Rabbi Eve Posen

In the beginning, God created the world and set us with light and darkness, day and night, Or v’Choshech.  We see the transition between literal light and darkness every twenty-four hours, but we also use these extremes metaphorically.  We might refer to a change in a person’s behavior or an experience by saying “the difference was like night and day.”  Sometimes we talk about the “light at the end of the tunnel,” that beam that gives us hope, a sign that “brighter” days are ahead. 

Our parshah this week, parshat P’kudei, is the last portion in the book of Shemot, which began with Moses in Egypt.  Described as “good” in his very simple beginning, Moses moves on to tackle the challenge of leading the Israelite people from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light.  The journey isn’t always easy.  Along the way Moses is timid and shy, insisting that perhaps he is not the right person for the job.  The Israelite people are also afraid to move forward.  Throughout this book they fear that life was better in Egypt, where the people were always taken care of with food, water, shelter.  In the desert they aren’t so sure where their next meal would come from.  The Israelite people are a people in need of constant reassurance and reminders that they are o.k.

Having to struggle with both light and dark times on their journey doesn’t help matters.  A great moment of light when the Israelites are let free from Egypt, singing at the sea, is followed by the darkness of an enormous loss of life as the Pharaoh’s army is crushed by the waters.  We have light when we receive the Ten Commandments at Sinai, only to be followed by darkness when the Israelites disobey the commandments and build the golden calf. 

Along the way, the people are informed that they are to be led by a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day.  The pillar of fire provides light in the midst of the darkness of night, and the cloud provides a spot of dark comfort against the harsh brightness of the day.  The Israelites are a people who need tangible evidence in their world.  Throughout this book they have been asked to build theMishkan, the tabernacle in which God’s presence rests, and the Ohel Moed, the meeting place between the divine spirit and the human. 

These two structures are built so that the Israelites will understand the power of encountering God and better understand the presence of God.  While a cloudy day might feel dark and dreary, that is a sign of God’s presence.  And, living in Texas, the sun and light of the summer might feel oppressive, but that too is a moment of Godly encounter.  Our parshah ends with the cloud settling upon the Ohel Moed, the Tent of Meeting, and God’s presence filling the Tabernacle. 

The book opened with a narrative of oppression, misery and confusion, and ends with a sign of hope.  The cloud will lift up from the Tabernacle, allowing the Israelites to steadily move forward.  The struggle in these pages is evident: relying on pure faith alone isn’t easy.  When we are able to look at the cloud and see the light that shines forth around it or when we see the bright sun in the summer and do not focus on the heat, that is when we can truly bask in the presence of God.

Perkei Avot teaches us in the second mishnah of the first chapter that the world stands on three things:  Torah (learning), Avodah (service) and G’milut Hasadim (acts of kindness).  Shimon the Righteous taught his own set of three: that the world is held up by people who learn, by people who give and work, and by people who give of their hearts to one another.  The Christian community has the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, three different identities that make up the Divine being.  These are just a sampling of the many conceptual trilogies in community thought and practice.  Our school even has our own trio of attributes, “inspiration, knowledge, character.”  Those three words sum up our school, our teachers, our students and our families.

The question we must ask ourselves is how we use each of these pieces of our being.  What are we inspired to do?  What do we do with our knowledge?  What kind of character are we building? 

The parshah this week, parshat Vayakhel, details the building of the mishkan, the artistry involved, the outpouring of gifts the Israelite people bring, and the artists who fashion the piece together.  For the construction of this precious piece, God has singled out Be’tzalel to be the builder.  Chapter 35, verse 31 teaches that God has “endowed him with a divine spirit of skill, ability and knowledge in every kind of craft.”  Chochmah, T’vunah, Da’at:  these are the words used to describe Be’tzalel.  This is the combination needed for a person to construct a holy vessel, the types of attributes a rounded person must possess. 

