Making Sense of the Choshen and of Life

 

      One of my favorite movies (if not my all-time favorite) is Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The scene in the Art Institute of Chicago ranks as one of my favorites. The music ("Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” performed by the Dream Academy), the art work, the teens- it all works for me. According to the film’s editor, the museum scène was panned by preview audiences. It was the scene that they liked the least. But in those early screenings, the museum scene was placed after the parade scene. Nothing can beat the parade scene- it needs to be the highlight- and last thing- that the teens do on that day. Once the museum scene was put in the right spot of the movie- audiences loved it.

      The character in the movie, Cameron, zeros in on one painting during that scene: A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by George Seurat. That’s where I learned about pointillism. Cameron stares at the painting and the camera zooms in closer and closer until you no longer see a park scene or even the little girl but just a series of dots on the canvas. I always understood Cameron’s fascination with that painting was due to the fact that at that moment, his life did not make all that much sense to him- kind of like a work of pointillist work when viewed from close up. Only from a distance can you see the full beauty, and then it begins to make sense.

      I believe that a similar idea is conveyed through the operation of the Choshen, the breastplate, worn by the Kohen Gadol. We are told that all of the letters of the Hebrew alphabet were represented on the breastplate. A question could be posed to God, and the letters of the answer might light up on the Kohen Gadol’s breastplate. However, the answer was not that simple. For the letters would not appear as fully formed words. It was up to the Kohen to make sense of the jumble and put the words together in the correct fashion. Without Divine intervention this was almost an impossible feat. But the Ramban writes that the Kohen Gadol was granted Divine assistance so that he’d be able to read the answer correctly.

      Oftentimes in life we experience something but can’t make sense of it. We don’t really know what we are supposed to learn from the situation. The breastplate of the Kohen Gadol teaches us that in such a situation we can turn to God to help us sort things out.

      It emerges that we pray to Hashem for two things: we pray that things will occur the way we hope for them to. And if/when they do not, we ask Hashem to help us make sense of what happened. In this way, every situation we encounter in life is an opportunity for self-awareness, growth, and a deeper connection to Hashem.

 

The Tachash, Diversity and Inclusion

In describing the construction of the Mishkan, the Torah says that the Mishkan would be covered by a tarp made of the skin of the Tachash. Later in Bamidbar we are told that Tachash skin was also used to cover the vessels of the Mishkan while they were in transit. And in the Book of Yechezkel, God describes the care He showed to the Jewish People while they were in the Midbar after leaving Egypt; one of the ways was by providing Tachash skins for their shoes. What was the Tachash?  Nobody knows for sure.

      One of the defining characteristics of the Tachash according to many opinions is that it was multi-colored. The Talmud in Shabbat 28 states that the Tachash was known in Aramaic as Sasgona (as it is referred to in Targum Onkelos) because it was sas begavvna- it rejoiced in its multitude of colors.

      The Tachash skins differed from the other materials in the Mishkan in that they did not require dyeing; their color was part of the fabric.  Most of the skins and threads used for the Mishkan and the Bigdei Kehuna were dyed to appear colorful, whereas the Tachash skins were naturally colorful and did not have to be treated. Fundamental to the Tachash was the intrinsic diversity of colors that were naturally inherent within its skin. The Tachash can be a symbol of the beauty of diversity. Diversity is a theme that comes up in a number of ways in the Mishkan. Different people - men and women - contributed in different ways to its construction. Kohanim Leviim and Yisraelim all had critical roles in the construction and ongoing Avoda in the Mishkan- each with their own strengths and their own focus. We are a diverse shul. I often say that everyone can find their place in our community- except for someone who’s uncomfortable being part of a diverse community. 

      Rabbi Shmuel Fine in his Sefer Yalkut Shmuel wonders: what is the relevance of the Tachash being happy with its multi-colored status? Why attribute emotions to the animal? Rabbi Fine explained that the Tachash is not only a creature of diverse colors, but it takes joy in its diversity! Diversity is not merely something to tolerate. Rather it should be embraced and understood to be the path through which everyone is elevated.

      This is the underlying principle of inclusion. As I once saw someone put it, the difference between diversity and inclusion is: “Diversity is being invited to the party; inclusion is being asked to dance.” Inclusion demonstrates the awareness that including different people makes everyone better. This was one of the most poignant lessons I took away from my conversation with Avi Samuels, Golbal Chairman of Shalva. Avi pointed out that the philosophy of Shalva, formulated by his parents in his own home, is that inclusion of people with different abilities has a positive impact on everyone. February is Jewish Disabilities Awareness and Inclusion Month. It is also Black History Month. It is an opportune time to consider the lessons of the Tachash. Its multi-colored skin teaches the lesson of diversity. The fact that it rejoiced in its diversity is a lesson in inclusion. The Tachash skin was on the outermost layer of the Mishkan, closest to Hashem. I believe that is because respect for diversity and efforts at inclusion are Godly and holy.  

