Two candles

Pekudei

Ex. 38:21-40:38

Précis: The final parasha of the Book of Exodus begins with an inventory of the items used in the construction of the Mishkan, as well as the vessels and clothing collected by Moses and Aaron. When the accounts are squared, the completed structure is blessed. The Ark is placed within, as are the various holy vessels, and a cloud of glory descends and covers the tent.

Ex. 40:38 “For the cloud of Adonai was upon the Tabernacle by day and the fire on it by night, in view of all of the house of Israel throughout their journeys.”

           

            In a class with my students on the Shabbat Siddur, we recently discussed the reason why we light two candles on erev Shabbat. One student provided the most traditional answer: because the Israelites could not gather manna on Shabbat, they gathered a double portion on Friday. We commemorate their actions (and tie ourselves to them) by using two candles. Another student said it was because the commandment says "Zachor" in one place and "Shamor" in another place in the Torah. A third student however, gave me an insight I had not previously considered: that we use two candles to remind us of the cloud and the pillar of flame mentioned in this verse.

            As I’ve previously mentioned, one of the traditional commentaries on this verse is that every person is like a Sanctuary: there are times of darkness (when we are covered by the cloud) and times of light (when we are illuminated by the fire). When things look dark, we can anticipate light.

            I find this a fitting conclusion to the Book of Exodus: we must always have hope for a better future, particularly when the cloud cover seems thick.

             

Dolphin Skins in the Desert?

Vayakel

Ex. 35:1 - 38:20

Précis: Moses instructs the People again on the laws of Shabbat and asks for a donation of gifts (both of material and service) for the construction of the Tabernacle. The appointment of the construction leaders is also included, and the construction begins. There are again specific descriptions of implements, articles, and of the Ark itself.

Ex. 35:5-7 “Take from among the gifts to the Lord; everyone whose heart so moves him shall bring them - gifts for the Lord: gold, silver and copper; blue, purple, and crimson yarns, fine linen and goats’ hair; tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood…”

 Rabbi Avi Weinstein wonders about “dolphin skins” (MyJewishLearning.com,3/1/16), as do I. Where in the wilderness were the people to find skins of a sea animal?

            The Hebrew word translated by the Jewish Publication Society as “dolphin” is “tachash” but they note that the meaning is “uncertain.” Some have suggested “tanned” skins or “seal skins” (the latter seems to be just as problematic as dolphin skin).

            The Targum Onkelos, the earliest translation and commentary in Aramaic, translates the word tachash with an equally cryptic Aramaic word, “sas-gavna” which the Sages tried to decipher. One source suggests that “sas” comes from the Hebrew and means joy, and “gavna” means colors. But what kind of animal is it?

            One suggestion is that “sas” is a worm, and “gavna” means color. This might mean colorful worms or caterpillars, and could be used as an adjective for other skins. This may mean that this animal radiated the many colors that one may see in a butterfly, or colorful worms. It becomes an adjective describing the colors of the hides.

            A Midrash tells us that two scholars disagreed about what the animal was. R. Yehudah said that it was a huge animal in the desert, with one horn on its head (a unicorn?). But R. Nehemiah disagreed, stating that it was a unique beast hidden after being used in the Mishkan. But why was such an animal needed? Because the tent was 30 cubits long, they needed a special animal!

            As is often the case with unclear statements in the text, the Sages engage in metaphoric exploration.  Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev, a great Hasidic master, taught that the tachash was a metaphor for the layers of meaning in a person’s speech. The hide was unattractive — even impure — on the outside, but magnificent on the inside.

            He then compared this to humor. As Rabbi Weinstein quotes him, “Sometimes, he said, a joke can be seen as frivolous and lacking any spiritual value whatsoever, but often, it has the power to penetrate a person’s consciousness and lead him to an awareness of heaven in a way that is completely surprising. What seemed to be a distraction from the work of the spirit ends up being spiritual work of the highest order.”

            So here’s to the tachash, and to the comedians who, through laughter, make us ponder the important issues we all face.