Sung in Eichah trop 

“Aaron was silent” (Lev. 10:3). 

My sons. I cannot breathe, I cannot speak their names, my heart has no words, just No, I say no, this cannot be; when all that is left of my boys is ashes.  

Their names folded into that fire- air, flames that sucked breath from their souls.  

God, you chose me, You dressed me, you have me set aside portions of korbanot to taste, yet all I taste today is ashes.  You chose me – and through me You chose my sons – for this, for this, you chose me?

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Shalom Aleichem. 

Tzav – command! The word is a sticky, fricative syllable that in one iteration or another crosses our lips daily as we perform a mitzvah.  

Reflecting again, back to the final readings in Exodus, the Book of Shemot, we read about the construction of the Sanctuary, the Mishkan– and we read about fire. Fire is an element that follows us throughout Torah: God appeared to Moses in a burning bush; the Golden Calf “appeared” to Aaron and the Israelites out of fire; fire was carefully modulated to create the golden Chrubim, Keruvim and other elements of the Mishkan, and now we read about fires consuming sacrifices. In Hebrew the word for sacrifice is korban, plural, korbanot, and implies a coming closer, nearer to God. We are also taught to not make fire on Shabbat and on Festivals. Fire, then, is both a negative and positive element as are our mitzvot, and fire follows us from Shemot into Leviticus, Vayikra, and this week, into Tzav.  

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We open up Pekudei and read: 
 
אֵ֣לֶּה פְקוּדֵ֤י הַמִּשְׁכָּן֙ מִשְׁכַּ֣ן הָעֵדֻ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר פֻּקַּ֖ד עַל־פִּ֣י מֹשֶׁ֑ה עֲבֹדַת֙ הַלְוִיִּ֔ם בְּיַד֙ אִֽיתָמָ֔ר בֶּֽן־אַהֲרֹ֖ן הַכֹּהֵֽן׃  

“These are the “accounts”, the records of the Tabernacle, the Tabernacle of the Pact, which were drawn up at Moses’ bidding—the work of the Levites under the direction of Ithamar son of Aaron the priest.”  

We begin with a financial accounting. Pekudei is the final of the five last Torah parashiot in Exodus, detailing every aspect of construction of the Ark, the Mishkan. All costs and every gift must be carefully recorded.   

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Shalom Aleichem

In this week’s Torah portion, we again meet Bezalel, the Leonardo da Vinci of the Mishkan world. We learn in Exodus 35:30-34:

“And Moses said to the Israelites: ‘See, the Lord has singled out by name Bezalel, son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. He has endowed him with a divine spirit of skill, ability, and knowledge in every kind of craft and has inspired him to make designs for work in gold, silver, and copper, to cut stones for setting to carve wood — to work in every kind of designer’s craft – and to give directions.’”

We first met Bezalel last week, so not only do we meet him a second time, we are now given his full name and a description of his extraordinary and multiple talents. (In a fascinating aside, we also see that Bezalel was Ben Hur, son of Hur, a name that became famous with Charlton Heston)!

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Shalom Aleichem.

Life has many blessings, and many pitfalls. So too does Ki Tisa. This is another one of those parshiot filled with verbs – remember, provoked, ascended, descended, smashing, carved – as if to remind us that every action we take, even the act of intention, holds tremendous import.

Ki Tisa is about our relationships – with each other and with God. One of the primary ingredients necessary in any relationship – as any long-married couple will tell us – is patience. Not just endurance, which implies a certain thin-lipped fortitude, but generous-hearted patience.

Who holds patience for us? In Ki Tisa we read how God gave Moses a precious gift, two tablets of stone inscribed by the very “finger” of God. But then God noted to Moshe the corruption of the people at the base of the mountain, dancing in front of flames and, heaven forfend, a golden calf. God wanted to annihilate the people, but agreed to reconsider such an action after Moshe’s fervent pleading for God to, “Relent from your flaming anger and reconsider…”

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Shalom Aleichem,

Yitro is the חוֹתֵן, the father-in-law of Moshe, a relationship that is reiterated and reinforced many times in the first section of this sidra. The name Yitro means abundance or riches – and truly this is what Yitro gave to Moshe. Not riches of kind, but of counsel regarding sustainability, practical counsel that would yield abundance for generations to come.

Yitro was that voice against hubris. His was the voice that continues to be heard by would-be-superwomen/supermen everywhere: “You can’t do it all; you need to get help; you need to delegate, and distribute the load. Share your power.” I am not sure we could not call Moshe, Rabbeinu, our teacher, if he hadn’t learned this lesson from Yitro.

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