization that there is a synergistic dependency among the Jewish people to
assure that all aspects of the Tora be carried out, collectively rather than
individually. To the extent to which an individual is committed to the
fulfillment of the Tora, this should force him to realize how deeply connected
he is to other members of his community, particularly those who are in positions
to fulfill Mitzvot that he is either unable to or exempt from performing.
Furthermore, with respect to certain Commandments where the collective
performance is considered to be more spiritually significant than when the same
action is carried out in isolation, e.g., Prayer, reading Megillat Esther on
Purim, reciting Grace after Meals either with a Mezuman or a Minyan, reciting
the mourner’s Kaddish, etc., one’s interdependency on the other members of the
Jewish people becomes ever more apparent.
Understanding Ohr
HaChayim’s comment in light of how important a sense of formal community via
association with and support of communal institutions ought to be to the
Halachically sensitive individual, suggests that Jewish tradition stands in
stark opposition to recent trends in our greater society, largely brought
about by technological advances. David Dudley recently wrote,
On a sparkling Sunday afternoon recently, I found myself in our local
Whereas in the past, the playground was an
opportunity for parents and children to interact with one another socially and
personally, today the adults and sometimes even children once they reach a
certain age, find themselves engrossed in virtual worlds of their own, isolated
at least in spirit if not literally from others. And as far as the web of
friends with whom one becomes enmeshed by means of electronic formats like Facebook are concerned, Dudley writes, “The
closest thing to conversation that I’ve had recently were threads of comments
on Facebook posts—intermittent volleys of confession, gossip and one-liners
from my socially networked ‘friends’ online. But this improbable mix of
personalities has never shared real-life space, and it’s not as if we’re deepening
our connections as we swap snark over the latest celebrity excess.”[11]
At a recent high school seminar that I attended, entitled “Love and
Friendship”, during a discussion of
Shakespeare’s As You Like It, Amy
Kass, a teacher of classic texts at the University of Chicago, was skeptical whether or not Facebook “friends” should be
viewed as actual “friends.”
Traditional
Judaism very much depends upon real, as opposed to virtual, manifestations of
community to assure that its rituals, practices and lifestyle remain vibrant ,
diverse and engaging. The give-and-take that takes place at a Tora study
session when participants from different walks of life who bring to the
class different perspectives and
educational experience cannot compare to the quality of learning that one does
when he is alone and listening to a download of a Shiur from the internet.[12]
Samuel Heilman, the eminent sociologist of the American Modern Orthodox scene,
dedicated an entire book on the ethnographic study of Tora study groups in the
US and Israel, analyzing the dynamics that take place between teacher and
students and student and student, a process that might be as important as the
content of the learning that is taking place.[13]
Similarly, while it would be convenient to convene “virtual Minyanim”[14]
via an internet connection, thereby eliminating ever leaving one’s home for
prayer or even the recitation of Kaddish—I remember reading how one mourner
described how he would prefer to have a Minyan made up of people who knew his
parent, even if they lived in far-flung places and only could gather together
via computer, to participating in a Minyan of people to whom his parent was
unknown—traditional Judaism appears to attribute spiritual power and maximum effectiveness
to an actual gathering of individuals in a single place, in the spirit of
(Mishlei 14:28) “BeRov Am Hadrat Melech…” (when there is a multitude of people,
there is glory to the king.)[15]
Additionally, through regular personal contact, becoming aware of community
members and feeling at one with them as they experience various challenges,
commemorations and accomplishments is also an important dimension of
traditional Judaism’s powerful social component. It is difficult to drink a
LeChayim over the internet.
But even when we state that more and
more every-day experience is
individualized and to counter such trends, quote sources that support the
contention that Judaism depends upon the active and recognizable participation
of a whole community, nevertheless, the experience of isolation that has begun
to pervade so much of the rest of our lives with regard to email, music, text
messages, computer gaming, telecommuting, etc., inevitably enters our
consciousnesses and therefore undercuts contemporary individuals’ readiness to
participate in community religious rituals and matters of concern, volunteer on behalf of non-profit
organizations, attend meetings and even to take part in enjoyable social
events.[16]
Furthermore, the sense of individualism that
is at least in part responsible for adversely affecting fund-raising efforts for
local as well as communal organizations and institutions like Federation,
Hillel and Bikur Cholim, potentially deprives so many who are desperately
dependent upon the services and support that these organizations from the help
that they deserve.