These words – wisdom, understanding and knowledge – are oddly similar in their meaning.  Elsewhere they are translated as skill, ability and knowledge.  Rashi, the great 10th century commentator, sought to understand the difference between each of these traits.  He taught first onChochmah, skill.  “Skill is what a person learns from other.”  That is to say that skill is not something that we are born with, but rather something we learn from working with others, from acting in the world.  Be’tzalel’s ability was not just working with his hands, but also listening to others, sharing opinions, working together on a team.

Rashi defines T’vunah, ability, as the result of one’s own insight and experience.  In order to be a great leader, a person must be able to listen to one’s self.  This is a reflective practice that involves looking at experiences and searching for learning, searching for what could be done differently next time, what “I” did well.  A leader must not only work well with and listen to others, but also listen to their conscience, their inner monologue that guides them through right and wrong.

Finally, Rashi teaches that Da’at, knowledge, is divine inspiration, ideas that suddenly come to a person from an unknown source.  Knowledge is knowing that there is something bigger than us out there, being open to new ideas, being open to the divine.

Parshat Vayakhel is about Moses bringing the people together as a community so that they can each learn from Be’tzalel to be engaged in chochmah, t’vunah and da’at, to learn from one another, to find their own voice, and to allow God’s inspiration to flow through their hands as they create themishkan. 

A chair with only 2 legs cannot stand.  The world rests on 3 things, whether it is on learning, service and acts of kindness, or on working together, listening to ourselves and finding God, or on inspiration, knowledge and character.  The challenge is to find the balance in the three, find the balance in our own needs, those of the community and in our relationship to God so that the works of our hands bring us closer to our community.

In Perkei Avot, the tractate of the Mishnah that teaches us a great deal about ethics, it is taught:

There are four types of temperaments:

Easy to anger and easy to appease- the loss is canceled by the reward.

Hard to anger and hard to appease- the reward is canceled by the loss.

Easy to anger and hard to appease- a wicked person.

Hard to anger and easy to appease- a saint (Hasid).

Take a moment and think about each of these temperaments.  How would you categorize yourself?  Your partner? Your child? 

It could be argued that throughout life, each of us takes on all four of these temperaments depending on the situation, our investment in the cause, and maybe even our level of exhaustion.  Our parshah this week, parshat Ki Tissa, deals in great length with anger management problems.  The parshah finds the Israelites on their journey through the desert, and after they take the ½shekel census, the people wait for Moses to come down from the mountain.  Up until this point in the narrative, we have seen the Israelite people as quick to complain and easily appeased by miracles.  We have seen Moses occasionally get frustrated with them and coddle them along this journey. 

The narrative throughout the Torah has also guided us through the reactions of God to the people.  When Adam and Eve are in the Garden of Eden and eat from the Tree of Knowledge, God does not lash out with violence or destruction; rather, God gives them a fitting punishment.  During the period of Noah, God is outraged at the corrupt behavior of the people and sends the flood that wipes out all of creation other than Noah.  But almost as quickly as the flood waters rush through, God sends a rainbow and makes a promise not to do this again.  With Abraham and the cities ofSdom and G’morah, God is again upset by the citizens’ behavior, and instead of destroying an entire world, only destroys those cities. 

In this week’s parshah, we are introduced to a different kind of anger from God.  Moses does not come down from the mountain right away, and the people lose faith quickly.  They instruct Aaron to build them a calf, a physical object to worship.  Meanwhile, Moses is unaware of their actions, and when God shares with Moses what the people have done, it is with vengeance and anger.  In chapter 32, verse 7 God begins to react, telling Moses to go down to “your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt…” Immediately God has turned away from the people and placed ownership on Moses.  God continues in verse 9, “I see that this is a stiff-necked people.  Now, let Me be, that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation.”  Moses responds in verse 11 by imploring God to calm down:  “Let not Your anger, O Lord, blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand.  Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that He delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’” 

God is red with rage, taken over with anger, and this anger is so strong it is nearly uncontrollable.  Moses recognizes this as his moment to take control.  The Talmud in tractate Brachot perek 5retells this story as Moses grabbing God by the nape of the neck and basically saying, “God, this is so like you, you always do this, you get so angry and react so quickly.  God, you’re quick to anger, think about how people will view you.”  Moses asks God to stop, to take a moment and think about the consequences, the bigger picture, the grand scheme of things. 

