Parashat VaYakheil

The Chatzer of the Mishkan was one hundred amos long and fifty amos wide. Curtains surrounded this space, and the curtains hung on Amudim, pillars. There were twenty pillars on each side, the north and south sides, and ten pillars in the back, the west. On the east side, each Kaseif, or shoulder, of the front wall spanned fifteen amos and required three pillars; the middle twenty amos were called the Masach and required four pillars. Rashi explains that each Amud stood five amos apart.

At first glance, the description above makes perfect sense; twenty pillars, five amos apart, spans a hundred amos. Ten, also five amos apart, spans fifty. And so on. But a closer look reveals a serious flaw, for twenty pillars only have nineteen spaces in between, and if each space is five amos long, there are only ninty-five amos per side of the Mishkan.

Perhaps one could count the width of the pillars separately from the nineteen five-amah gaps. How wide would the pillars be? Five amos short of a hundred, divided among twenty pillars, leaves a quarter amah (or a tefach and a half) width for each pillar. Of course, on the west, the ten pillars would have to be three tefachim wide to compensate the missing five amos there (for ten pillars with nine gaps in between yields a span of only forty-five amos, five shy of the required fifty). It’s difficult to imagine that the pillars of the Mishkan were different sizes, especially after Rashi goes to such great lengths to emphasize the uniformity of the gaps between each pillar. It’s also difficult to imagine a quarter-amah wide pillar with a half-amah wide pole sticking out its top.

He made poles, six tefachim by three tefachim, with a copper ring attached at the center, and folded the edge of each curtain around [the pole] with [the aid of] ropes… one end stood upright, while the other end stuck into the [top of the] Amud.

Rashi, Shemos 27:10

So it certainly sounds like each Amud was the same width and that none of the Amudim could be thinner than three tefachim. Therefore, the width of the Amudim must have counted toward the five amah gaps between each other. But how then can one completely suspend the respective hundred amah and fifty amah spans of the curtains? Rashi implicitly acknowledges this difficulty in one of his comments, and locally resolves the quandary:

“Amudeihem Shloshah,” the southeast shoulder [of curtains] hung by three pillars.

[There are] five amos between each pillar. From the pillar at the head of the south, which stood in the southeast corner, until one pillar from the east side is five amos. From [this first pillar] to the second [pillar of the east side] is another five amos, and from the second to the third is another five amos. So too did the second shoulder [in the northeast corner hang]. And four pillars for the Masach, which spanned twenty amos across the east.

Rashi, Shemos 27:14

Rashi explains the Amud in the southeast corner counted as a southern pillar, not an eastern pillar. Likewise, the northeastern pillar must have counted towards the twenty Amudim on the north side. With another three Amudim for each, the “shoulders of the eastern wall could easily span fifteen amos, as the pasuk explicitly describes (27:14-15). Unfortunately, Rashi’s solution does not address the original difficulty with his description, for if the first southern pillar stood in the southeastern corner, and each subsequent pillar stood five amos apart, then the last pillar of neither the northern or southern walls reached the Mishkan’s western wall. With only ten Amudim left to span the fifty amos in the west, the Amudim would have to be spaced father than five amos apart to cover the necessary distance.

The Mizrachi proposes an elegant solution to this difficulty. He counts the pillar in the southwest corner towards the ten pillars of the west, the pillar in the northwest corner towards the twenty pillars of the north, and the pillar in the northeast corner towards the pillars in the east. The next three pillars, moving north to south along the east side, comprised the northern “shoulder” of the Mishkan. The next four pillars were the Masach, and the last three were the southern “shoulder.” The last Amud of the southern shoulder stood exactly five Amos from Amud in the southeast corner, the Amud Rashi describes as the “head of the southern pillars.”

The Mizrachi’s solution works fairly well, except it contradicts a statement in from the Braisaos DiMeleches HaMishkan:

“The curtains of the Chatzer, on the Mishkan, and the Masach of the Chatzer’s entrance, one the Mizbeiach.” (BaMidbar, 4: )

The [eastern] curtains stood fifty amos from the Mishkan, and the Masach stood fifty amos from the Mizbeiach (which was ten amos in front of the Mishkan).

According to this widely accepted Braissa, the Masach of the eastern wall did not connect to the Kesaifos on either side. Rather, the Masach jutted out ten amos, allowing people to enter without lifting the curtain. This creates an irreconcilable difficulty for the Mizrachi, for he assumed the Masach could hang on five pillars, the four central pillars and the first (or northernmost) of the southeastern pillars. Likewise, the Mizrachi needed the northernmost pillar of the Masach to hold up the edge of the northeastern Kaseif. The only way the Mizrachi’s interpretation could hold is if all the walls of the Mishkan form a perfect box and none jut out.

The Malbim comes to the Mizrachi’s aid and suggests that the drasha in the Braissa is in fact not universally accepted but rather hinges on a machlokes between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Yose.

