Missionary Renegade: "This year, the world needs your leadership" Chabad of New York, New York, United States for Tuesday, 1 March 2016

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

"This year, the world needs your leadership" Chabad of New York, New York, United States for Tuesday, 1 March 2016

"This year, the world needs your leadership" Chabad of New York, New York, United States for Tuesday, 1 March 2016
ב"ה
Join 225,996 Jews
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who will be joining Hakhel
gatherings led by people like you.
It's time to recognize it:
The world needs your leadership.

Every seven years is a Hakhel year. In ancient times, during a Hakhel year, Jews would stream to Jerusalem to unite in the Holy Temple, and hear Torah from the king.
Today, you are the king. You have the power to unite Jews.
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"Do Jews Believe in Lucky Stars?" Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Adar I 21, 5776 · March 1, 2016
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
Twenty-four years ago this week, the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—delivered what would be his final public address.
The week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel, was central to his talk. The word “vayakhel” (“and he gathered”) refers to Moses bringing the entire nation together. The Rebbe spoke of the importance of Jewish unity today and at all times. When the Jewish people stick together, no one can harm us. We are collectively strong, and our history has demonstrated time and again that no matter what our enemies scheme, we will come out stronger on the other side. That is the power of the Jewish nation. But we must be there for each other.
This year—as readers of Chabad.org no doubt are aware—is a year of Hakhel, commemorating the once-in-seven-years coming together of every Jew, adult and child, in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem to hear the king read from the Torah. We observe this today by hosting assemblies of Jews wherever we are. The focus is Jewish unity and the enhancement of our Jewish observance. We remind ourselves that at the end of the day we have each other to depend on, and that is the key to our survival.
Praying for the day that we will once again unite in Jerusalem,
Rabbi Eliezer Zalmanov,
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team

This Week's Features:

Printable Magazine

The Secret to Staying Young
A talk of the Rebbe that is relevant to people of all ages.

http://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/3226560/jewish/The-Secret-to-Staying-Young.htm
http://www.chabad.org/3226560

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YOUR QUESTIONS

"Why Are Shabbat Candles Lit 18 Minutes Before Sunset?"
We go out to receive the Shabbat even before she arrives . . . by Yehuda Shurpin
Why Are Shabbat Candles Lit 18 Minutes Before Sunset? by Yehuda Shurpin

I understand that Shabbat begins at sunset on Friday, but I noticed that the candle-lighting time on the calendar is about 18 minutes before sunset. Why?
Reply
Strictly speaking, Shabbat begins at sundown, and from that time on it is forbidden to perform certain activities (including lighting Shabbat candles).
However, based on the language the Torah employs regarding Yom Kippur, the sages of the Talmud learned that there is actually a mitzvah to add a few minutes to the Shabbat, both before it starts and after it ends. This is calledtosefet Shabbat, “adding time onto Shabbat.” According to most, this is biblically mandated.1
Not only does bringing in Shabbat early ensure that we will not accidentally miss the start time and perform forbidden work on Shabbat, it also demonstrates our affection for the Shabbat. We go out to receive the Shabbat even before she arrives, and accompany her out when it comes time for her to leave.
Different communities have different customs as to how much time to add on to Shabbat, ranging from about 15 to 40 minutes. The most prevalent custom is to light the Shabbat candles 18 minutes before sunset. Here’s why:
Roasted Fish
In Talmudic times, it was the custom to blow six shofar blasts before the onset of Shabbat. After blowing the third blast, it was time to light the Shabbat candles. Afterward, they would wait "the time it takes to roast a small fish" (which could theoretically be one’s last preparation before Shabbat) and then blow the final three blasts, indicating the onset of Shabbat and that all work was forbidden.2
So the time it takes to roast a fish is the same amount of time that candle-lighting should precede sunset. Well, how much time is that?
In a different context, the sages establish that the time to roast a small fish is the same time it takes takes to walk a mil,3 a halachic measurement related to the Roman milliarium, which is 1,000 paces. Well, how much time does that take? Somewhere between 18 to 24 minutes. Since the smallest number given is 18 minutes, it became the custom to light the Shabbat candles 18 minutes before sunset.4
Start of Shabbat
Others explain that the custom of lighting 18 minutes before sunset is in deference to the Sefer Yire’im (authored by Rabbi Eliezer of Metz, 12th century), which holds that Shabbat itself actually begins “the time it takes to walk ¾ of a mil” beforesunset.5 As mentioned, opinions vary on the length of time it takes to walk a mil, but if it is a biblical injunction, then we go according to the largest figure, 24 minutes, so ¾ of a mil would then be 18 minutes.
Although the halachah follows the opinion that Shabbat starts at sunset, out of respect for the opinion of the Sefer Yire’im, we light the Shabbat candles 18 minutes prior.6
Accepting the Shabbat Early
The custom is that when the women light the Shabbat candles early, they usher in the Shabbat for themselves and desist from all forbidden work until after Shabbat. However, other household members who do not light candles themselves don’t yet accept the Shabbat until a bit later and are free to continue in “weekday mode” almost until Shabbat begins (at sunset) or until they accept Shabbat upon themselves (e.g., through the Shabbat prayers). Those who already lit Shabbat candles may ask someone who did not yet accept Shabbat to do labor that they themselves may not do.
It is important to note that even someone who does not accept Shabbat early by candle-lighting may not wait until the last moment and must accept the Shabbat a bit before sunset.7
When we add to Shabbat, we are essentially taking time from the mundane work-week and transforming it into something that is holy. This reflects the entire purpose of creation—making the mundane world into a more spiritual and holy place.
FOOTNOTES
1.See Talmud, Yuma 81b; Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 261:2; Shulchan Aruch Harav, Orach Chaim 261:4 and 608:1. Leviticus 23:32 states: “And you shall rest and you shall afflict yourselves. On the ninth of the month in the evening, from evening to evening, you shall observe your rest day.” The Talmud remarks that it is obligatory to add time from the mundane to the sacred at both the entrance and departure of the holiday, as implied by "and you shall afflict your souls on the ninth of the month in the evening." Since the date of the fast is the tenth, the intent is obviously that one begin Yom Kippur observance on the afternoon of the ninth, which directly precedes the tenth. Since the verse states, “you shall rest,” we can extend this principle to Shabbat. Since the verse states, “you shall observe your rest day,” we extend this principle to festivals as well. From here we conclude that whenever a requirement of “rest” is mentioned, one must add from the weekday onto the sacred.
2.Talmud, Shabbat 35b.
3.See Maggid Mishnah on Hilchot Maachalot Asurot 6:10, citing the Ramban.
4.See Kunteres Neirot Shabbat Kodesh, vol. 2, p. 25, fn. 9.
5.See Sefer Yire’im 274.
6.Sefer Bein Hashmashot 6:2-4. Some of the other customs about when to light are also based on the opinion of the Sefer Yire’im, but they either follow a different opinion as to how long it takes to walk ¾ of a mil, or they add an additional few minutes for tosefet Shabbat onto the time that Shabbat would start according to the Yire’im (see Minhagei Yisroel Torah 261:1).
7.Although the amount of time to be added isn’t specified, the addition must be from a period of time that is definitely still considered the weekday so that you are “adding from the weekday to the Shabbat.” Merely keeping Shabbat from the period of time known as bein hashmashot (twilight)—a period when it is unclear whether it is halachicly night or day—does not suffice, since one is already obligated to keep the Shabbat at that time even without the tosefet Shabbat. See Shulchan Aruch Harav, Orach Chaim 261:5.

