qChabad

Beginning March 9th.

It was a time of great prosperity for the Jewish people. The Jewish people had achieved significant roles in the government. Mordechai was a high-ranking government official, while Esther was wife to King Ahaseuros.
Seemingly, this was a time for great confidence on the part of the Jewish people.
Sound similar to the position of the Jew’s in today’s American government? It may be. Looks look at what happened in Persia at the time of the story of Purim.
Despite their seemingly advantageous position, the evil Haman cast lots and decreed that he would, “destroy, slay and annihilate” (Esther 3:13) the Jewish people. This unexpected decree was the harshest decree ever proclaimed against Jews. The Egyptians of the Passover story wished to enslave, not annihilate, the Jews; the Assyrian-Greeks of Chanukah fame wished to cause the Jews to assimilate.
One of the main characters who helped foil the evil plot of Haman was, of course, Mordechai. Haman had many acquaintances amongst the political Jews, yet it was only Mordechai who really vexed him. Why did Haman dislike Mordechai so much?
What really irked Haman, was that most Jews who he was acquainted with, he didn’t know they were Jews. Nothing really distinguished them from any other denizen of the Persian capital of Shushan. Many, if not most of them, dressed like their Persian counterparts, spoke like them, and behaved like them. In fact, they too bowed and kneeled before the villain who was Haman, and were not particularly bothered by his anti-Semitic remarks.
Haman was bothered that Mordechai was involved in politics, as were many others. Yet something set him apart.
Mordechai is the first person to be referred to as a Jew. Not a Hebrew. But a Jew. And not “Jewish” – for saying that someone is Jewish is like saying that something is “blue-ish”, that is, “not really blue.” Yet Mordechai was, in many ways, the ultimate Jew, unwavering and unabashed.
We are introduced to Mordechai in the second chapter of the Book of Esther (verse 5). “There was a man, a Jew, in the capital of Shushan, and his name was Mordechai.” With this new word, “Jew” – Yehudi in the original Hebrew – we are introduced to Mordechai, the genuine Jew. And Haman was vexed by him.
Yehudi comes from the root word meaning, “to acknowledge,” for the Jew acknowledges the presence of a Higher Being. A Jew only worships the one Creator.
It was here that Haman noticed that Mordechai was different than the other Jews he was acquainted with, for he refused to bow down to him.
The Megillah tells us that Mordechai, “did not rise, nor did he shudder, before him [Haman]” (5:9). These two words – rise and shudder – indicate two different experiences.
The fact that Mordechai didn’t rise indicates his integrity; while the fact that he didn’t shudder indicates his authentic faith and trust in G-d.
Rising is more of an external act, while shuddering is more of an internal motion. Mordechai was not intimidated externally or internally by Haman. Nothing was able to move him from the bedrock of his belief system. He may have been intimately involved in the local politics, yet he retained an unwavering connection and dedication to his religion.
I have heard people discuss whether it is better to refer to oneself as an American Jew or a Jewish American. Although I often hear the argument put forth that if one says that one is a “Jewish American,” then one puts one’s Judaism first.
Yet perhaps we might say that what bothered Haman so much about Mordechai – and what Mordechai is famous for – is that he was not a Jewish Persian, but a Persian Jew. The main thing was not that he was simply of Jewish descent, but rather that he was a Jew in every sense of the word.
I think that there is an important message contained within this for us today. To be a Jew means to have the integrity to express one’s trust and faith in the Creator both on the outside and the inside. In that way, we can emulate the first person known as a Yehudi, Mordechai the Jew.