“And make the Mizbeiach [HaNechoshes]… three amos high.”

‘Literally [three amos].’ So says Rabbi Yehuda. Rabbi Yose says, ‘Here [the pasuk] states “Ravua” and regarding the [Mizbeiach HaZahav] it also says “Ravua.” Just as [the Mizbeiach HaZahav’s] height was twice its width, so too [the Mizbeiach HaNechoshes’s] height was [ten amos,] twice its width. And how do I uphold “three amos high?” [This distance measures] from the edge of the [decorative] band to the top [of the Mizbeiach].

Rashi, Shemos 27:1

The Malbim explains, based on a gemara in Mesches Zevachim (59b), that the purpose of the surrounding curtain was to keep outsiders from watching the Kohein perform his avodah at the top of the Mizbeiach. According to Rabbi Yehuda, who maintains that the Mizbeiach was only three amos high, the curtains were five amos high (as indicated in Shemos 27:18). According to Rabbi Yose, who maintains that the Mizbeiach was much taller than five amos, the curtains were really fifteen amos, thereby blocking the outsider’s view of the Kohein’s avoda; hence the pasuk calls them “five amos high,” meaning five amos higher than the height of the Mizbeiach. If the purpose of these curtains, the Malbim suggests, was to block sight of the Kohein, then only Rabbi Yehuda should worry about outsiders peeking underneath the curtain. According to Rabbi Yose, however, the Kohein stands ten amos up in the air when he performs his avoda, so even if the bottom of the Masach was permanently suspended, nobody would see the Kohein.

Perhaps, the Malbim concludes, the Braissa DiMeleches HaMishkan only follows the view of Rabbi Yehuda, in which case Rabbi Yose could maintain that the curtains formed a perfact box, that the bottom four amos of the Masach were folded over, forming a permanent entrance, and that the Masach did not jut out ten amos. In this case, Rashi describes the arrangement of the pillars and curtains the way Rabbi Yose would have arranged them, but not according to Rabbi Yehuda’s arrangement, and the Mizrachi’s explanation would not need to fit the description in the Braissa.

But the Malbim’s resolution bears its own difficulties. For starters, there is no clear indication that Rabbi Yose and Rabbi Yehuda argue over the statement in the Braissa. Furthermore, Rashi offers no indication that he is only describing the layout of the Mishkan like the view of Rabbi Yose. In fact, if Rashi’s comments accord to only one Tanna’s view, they certainly sound more like Rabbi Yehuda’s view than Rabbi Yose’s:

“[The curtains are] five amos high.”

[This is] the height of the walls of the Chatzer, and the width of the curtains.

Rashi, Shemos 27:18

The Ma’aseih Choshev suggests a completely different approach. By this alternative method, there were no Amudim in any of the corners of the Chatzer. To illustrate the design, here is a layout of the southern wall’s pillars: The first Amud of the south side stood two and a half amos from the southeast corner. The next Amud stood five amos away, and so on. The last Amud on the south side, therefore, stood two and a half amos from the southwest coner. Each of the sides followed a similar plan.

But the Ma’aseih Chosheiv does not explain what held the curtains up in the corners of the Chatzer. Presumably, a pole could extend across the tops of all the Amudim, and the curtains could hang off this pole. This in turn would explain how the southeast Kaseif hung off the first southern Amud in the southeast corner, provided that the pole count as part of the Amud. However, such an approach would not work so well with Rashi’s description of the vertical poles. Rashi asserts that the curtains were wrapped around the three tefach by six tefach poles that stuck out of the tops of the Amudim, not around any horizontal poles that spanned the length and width of the Chatzer. All in all, the Ma’aseih Chosheiv’s interpretation, like the Malbim’s, provides an elegant understanding of Rashi’s layout of the Amudim, but too requires an imagination to fill in the gaps within Rashi’s description.

I would like to propose a solution of my own, perhaps more imaginative than the two solutions above. The Levush HaOrah, working within the Mizrachi’s alignment of the Amudim, raises a separate issue regarding the dimensions of the Chatzer. Presumably, the curtains would run either along the inner perimeter or outer perimeter of the Amudim, but could not run through their center. But if the Amudim were an amah wide (as indicated by the dimensions of the poles sticking out their tops), then the outer perimeter of the Mishkan would be an amah longer than the necessary length, and the inner perimeter would be an amah shorter. For example, along the southern wall of the Mishkan, there were twenty-one pillars (the westernmost pillar belonging to the ten western pillars). The center of each pillar stood five amos away from its neighboring pillars. This itself spans a hundred amos. But if the curtains ran across the outside of these pillars, the curtain would have to span one hundred and one amos to fully cover the Amudim. The same problem emerges on each side.