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Is It Logical to Have Faith?
Every logical system relies on the a priori acceptance of unprovable first principles. by Tzvi Freeman

Yes, it is.

In the first half of the 20th century, Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead attempted to compile a comprehensive system of logic and mathematics that would be entirely internally consistent and self-evident. They were miffed by the paradoxes of set theory, and the project was finally put to rest by Kurt Gödel’s theorem of incompleteness.

In a nutshell, Gödel demonstrated that no system of logic or mathematics can prove its own axioms. Every logical system relies on the a priori acceptance of unprovable first principles.

Life, too, relies on faith. We cannot step out of our beds in the morning without pure, simple faith in hundreds, perhaps thousands of basic assumptions for which we have no real proof. We run our lives with an unquestioning assurance that today will follow the same laws as yesterday and tomorrow the same as today, that our senses are not deluding us, that we are awake and not asleep, that our memories are reliable, that our food is not poisoned and our doctor is not out to kill us, that life is better than death and that all its pain does not measure up to its happiness.

It is logical to have such faith, because otherwise life would have to be led in an insane asylum or under the influence of psychotropics. So, too, it is logical to have faith that G‑d is good and there is only one of Him.

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PARSHAH

The Half-Shekel of Marriage
The historical, personal and cosmic significance of the half-shekel.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

Editor’s note: This week’s Torah reading includes the special addition of Parshat Shekalim (Exodus 30:11–16), which speaks of the half-shekel each Jew contributed to the Sanctuary. The following essay explores the deeper significance of the “half-shekel” in kabbalistic and chassidic teaching.)

The first marriage of which we read in the Torah is the marriage of Adam and Eve. Theirs, of course, was a marriage wholly made in Heaven: G‑d Himself created the bride, perfumed and bejeweled her, and presented her to the groom. The first instance in which the Torah tells the story of a marriage achieved by human effort is in the chapter that describes the search for a bride for Isaac. Here are detailed the workings of a conventional shidduch: a matchmaker (Abraham’s servant Eliezer), an investigation into the prospective bride’s family and character, a dowry, the initial encounter between the bride and groom, and so on.

The Torah, which often conveys complex laws by means of a single word or letter, devotes no less than 67 verses to the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca. Many of the details are related twice—first in the Torah’s account of their occurrence, and a second time in Eliezer’s speech to Rebecca’s parents. For here we are being presented with a prototype to guide our own approach to marriage—both in the conventional sense as the union of two human beings, and in the cosmic sense as the relationship between G‑d and man.

Half of Twenty

One of the details which the Torah includes in its account is the fact that a ring, a half-shekel in weight, was one of the gifts that Eliezer presented to Rebecca at their meeting at the well in Rebecca’s hometown of Aram Naharayim.