The Life Worth Living

Among the many laws delineated in Parshat Mishpatim is the prohibition of sorcery. In this week’s Parsha the prohibition is expressed as (22:17): “Mechashefa Lo Techayeh,” generally translated as “you shall not permit a sorceress to live.”

         When describing prohibitions that are liable for the death penalty, the Torah usually uses a language of “death” ie “Mot Tamut”, “you shall surely put them to death.” The phrase “Lo Techaya” is unusual and caught my attention.

         Though this is not the literal interpretation, I think the usage of this phrase can teach us some important lessons about life.

         Two of the characteristics of sorcery are that 1) it alleges that it can predict the future and 2) it alleges that it can control events that Judaism believes are within the exclusive purview of God.

When we recall these attributes about sorcery then I think the Torah may be teaching us something relevant to keep in mind, even in societies in which sorcery is not common:

         A life in which we are fixated on the future and trying to predict what will happen next- Lo Techayeh, is not real living. We must never ignore the present, nor take the present for granted as we plan for the future. The present is a gift (that’s why the two words are synonyms) and if we forget this and focus only on the future, then there is a distinct possibility that we will never be able to experience that future to which we look forward; for once it’s here, we are already busy looking ahead.

         Second, a life in which we believe we can and shall exclusively control our destiny, without making any room for God, is also Lo Techayeh, not a viable life plan. We must do our part, but then we must surrender and admit that we are not in total control. Though this may be difficult for us control freaks at first, in the long run it allows us freedom, knowing that no matter how much we worry or perseverate over matters we still are not completely in control.

         In these ways, the prohibition of sorcery in Mishpatim helps us think about what it means to live and not to live, and what the path is towards a life worth living. 

The Opportunities Within Change

 

One of the instructions Hashem gave to Bnai Yisrael before Matan Torah is:

prepare (them) today and tomorrow,

וְקִדַּשְׁתָּם הַיּוֹם

This preparation is called kedusha, sanctity, because Bnai Yisrael is challenged to add kedusha to their lives. One adds kedusha by doing more - in both the ritual and interpersonal realms of mitzvot, and by doing what we have done all along - but with more frequency and more kavanah, intensity. Bnei Yisrael are challenged to add kedusha to their lives not just Hayom but also Machar. To maximize our potential we must commit to a trajectory of growth, now and into the future. Each person from his or her unique starting point, in their own way, and at their own pace - so long as we are all headed in the same direction.

 In a fascinating grammatical comment (I don’t say that too often), Rashi quotes the Mechilta on this pasuk:

and prepare them: Heb. וְקִדַָּשְׁךְתָּם, and you shall prepare them (Mechilta), that they should prepare themselves today and tomorrow.

וקדשתם: וזימנתם, שיכינו עצמם היום ומחר:

 The Torah states that Moshe needed to prepare the people. However the Midrash clarifies that Moshe’s role was to inspire the people to prepare themselves. This is a key, yet often overlooked, aspect of spiritual leadership: not only is it a leader’s role to lay out an inspirational vision and create opportunities to be inspired, but leaders must also inspire people to inspire themselves. 

The Midrash explains that when Moshe went up to heaven to receive the rest of the Torah, the angels tried to stop him from taking it. They felt that the Torah was too holy and humans would contaminate it. Moshe responded, “do angels get jealous, whereby it makes sense to command them Not to be jealous?” Our humanity makes our allegiance to the Torah far from certain - and that’s what makes it so meaningful. In Zecharya, the prophet states:

וְנָתַתִּי לְךָ מַהְלְכִים בֵּין הָעֹמְדִים הָאֵלֶּה:

and I will give you mobility among those who stand still.

The Vilna Gaon explains that angels are called Omdim - they have only one station in life because they lack free will. We humans are meant to be on the move - take risks, imagine ourselves different tomorrow than we are today. Sometimes we make mistakes (the bigger the plan, the greater the potential fall.) But even our mistakes are opportunities for growth.

The Torah was given to humans because we are on the move and we honor the Torah when we keep moving and developing. Reminds me of a T-Shirt I remember seeing while participating in a Half Marathon a few years back. It said: “Run if you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must, just never give up.” 

Our Parsha tells the story of Bnai Yisrael at a moment of change over 3,300 years ago. To navigate that change Moshe teaches Bnai Yisrael the importance of embracing the change and committing to grow.