Vayikra or Postcard from the Wilderness
Many of our teachings in Torah were and are revolutionary – in every way from economic to social. In the book of Exodus, of Shemot we were called to remember and keep Shabbat. Let’s try and think for a few minutes about how utterly revolutionary that command was and still is: Stop working. Do not engage in any manner of creative work.
Millennia ago, we were a people who knew nothing but enforced work. And then God demanded we cease and desist from any manner of work that in any way replicated the 39 melachot, the 39 acts of work used to create the Sanctuary, the Mishkan. These activities are symbolic of God’s own creating, but where humans create and alter elements. Be it by plowing or winnowing, sifting or smoothing, shearing or spinning (or any modern-day variations of these kinds of work), we are enjoined by God to rest on Shabbat. Instead of ceaseless melachah, God wanted us to know joy and rest, menuchah, Shabbat.
We open up Pekudei and read: 
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:
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.
I alluded last week to my maniacal preparations for my own ceremony of Bat Mitzvah as a grown woman, and as someone who chose to enter the covenant. Mishpatim is that sidra that caused me to pause and consider my need to allow others to help me prepare for that day.
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.
I didn’t realize until I had to write a d’var Torah every week, how often I say, “Now this is truly one of my favourite sections in all of Torah” – I am like a woman with many grandchildren. Years ago I was in Brooklyn. I had made arrangements with a very orthodox/observant Chevra Kadisha (Jewish burial society) to come by, and if possible, help with a taharah, (ritual preparation for burial). The woman in charge and I went back and forth on the phone discussing my wish, because of course you can never plan these things. When I arrived at noon, she said, Welcome! Your prayers have been answered – we have a taharah in 30 minutes – and then we both laughed. Chevra humour.
Tzav
March 19, 2019 by Rabbi Lynn Greenhough • From the Rabbi's Desk
Shalom Aleichem.
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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