The man took a golden ring, a half-shekel in weight; and two bracelets of ten shekels’ weight of gold for her hands. (Genesis 24:22)

Our sages explain that this was an allusion to, and the forerunner of, the half-shekel contributed by each Jew towards the building of the Sanctuary. As G‑d instructs Moses in the 30th chapter of Exodus:

Each man shall give the ransom of his soul to G‑d. . . . This they shall give: . . . a half-shekel. . . . A shekel is twenty gerah; a half-shekel [shall be given] as an offering to G‑d. . . . The rich man should not give more, and the pauper should not give less, than the half-shekel . . .

Why half a shekel? Maimonides writes that as a rule, “everything that is for the sake of G‑d should be of the best and most beautiful. When one builds a house of prayer, it should be more beautiful than his own dwelling. When one feeds the hungry, he should feed him of the best and sweetest of his table. . . . Whenever one designates something for a holy purpose, he should sanctify the finest of his possessions, as it is written (Leviticus 3:16), ‘The choicest to G‑d’” (Mishneh Torah, Hil. Issurei Mizbe’ach 7:11).

Indeed, in many cases Torah law mandates that the object of a mitzvah (Divine commandment) be tamim, whole: a blemished animal cannot be brought as an offering to G‑d, nor can a blemished etrog be included in the Four Species taken on the festival of Sukkot. Even when this is not an absolute requirement, the law states that whenever possible, one should strive to fulfill a mitzvah with a whole object. For example, it is preferable to recite a blessing on a whole fruit or a whole loaf of bread, rather than on a slice (hence our use of two whole loaves at all Shabbat and festival meals).

Why, then, does the Torah instruct that each Jew contribute half a shekel towards the building of a dwelling for G‑d within the Israelite camp?

The Torah’s repeated reference to this contribution as a “half-shekel” is all the more puzzling in light of the fact that in these very same verses the Torah finds it necessary to clarify that a shekel consists of twenty gerah. In other words, the amount contributed by each Jew as “the ransom of his soul” was ten gerah. Ten is a number that connotes completeness and perfection: the entire Torah is encapsulated within the Ten Commandments; the world was created with ten Divine utterances; G‑d relates to His creation via ten sefirot (Divine attributes); and the soul of man, formed in the image of G‑d, is likewise comprised of ten powers. But instead of instructing to give ten gerah, the Torah says to give half of a twenty-gerah shekel, deliberately avoiding mention of the number ten and emphasizing the “half” element of our contribution to the Divine dwelling in our midst.

Separated at Birth

For such is the essence of marriage. If each partner approaches the marriage with a sense of his or her self as a complete entity, they will at best achieve only a “relationship” between two distinct, self-contained lives. But marriage is much more than that. The Kabbalists explain that husband and wife are the male and female aspects of a single soul, born into two different bodies; for many years they live separate lives, often at a great distance from each other and wholly unaware of the other’s existence. But Divine providence contrives to bring them together again under the wedding canopy and accord them the opportunity to become one again: not only one in essence, but also one on all levels—in their conscious thoughts and feelings and in their physical lives.

Marriage is thus more than the union of two individuals. It is the reunion of a halved soul, the fusion of two lives originally and intrinsically one.

To experience this reunion, each must approach his or her life together not as a “ten,” but as a half. This half-shekel consists of ten gerah—each must give their all to the marriage, devoting to it the full array of resources and potentials they possess. But each must regard him- or herself not as a complete being, but as a partner—a part seeking its other part to make it whole again.

The Sanctuary

The half-shekel ring given to Rebecca for her marriage to Isaac was the forerunner of the half-shekel contributed by each Jew towards the building of the Sanctuary, the marital home in the marriage between G‑d and man.

The soul of man is “a part of G‑d above”—a part that descended to a world whose mundanity and materiality conspire to distance it from its supernal source. So even a soul who is in full possession of her ten powers is still but a part. And even when G‑d fully manifests the ten attributes of His involvement with His creation, He is still only partly present in our world. It is only when these two parts unite in marriage that their original wholeness and integrity is restored.

So to build G‑d a home on earth, we must contribute half of a 20-gerah shekel. We must give ourselves fully to Him, devoting the full spectrum of our ten powers and potentials to our marriage with Him. But even as we achieve the utmost in self-realization in our relationship with G‑d, we must be permeated with a sense of our halfness—with the recognition and appreciation that we, as He, are incomplete without each other.

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Time to Be More Inclusive! by Chana Weisberg

Dear Reader,

For years, the trend in education was to segregate children with special needs, but nowadays we try to include them in conventional classrooms as much as possible.

Inclusion, mainstreaming, integration—these are all different ways of how children with different needs are included in traditional classrooms.

So, is inclusion beneficial, and for whom?

Research over the last 15 years indicates that with the necessary support and proper training, its benefits seem to be overwhelmingly positive for everyone.

Students with special needs gain from increased social opportunities, higher expectations resulting in increased skills and achievements, increased self-respect and confidence, and better preparation for adult life.

