And you shall
command the Bnei
Yisrael that they shall
take for you pure, pressed oil…to raise up the lamp continually.[2]
People are fascinated
by the explanations of why Moshe’s name does not appear even once in this parshah. The question
is really stronger than we think. The omission of Moshe’s name in this pasuk alone should set
off alarm bells. Why does the Torah abandon the usual and familiar formula
– “Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying” – specifically here, regarding the mitzvah
of preparing menorah oil? While we are at it, why does our pasuk begin with the
letter vav,
which translates as “and,” when no conjunction seems appropriate?
One of the most
fundamental questions that kabbalah addresses is the paradox of Hashem’s
infinity. How does Hashem’s infinity leave room, so to speak, for a world
that is very much finite, that is circumscribed in place and time? The
concept of tzimtzum
addresses this problem, but there is so much more to say. Hashem’s shefa, emanating from
His infinite Self, still has to find a way to penetrate a finite world.
There needs to be a vehicle, so to speak, that can transition from the
infinite to the finite.
That vehicle is the
Torah. More specifically, the letters of the Torah are vehicles of tzimtzum. Hashem
contracts Himself in those letters, which are able to contain some of His
light within them. Through them, HKBH was able to create a measured,
bounded world. Thus we learn that the root and source of every neshamah is in a
letter of the Torah. That packet of Hashem’s light vitalizes our existence.
And the essential unity of the Jewish people owes to the Torah linking all
those letters together.
The Gemara asks how
the Torah can command us to attach ourselves to Hashem, when the Shechinah
is a consuming fire? The Gemara explains that we are to attach ourselves to
His midos.
That is the equivalent of attaching ourselves to Him. But how does this
answer the question? The plain sense of the verse is to attach ourselves to
Him, and says nothing about His midos!
Rather, those midos traditionally
number thirteen. They in turn correspond to the thirteen midos that we recite
each morning in the Beraisa of R. Yishmael. They are the tools of Torah she-b’al peh,
which allow a fleshing out the latent intent of the letters of the written
Torah. When a person delves into the Torah, he attaches himself to the root
of his neshamah
(as explained above), uniting himself with Hashem who is contained in its
letters. Through his learning, he effectively does attach himself to
Hashem! (Keep in mind that the word midah
is related to madad/measure.
Hashem’s midos
are the measured-out pathways for containing His ohr, and sharing it
with the world.)
A verse speaks of
“Toras Moshe.” Moshe is identified with Torah, with supernal Daas. Our parshah is usually
read the week of the 7th of Adar, the anniversary of Moshe’s
death. His death means the withdrawal of Divine Daas. But that Daas did not vanish.
It took up residence in the words of Torah.
We earlier asked why
Moshe’s name is not mentioned in giving this mitzvah, as it is throughout
the Torah. Because it is associated with Moshe’s death date, his name is
not mentioned explicitly. It is very much there implicitly – in the letter vav, with which the parshah begins. The
letter vav is in the form of a straight line, seemingly connecting two
points. It denotes hamshachah,
drawing out and continuing something from one place to another.
That is exactly what
Torah does. It draws out Daas
from Above, and stretches it to our realm. The verse continues with
instructions for every Jew to take the olive oil (= wisdom) of Torah for
himself. The oil must be pure/ zach,
whose gematria equals 27, or the number of letters (counting the
end-of-word forms) used in forming the Torah. The oil is pressed: Each
person must press himself to push hard to extract the Daas in Torah, to
raise up his ner
( = neshamah)
continually.
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