The Levush HaOrah answers that the Amudim were an amah wide, but shaped like semi-circles, like such: ∩ ∩ ∩ ∩. The curtain then hung along the outer perimeter. Furthermore, the Amudim in the corner were quarter-circles, half the size of these semi-circle pillars. Although this proposal breaks the uniformity of the design, the purpose of the uniformity was only to enhance the appearance of the Mishkan, and if quarter-circles fit more appropriately in the corners of the Chtzer, then presumably that’s what the design entailed.

The Levush HaOrah otherwise maintains the Mizrachi’s approach to laying out and counting pillars, thereby assuming that the Masach rested flush with the “shoulders” and did not jut out ten amos to the east. This certainly adheres to the simple interpretation of Rashi’s words, but doesn’t rest well with the aforementioned Braissa.

Perhaps one could count the quarter-circle Amudim in the corners as “half pillars” in a sense, for they were indeed half the size of the standard pillars. In such a case, the “half pillars” in the corners could count towards both intersecting sides. For instance, the quarter-cirlce pillar in the southeast corner counted both as a half a pillar in the east and a half a pillar in the south. The southern wall, therefore, consisted of nineteen full Amudim, and two “half Amudim,” one in each corner. The northern wall consisted of the same. The western wall consisted of nine full Amudim and also two halves, again one in each corner.

Lastly, the eastern wall consisted of seven full Amudim and six halves. The Masach took three full Amudim and two halves, one on each side of the twenty amah span. Each shoulder followed a similar layout, with two full Amudim in the middle and a half Amud on each side. Of course, each pillar (or half pillar) was five amos from its closest neighbor. Furthermore, the Amudim of the eastern wall lined up perfectly with the Amudim of the western wall; although some of the eastern Amudim were split in half.

The only overt difficulties lie within Rashi’s description of the southeast Kaseif. Rashi calls the southeastern pillar the “head of the southern pillars” and makes no mention of the eastern pillars, suggesting that the southeastern pillar did not count at all towards the pillars of the eastern wall. This is not a strong difficulty, for Rashi may have only been emphasizing that pillar’s role as also a southern wall pillar, lest one think it only counted towards the eastern wall’s pillars. However, Rashi continues by stating that the “first” pillar of the eastern side stood five amos away from the corner, emphatically suggesting that the corner pillar did not belong to the eastern side whatsoever. This comment is a little more problematic, but also understandable (with a little imagination) since one does not encounter a “full” Amud corresponding to eastern side until he reaches this second Amud. The next Amud brings the count to two and a half pillars, which Rashi calls “two,” and the last half-pillar completes the count to three, so Rashi calls this half-pillar the “third” pillar to the southeast shoulder.

Of course, Rashi makes no mention of half pillars altogether. This is a matter of the Levush HaOrah’s imagination. Whichever approach one takes, the layout of Amudim encounters involves some imaginative work and yet encounters a difficulty of one sort or another. Although the mefarshim agree the curtains served a greater purpose than just defining the boundaries of the Chatzer and looking nice (namely, blocking the outsider’s sight of the Kohein’s avoda), the elegance and uniformity of this structure take no backseat to its function, even if this uniformity leaves us with several other difficulties.

Parashat Ki Tisa

And now, if I have found favor in Your eyes, make Your ways known to me so that I will find favor in Your eyes, and see, for this nation is Your nation.”

Shemos, 33:13

Moshe Rabbeinu’s appeal to HaKadosh Baruch Hu to forgive Am Yisrael for Cheit HaEigel is a partial success. Moshe demands “Im Tisa Es Chatasam,” (32:32) that Hashem lift the iniquity, but Hashem holds strong, “U’ViYom Pakdi, U’Fakadti Aleihem Chatasam” (32:34). Quoting a gemara in Sanhedrin, Rashi notes that all tragedy that ever befalls Yisrael is at least partially a consequence of Cheit HaEigel, indicating that Hashem has still not forgiven the sin. Additionally, Hashem informs Moshe, “Hinei Malachi Yeileich Lifanecha” (32:34), that a Malach will lead the nation in His stead.

But Moshe does not give up easily, and he continues his plea, this time appealing to the favor he found in Hashem’s eyes. The pasuk isn’t clear whether Moshe is appealing for the forgiveness of the Cheit or for Hashem’s Shchina to lead the nation. Presumably, had Moshe thought his Chein could lift the iniquity, he would have mentioned it in his earlier argument. The subsequent pasuk also provides some indication as to the aim of Moshe’s request.

And [Hashem] said, “My [Presence] will walk, and I will lead you.”

Shemos, 33:14

So Moshe Rabbeinu’s argument, “this nation is Your nation” asserts Hashem’s obligation to lead “His nation” through the Midbar. This certainly explains why Moshe attaches Klal Yisrael’s status as “Hashem’s nation” to the favor he found in Hashem’s eyes. But there are still several difficulties with the argument itself. Had Moshe stated, “If I have found favor in Your eyes, see, for this nation is Your nation,” he argument would be complete, Why does Moshe have to say “and see?” Why does he have to request “make your ways known to me?” And why should Moshe ever state “so that I will find favor in Your eyes” if he has perhaps already found favor in Hashem’s eyes?