But the benefits, surprisingly, were equally shared by students without special needs. They too gained in greater academic success, enhanced feelings of self-esteem from mentoring students, increased appreciation of their abilities and a greater acceptance that all people have unique abilities. They learned sensitivity and empathy as well as strong collaborative skills.

In the workforce, a similar idea is gaining traction, as employers are starting to acknowledge the importance of diversity. The effectiveness of human resource systems designed for a homogeneous workforce is being questioned, as employers recognize the contributions of all different kinds of intelligences and talents.

So it looks like we were created as diverse human beings for a reason: we all have what to contribute.

In the beginning of this week’s Torah portion, Moses gathers the nation of Israel and lists the various materials that they can contribute to the Tabernacle, G‑d’s home on earth.

“Take from yourselves an offering for the L‑rd; every generous-hearted person shall bring gold, silver and copper . . .” (Exodus 35:5)

The Rebbe explains that each of these materials represent a different persona in the nation. Gold represents the purity of the tzaddik, the fully righteous individual. Silver (kesef in Hebrew, which also means “yearning”) represents the baal teshuvah, the returnee. Copper, the least expensive of metals, represents the sinner.

We might have thought that only a tzaddik who is removed from the enticements and ensnarements of this world, has the ability of transforming it into something holy. Or, we might believe that only a baal teshuvah, who intimately knows the negativity of this world, can transform its lowliness into loftiness. But the Torah teaches us even the sinner must be included in this endeavor, and has what to contribute.

Amazingly, G‑d’s home on earth is not complete without each of their contributions.

No matter our spiritual standing, no matter our intellectual abilities or our emotional intelligences, we were all handcrafted by our Creator to make our world a home for G‑d.

And, whether we consider ourselves low or high, righteous or wicked, someone with limited abilities or someone super-talented, we are all needed. As unintuitive as it may initially seem, each and every one of us has what to gain from the other!

What a golden (or is that copper?) idea!

Chana Weisberg,

Editor, TJW

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Learn Vayakhel in Depth
A condensation of the weekly Torah portion alongside select commentaries culled from the Midrash, Talmud, Chassidic masters, and the broad corpus of Jewish scholarship.

Parshat Vayakhel In-Depth

Exodus 35:1-38:20

Parshah Summary

The Parshah of Vayak'hel records the actual implementation of G‑d's instructions on how to build the Mishkan (Tabernacle), recounted earlier in the Parshah of Terumah. Indeed, much of Vayak'hel is almost an exact repeat of Terumah, the only apparent difference being that the details which in Terumah are prefaced with the words, "And they shall make..." are here presented following the preface, "And they made..."

But first,

Moses assembled the entire congregation of the children of Israel, and said to them: These are the words which G‑d has commanded, that you should do them:

Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you a holy day, a sabbath of sabbaths to G‑d: whoever does work on it shall be put to death.

You shall kindle no fire throughout your habitations on the Sabbath day.

The Donation

Moses then tells the people:

Take from among you an offering to G‑d: whoever is of a willing heart, let him bring it...

Gold, and silver, and copper;

Blue, purple, and scarlet [wool], and fine linen, and goats' hair;

Rams' skins dyed red, tachash skins, and shittim wood;

Oil for the light, and spices for the anointing oil and for the sweet incense;

Shoham stones and stones to be set for the efod and for the breastplate.

And every wise-hearted man among you shall come, and make all that G‑d has commanded...

The response was overwhelming:

And they came, everyone whose heart stirred them, and everyone whose spirit made willing, and they brought the offering to G‑d for the work of the Tent of Meeting, and for all its service, and for the holy garments.

They came, the men along with the women... and they brought bracelets, and earrings, and rings, and girdles, all jewels of gold...

The women brought spun thread of multi-colored wool, linen and goat hair for the roof-coverings and the priestly garments; the tribal heads brought the precious stones for the High Priest's apron and breastplate and the herbs for the Anointing Oil and the Incense.

And all the wise men who carried out all the work of the Sanctuary came, every man from his work which they did, and they spoke to Moses saying: "The people bring much more than enough for the service of the work, which G‑d commanded to do."

And Moses gave commandment, and they caused it to be proclaimed throughout the camp saying: "Let neither man nor woman do any more work for the offering of the sanctuary." And the people were restrained from bringing.

The material was sufficient for all the work to do it, and too much.

The Making of the Sanctuary

The team of "wise-hearted" artisans, headed by Betzalel ben Uri from the tribe of Judah and Ahaliav ben Achisamach of the tribe of Dan, set about the task of fashioning these 15 materials into a dwelling for the Divine Presence.

And they made the ten tapestries of the Mishkan['s roof] of finely-spun linen and [wool dyed] blue, purple and scarlet; with cherubim of artistic work did [Betzalel] make them...

And he made sheets of goat-hair as an Ohel (tent-covering) over the Mishkan -- eleven sheets he made them...

And he made the boards for the Mishkan['s walls] of shittim wood, to be stood upright... twenty boards for the south walls; and forty silver foundation-sockets made he under the twenty boards: two sockets under each board, for its two pegs... And for the other side of the Mishkan--for the north side--he made twenty boards and forty silver sockets... and for the rear of the Mishkan, to the west, he made six boards, and two boards for the rear corners...

