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.