The laws of Shabbat are many and complex. There are 39 general categories of forbidden activities, and one of them is mentioned explicitly in this week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel.
The verse states, “You shall not ignite a fire in any of your dwelling places on the day of Shabbat” (Ex. 35:3). This verse is the source of the prohibition of lighting a fire on Shabbat.
In fact, it is not just lighting an actual fire that is prohibited, but things which are similar to this are similarly forbidden. Modern examples include driving a car (which involves the combustion of gasoline) and turning on a light (since the light bulb generates light and heat).
Where does electricity fall into this? In fact, the advent of electricity presented numerous challenges to modern arbiters of Jewish law, as the Torah (obviously) does not discuss its usage.
Various reasons to forbid the use of electricity on Shabbat were presented. As this discussion is highly compex, I will merely present some of the basics in this article. Additionally, this article will not address the use of electric appliances that are turned on before Shabbat (such as a hot water urn).
One reason presented that would forbid turning on an electric appliance on Shabbat is “building,” a prohibited act on Shabbat. Now, of course, electricity has nothing to do with building, yet some rabbis thought that the abstract concepts could be correlated, since electricity involves completing a circuit, an act which can be compared to building.
Due to the fact that there are actually many differences between “building” in Jewish law, and the use of electricity, most do not adhere to this reasoning.
Another rationale presented to prohibit the use of electricity is “creating” (Hebrew: Molid). Lighting a fire, cooking and building, can all be viewed as types of creation. Most actions which bring about a change in the way something currently is, will be considered “creating” in a Jewish legal sense, and is thereby prohibited on Shabbat.
If anything, the use of electricity involves the “creation” of currents and completion of circuits, and is therefore prohibited.
Thus, for example, the use of a fluorescent light would be prohibited even though the “fire” aspect may not apply since it does not generate heat. One can see, that in order for experts in Jewish law to render conclusive decisions about the permissibility of new forms of technology etc. on Shabbat, they had to be familiar with its inner workings.
After all, if you don’t know how something works, how can you possibly know if its usage involves transgressing one of the laws of Shabbat?
In conclusion, unlike the Sadducees, the Jewish tradition did not interpret this verse from our portion of, “you shall not ignite a fire,” to teach us that there may not be any fire present in our homes on Shabbat, but rather, that we may not ignite a fire on Shabbat. We need not sit in the dark, and are free to use the benefits of modern day technology for our comfort and enjoyment on Shabbat – provided, of course, that their usage is permitted under the laws of Shabbat.
However you slice the pie, it is forbidden to turn on an electric appliance on Shabbat, yet this does not mean that I have to sit in the dark!
Ask your local rabbi if he teaches a course in the laws of Shabbat, or purchase a book at your local Judaica shop. Shabbat has been one of the constants in the life of the Jewish people. As the saying goes, “More than the Jewish people have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jewish people.”

In this week’s parsha, Vayakhel, we read of the completion of the construction of the Tabernacle, known in Hebrew as the Mishkan.  The Mishkan was the portable sanctuary which the Jews constructed while travelling in the desert.  It was able to be assembled and disassembled at need.  After it was no longer needed (because the Temple was constructed), it was permanently stored away.

Year after year, we continue to read about the directives and actual construction of the Mishkan.  In fact, the details comprise basically an entire four parshas in the Torah.  Given that the Mishkan no longer exists today, but it will never exist again, because it was supplanted and replaced by the Temple!

What is the purpose of the unusually lengthy recounting of all the details of the Mishkan?  Details which seemingly have no relevance today!

Let us first discuss some of the differences between the Mishkan and the Temple.

• The Mishkan was temporary in two ways: 1. It was portable; 2. It no longer exists;
• Each Temple was a permanent structure, and although they were both destroyed, the Third Temple will be permanent;
• The Mishkan existed primarily in the desert;
• The Temple was built in Jerusalem

Seemingly, due to its permanence and central location, the Temple was the more important structure.  When Jews pray three times daily for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, they are not requesting that a new Mishkan be built, but that the Third Temple be constructed!

However, as with anything else, we can also take an alternative perspective and suggest that in certain ways, the Mishkan was actually superior, and this is why we read its lengthy description year after year, even though it has seemingly lost its relevance.

Whereas the Temple was built after the Jews had arrived in the Holy Land, the Mishkan stood in the desert.  In spiritual terms, a desert represents a place devoid of holiness – much like an actual desert is (largely) devoid of life.  Just as (generally speaking) people do not live in a desert, so too, the “Supernal Man” (a kabbalistic reference to G-d) does not “dwell” there.

Thus, to construct the Mishkan in the desert was to bring holiness to the brink of civilization and the farthest reaches of society.  This is something that the Temple did not accomplish.

Even though, as mentioned above, we pray for the rebuilding of the Temple and not the Mishkan, but nevertheless it is specifically the Mishkan which has spiritual relevance to us today.