And Moshe said to Hashem, “See, You said to me ‘take this nation up [from Mitzrayim]’ but You did not inform me that You would [only] send [a Malach] with me, and you told [me], ‘they will distinguish you by name,’ and You have also found favor in my eyes.

Shemos, 33:12

Apparantly, Moshe strings together a lengthy, and successful, argument. But what does he argue?

“And you did not inform me,” and that which you said “Behold I will send a Malach” (Shemos 23:20) is not information, for I do not desire it.

Rashi, Shemos 33:12

The first difficulty with Rashi’s interpretation of this account is how Moshe Rabbeinu negates Hashem’s words merely because he does not like them. Clearly Moshe could not veto the other punishments for Cheit HaEigel, why should this consequence be any different? The Maharif suggests that the term “Hodatani” does not mean “inform” in this context but rather “make loved,” like Hashem’s use of Yedi’a by Avraham Avinu, “Ki Yidativ” (Beraishis 18:19) In other words, Moshe merely complains that he doesn’t like Hashem’s information, not that the matter never occurred. Nonetheless, why should Moshe complain now if Hashem informed him in Parashat Mishpatim, before he ever descended Har Sinai? Thirdly, why should Rashi appeal to this Hada’a when Hashem outright just said Hinei Malachi Yeileich Lifanecha a few pasukim earlier?

Perhaps Moshe’s point is that there is no clear indication from the information of Parashat Mishpatim when Hahsem’s Malach will begin leading Klal Yisrael. Hashem explains that the Malach will lead them up into Eretz Yisrael and chase out the other nations, but does not indicate from what point, whether at the border or in the dessert. Moshe then builds off this argument, noting that he is distinguished by name, suggesting that he holds a universally higher status than his student, Yehoshua (“ViGam Bicha Ya’aminu LiOlam”). Therefore, Moshe suggests to Hashem, the Malach should begin leading when Yehoshua takes over control of the people, namely when they enter Eretz Yisrael, but until then I demand that You lead us.

Of course, Moshe hasn’t yet explained why he should be allowed to argue with Hashem. All he’s done is suggest how the difference between him and Yehoshua indicates that He could request favors that Yehoshua cannot, thereby offsetting Hashem’s guarantee of a Malach to the days of his student’s leadership.

Rashi explains that the favor Moshe finds in Hashem’s eyes earns him an unknown reward. Moshe’s request here is to see that reward so that he knowns how much Chein in worth. Moshe’s mention of Chein is rather perplexing. Moshe needed favors from Hashem in earlier accounts, whether at the Yam Suf or when fighting Amaleik. Why all of a sudden here does he appeal to Chein? Why does he think he has Chein?

Only one other individual in the Torah finds favor in Hashem’s eyes, Noach Maza Chein BiEinei Hashem. As his reward, Hashem set Noach apart from his entire generation, killed the rest, and started the world anew. Interestingly, Hashem proposes a very similar plan to Moshe, “Achaleim ViE’eseh Osicha LiGoi Gadol” (32:10). Of course, Hashem also prefaces this plan “ViAta Hanicha Li,” suggesting to Moshe that he can reject the proposal, and indeed Moshe does, “VaYinacheim Hashem Al HaRa’a.”

Where does this all leave Moshe? Moshe knows he has found favor in Hashem’s eyes, and he knows he gets rewarded for this Chein, as Noach did. Moshe also knows he will not receive the same reward as Noach, for he has already rejected that notion, as he reminds Hashem outright, “see, for this nation is Your nation.” Therefore, Moshe is not 100% certain he will still be rewarded, but nonetheless asks. Moreover, Moshe wants as much Schar as possible; perhaps this is why he says “and You have found favor in my eyes,” as the Mishna in Avos (2:4) teaches, “make His Will your will so that He will make your will His Will.” In other words, Moshe argues that he should still receive reward even though he has turned down Hashem’s first offer. The offer itself is not the consequence of Chein; rather the Chein earns a quantifiable reward, and that Moshe has not yet received.

Hashem gives Moshe his due reward and leads the nation through the Midbar Himself. Moshe’s willingness to speak, a trait Noach severely lacked throughout his life, aided him towards the more desired reward. Notably, Moshe never specified what his reward should be, but Hashem centainly knew what Moshe wanted. And while Cheit HaEigel proved to be a punishment too strong for Moshe to lift, Hashem agreed to Panai Yeileichu.

Parashat Titzaveh

A colorful mix of interpretation and imagination, Rashi strings together a fairly well knit conjecture as to the design of the Eifod. It goes something like this:

1) “And Dovid girded a linen Eifod.” This pasuk suggests that the Eifod is a belt.

