The Midrash, filling in some gaps in the story, tells us that the argument was about whether this man was entitled to place his tent with the rest of the Tribe of Dan, since tribal association is patrilineal. The Dan-ites didn’t want this man camping with them, and are backed by Moshe, who rules that the Dan-ites have the right to not allow him in their camp. The man leaves Moshe in frustration, continues his fight with someone else in the camp, and ultimately curses God.

This Midrash is quite hard to understand. Even if Dan wasn’t obligated count the blasphemer as a member of their tribe, wouldn’t it still have been a good gesture to allow him to stay there? He didn’t really have anywhere else to go, as he surely didn’t belong to any of the other tribes!

Further, even if he wasn’t a particularly nice person and they were justified in not wanting him around, why did the Jew allow the blasphemer to pick a fight with him? It was surely possible for them to handle this situation without getting drawn into one-on-one quarrels with him, and the man’s temper would not have flared to the point of cursing Hashem. There seems, however, to be no criticism levied against Dan or the man who argued with the blasphemer.

Rashi (citing a different Midrash) makes a very insightful comment when analyzing the punishment given. What is the point of having the people who witnessed the event place their hands on the blasphemer’s head? We don’t see this action in other places that stoning is discussed. Rashi says that they placed their hands on his head to tell him “דמך בראשך ואין אנו נענשים במיתתך שאתה גרמת לך” (“Your blood is on your own head! We are not to be punished for your death, for you brought this upon yourself!”).

The lesson here is clear. This is man who comes from a broken family, who was pushed around by the people he considered the members of his Tribe and was provoked further by another individual. Yet ultimately he alone is responsible for his actions and must take full responsibility for them.

How many times do we blame our circumstances for mistakes we make?

Shabbat Shalom and have a great Lag BaOmer!

This week, we have a double Parsha of Vayakhel and Pekudei. In Vayakhel, it talks about how Hashem filled Betzalel, Oholiav and all of their helpers with the wisdom necessary to construct the Mishkan and its vessels.

In multiple places the Torah stresses that Hashem was the one who granted the the wisdom, knowledge and understanding of how to properly complete the construction.

וַיְמַלֵּא אֹתוֹ, רוּחַ אֱלֹהִים, בְּחָכְמָה בִּתְבוּנָה וּבְדַעַת, וּבְכָל-מְלָאכָה.

And He filled [Betzalel] with the a divine spirit of wisdom, understanding and knowledge, and [a talent for] all types of craftsmanship.
Shmot 35:31

וּלְהוֹרֹת, נָתַן בְּלִבּוֹ:  הוּא, וְאָהֳלִיאָב בֶּן-אֲחִיסָמָךְ…
מִלֵּא אֹתָם חָכְמַת-לֵב, לַעֲשׂוֹת

[God] also gave to him and Oholiav son of Achisamakh… the ability to teach.
He has granted them a natural talent for all craftsmanship…
Shmot 35:35-36

וְעָשָׂה בְצַלְאֵל וְאָהֳלִיאָב וְכֹל אִישׁ חֲכַם-לֵב, אֲשֶׁר נָתַן יְהוָה חָכְמָה וּתְבוּנָה בָּהֵמָּה

Betzalel shall thus do all that God commanded, along with Oholiav and every other skilled individual, to whom God has granted the wisdom and understanding…
Shmot 36:1

If all of the people were granted their wisdom from Hashem, what was it that made Betzalel and Oholiav special that they deserved special mention in the construction? They too were just granted their abilities to do the construction by Hashem.

In Melachim II chapter 4, we are told of the story of Elisha and the destitute widow. The widow complains to Elisha that she has no possessions left, save one jug of oil. Elisha instructs her to borrow as many pots as she can from her neighbors, close the door, and then pour from the small jug she has into all of the pots. Miraculously, this small jug manages to fill all of the pots in the house.

What is interesting about this story is that the miracle had to occur from an existing jug of oil. Even though Hashem could just as easily have miraculously filled her house with money, He instead chose to operate in such a way that the miracle stemmed from an existing item, the small amount of oil she had left in her house.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel Kasher in his work Torah Sheleima quotes the Midrash Tanchuma which notes that the Torah uses the word מִלֵּא – filled, when discussing Betzalel and Oholiav. Just as in the story of Elisha and the widow, where there had to be some initial oil with which to fill the pots, in the case of Betzalel and Oholiav, there had to already be some existing talent and ability. All Hashem had to do was just “top them off,” so to speak.

Of course, their initial “natural” abilities were given by Hashem as well, so once again, what made Betzalel and Oholiav different?

