Parashat Mishpatim

“A palace, Shlomo HaMelech made for him.” (Shir HaShirim 3:9)
Rabbi Azariah, in the name of Rabbi Yehuda Bar Rabbi Simmon, interpreted this verse to refer to the Mishkan. A parable: A king once had a daughter. Before she grew up, he would constantly be seen with her in the marketplace and talk with her in public. In the courtyard, in the alleyway, everywhere. When she matured, the king said [to himself], “it’s not praiseworthy for my daughter that I be talking with her in public; instead, I’ll make her a fancy tent for her to live in and when I need to speak with her, I’ll talk to her there.” So too it is written [of the Jews, who began as children] “Ki Na’ar Yisrael ViAhavto” (Hoshea 11: ). Therefore, in Mitzrayim, we clearly saw Hashem, as it says “ViAvar Hashem LiNgof Es Mitzrayim.” And we saw him at the Yam Suf too, as it says “VaYar Yisrael Es HaYad HaGedolah.” Even the little children saw him and pointed, saying “Ze Keili ViAnveihu.” And at Har Sinai we saw him face to face, as it says “ViHashem MiSinai Ba” (Devarim 33:2). But once Bnei Yisrael stood at Har Sinai and accepted the Torah and said “Kol Asher Dibeir Hashem Na’aseh ViNishma,” then they became a grown nation. Hashem then said “It’s not proper for Yisrael, now that they are a whole nation, that I speak to them in public. Therefore I will have them build me a Mishkan, and then when I need to speak with them, I can speak with them in there privately,” as is written “And when Moshe entered the Ohel Moed to speak with [Hashem]…” (Shemos 34:34).
--Midrash Shir HaShirim Rabbah (3:7)

This lovely midrash builds on one of the many cryptic verses of Shir HaShirim in order to offer an explanation for the building of the Mishkan. The midrash explains that the relationship between Hashem and His people is much like that between an ordinary king and his princess daughter. At first the fledgling nation needed to be fathered, cared for like a young child; but through the arduous fifty day journey to Sinai, and after the experience of Mattan Torah, Bnei Yisrael considered themselves independent, no longer in need of G-d’s careful supervision. Therefore, Hashem arranged for a more grown-up relationship between Him and the nation, one where He would give the nation the privacy and personal life it so desired and would only disrupt them when need be. And even then, He would only speak to them in private.

What an absurd nimshal?! Do we really believe that the relationship between a human king and his daughter is any bit comparable to Hashem’s relationship with us. Would we ever insist that Hashem not talk to us? Were we so thankful after Yitzeas Mitzrayim and Kriyas Yam Suf and Mattan Torah that we desired our personal space and asked Hashem to confine Himself to a little tent located in a separate part of our camp? What could Rabbi Azariya possibly be suggesting through this parable?

There’s something else unsettling about this midrash. In order to parallel the mashal of a maturation process, the nimshal must move in chronological order. Yet according to the Michilta, quoted by Rashi in this week’s parasha, the pasuk Rabbi Azariya quotes to demonstrate the maturity of the nation, “Na’aseh ViNishmah,” was announced by Klal Yisrael on the fifth of Sivan, prior to Mattan Torah. The Midrash’s logic is therefore faulty, for if the nation had already demonstrated it’s maturity and its desire for independence from the day before Mattan Torah, why then would Hashem appear to them the very next day?

It’s worth noting that the phrase “Na’aseh ViNishma” itself poses a critical question. How can the Bnei Yisrael promise to perform the mitzvos before they even hear them? At the bottom of our question on this midrash could possibly lie the answer to the complexities of this paradoxical proposition. But before we tackle this midrash, let’s look at another statement of Rabbi Azariya’s in the name of Rabbi Yehuda Bar Rabbi Simmon. Pay close attention to the minor changes!

“A palace, Shlomo HaMelech made for [Hashem].” (Shir HaShirim 3:9)
Rabbi Azariya, in the name of Rabbi Yehuda Bar Rabbi Simmon, interpreted this verse to refer to the Mishkan. A parable: There once was a king, and he had a daughter whom he loved very much. All the time his daughter was young, he would talk with her publicly. He’d see her in the courtyard and talk with her. When she became older and more mature, the king said [to himself], “it’s not honorable for my daughter that I be talking with her in public; instead, I’ll make her a fancy tent for her to live in and when I need to speak with her, I’ll talk to her from inside there.” So too it is written [of the Jews, who began as children] “Ki Na’ar Yisrael ViAhavto.” Therefore, Hashem spoke with them at the Yam Suf, as it says “Ma Titz’ak Eilai.” And He spoke to us at Har Sinai too, as it says “Panim BiPanim Dibeir Hashem Imachem” (Devarim 5:4). But once Bnei Yisrael stood at Har Sinai and accepted the Torah and became a grown nation, they said “Kol Asher Dibeir Hashem Na’aseh ViNishma,” and Hashem then said “It’s not proper for Yisrael, now that they are a matured nation, that I speak to them in public. Therefore I will have them build me a Mishkan, and then when I need to speak with them, I can speak with them in there privately,” as is written “And when Moshe entered the Ohel Moed to speak with [Hashem].”
-- Midrash BaMidbar Rabbah (12:4)