2) However, the Eifod must be more than a belt, for our parasha states “and [Moshe] placed the Eifod on [Aharon], and he girded the belt of the Eifod.” There therefore must be some part of the Eifod that is called “the Eifod” other than the belt.

3) The Eifod also has two shoulder straps, but these can’t be “the Eifod” either, for the pasuk says “the two shoulder straps of the Eifod.”

4) Therefore, “the Eifod” is logically an apron across one’s back, much like French noblewomen wore while riding horses.

5) In fact, we see that a somewhat similar garment is called an “Eifod” because Yonasan ben Uziel translates Dovid’s Eifod as a “Kardut,” the same word he uses to translate Tamar’s Me’il.

Rashi provides a clear argument and reaches a rational conclusion. However, the structure of the argument is a little out of order. If Rashi wishes to prove the presence of an apron as part of the Eifod, he should appeal to the Targum Yonasan before stating his conclusion. Rather, the Targum is used as a support to a conjecture Rashi reaches via an alternative means.

But how can Rashi conclude from the pasukim he quotes that some third component complemented the belt and shoulder straps of the Eifod? Isn’t it more logical to propose that the “Eifod” to which each pasuk refers is the combination of the belt and straps? In other words, when the pasuk says “Cheishev HaEifod,” the belt is one of two parts to the Eifod, those parts being the belt and straps. Likewise, when the pasuk says “Shtei Kisfos HaEifod,” the shoulder straps is but one of two parts to the Eifod. And when the pasuk says Moshe placed the Eifod on Aharon, this would refer to dropping the straps over Aharons shoulders, and the tying of the belt would logically follow.

Additionally, Rashi’s proof that the Eifod consisted of more than a belt is a little more complicated than it has to be. The fact that the pasuk states “the belt of the Eifod” itself proves without a doubt that the Eifod was more than just a belt.

It is impossible to say that [the Eifod] was only a belt, for it says “and [Moshe] placed the Eifod on [Aharon], and he girded the belt of the Eifod,” and Onkelos translates [Cheishev HaEifod as] “BiHemyan Afuda.” We learn from this that the Cheishev was a belt, and Eifod was the name of its own ornament.

Rashi, Shemos 28:4

So Rashi’s proof isn’t so straightforward after all. For starters, he appeals Targum Onkelos for no apparent reason. Secondly, he asserts that the Eifod was an ornament, a Tachshit, as opposed to a functional part of the garment. What’s really going on here?

Perhaps Rashi appeals to Onkelos’s translation to emphasize the double meaning of the term “Eifod.” Instead of translating “Eifod” into Aramaic, Onkelos keeps to the Hebrew term, “Afuda,” suggesting that the term itself carries more meaning than a simple translation could.

“ViCheishev Afudaso.” The belt that decorates and completes [Aharon] for service.

Rashi, Shemos 28:8

Following Onkelos’s lead, Rashi here defines Afudaso as “his decoration.” So the word Eifod does refer to a garment, but it also carries the suggestion of a decoration. Perhaps now Rashi’s argument will flow a little better. The belt cannot be the entire Cheishev because it is clearly not the only thing Moshe placed upon Aharon. Furthermore, the Eifod must have been the ornament Onkelos had in mind when he translated “Eifod” as “Afuda.” For this reason, the shoulder straps also do not provide ornamentation, as the pasuk says “the straps of the Eifod,” suggesting the straps attached on to the ornament. In summation, the ornament must have existed outside of the belt and straps it complemented.

Rashi cannot prove what this ornament was, but he can take an educated guess. He guesses that the “Eifod,” if it can’t be a belt or shoulder straps, may be an apron, and brings a reasonable proof from Targum Yonasan, thus rounding off his imaginative argument.

Parashat Terumah

At the opening of Parashat Fikudei, Rashi describes Betzaleil ben Uri’s confusion over whether to first build the Keilim of the Mishkan or the Mishkan itself. On one hand, in Parashat Terumah, Hashem first details the construction of the Aron, Shulchan and Menorah, and afterwards mentions the Ohel. On the other hand, at the beginning of Parashat VaYakhel, Moshe Rabbeinu first lists the Ohel and then mentions the Keilim within.

Ultimately, Betzaleil decides that Minhag Olam, common practice, should govern the Mishkan’s construction. Just as Derech Eretz Kadma LaTorah, HaKadosh Baruch Hu’s home within this physical world must fit into the preconditioned context. Logically, just as one normally builds a house first and buys the furniture second, so too one builds Hashem’s house first and the Keilim second.

In contrast, when Hashem speaks to Moshe, He discusses the Ohel and Keilim in the order of their importance, relative to the overarching purpose of the Mishkan. The Aron, as the central dwelling place of the Shchina, comes first on Hashem’s list. The Menorah and Shulchan, manifestations of Hashem’s miracles, come second. The Ohel, a mere envelope for the Kedusha within, comes next.