What differentiated Betzalel and Oholiav is that up to the point when they were tasked with the building of the Mishkan they had made the most of the gifts Hashem had given them. They recognized that they, as with everyone, were granted innate talents, and they made sure to make the most of them. When the time came for Hashem to choose who to grant the additional knowledge and expertise to, he knew he just needed to fill up Betzalel and Oholiav and didn’t need to fill the empty tank of someone else.

The Jewish approach, therefore, is not “I think, therefore I am,” but rather “I am, therefore I must think.” We must take full advantage of all the innate skills and abilities we have been granted, and daven daily for the increased capacity to know how to best connect to Hashem and better ourselves.

This week’s parsha discusses the construction of the Mishkan and all of its vessels in great detail. Hashem tells Moshe to create two poles made out of acacia wood and covered in gold with which to carry the Aron (the Ark).

These poles are quite similar to those made for carrying the Mizbeach (the Altar) and the Shulchan (the table for the Showbread), but the instructions are different. Only when describing the Aron’s poles does Hashem command Moshe to ensure that the poles are never separated from the Aron (לֹא יָסֻרוּ מִמֶּנּוּ).

What is so special about these poles that they can never be removed? If their use is purely for carrying the Aron around, wouldn’t it be more practical to remove them when the Jewish people were camped? This question is made even stronger by the Midrash which notes that there wasn’t actually enough room in the Kodesh Kodashim (Holy of Holies) for the poles.  Yet, a miracle occured and not only did the Aron and the poles fit into the Kodesh Kodashim, but there was room for the Kohen Gadol to enter for the Yom Kippur service.

Rabbi Yaakov Hillel says that the poles are actually symbolic of those people who support Torah and Torah learning in their communities. Just as the actual poles were inseparable from the Aron and equally deserving to rest in the Kodesh Kodashim, the supporters of Torah are also spiritually connected to the institutions and people that they support.

The Midrash also teaches us that when Hashem performs miracles to help sustain Torah, those miracles are performed primarily for the “poles” who support Torah.

Have a happy Shabbat!

So what is the Torah telling us when it says: “Hechbaditi es Libo” that Hashem hardened Paroh’s heart? What happened to free will? The midrash tells us the following:

There was a boat with many wild beasts: the shu’al (a fox), a tiger, Ari (a lion) the king of all the beasts and the chamor (a donkey), who’s not as fierce as the other animals. So the Chamor decided to tax (meches) all the animals on the boat. He went to the Shu’al  and the Shu’al  gave him the meches and as he was leaving he told the Shual that he was going to the Ari next. The Shu’al  was surprised and retorted “What chutzpah you have to go to the king of all the beasts!” Not listening, the Chamor then went to the Ari to collect the meches. Ari was not too happy with the Chamor so the he stopped the boat and told him that he would have to take this outside. They did and Ari killed the hin. After killing him he told the Shu’al  to chop him up and return the parts to him when he was finished and that would be the king’s supper that night. Shu’al  did what he was told and gave the parts to Ari. But Ari noticed that there was something missing, there was no lev (heart). Naturally Ari asked Shu’al  where the heart was; surely he must have misplaced it. But “no” the Shu’al  answered. “There is no heart. Any donkey that would go up to the king, with such chutzpah as he, has no heart.”

Now you must be wondering what a fox, a donkey, and a lion have to do with this week’s parsha, what a crazy midrash! Think… the donkey is Paroh. We see that throughout the plagues Moshe gives Paroh great warning in advance about what is soon to come and Paroh does nothing. He watches how his people suffer. It is not until his very life is threatened that he becomes afraid. This was at the last plague; death of the first born for he was a first born. Paroh truly had no heart. Rambam, (Mamondeis) says that because Paroh was so truly evil, and heartless Hashem took away his free will so that he could not repent. He had crossed the line. His logic is based on the midrash the says: “Pharaoh will not be allowed to repent.” The concept of free will does not apply to those who were so bad that Hashem took mercy and had to take away their free will in order to spare Paroh of even greater punishment.

Some Rabbis, among them Rav Soloveitchik say that he gave away his free will the day he gave away his heart. (We see earlier that he Paroh was stubborn, even before Hashem hardened it.) With Hashem’s mercy He spares even the wicked by taking away his free will and further punishment.