We may often feel that we live in a world devoid of holiness and spirituality.  It often seems difficult to “connect”.  In many ways, today we live in a spiritual “desert.”

Yet the message of the Mishkan is that when one finds oneself in a desert, it is simply an indication that you need to be a Mishkan and bring holiness even to places which otherwise seem devoid of spirituality.

One should not be discouraged when one wanders through a desert, but rather should take it as an affirmation that this is where you belong right now.  Take advantage of the opportunity to construct a Mishkan of mitzvot and good deeds – even if you are in the middle of a desert.

Featuring Live Music by David J. Steiner.

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Join us for the spiritual side of challah baking

and the significance of the Hamantash (triangular Purim treat).

Thursday Feb. 17th 8pm at Chabad House

Nourish your soul, engage your mind & create gourmet Challah. You will get your hands dirty!!

My children’s favorite fruit is probably the pomegranate, or rimon, as they call it in Hebrew.   I must admit that I’m a pretty big fan myself.  And it seems that I’m not the only one.

Pomegranates seem to be the “newest thing” these days, almost as if they were just discovered.  The fruit is extolled for its health properties and its beauty is acclaimed.  The word pomegranate derives from the Latin pomum (“apple”) and granatus (“seeded”), perhaps because it appearslike an apple at first glance.  Yet it is distinguished by its leathery skin and crown – perhaps alluding that the pomegranate is “higher” than an apple, much like a crown is above the person who wears it.

Let us examine pomegranates in parsha, which this week is the reading of Tetzaveh.  Our portion discusses mainly the clothing that the Kohen (Priest) would wear while serving in the Holy Temple.

In describing the robe that he would wear, the Torah tells us that in making the robe, “on its bottom edge you should make pomegranate shapes of turquoise, purple and crimson wool, all around the edge, and golden bells among them all around.  A golden bell (should be followed by) a pomegranate (which is followed by) a golden bell and (then another) pomegranate (and so on), on the bottom edge of the robe, all around” (Exodus 28:33-34).

Believe it or not, despite the fact that the Torah uses the word “pomegranate,” there is actually a debate whether this part of the Kohen’s robe actually resembled a pomegranate!

Rashi, the 11^th century French commentator, writes that, “the shapes were round and hollow, like a sort of pomegranate, shaped like hens’ eggs.  The golden bells had clappers inside them.  Between every two pomegranates, one bell was attached and suspended on the bottom hem of the robe” (ad loc.).

Nachmanides, on the other hand, doesn’t see eye-to-eye with Rashi.  Born in Spain at the end of the 12^th century, Rabbi Moses ben Nachman was a Kabbalist and major commentator on the Talmud and Bible.

Nachmanides was troubled with Rashi’s description of the Kohen’s robe.  He writes (ad loc.), “I don’t know why Rashi wrote that the pomegranates are separate from the bells, since according to this logic the pomegranates have no purpose whatsoever [editor’s note: this is in accordance with the Talmudic principle (Shabbat 77b) that nothing was created without purpose].  And if you will say that the pomegranates were purely for decorative purposes, then why choose pomegranates?  Surely apples would have been a better choice [according to the mystical teachings of Kabbalah].  Rather, it would seem that the bells are located inside the pomegranates.”

This debate is no mere triviality.

Yet why, after refusing to accept Rashi’s interpretation that the robe had individual pomegranate shapes on its edge, does he insist that they must be the shape of apples?  Why not oranges or another circular fruit?

Yet the reason that Nachmanides asserts that they were shaped like decorative apples, is because, when describing the shape of the menorah, the Torah tells us that there were round shapes on the arms of the menorah, which Rashi explains were decorative and were shaped like apples.

Thus, since there is already a precedent for this shape being used for decoration, Nachmanides states that the robe – if indeed the shapes are merely decorational – should also be shaped like apples, consistent with the menorah.

On a deeper spiritual level, this debate also has significance.

Pomegranates allude to us as we stand on a low spiritual level, while apples refer to us on a higher level.  King Solomon writes that, “As many as a pomegranate’s seeds are the merits of your unworthiest” (Song of Songs 4:3), thus connecting the “unworthy” with the pomegranate.  Apples, on the other hand, refer to our inner nature, which remains holy and untained by sin.  The sweetness of an apple alludes to this spiritual “sweetness.”

