A Quick Thought on Parashas B'Haalos'cha

At the beginning of this week's Parashah, after the Torah describes how Aharon had to position the lights of the Menorah, it goes on to describe that the entire Menorah was hewn of a single block of gold; that its branches and its intricate details were all made of one solid piece.

 

The question is, in describing the various karbanos that were brought in the Mishkan, the Torah doesn't describe how the Mizbei'ach was built. Nor does it tell us how the Shulchan was built when it tells us about the lechem hapanim.

 

Why does the Torah have to tell how the Menorah was made?

Furthermore, the passuk says that it was made like "the vision that Hashem had shown to Moshe." Why is this germane here?

 

Perhaps the answer lies in the fact that the Menorah, as Chazal tell us, represents Torah study. The flames of the Menorah, the commentators explain, refer to students and children, those whose flames of Torah are lit by the Kohen -- the parent and the teacher.

For for the education of the child to work, to keep that flame lit, requires that everything be made of a solid piece, that everything be consistent. That what we say and what we do jibe. That we live by the ideals that we espouse. That is how we succeed in inspiring and teaching.

 

But there is another element: our behavior must be modeled after the mareh asher her'ah Hashem es Moshe, the G-d-given directive for how to behave and how to act. The dictates and directives of the Torah.

 

It is then that we can then hope to light flames that will cast the light and and spread warmth of Yiddishkeit to future generations and to all who come in contact with them.

 

May we indeed be zocheh to that.

 

Good Shabbos

Parashas Nasso

At the end of this week’s parashah,  we learn that the nassi of each shevet brought a offering at the inauguration of the Mishkan.

Every day for the first twelve days, one nassi brought a korbon, and the Torah details the individual offering of each nassi. As we read through the descriptions, we quickly note that each of the offerings was identical. Yet the Torah – which is generally sparing with its words to the point that an extra letter can teach us a halachah – repeats each detail 12 times.

A number of the commentators note that although each nassi brought the identical animals and utensils, each one of them arrived at the formulation of his own offering on his own, with calculations and reasons specific to his shevet.

Imagine, however, that you were Avidan ben Gidoni, the nassi of Shevet Binyamin, who brought his korban on the ninth day. You pondered and studied and came up with the composition of your offering, only to realize that it’s the same thing the previous eight nessi’im had brought.

Most of us would go back to the drawing board to recalculate. We’d try to come up with an offering that would not be as spiritually perfect, but would offer unique expression for our shevet. After all, people don’t know our real intentions. If we brought what we initially planned to, they’d never believe we came up with this on our own. Do we need them snickering that we are copycats?

The nesi’im, however, were unfazed. Their heroism, expressed by their commitment to do what was correct, earned them – and their korban – eternal commemoration in the Torah. They have a place in posterity.

The Rema, in the very first paragraph of Shulchan Aruch, adjures: “And a person should not be embarrassed by those who mock him in his service of Hashem.”

Torah and halchah are the blueprints and guidelines for living perfect and fulfilled lives. They are the Owner’s Manuals for our souls. When we comport ourselves accordingly, it is an expression of our commitment to be true to our values.

Emerson famously wrote, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do.”

This parashah teaches us that Emerson was wrong.

Consistency can frequently be a sign of moral fortitude and courage. A brave stand for what is right.

And great souls can often find their fulfillment in consistency, while weaker ones hide behind “creativity” and “expression” to mask their own insecurities and moral bankruptcy.

May we all be zocheh to do what is right, without regard to the opinions of those less committed. Then we, too, will merit to have a place in posterity.

Gut Shabbos.