Thursday, May 27, 2010

Beha’alotecha

The command is given to make a candelabrum of seven branches in the Tabernacle. A detailed description has already been given to Betzalel much earlier in Exodus and now that the Priesthood has been established and Aharon and his sons have been "dedicated", they are commanded to make sure that lights should burn on this "menorah" perpetually.

The Seven Branched Candelabrum became the national symbol and was far more widely recognized, and for longer, than the Star of David. Historians and archaeologists still argue as to the origin of the Star of David, but the candelabrum is certainly our earliest recognizable national symbol (as opposed to the symbols of the individual tribes).

Yet even here there is plenty of disagreement. Most of us were used to the representation of the menorah from reproductions of the sculpture on Hadrian's Arch, which depicts the victorious Romans carrying off booty from the sacked Temple in Jerusalem two thousand years ago. The branches are curved and the base is solid, as opposed to the Biblical instruction for there to be "legs". And in recent years Lubavitch has made a feature of using the straight angular-branched version that Maimonides mentions "though the vast majority of the other commentators and experts disagreed.

Then there is the issue of how many lights and for how long they were lit. The Torah is ambiguous, on the face of it. The full seven lights were lit to coincide with certain public ceremonies. The wicks were arranged so that they all pointed towards the center. But the western most light alone kept burning all the time and this is the origin of the Ner Tamid, the Eternal Flame, that burns in front of the ark in synagogues today.

Chanukah is the commemoration of the period under Greek rule when the Temple was desecrated and only Judah Macabee's interventions allowed the Temple to be rededicated and the menorah to be relit.

But of course on Chanukah we have an eight branched candelabrum. There has always been a ban on trying to replicate Temple artifacts. As a result some people do not call this eight-branched Chanukah candelabrum a "menorah", but a "Chanukiah".

The eight-branched is the most popular; most Jewish homes have one. But the seven-branched one is the one and only authentic original.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Naso

One of the stranger laws of the Torah is that of the Nazir. A person could decide to be stricter than the law required and take on extra burdens, like Samson who let his hair grow and never had it cut (until he fell for the wrong woman).

The most common act of self-denial was to give up alcohol (you couldn't go against the Torah in your vow, so giving up sex, supposing you were married, was not an option and your wife could sue for divorce if you did). The reasons for self-denial could vary but it was a personal decision. You could decide in advance how long you wanted this period of abstinence to last and then you had to stick to it because it was a very serious religious obligation.

Nowadays we do not take too much notice about the vows we make. "If I pass this exam, I promise to a) be nice to my parents, b) give up smoking, c) eat kosher." Or, "If this deal comes through I’ll give 10% to charity." And even if we do begin to keep the vow, we rarely keep it up. Almost no one takes commitments seriously any more.

After the Nazir finished his (or her) period of denial, he had to bring a Sin Offering to the Temple. Why a Sin Offering? After all, he has just come through a period of being better and holier than the Torah requires--he should be rewarded not punished. But the Talmud says that it is not automatically a good thing for a person to deny himself a pleasure that is allowed in the Torah. It is hard enough keeping those basic rules we have been given without trying to be over-strict.

I've always been amazed by this. Most people think that being more religious is automatically better. But the Torah seems to indicate that it is a rather risky business to be too pious. Besides, the pleasures of life are there for us to enjoy (obviously, with moderation). The message is that life should be enjoyed and the truly religious person should take pleasure from life rather than being somber, self-denying, and negative.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Bamidbar

Oh no! Not another census! There was one after they came out of Egypt, another to provide the silver shekalim for the Tabernacle, another after the Golden Calf episode, and now this one in the second month of the second year. Rashi explains that it is because of the Divine love for Israel, rather like a shepherd constantly checking up, so the Children of Israel were always being counted. Yet counting is clearly considered problematic. Back in Ki Tisa, the idea of the shekel as the vehicle for counting was explained, so that "no plague would strike during the census".

A census is, of course, a very important vehicle of information. The results can be used in many ways. In past years, census results in America revealed the rise of the Hispanic population, the rise of the population in some states and cities, and the decline in others. Those that stand to benefit trumpet out the results that reinforce their claims. Results that are negative are hushed up. Numbers also brought commitment, leadership, and a bigger burden of responsibility.

So a simple mechanical process carries with it rewards and negative impacts. Some tribes would have gloried in their numerical strength and others would have tried, like the Levites, to assert other criteria for importance over and above pure numbers.

The notion that every person is equally important is reflected in the fact that everyone gave the same amount of money, and yet the age and the gender of the census implies a very definite militaristic aspect. From twenty to sixty, every male who could go out to war was counted. The Levites, on the other hand, were counted from thirty up to fifty. This might imply that Divine service is more arduous. And would anyone have suggested that women did not matter? Of course not. But the function of the census seems not to have required their participation.

So its impact and purpose were limited. The idea that it conveyed power or importance was effectively overruled and the intent seems to have boiled down to determining the duty rotas and obligations of society rather than the intrinsic value of its citizens.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Behar-Bechukotai

The last part of this double sedra deals with the tradition of "valuations". In Temple times, people often dedicated an object or an animal or even themselves to the Temple. This was another aspect of the sacrificial system. We can see from the story of Samuel how it was possible for a parent to "give" a child to the Temple service. There is no hint of this in the Torah. There the priesthood provided all the manpower that was needed. Perhaps the Levites might have offered additional assistance beyond simply singing. But nothing is explicit. What is made clear is the tradition of erchaot, valuations.

In Chapter 27, people who "gave themselves" to the Temple did not actually give themselves over to be servants, but agreed to pay a contribution. This contribution was laid down in advance. It was not a matter of each person being assessed on his or her own merits, but rather on the basis of generalized tables of value.

Males from 20 to 60 had the highest value, 50 shekels. Females of this age were 30 shekels. From age five to 20, the vales were 20 for males and 10 for females. From one month old to five years, it was five or three. And from age 60 upwards, it was fifteen or ten. Then the Torah goes on to lay down the law for valuing livestock and buildings, where the object would indeed go to the Temple treasury but a valuation was given to "redeem" the object back for everyday use.

One can find a great deal to be upset about in these valuations. One could be upset on the basis of sexism and one could be upset on the basis of ageism. If the criterion was "hard work", then how could one assess a one-month-old child? Was this a hangover from the slave system? Agreed, that was how most people have been valued for most of the past 5000 years. But the fact is that here no one is being forced into anything. No one has to offer up anybody.

Perhaps, like the sacrificial system itself, this was simply a way of channeling the contemporary devotional impulses into a less excessive expression than the actual human sacrifice practiced in pagan cultures. Like running along with a runaway horse and slowly bringing it under control, rather than standing in front and trying to stop it dead in its tracks. Some pagan religious practices were indeed banned altogether, like self laceration and prostitution. But others were adapted, modified, and channeled.