This midrash seems very similar to the one in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, but it’s not the same; a closer look reveals tremendous disparities between the two. While the daughter was the subject of the first midrash, the king steals the spotlight in this one’s mashal (the difference between ViLaMelech Hayisa Bas and ViLaMelech Haya Bas). Also note that while the first midrash goes through detail of how the king saw his daughter everywhere, this one focuses primarily on his speaking with her. Most notably, the king is now concerned with the Kavod of his daughter, while the first midrash focuses the king’s primary concern around his daughter’s Shevach. The two midrashim then totally split tracks when discussing the nimshal. The first talks of how we are like children and therefore see Hashem everywhere, even in public. The second talks of how we are like children and therefore Hashem speaks directly to us in public. They quote completely different pasukim in order to describe completely different aspects of our relationship to Him. And yet they arrive at the same conclusion. Are these the same midrash or not?

Perhaps our biggest mistake within our initial understanding of these midrashim was our perception of the mashal. Within the Shir HaShirim Rabbah version, the princess’s needs seem petty and incomparable to our connection to HaKadosh Baruch Hu. But the second Midrash discusses how the king acts out of sake for his daughter’s Kavod, not just her adolescent desires. In reality, the king doesn’t build the tent for his daughter so he can talk to her whenever he wants to; he builds it so he could talk to her there whenever he needs to, perhaps whenever he is upset with her and needs to talk with her, not to her. That’s why he needs a private area for her, not to respect her privacy but to prevent her embarrassment. Thus retaining her Kavod.

Within the Midrash in Shir HaShirim, then, the king is also concerned for his daughter’s Kavod, but there is an additional facet to his concern. Now that his daughter is being treated like a big girl and not being scolded or reprimanded in public, the king – and his daughter as well – wants to make it clear to all that she is grown up and mature and not needing of her father’s oversight or supervision. Therefore, he also does his best to avoid being seen around her in public. If people see her and then notice him standing right behind her in the marketplace, or around every corner in the alleys, then they will assume that her independence and adulthood is no more than a façade, that she still has her father on her side aiding her through every step of every process. Her independence becomes meaningless.

The same could be said of Hashem’s concerns for Klal Yisrael. On one hand, He would have loved to maintain as close a relationship as possible. But on the other hand, this relationship would mean little if He constantly spoke with them in public and let them know about every detail He was displeased with. We would be treated like children and our Avodas Hashem would amount to nothing more than following basic instructions. Instead, we demanded a challenge from Hashem. Like the princess says to her father, we tell Hashem we are mature now. “Kol Asher Debeir Hashem Na’aseh ViNishma,” if Hashem tells us the mitzvos once Himself, He should trust us to remember what we heard and not forget, not need constant reminders, as if we are constantly hearing Him. We should be expected to remind ourselves. We should work, ourselves, at maintaining the connection to Hashem that we began with at the early stages of our relationship.

Hashem heard the nation demand this and then gave the Torah. It was His final chance to connect in such a grand and public fashion; after this, the visual and auditory presence stopped, thus proving to all the other nations how independent we were as a nation. Our Avoda became much more meaningful, from the outsider’s perspective, from our perspective, and even from Hashem’s. Like the king who avoids being seen with his daughter for the sake of her Shevach, Hashem’s concealed presence adds to the praise we receive and deserve for following the Torah.

We now can fully grasp the fundamental difference between a nation that proclaims “Na’aseh,” and a nation that demands “Na’aseh ViNishma.” The former is interested in following the Torah, asking Hashem to carefully instruct them over what to do and how to do it, and they will abide by every excruciating detail like a child taking instructions from a parent. It was not until Klal Yisrael’s demand “Na’aseh ViNishma,” the final preparatory stage in their growth as a nation, that they were ready to exist on such a mature and responsible level. But once they reached such a stage, Hashem was more than happy to oblige. And though the request in fact was “give us some space,” it was meant with the most righteous of intentions, for the greater the space between Hashem and us, the more room we leave for our dedication toward improvement and perfection.