And he made the Parochet (the "veil" that separated between the Sanctuary's two chambers) of blue, purple and scarlet, and fine-spun linen; with artistically woven cherubim he made it...

And he made a Screen for the doorway of the Tent: of blue, purple and scarlet, and fine-spun linen, with embroidered work...

The Sanctuary's Vessels

And Betzalel made the Ark of shittim wood: two cubits and a half was its length, and a cubit and a half its breadth, and a cubit and a half its height. And he overlaid it with pure gold within and without, and made a rim of gold to it round about....

And he made the Kaporet (the Ark's cover) of pure gold.. and he made two cherubim of gold, beaten out of one piece he made them, on the two ends of the covering... And the cherubim spread out their wings on high, and spread with their wings over the covering, with their faces one to another...

And he made the Table of shittim wood... and covered it with pure gold...

And He made the Menorah of pure gold; of beaten work made he the Menorah, its foot, its shaft, its branches, its goblets, its bulbs, and its flowers, were of the same piece...

And he made the Incense Altar of shittim wood... and covered it with pure gold...

And he made the Anointing Oil holy, and the Incense of Spices pure...

The Outdoor Furnishings

And he made the Altar of Burnt Offering... five cubits was its length, and five cubits its breadth; it was foursquare; and three cubits its height...

And he made the Basin of copper, and its pedestal of copper, out of the mirrors of the women assembling, who assembled at the door of the Tent of Meeting...

And he made the courtyard: on the south side, he hangings of the court were of fine twined linen, a hundred cubits in length; their pillars were twenty, their copper sockets twenty, and the hooks of the pillars and their trimmings were of silver. And for the north side the hangings were a hundred cubits... And for the west side were hangings of fifty cubits... The [width of] the east side was fifty cubits, [with] hangings of fifteen cubits on each side [of the entrance]...

And the screen for the gate of the court was embroidered work, of blue, purple and scarlet, and fine twined linen; and twenty cubits was the length...

And all the pegs of the tabernacle, and of the court round about, were of copper.

(For more on the Mishkan see summary and commentary for Terumah)

From Our Sages

And Moses assembled the entire congregation of the children of Israel (Exodus 35:1)

This was on the morning after Yom Kippur, the day that Moses descended from the mountain [with the Second Tablets].

(Rashi)

And Moses assembled the entire congregation of the children of Israel, and said to them... a sabbath of sabbaths to G‑d (35:1-2)

This teaches us that Moses instituted the practice to assemble on Shabbat to listen to the reading of the Torah.

(Midrash)

Six days work shall be done; and the seventh day shall be holy... (35:2)

The Torah describes the Jew's work in the course of the week as a passive endeavor -- "Six days work shall be done" (not "six days you shall do work"). For the Jew regards his workday endeavors not as the source of his sustenance, but merely as a "vessel" in which to receive G‑d's blessing.

(The Chassidic Masters)

Six days work shall be done; and the seventh day shall be holy... And every wise-hearted man among you shall come and make all that G‑d has commanded... (35:2, 10)

Why does the Torah place the commandment to cease work on Shabbat next to the work of the Mishkan? To teach us that a person is guilty of violating the Shabbat only if the work he does has a counterpart in the work of making the Sanctuary: they sowed (the herbs from which to make dyes for the tapestries); you, too, shall not sow [on Shabbat]. They harvested [the herbs]; you, too, shall not harvest. They loaded the boards from the ground onto the wagons; you, too, shall not bring an object from a public domain into a private domain...

(Talmud and Rashi, Shabbat 49b)

Thus the Mishkan not only defines the type of work forbidden on Shabbat, but also the type of work the Jew is engaged in on the other six days of the week: the work of building a home for G‑d out of the materials of physical life.

(Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi)

Gold, silver and copper (35:5)

"Gold" represents the purity and perfection of the tzaddik. "Silver" represents the great yearning of the Baal Teshuvah ("returnee" or penitent) for closeness to G‑d--a yearning many times more powerful than that of the tzaddik, because it is a yearning from afar (kessef, the Hebrew word for silver, also means "yearning"; copper, the lowliest of metals, represents the good deeds of the sinner. G‑d's home on earth is complete only when it includes all three.

(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)

And they came, everyone whose heart stirred them... brought the offering to G‑d (35:21)

It is written, "That which emerges from your lips, you shall observe and do" (Deuteronomy 23:24). From this we know only, if he uttered it with his lips; if he decided in his mind, how do we know that he must keep his promise? Because it says, "Everyone whose heart stirred them... brought the offering to G‑d."

(Talmud, Shevuot 26b)

They came, the men along with the women (35:22)

The women came first and the men followed.