It is absolutely clear that Parashat Terumah does not discuss the Keilim in the order of their construction. After all, if one had to build walls and a ceiling for a structure, he would naturally build the walls first. Yet Hashem discusses the Krashim, the walls of the Ohel Mo’ed, only after describing the various types of Yerios and Michsos, the Ohel Mo’ed’s curtain ceiling.

But the ordering of the Yerios and Krashim, aside from a support Betzaleil’s conjecture, is also an enigma. If Hashem discusses each item in order of its relative importance and purpose, why should the Yerios be any more integral to the Mishkan’s purpose than the Krashim were? The Ohel, as a viable and functional entity, presumably could not exist without both objects.

Make fifty golden hooks and attach the [two sets of five Yerios] to one another, using the hooks. And the Mishkan will be one.

Shemos 26:6

It what way will the Mishan be one? Hashem hasn’t said a word about the Krashim yet, all He has mentioned is a drape of ten panels stitched and hooked together. Hashem hasn’t even described the other two (or three, according to Rabbi Nechemyah) types of Yerios and Michsos, yet somehow the Mishkan is already “one.”

To fully understand (and thereby appreciate) the significance of the Yerios, one must first have a clear picture of their arrangement. Here is a brief overview of the important details:

1) The Ohel Mo’ed spanned 30 amos in length and 10 amos in width. The Krashim closed this space in on three out of four sides and were each one amah thick. Essentially, the Ohel Mo’ed had three walls, each ten amos high, and an opening on the eastern side of the structure. Five pillars, also ten amos high, lined the entrance, but with spaces in between.

2) Yerios Tachtonos. The bottom cover spanned 40 amos in length and 28 amos in width. This cover spread over the five front pillars, over the airspace of the Ohel, and draped over the back of the Ohel, hanging down 8 amos. The Yerios also draped 8 amos over the sides of the Ohel, leaving the bottom two amos of the Krashim exposed. This cover was a weave of several fancy materials.

3) Yerios Izim. The next cover spanned 44 amos in length and 30 amos in width. The extra lengths and widths of material were distributed evenly. On the back, the Yerios Izim touched all the way to the ground, covering all 10 amos of the Ohel. On the sides, the Yerios Izim draped 9 Amos, one amah farther than the Yerios Tachtonos, leaving only the Adanim supporting the Krashim visible. And on the front, the extra two amos were folded back over the front pillars and the easternmost amah of the Ohel.

4) Michseh Oros Eilim M’adamim / Michseh Oros Techashim. These two coverings (or two materials blended into one covering, according to Rabbi Yehuda) were 30 amos in length and 10 amos in width. They spanned only the airspace above the Ohel, not even the airspace above the Krashim or pillars.

So to summarize, a lot of work went into designing and organizing these tapestries. Yet from the outside, all one could see (unless he was observing from ten amos above the ground) was the Yerios HaOhel, which draped over all three sides of the Ohel, and a few sockets. The three Yerios made an interesting design on the inside. The Yerios Tachtonos covered the top eight amos of the surrounding space, the Yerios Izim dropped one amah lower, leaving an Amah long gap between then and the floor, thereby creating a fancy ring pattern (except on the western side of the Ohel, where the Yerios Izim dropped all the way to the floor and blocked the Yerios HaOhel from sight). But even this design went for naught, for it was entirely blocked by the Krashim.

What was the point of all these fancy materials and fancy patterns and designs? Obviously they were not for man’s satisfaction, for nobody could see any of them! Rather, they were exclusively for Hashem’s satisfaction.

And make for Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among you.

Shemos 25:8

“And make for Me a sanctuary.” [Meaning,] and make for My Name (Lishmi) a house of Kedusha.

Rashi, Shemos 25:8

At the outset of the project, Hashem explains that the purpose of a Mishkan is not simply that He should have a place to rest in this world. Rather, the benefits of a Mishkan belong to Klal Yisroel, for Hashem will reside among them. In this, Rashi notes, the construction of a Mishkan must be Lishma; it must reflect the nation’s desire to live with Hashem in their midst. Of course, the Mishkan was a dazzling structure; who’s to say the donors lent materials in G-d’s name? Who’s to say the designers wove these designs with the proper intent? Who’s to say the builders erected these pillars Lishma? Yet the donors, weavers and builders all acted Lishma, and the Yerios reflect this intent.

Even the first covering, the Yerios Tachtonos, alone conveys this selfless endeavor. Hashem describes them as Ma’aseh Choshev, a double sided embroidery, and Rashi explains that the weavers stitched a different image onto the two sides of the tapestries. One side bore a lion while the other bore an eagle. However, only one of the two sides of the Yerios could ever be seen; one side functioned as the Ohel Mo’ed’s ceiling (visible from inside) while the other was forever covered by two (or three) other drapes.

