OzTorah

Q. I think I’ve worked out why Moses is left out of the Haggadah, He constantly questions God’s judgment. Maybe God was sorry He appointed him! Could I be right?

A. You might not believe it, but some midrashic sages actually said something similar.

Time after time, they point out, Moses tried to get out of his mission. He told God he was no speaker (Ex. 6:12). He felt he would not be able to explain God’s decisions to outsiders (Ex. 3:11). He was scared to face God (Ex. 3:10).

A work called The Letters of Rabbi Akiva says that when Moses said things like this the whole world reeled with shock.

Not so much because Moses was a heretic but that he was embarrassed by his past record and felt unworthy of the task to which he had been called.

He had not been brought up amongst the Israelites but at the royal palace, he had not suffered the rigours of enslavement, he had left Egypt and moved to Midian, he had married a gentile woman and led a non-Jewish life, and he felt quite unfitted to lead the Israelite people into their destiny.

When God gave him no choice but propelled him into Jewish leadership he was under constant challenge from the people and his own conscience. He was learning on the job and it was never a smooth passage.

Yet this was not really the reason for the omission of his name from the Haggadah. That was more likely to be in order to emphasise that the redemption of the Israelites was due to God, and Moses was not the actual redeemer but the earthly agent who carried out the Divine instructions.

Q. Why does Dayyenu keep telling us that if God had brought us out of Egypt and done nothing else it would have been sufficient?

Does this mean that we would not have minded drowning in the Red Sea, perishing in the wilderness, never getting the Torah, never reaching Eretz Yisrael, never having the Temple and so on?

A. The song lists altogether 15 Divine boons, and we can not imagine life without any of them. Yet we still say Dayyenu when we list each one.

If this means that we are willing to give up all the rest, it is a preposterous thought, and clearly not what the author had in mind.

Judaism without Torah? Impossible. Judaism without Eretz Yisrael? Inconceivable.

So how are we to interpret the song?

One answer is to see Dayyenu as a question – i.e., “Had God brought us out of Egypt and not (for example) brought us to Mount Sinai, would it have been sufficient?”

The famous Lehmann Haggadah tells a story about a ruler who wanted to appoint a friend as ruler over one of the provinces of his kingdom. But the friend had no official robes, so the prince gave them to him.

He had neither horses nor servants, so the prince supplied them. He had no palace, so the prince built one for him. He had no experience of government, so the prince instructed him.

When the time came to thank his benefactor, the friend said, “Had the prince given me an office of honour but no robes, could I ever have carried out my role?

“Had he given me robes but not equipped me with horses and servants, could I have conducted myself as a ruler? Had he given me all this but not provided a palace, would I have been treated with respect? Had I received all this, but not been taught how to exercise rule, would I have been a success?”

In the same way we ask, “Had God provided (only) one boon, would it have sufficed?”

A second view is that we have to be thankful even for small mercies. Had God only done one thing for us, that would already have been cause enough to thank and praise Him. After all, do we have a right to expect ongoing miracles?

Remember the miracle of 1967 – and how badly scared and shaken we were in 1973 when things were not so swift and miraculous?

We have to say Baruch HaShem for everything He does, and be grateful for what we have… and if further boons come our way, each will be a bonus.

Though the siddur looks forward to the reinstitution of the sacrifices which are set out in such detail in Parashat Vayikra, Franz Rosenzweig and some other modern thinkers advise us to wait until the moment of redemption comes and work out an attitude to sacrifices at that point.

Rav Kook had a different approach. As a kohen he was anxious to be ready for the rebuilding of the Temple and the recommencement of the sacrificial and other tasks of the kohanim.

Which point of view is to be preferred?

From the theological point of view the Rav Kook approach has more to commend it, even though we understand Franz Rosenzweig’s ambivalence and hesitation. In thinking about Rav Kook and sacrifices we need to spare a thought for the story of Abraham, Isaac and the Akedah.

In the Akedah narrative, God tells Abraham to offer up his son. The text does not say that God told Isaac of His plan, but we learn between the lines that once Isaac knew what was going on, he acquiesced.

Does this mean that he was prepared to sacrifice himself on the altar of Divine service? There is no other conclusion we can come to.

In the end it was not Isaac who was offered up, but a substitute in the form of a ram. The outcome is that instead of giving himself to God, an animal was offered.

Similarly with the sacrificial code of Vayikra, instead of giving one’s life to God one worships Him by giving Him a choice possession.

In terms of today, the believing human being says, “God, Your bounty to me and all Your creatures is so overwhelming that I really want to give all of myself to You, but instead of giving You myself I offer my time and talents and a token of part of my possessions.”

Why does a sidra about sacrifices have a section about business ethics?

“If anyone sin and commit a trespass against the Lord and deal falsely with his neighbour in a matter of deposit, or pledge or of robbery, or have oppressed his neighbour…” (Lev. 5:20-26).

Note firstly that an ethical wrong against one’s neighbour is a sin against God. There is no separation between religion and business. Ethical business practice is part of religion.

A second point: sacrifices are still, metaphorically, essential to the religious life. Not just in terms of giving donations to religious institutions, but also in foregoing easy profits and advantages.

Making money is in itself no problem, so long as it is kosher – bediente gelt – money earned in a kosher way.

Business ethics applies even to the attitudes of employer to employee or employee to employer. Neither may exploit the other or steal from them.

Stealing is not limited to giving oneself dispensation to pocket something from the till, the stationery cupboard, or the tea room. Nor is it restricted to personal advantage from the firm’s data base or the client network.

Maimonides says, “The employer may not steal or withhold an employee’s wages. An employee may not steal in the way he does his work, or waste the day dishonestly by taking a little time here and a little time there” (Hilchot S’chirut 113:7).

Maimonides adds that one must be able to say with the patriarch Jacob, “I worked with all my strength” (Gen. 31:6).

This also requires sacrifice – the sacrifice of unjust personal enrichment.

The opening words of the sidra describe the sanctuary as “the tabernacle of testimony – mishkan ha-edut” (Ex. 38:21).

Ibn Ezra and Sforno understand “testimony” as the two tablets of the Torah which were placed within the Ark of the tabernacle. In that sense the Hebrew phrase means “tabernacle containing the testimony”.

Rashi, however, has a quite different approach. He understands the tabernacle as not merely the repository of the tablets of testimony, but as testimony in itself.

Basing himself on midrashic sources, he explains that the tabernacle was evidence to Israel that God had shown Himself merciful in relation to the episode of the Golden Calf. By means of the tabernacle (mishkan, literally “dwelling place”) he allowed His Presence to dwell amongst them despite their sin. They had offended Him, but He found Himself able to pardon them for their lapse.

The sanctuary was called mishkan (“dwelling place”), but it was also called mikdash (“holy place”). Maybe the two names signify the partnership of God and Israel. It was God who made it a dwelling place for the Divine; it was the people who sanctified it and made it holy.