(Nachmanides)

And the tribal heads brought the shoham stones (35:27)

When Moses said, "Whosoever is of a willing heart, let him bring it, the offering for G‑d," and did not say it directly to the princes; they were displeased at not being asked to bring, and so they thought: Let the people bring what they will and we shall make good whatever they omit. But all Israel entered with zeal into the work of the Mishkan and joyfully and enthusiastically brought all the donations. See what is written about this! "And they came, the men along with the women"--they came one on top of another, men and women together in an intermingled throng, and in two mornings they had brought all the necessary donations... The princes then wished to bring their donations but could not, because Moses had already given orders: "...Let neither man nor woman bring any more..." The princes were distressed, and said: "Seeing that we were not privileged to participate in the offerings to the Mishkan, let us give towards the garments of the High Priest..." This is why when the Mishkan was completed the princes took the initiative, and were the first to bring offerings for its dedication (cf. Numbers 7).

(Midrash Rabbah)

And they spoke to Moses saying: "The people bring much more than enough..." (36:5)

Said Rabbi Aba bar Achah: There's no understanding the character of this people! They're solicited for the Calf, and they give; they're solicited for the Mishkan -- they give.

(Jerusalem Talmud, Shekalim 1:1)

And the people were restrained from bringing (36:7)

When so commanded, refraining from doing a mitzvah is no less a mitzvah than doing a mitzvah.

(Alshich)

And he made the Altar of Burnt Offering... five cubits was its length, and five cubits its breadth; it was foursquare; and three cubits its height (38:1)

"And three cubits its height." Rabbi Judah says: this is meant literally. Rabbi Jose said: Here it says "foursquare" (ravua), and regarding the Incense Altar it also says, "foursquare"; as the Incense Altar's height was twice its length, so here, too, its height was... as the tabernacle was ten cubits high, so was the Altar ten cubits high. How, then, do I understand the verse, "And three cubits its height"? Three cubits from the ledge (a ledge encircled the Altar and served as a walkway for the Kohanim).

(Talmud, Zevachim 59b; Rashi)

And he made the Basin of copper... out of the mirrors of the women assembling... (38:8)

The daughters of Israel had mirrors in which they looked to adorn themselves; these, too, they did refrain from donating to the making of the Mishkan. Moses disdained these mirrors, since their purpose is to awaken lust. Said G‑d to him: Accept them, for these are more beloved to Me than everything else: through these, the women begot hosts of children in Egypt. When their men were exhausted by hard labor, they would go and bring them food and drink and feed them. They would take along the mirrors, and each would look at herself in the mirror together with her husband and tease him, saying, "Look, I'm more beautiful than you," thus awakening desire in her husband and cohabiting with him and conceiving and giving birth there, as it is written (Song of Songs 8:5), "Under the apple tree I roused you."

(Midrash Tanchuma; Rashi)

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VIDEO

Listen to a Chassidic Melody
The niggun Shehashalom Shelo is attributed to R’ Yonah Poltaver.

Watch (4:03)

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Do Jews Believe in Lucky Stars?
Why do we wish others mazal tov and what does it mean? Can we change or influence our mazal? What is the Jewish view on the zodiac and horoscopes? by Avraham Plotkin

Watch (35:54)

Peace, Love and Hakhel
Peace, love and harmony. Coexistence and community. These rosy ideals are easy to dream and sing about, but so much harder to achieve in everyday life. by Miriam Karp

Peace, love and harmony.

Coexistence and community.

These rosy ideals are easy to dream and sing about, but so much harder to achieve in everyday life.

Ask anya kibbutznik, or idealistic commune builder. Their glorious vision may bring people together to try to finally create that perfect, harmonious society. But once the manifesto is laid out, then comes the hard stuff. Once the differentWhere does this yearning for unity come from? personalities and styles and perspectives and egos get involved in the details, that unity can get sorely hammered and tested.

Where does this yearning for unity come from? The Torah, the living source that all true values arise from, describes how Abraham, the first Jew, started teaching the radical notion of G‑d’s oneness. And the concept of oneness extends beyond G‑d Himself. G‑d’s oneness is mirrored in the unity that is our core, our soul reality: “The Torah, G‑d and the Jewish people are all one.”1 We are enjoined to try to manifest this unity in our daily lives and dealings, as emphasized in many teachings. Just to name a few: “Don’t separate yourself from the community.”2 “Don’t do to others what is hateful to you.”3 “Love your neighbor as yourself.”4 And in Parshat Yitro, we read how Jewish people camped at Mt. Sinai “like one person with one heart,” with an extraordinary level of harmony.5

My preschool students roared with laughter when I acted this out, trying to help them (and me) visualize what one person with one heart really means. “Does your right hand slap your left out of the way, exclaiming, ‘I was here first, who told you to take that cup?’” I asked them, while one of my hands angrily pushed the other. “Your left foot doesn’t kick your right, shouting, ‘You always get to step first, it’s my turn!’” I said as my feet vigorously kicked each other.

“No!” the kids shouted. “Your body works together!”

“Yes,” I said hastily, as the children began to merrily kick and slap themselves with gusto, “you understand, we can stop now!” How would I explain to Mrs. Cohen that her kid was bruised up from kicking himself, just like the teacher showed him? When they finally settled down, we quickly moved to the next part of the lesson. But they got it, and they enjoyed the absurdity of the idea of one part of your own self beating up another.