In a way, God, like each of us, has varied temperaments and reactions with anger.  What Moses teaches God is the need to take a step back, take a deep breath and pause.  Think about what would happen if each one of us, instead of screaming, going on a rampage or shutting down was able to stop, think and then react.  Moses did this for God, and whether we’re quick to anger and easy to appease or hard to anger and hard to appease, sometimes we all need that reminder to take a step back, stop and think.

1.       Our ‘ethical covenant’ teaches us about erech apayim, being slow to anger.  This can be difficult at times.  How can you work together as a family to control our reactions?

2.       How do you calm down most easily?  Who can help you?

Some people wear clothing, and for other people clothing wears them.  As a little girl, I had trouble deciding what to wear each day.  My parents used to joke as they received their nightly fashion show that I would be so much better off if I just had a uniform.  True, if I had a uniform, my parents would be assured that I wouldn’t come out dressed in mismatching patterns or colors, but in my mind I was afraid that a uniform might take away my sense of style (or lack thereof) if I wasn’t able to share my personal pizzazz. 

Throughout time, clothing has become an industry, and we associate different styles of dress with different personalities and different clothing lines with price points.  Clothing also gives clues to one’s occupation – scrubs might mean a doctor or surgeon, blue uniform might mean police officer, white lab coat might denote a scientist, overalls a workman or painter.  What we put on our bodies indicates in certain ways our actions in life. 

When Adam and Eve first noticed their nakedness, they covered themselves in haste.  They didn’t spend time figuring out which designer (Calvin Vine or Tommy Hil-fig-leafer) fit their body types best or which store had the best sales.  They just covered themselves.  Since the events of Gan Eden, human beings have been uncomfortable in nothing but their own skin.  We have a need to cover up our bodies out of modesty and respect. 

Our parshah, parshat Tetzaveh, reminds us of the message our clothing sends about us.  It is here in the Torah that we are given the description of the priestly garments.  Every layer is associated with their occupation, from their clothing to the accessories and from simple linen garments to metal breastplates and jackets.  Aaron’s sons must wear their uniforms to work each day, each piece representing a different middah (attribute) expected of them in their position of holiness and working with God.  Aaron’s sons could not go to work in their play clothes, throwing on a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt in order to do their job.  Their uniform instilled in them a sense of purpose, authority and respect.  These garments could not be worn by just anyone, they were special. 

A uniform can diminish power struggles by maintaining a sense of sameness and conformity among the group, but it can also instill special authority in the wearer since only a person in that position or organization may wear it.  We see this when our 8th grade students are able to wear their blue shirts for the first time.  This blue shirt represents 8th grade, the year of the Israel trip, graduation, uniqueness and growth.  Tallit and tefillin offer a similar status of exclusivity when we reach the age of b’nai mitzvah.

But, the uniform is only what goes on top.  The uniform is the cover, the mantle of position and of belonging.  What’s underneath is what counts.  Without the uniform, Aaron’s sons are not kohanim, they are boys; without the prescribed ritual, their act becomes not a communal offering but a personal gesture.   I’m not sure it’s true that the “clothing makes the man,” but perhaps it’s that the clothing represents how the man feels about himself. 

Parshat Tetzaveh stands to remind us that our outsides should match our insides, and when we’re not in “uniform” we are still asked to represent ourselves as holy beings, as creatures with an even greater occupation.  We are to clothe ourselves in a way that shows our commitment to justice, to modesty, and to respecting ourselves as God’s creations.