Rashi, whose commentary was written to explain the basic, contextual meaning of the verses and is meant to be accessible to all, thus explained that the shape was like a pomegranate – for his commentary was written even for the “pomegranates” amongst us.

Nachmanides, on the other hand, included explicit mystical teachings in his Biblical commentary, and thus said that the shape was that of an apple, because our inner nature is indeed “sweet,” regardless of how we may be behaving externally.

So next time you encounter a “pomegranate”, remember that deep down – and even etymologically – it is as sweet as an “apple.”

Who are the leaders of today?  Are they the sports figures whose images adorn the bedrooms of adolescent boys?  Movie stars?  Politicians?  And what qualities define a leader?  Is it simply the ability to capture the ears and hearts of the masses, or is it something more?

From this week’s Torah reading, Tetzaveh, we learn about the nature of a true leader.  Surprisingly, our lesson comes not from the leader himself, but from the exclusion of that said leader.

The leader I am referring to is Moses, of course.  From the time of his birth until the end of the Torah, he is mentioned by name in every portion.  With one exception.

Despite a good part of Tetzaveh discussing G-d’s commands to Moses, he is never mentioned by name.

One of the well-known commentaries on the Torah is the Ba’al HaTurim.  It was written by Rabbi Jacob Meir ben Asher (1268-1340) and analyzes the significance of word usage (or, in this case, word omission).  The Ba’al HaTurim explains that in order to understand why Moses is not mentioned by name in Tetzaveh, we must look forward to the reading for the following week, Ki Tissa, which – amongst other things – discusses the sin of the Golden Calf.

After that tumultuous event, Moses appeals to G-d for forgiveness on behalf of the Jewish people: “Now, if You forgive their sin (then well and good), but if not, please erase me from Your book (the Torah) which you have written” (Exodus 32:32).

Although the Jews were indeed forgiven for our sin, the Talmud (Makkot 11a) teaches us that the words of a righteous person (tzaddik) have an impact.  Thus, Moses’ name is “erased” from Tetzaveh (but not the entire Torah, as would have happened if the Jews had not been forgiven).

Think about it: Moses’ entire life was dedicated to G-d and the Torah.  In fact, we often refer to the Torah as “the Five Books of Moses”!  One could say that Moses lived his entire life for G-d and the Torah; how could he voluntarily remove his name from the Torah?!

Yet we must understand that Moses also lived for the Jewish people.  Truthfully, he did not “also” live for the Jewish people, but that took precedence in his life.  Furthermore, in addition to being deeply connected with the essence of the Torah, Moses was also intrinsically connected with the Jewish people.  In the words of Rashi, “Moses is Israel and Israel is Moses” (commentary to Numbers 21:21).

Moses loved the Jewish people so much that he was willing to forgo his own self in order to help them (ie. to be forgiven for the sin of the Golden Calf).

It was as if Moses said to G-d, “If the Torah does not allow for forgiveness of the Jews, then I do not want any part of it!”  Even though Moses had a very deep connection with the Torah, his connection with the Jewish people was even deeper and more profound.

From this behavior of Moses we can understand what a true leader is.  He is one whose entire life is dedicated to the people, to the extent that he is willing to forgo what is good for himself, to the extent of self-sacrifice.

It is interesting to note that the verse in which Moses demands forgiveness for the Jewish people – and if not, “Erase me from Your book” – is the 32^nd verse of the 32^nd chapter of Exodus.  Each Hebrew letter has a numerical value (known as gematria).  When spelled out, the Hebrew-letter-equivalent of the number 32 spells the Hebrew word for heart – lev.

Perhaps in this gematria we see an allusion to this essential quality of a Jewish leader: love.  First and foremost of the qualities of Moses that made him a leader were his love and intrinsic connection to the Jews.  Without this, he simply would not have been a leader.

Furthermore, this verse appears in the book of Exodus.  This is perhaps an allusion to the fact that the way that the Jewish people will experience a true and complete Exodus is through love – Ahavat Yisrael.

Although not everyone is cracked up to be a Moses, we may nevertheless learn from his essential love of the people, to the extent that he was willing to have self-sacrifice for our benefit.  Each of us must try to emulate Moses in our relationships with others.