It’s hard to imagine, but that’s how united the Jewish people were, when their true soul-knowledge dominated—they were as in sync as different parts of one body.

We don’t often see our beloved people acting in such harmony. Two Jews, three opinions, the saying goes. The “stiff-necked people” have a long and unique history of impassioned debate, of challenging our tradition and each other with hard questions, even (perhaps especially) in the midst of studying sacred texts. We survived exile, persecution and dispersion with G‑d’s kindness, but our sharpened minds and feisty wits didn’t hurt either. This tradition of raucous disagreement and questioning authority is acknowledged as a vital component of modern Israel’s cutting-edge innovation and military prowess, explain Dan Sendor and Saul Singer in Start-up Nation.6

And yet, underneath the passionate debate and continuous disagreements lies the beating heart of our nation, of our collective soul—a fierce, tribal, spiritual, steel-like unity and commitment, a fiery love and caring. Times of trouble bring its sometimes dormant power to the surface.

But we don’t want to wait for challenge and pain, we want to create pathways toward choosing and living with that unity, that knowledge that under the surface, we are family, completely dedicated and able to find the love and tolerance and acceptance for each other, for the other.

And more than a lofty poetic ideal, living in harmony is just plain old good for us: In the longest and most comprehensive study on record, the Harvard Study of Adult Development has been following a group of 724 men of different educational attainments and socioeconomic statuses for 75 years, carefully monitoring their jobs, marriages, stated happiness and physical health. And what was the most important predictor of longevity and happiness? Fame? Fortune?

No. Good, loving, connected relationships.7 As noted earlier, our sages taught us, “Don’t separate yourself from the community.” I used to think this meant, don’t hold yourself higher, don’t think of yourself as exclusive or better, because it’s not nice. Based on the Harvard study, I’m now seeing a different emphasis: Don’t separate yourself, not only because it’s arrogant, but because it’s not good for YOU. This might not just be an ethical injunction, but part of the mitzvah of “guard your health”:Make connections. Be part of the community. Exercise, eat well, wear a warm hat in the winter, as Bubby always told us—and be nice. Make connections. Be part of the community.

The communal aspect of Jewish life is noticed and envied by others. Friends who don’t perhaps relate to all the ins and outs of my observant life have commented on the strength of the community, the palpable feeling of connection and support we enjoy. As a teen growing up in an isolated nuclear family in sterile suburbs, I longed for a sense of interconnectedness with my neighbors. In college, I belonged to a community council, trying to build something more among the disparate individuals in our dorm. I just knew something wasn’t healthy; people were supposed to be more interdependent.

Perhaps there wasn’t much commonality to build on in the dorm. We were, after all, very different people living for a few years at most in the same building, thrown together by having chosen the same university.

In reality, when we look a little deeper, all people share a special connection. We are all children of G‑d, a special creation of vast potential—humanity. But we Jews have an even closer connection. The Torah says that we share a special soul core.8 True, it can be hidden under the superficial differences of our varied languages, backgrounds, personalities and perspectives. We are all too familiar with that which divides us.

But certain times give us a glimpse of that unity, and the strength to manifest it. This whole year, the year after Shemittah(Sabbatical year), is called Hakhel, the “year of unifying.” In Temple times, all Jews gathered in the courtyard of the Temple to hear the king read from the Torah.9 If we had this mitzvah today, it would not be achieved by watching the king on a live broadcast. Everyone had to shlep to the Temple and get into the courtyard, connecting not only with the king, but with each other.

There’s a unique power to a live event. Sometimes I’m a bit amazed—in our high-tech age, why do people buy tickets and get dressed and get a babysitter and drive down and park and stand in line and wait to hear a lecture? They could probably see and hear better watching it on TV in their comfortable living room, but there’s something powerful that just doesn’t come across remotely. We feel energized, not only by the presence of the speaker, but by being part of the community of the audience.

So G‑d says, “Come to Jerusalem, city of shalom (peace) and wholeness. Stand together with everyone, in one place, at one time. Men, women, children and babies. Meaning, all kinds of folks.” Hakhel doesn’t mean, “Unify with the people who are like me. My political party, my brand of Judaism. My style kipah. My neighborhood.” It means, “Bring together those who are not together. Those who are different.”

And if a Jew would try to be complete in hisHe might be holy but he ain't there yet holiness without that Hakhel experience, guess what? He might be holy. And special. But he ain’t there yet. He’s gotta come to Yeru-shalayim, to Jerusalem, and stand there in that crowded courtyard. Stand with all the other Jews, even the ones that are so different and so “not my speed,” and find and celebrate the common soul core in them all. That’s the path to yirah shaleim, to the complete awe of G‑d that coming to Yeru-shalayim can lead us to. To that exalted level of being able to stand in unity with the other.

Sound daunting? Unrealistic? Unite—even with her?

Hakhel is more than an obligation. Like all mitzvahs, it is an enriched-with-vitamins, superfood opportunity.10 During thisHakhel year, G‑d is giving us extra strength and ability to achieve this wonderful, life-enhancing unity. Look around you, see that person you’ve never talked to. She’s not a stranger. Remember? You saw her at Mt. Sinai. She was over there, just two rows in front of you. Remember that unity, how you’re really part of one body. Just do it. Connect.