I am fond of saying that I experience
a temptation on Shabbat that RaShI never had to battle—when I am looking for a
particular reference and I know that it is only “two clicks away.” I obviously
quickly dismiss the possibility from my mind because of my clear and
uncompromising commitment to complete
Shabbat observance. Similarly, new temptations, rationalizations and even
mind-sets have arisen regarding Minyan attendance, group Tora learning,
synagogue affiliation and contributing to community causes as a result of our
contemporary culture’s promotion of individualism, and these deserve reflection
and attention so that such a trend does not significantly undermine the Jewish
social and spiritual values that we hold dear. While we may be tempted to shift
our priorities away from supporting the greater community and one another, we
must reaffirm our commitment to the values and practices that have allowed
Judaism to survive and thrive over the course of so many generations.
[1] The obvious exception is Parashat Ki Tisa that contains a number of key narratives and theological fundamentals.
[2] One of her intriguing creations involved using left-over chicken bones from Shabbat dinner in a three-dimensional construction trying to capture an aspect of the Shabbat experience!
[3]
Vintage Books,
[4] See Devarim 31:9, 26.
[5] A slightly different version of the same sentiment appears in Shemot Rabba 34:2:
Said R. Shimon bar Yochai: There are three crowns—the crown of kingship,
the crown of priesthood and the crown of Tora scholarship. The crown of
kingship—this is represented by the Table, concerning which is written, (Shemot
25:24) “a golden filigree all around.”[5]
The crown of priesthood—this is represented by the Incense Altar, concerning
which is written, (Ibid., 30:3) “a golden filigree all around.” And the crown
of Tora—this is represented by the
According to this line of thinking, not only is Tora accessible to everyone, but it even includes forms of the otherwise inaccessible statuses of kingship and priesthood.
[6] A particularly dramatic Rabbinic application of this idea is when it is stated several times in the Talmud (e.g., Horiyot 13a) that a scholar of illegitimate lineage is superior to an ignoramus who is High Priest.
[7] See BaMidbar 16.
[8] It is interesting that within the commentary, the word “VeAsu” that appears in the Tora text, is transposed into “VeYa’asu”.
[9]
Of course, during the period when the Jews have no
[10]
“Where Conversation Goes from Here: We Tweet, We Text, We Email. Everybody’s
Chatting But is Anybody Listening? Why
[11] Ibid., p. 67.
[12] See my essay “Learning Alone is as Anemic as ‘Bowling Alone’” at http://www.ravsak.org/news/57/88/Learning-Alone-is-as-Anemic-as-Bowling-Alone/d,HaYidion/
[13]
People of the Book: Drama, Fellowship, and Religion, University of
[15] While many people could simultaneously join in a webcast prayer or Megilla reading, would they have the same awareness of one another and the opportunity to interact with one another as when they literally physically come together in a single place?
[16] This trend is particular in evidence among younger Jews, who are probably most intensely impacted by the technological advances that promote isolation. In the recent report released by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, entitled “Religion Among the Millenials” (http://pewforum.org/docs/?DocID=510) the following is stated:
By some key measures, Americans ages 18 to 29 are considerably less religious than older Americans. Fewer young adults belong to any particular faith than older people do today. They also are less likely to be affiliated than their parents' and grandparents' generations were when they were young. Fully one-in-four members of the Millennial generation - so called because they were born after 1980 and began to come of age around the year 2000 - are unaffiliated with any particular faith. Indeed, Millennials are significantly more unaffiliated than members of Generation X were at a comparable point in their life cycle (20% in the late 1990s) and twice as unaffiliated as Baby Boomers were as young adults (13% in the late 1970s). Young adults also attend religious services less often than older Americans today. And compared with their elders today, fewer young people say that religion is very important in their lives.