|
1) Atzei Shitim - Something to Remind Us
In our parsha, we are commanded to build the Mishkan out of “Atzei Shittim”. Quoting the Midrash, Rashi explains that acacia wood was available thanks to the foresight of Yaakov Avinu, who planted these trees in Mitzrayim, knowing they would be taken by his descendants on their way out of bondage.
Why not plant them somewhere out of Egypt? Why not leave these trees further in the Midbar? Why did Yaakov feel the need to plant them specifically in Mitzrayim?
R. Yaakov Kaminetzky (Emes LaYaakov) explains that Yaakov Avinu wanted Bnei Yisrael to have more than just the promise of “Pakod Pakaditi” to hold onto in Egypt. He wanted them to look up and see a forest he planted, and be instantly reminded that this was done in order to fulfill a mitzvah that would only be commanded in the future. Yes, the trees could have been planted out of sight, much further along the road of redemption. But then they would never be such a poignant reminder to the Jewish People that they could make it out of their galus.
Every time a Mitzri asked about the trees, Bnei Yisrael would repeat the promise: "pakod yifkod Elokim etchem". The trees were a living, breathing act of faith across generations. And the Torah's phrasing confirms this: atzei shitim omdin — the Gemara (Yoma 72a) reads omdin not merely as "upright" but as standing forever, l'olam ul'olmei olamim.
The derasha writes itself: What are your community's atzei shitim? What rooted commitments – be them Shabbos, Torah learning, acts of chesed – keep your families standing upright even when the surrounding culture pulls downward?
2) Holding Up the Mishkan - and the Klal
Rabbi Moshe Price (Mizekeinim Esbonan) suggests a striking distinction in the structure of the Mishkan, based on the Chiddushei Chasam Sofer al haTorah. The walls as complete units were enormously heavy, far beyond what the connecting bars alone could plausibly support. Their very standing together points to something miraculous. This becomes a metaphor for the existence of the Jewish people as a nation. Our collective survival through history, despite overwhelming forces, rests on Divine intervention. The fact that the “walls” of the people remain standing is itself a neis.
In contrast, the connection between one beam and the next involved multiple sockets, rings, and joining mechanisms. These were smaller, more practical engineering solutions. Symbolically, Rabbi Price explains that maintaining unity between individuals is far more difficult than sustaining national existence. Jewish continuity as a people is guaranteed by Hashem’s promise, but harmony between person and person is not. That requires effort, structure, and repeated acts of connection.
The message is that while we rely on miracles for the survival of כלל ישראל, we cannot rely on miracles for שלום בין אדם לחברו. For interpersonal relationships, Hashem provides tools and opportunities, but human beings must do the work. Unity at the national level is Divinely sustained; unity at the personal level is a human responsibility that demands conscious investment.
This week, at the yearly Israel mission of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, I, along with our president Etan Tokayer, heard Israeli leader after leader assure us that The Jewish People – and the State of Israel, would outlast its many enemies – and there are many of them. What they feared was internal machloket – especially in Israel – tearing the people apart. An NGO named “The Fourth Quarter” noted that the years 75-100 brought rupture and civil war to our first and second kingdoms. We must bring all segments of our people together in conversation before the house caves in.
3) The Shul is Us, Or: There is No Shul (Shiur or Derasha)
Repeating an idea from last year – one that’s still quite usable.
If you look at the description of the building of the Mishkan, you might notice that there were no walls – there were adonim and vavei amudim and kerashim, but all that just made it seem like there were walls. As a mobile sanctuary, the Mishkan could not have had walls!
This gets interesting when you consider the Ramban’s comments in his introduction to Shemos: the Mishkan was to function as a sort of mobile Har Sinai experience (he lists the many similarities between the two). If the function of the Mishkan was to carry the experience of Matan Torah with the people, then where was the stage? Where was the Har in the Mishkan?
The Meshech Chochmah in Parshas Yisro notes that kedusha cannot descend into an open space; for kedusha to come into the world, there must be boundaries, the space must be enclosed. At Har Sinai, the people themselves were the boundary (v’higbalta es ha’am saviv) – the Nation were the walls.
When the kerashim were inserted into the adanim, it would almost seem like people standing shoulder to shoulder with one another; in fact, this is where the contribution of each individual went! The “walls” were a representation of the people – the Nation were the walls.
If this is true of the Mishkan, then it is true of our shuls as well. Our places of holiness appear to have walls, but really, the structure is us. (The shul is not the building, the electrical sockets or the pews; the shul is the minyan, the mispallelim, etc.)
Additional sources: Rav Schachter shlita quoting the Rav and this piece in Mesoras HaRav Chumash.
3) See [the rest of] Last Year’s Chomer Here.
| 