The weavers of the Yerios Tachonos went to painstaking lengths to stitch perfect designs on both sides of the fabric, a task far more technically difficult than any single sided embroidery. No human perspective could marvel the technical complexity of these weavers’ handiwork, yet they still followed their directions wholeheartedly and wove the images Lishma. The Yerios Tachtonos alone reflected an element of oneness, a union of workers with a single selfless goal, building a structure with a single purpose. Therefore, upon their conceptualization, Hashem declares “the Mishkan will be one.”

Presumably, Hashem described the Yerios first because of their importance, but the Krashim were built first because of their function. Right?

[You should build] the Mishkan, its tent and its covering, its hooks and its beams (Krashim) and its staves, its pillars and its sockets.

Shemos 35:11

And all the wise hearted laborers made ten Yerios [for] the Mishkan… And [Betzaleil] made the Krashim.

Shemos 36:8, 36:20

Astonishingly, the Yerios were not only conceptualized before the Krashim, but were even built first! The Krashim obviously acted as the walls of the Ohel Moed, and the Yerios clearly functioned as its ceiling. No builder would ever construct a decorative enclosure without first laying down the foundation! How does Betzaleil’s actions here reflect any measure of “Minhag Olam”?

Of course, one must keep in mind that Betzaleil merely built the Yerios before the Krashim, but the Torah clearly states (Shemos, 40:18-19) that Moshe erected the Krashim before the Yerios. In terms of HaKamas HaMishkan, every step followed normal building procedures. But in terms of Meleches HaMishkan, the Minhag Olam to which Betzaleil subscribed follows the mindset and morals of a functional society. The average man would never purchase his furniture until he has a viable structure to shelter it; therefore the building of the Ohel Mo’ed preceded the building of its Keilim. But society also has a mindset bent towards charity, and the Yerios represented Klal Yisrael’s selfless devotion toward building a Mishkan Lishma. The Yerios were not only built before the Krashim; they were the very first task undertaken by Betzaleil’s laborers. And they weren’t built by the regular builders; rather, they were the handiwork of Kol Chachmei Leiv, the wise-hearted individuals, the ones who wholeheartedly and selflessly wished to give of themselves to the Meleches HaMishkan.

Shlomo HaMelech teaches in Sefer Mishlei, Matan BaSaiser Yichpeh Af (21:14), a concealed gift covers up anger. The gemara interprets this pasuk to mean that Tzedaka can save an individual from G-d’s wrath, or as the seasonal adage goes, “(Teshuva Tefila and) Tzedaka tear up the evil decree.”

However, one can understand the proverb in terms of Minhag Olam, without bringing Hashem’s Gezairos into the picture. A public donation is initially appreciated, but the appreciation is eventually lost. The donor hopes to earn a good name for himself, but instead earns a reputation as a giving man. “Why hasn’t he given any more?” the recipients wonder the next year, and the generosity of the donor’s initial gesture is overshadowed by his recent stinginess, relative to the past. The donor cannot even appreciate his own generosity anymore, for his beneficiaries no longer value his gesture. An anonymous donation, however, bears no such burden. The recipients can appreciate the benefits of their gift without considering the length to which their donor went to help them. Alongside, the donor retains his own satisfaction through the effects of his gift and the lasting satisfaction of the beneficiaries.

Likewise, the wise-hearted individuals felt a natural inclination towards public donation but did not want their charity publicized. The complexity and difficulty of their work was for them alone to appreciate, and not for the public to recognize and praise. In this manner, the Chachmei Leiv did not require any Krashim to justify their project, and so they began on the Yerios, their selfless donation to Klal Yisrael’s cause, immediately.

Parashat Mishpatim

Do not afflict any widow or orphan. If you do afflict him, for when he screams out to Me, I will listen to his screams. And My anger will flare and I will kill you by the sword, and your wives will be widows and your children will be orphans.

Shemos 22:21-23

A textbook example of Midah K’Neged Midah. There is an obvious connection between the sin and its consequence, as both involve widows and orphans. The pasukim, however, do not read smoothly. The middle pasuk, “If you do afflict him, for when he screams,” is sort of fragmented. The Torah relocates the punishment from its appropriate syntactical context over to pasuk 23. Rashi proposes a wild explanation:

If you do afflict him, the Torah abbreviates this sentence, [it] hyperbolizes and does not specify the punishment, much like “Therefore, anyone who kills Kayin” (Beraishis 4:15) [threatens] and does not specify the punishment [for killing Kayin]. So too here… your end will be what you deserve. Why? “For when he screams out to Me…”

Rashi, Shemos 22:22

According to Rashi, the Torah did not relocate any punishment. Rather, pasuk 23 is in the appropriate location and the punishment associated with afflicting an orphan or widow is simply omitted!