Now we can’t always look at the Torah so literally. Sometimes the Torah is teaching us life lessons- Musser. As I learned from Rabbi Yitzchok Cohen from Yeshiva University, one doesn’t have to look at Paroh as stam, just the King of Egypt; he is in every one of us. Paroh represents our Yeitzer Harah our (evil inclination). He’s that voice inside of us that tells us “No, don’t help that old lady across the street with her heavy groceries.” And “Yes, do cheat on the test, no one will notice.” Or perhaps “Why should I help those in Haiti, how will that help me?” As we see later on in next week’s Parsha even our Yetzer Harah does teshuva, repentance. We learn from a midrash that at Paroh’s last moments he realizes what he has done and recites the Shema.  From here we see another important concept, Hashem’s mercy. Hashem allows even the wickedest of people to repent. This shows us that even our Yetzer Harah wants to repent and yes in the end of days in 120 years when we go to Shamayim we are taught that when we are being judged in front of HaKadosh BaruchHo, The King of Kings, who is there to defend us. Not our Rebbe, not our Mommy, not even our all of our Mitzvahs but our Yetzer Harah. The Yetzer Harah will get up to the podium or however they do it up there and tell Hashem “You know what I had to do to make Shmuely eat that BigMac! Oh boy you should have seen him! I had to put a Mcdonalds right by his house so that every morning he would smell that yummy treif meat. Then when that wouldn’t do it I had to bring in the dollar menu and I think that is what threw him off. He went in there and just ate everything insight, it was like that movie… Super Size Me.”

We are constantly reminded of the exodus from Egypt and how with Hashems’ oustreched hand we were saved from the evil Paroh. We see this in the Pesach seder, in Kidush, and even when we put on Tefillin. After hearing this over and over every year this story could get a bit distant and we could easily detach ourselves. Well here is a different perspective: Every day we are reliving the Exodus from Egypt, internally. We are faced with adds and T.V. shows that tell us what to wear, what to say, and how to act, constantly trying to control our lives in such a discrete obvious way that passes by our heads. Most of the time we don’t even know why we are doing these things. We just sometimes need to stop and ask ourselves “Who is this for, for me or society?” Now I’m not saying that we need to think before we do every single thing to do, but we need to be aware to the why and who we are doing this for. Don’t put yourself in your own Exodus and cut yourself off to who you are. Leave some time for yourself and you won’t be that donkey who gets killed by the lion.

“Jacob became very frightened, and it distressed him. So he divided the people with him, and the flocks, cattle, and camels, into two camps. For he said, ‘If Eisav comes to the one camp and strikes it down, then the remaining camp shall survive’” (Bereishis 32:8-9).

The Ramban explains based on a Midrash, that this episode is a herald of similar events that will occur to the Jewish people throughout the generations; a concept known as ma’aseih avos siman l’banim. He says that descendants of Eisav in single locations will place upon us harsh decrees – sometimes on our property and sometimes on our lives – but the evil decrees will never directly affect the entirety of the Jewish people. One king will act brutally in his own land, nevertheless in another land a king will act with mercy and save the remnant.

We pray to the King of Kings that all of the Jewish people in all of their dwelling places be blessed with peace.

Good Shabbos!

ויסע אברם הלוך וננסוע הנגבה: ויהי רעב בארץ וירד אברם מצרימה לגור שם כי כבד הרעב בארץ

(בראשית יב, ט-י)

Then Avram traveled on, journeying steadily toward the south. There was a famine in the land, and Avram descended to Egypt to travel there, for the famine was severe in the land.

(Genesis 12, 9-10)

The Midrash explains that there are ten different famines that are to plague the world. One was during the days of Adam, the second was in the days of Lemech, and the third one was in the days of Avram. The last famine that will come to the world will be at the end of days, before the arrival of Mashiach. As the Prophet says,

הנה ימים באים… והשלחתי רעב בארץ לא רעב ללחם ולא צמא למים כי אם לשמוע את דברי ה

(עמוס ח, יא)

Behold, days are coming… and I shall send out a hunger onto the land. Not a hunger for bread, and not a thirst for water, but rather [a hunger] to hear the words of G-d.

(Amos 8, 11)

In Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer, it is said that the last famine will be the most difficult of them all. This seems to be odd- isn’t a famine for the words of G-d a good thing? People hungry for religion, for guidance in life, returning to their roots; isn’t this exactly what G-d wants of us?

To answer this question, we must look deeper into the very definition and effects of a famine. What is the benefit that emerges from the years of famine? People learn to be satisfied with the little resources available. In a famine, even a few bread crumbs are seen as an elaborate and nutritious meal. In a drought, every precious drop of water is conserved. For example, the people of Africa who live in drought conditions don’t care whether or not their water is clean and bacteria-free. When there is a drought, one takes what there is, or dies. Even a few drops of water are seen as satisfying substance.

Explains the Ponovizer Rov, a very similar case will emerge when the hunger for G-d’s word begins. People will be satisfied with even the very little amount of spiritual guidance they find in life. They won’t check to see whether or not their religions is pure, whether what they are returning to is true Judaism. People will be content with gimmicks. We should take a message from this week’s portion, to always make sure that what we believe in is pure and correct- we cannot settle for anything less than the truth.