The Chizkuni suggests that the punishment for afflicting an orphan or widow varies depending on whether the victim screams to Hashem. Therefore, “If you do afflict him” refers to the affliction of a silent victim, the consequences of which are omitted. The pasukim then continue: “for if you afflict him and he does scream to me, then I will punish you…”

The Chizkuni’s proposal is a decent starting point, but the meaning of these pasukim is still very unclear. For starters, how is Hashem’s reaction to the victim’s screams a reason to refrain from afflicting him? If Hashem doesn’t punish the aggressor until the victim screams, then what does Rashi mean that “the pasuk hyperbolizes?” What does he mean that “your end will be what you deserve” if the aggressor doesn’t deserve anything until the victim screams to Hashem? And if Hashem does unconditionally punish the aggressor, why should the victim’s prayers have any effect on the severity of the punishment?

The Be’er BaSadeh assumes that Hashem does punish all aggressors, and that the victim’s prayers have no affect over the severity of the punishment. However, these prayers affect the immediacy of the Onesh, and so Hashem doesn’t just strike the aggressor eventually as a matter of consequence, but rather acts immediately, as if out of rage, “and My anger will flare.”

“And [the pauper] will call out about you[r unwillingness to give him charity] and you will bear sin,” regardless of whether [the pauper] calls out. Why then does [the pasuk] say “and he will call out?” [to teach] that [Hashem] hastens to punish an aggressor when his victim cries out to heaven.

Rashi, Devarim 15:9

Rashi’s comments in Parashat Re’aih provide string support for the Be’er BaSadeh’s stance. In further support, Rashi says the aggressor’s “end will be what he deserves” when his victim does not cry out, suggesting that the punishment will ultimately arrive, but not immediately arrive. However, the connection between these two scenarios is still a problem. The fact that Hashem punishes swiftly when a victim screams does not explain why the aggressor should refrain from harassing orphans and widows in all cases.

The Be’er BaSadeh proposes an alternative explanation, and this time he assumes that Hashem does not punish all aggressors. Rashi comments that the law “do not afflict any widow or orphan” does not apply exclusively to orphans and widows, but rather to any victimized person. (The pasuk just states “orphan or widow” because they are the most common victims of harassment.) Therefore, when the next pasuk states “if you do afflict him,” this hyperbolized threat refers to the affliction of a regular person. The continuation, “for when he screams,” refers exclusively to the orphan or widow, as does the subsequent pasuk’s explicit Onesh.

The average man, the Be’er BaSadeh explains, can eventually take revenge against his aggressor, but one might expect to get away with antagonizing a helpless widow or orphan. Therefore, Hashem personally offers to take up the helpless victim’s battle and mete an appropriately severe punishment against their aggressors. The pasukim now read smoothly. The reason one should never afflict another individual is because Hashem is willing to take up their fight when they cannot fight for themselves and instead call out to Him.

Indeed, the pasukim reveal, not even the courts are capable of punishing every sin to the appropriate magnitude of severity. Hashem does not deem it enough to kill a man who harms orphans and widows; rather, as Rashi explains, Hashem kills the man in such a way as to ensure that his wife remains a widow and his children remain orphans.

The implication of “and I will kill you by the sword” is that “your wives will be widows and your children will be orphans.” Rather, this is a second curse, that no witnesses will attest to her husband’s death and [his wife] will be forbidden to remarry, and the sons cannot collect from their inheritance [lest their father still be alive].

Rashi, Shemos 22:23

In terms of their philosophical premises, the Be’e BaSadeh’s two approaches do not contradict one another. Hashem often lets the victim take revenge against his aggressor, but sometimes intercedes to apply an appropriately harsh punishment. When the victim cries out, Hashem carries out the punishment quickly. It is in fact possible that our pasuk lends to both understandings simultaneously.

“Do not afflict any orphan or widow.” [The pasuk only states] orphans and widows, how do I know [the saw law applies to] everybody? [Therefore] the pasuk states “Lo Si’anun” [“do not afflict” with a verb that takes a plural object]. Such are the words of Rabbi Yishmael. Rabbi Akiva claims “widow” and “orphan” are stated because the verse discusses [the common case and they are] common victims.

Mechilta, Mishpatim, Parasha 18

“Do not afflict any orphan or widow.” Such is the law for all people, but the pasuk speaks of the common [case], for [orphans and widows] are weak and it is common to harass them.

Rashi, Shemos 22:21

Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Yishmael debate over the understanding of these three pasukim. Rabbi Akiva focuses exclusively on the widow and orphan, whereas Rabbi Yishmael interprets the grammar of the pasuk to include common people as well. Rashi’s comments interestingly blend the words of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Yishmael together into a single understanding. Yes, the pasuk talks primarily about orphans and widows, for they are the common victims. But yes, these laws also apply to regular victims, as the word “Si’anun” implies.

Instead of leaning towards one interpretation, Rashi instead reconciles the philosophies behind the two, supporting each Tanna’s interpretation as a valid reading of text, but not to the exclusion of his counterpart’s opinion, and thereby encompassing the whole of the subject at hand.