FOOTNOTES

1.See Zohar III 73a.

2.Avot 2:5.

3.Shabbat 31a.

4.Leviticus 19:18.

5.Rashi on Exodus 19:2.

6.Senor, Dan, and Saul Singer. Start-up Nation: The Story of Israel’s Economic Miracle. Harchette Book Group, 2009.

7.Ted.com/talks/RobertWaldinger.

8.Tanya, ch. 32.

9.Deuteronomy 31:10-13.

10.See What is a Mitzvah?v

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Traveling in Kosher Style
Once upon a time, what I loved most about traveling was enjoying the local delicacies with abandon. For years after we became observant, traveling involved such huge sacrifices of pleasure and convenience that it almost wasn’t worth the effort. by Lieba Rudolph

All the people we told about our road trip from Pittsburgh to Florida said that we had to stop in Charleston, S.C. So we did. What they didn’t tell us was that one of the best things about the city was its restaurants.

I could have figured that out on my own, though. Delicious food smells were everywhere. I was surprised by how enticed I was by them, but I was even more delighted by the fact that finally, I wasn’t resentful of the culinary hardships of being a kosher traveler. Finally.Delicious food smells were everywhere

Once upon a time, what I loved most about traveling was enjoying the local delicacies with abandon. For years after we became observant, traveling involved such huge sacrifices of pleasure and convenience that it almost wasn’t worth the effort. When our kids were young, and traveling required bringing along pots and pans and cartons of food, as well as our rambunctious children, we stayed home a lot.

But now, as empty-nesters, the world feels like my oyster again (figuratively, anyway). Now we enjoy different activities when we travel to places without kosher restaurants. Sometimes, we’ll sit on a bench and people-watch—no, we’ll Jew-watch. During our stay in Charleston, we met an Israeli family and a French juif selling tablecloths at the historic City Market. (It’ll be a bonus if we actually end up using the tablecloth.)

And we don’t go hungry. If the lettuce holds up and the dressing doesn’t leak, the most gourmet item will be chicken salad on a bed of mixed greens. Because it’s just the two of us traveling, the food can be simple. (It must be ample, though; the kosher traveler should always be prepared to fall off the map for a day or two.) And there’s no lowering kosher standards just because we’re away from home. Our standards include keeping chalav Yisrael, eating milk products prepared under Jewish supervision only, which means that our dairy items are typically available only in kosher stores.

For this trip, eating chalav Yisrael translated into traveling with a stack of cheese slices (cheese can withstand almost anything) and almond milk instead of regular milk. Because almond milk is available everywhere, we could enjoy basics like cereal and coffee without having to ration our milk. Of course, it’s always good to plan for the worst-case scenario, like if the electric cooler that plugs into the cigarette lighter socket malfunctions completely. (All fruits and vegetables are kosher, and you can get kosher nuts almost anywhere.)

There are some material benefits to traveling in kosher style. Not eating in restaurants saves money and calories. And I don’t miss having to decide which restaurant to go to, always questioning if the other one would have been better. Also, eating in our hotel room leaves more time to Jew-watch and more money to buy tablecloths!

The spiritual benefits are even greaterspiritual benefits are even greater, although they took longer to appreciate. Keeping kosher felt close to martyrdom for me in our early years of observance, and keeping kosher when traveling only rubbed it in. But it was what I had to do for G‑d. It would be my mesirat nefesh, my self-sacrifice, for Him.

That may sound pathetic compared to the real sacrifices Jews have made for G‑d throughout the millennia, but here’s something to ponder: G‑d appreciates that people in our generation, being so far removed from Torah’s revelation, couldn’t withstand the tests of our spiritually hardier ancestors. Which means that our small efforts mean more to G‑d.

Even so, I’m never sure if I’m living up to my spiritual potential. For now, I’m grateful that it’s finally a joy to travel in kosher style, hopeful that it means I’m getting somewhere after all.

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STORY

Why Reb Nochum Fell from His Horse
Informed that his son was in grave danger, the rebbe merely motioned with his hand to continue the festivities. by Yehuda Shurpin

Rabbi Dovber Schneuri, known as the Mitteler Rebbe, was known for his penchant for joyfulness. He even had a group of chassidim who formed a kapelye (choir), and another group who were trained to perform tricks on horseback. On special, joyous occasions, he would ask these groups to perform, and he would stand on his balcony watching. The rebbe’s son Reb Nochum happened to be one of these horsemen.

Once, for no apparent reason, the rebbe suddenly instructed both of these groups to perform. This was extremely unusual. Yet the chassidim performed while the rebbe stood in his usual spot and watched the horsemen carefully.

Suddenly the rebbe’s son Reb Nochum fell off of his horse. Informed that his son was in grave danger, the rebbe merely motioned with his hand to continue the festivities.

After a while the rebbe asked them to stop, and stepped into his private office.

A doctor was summoned, and Reb Nochum’s situation proved far less severe than previously thought. He had broken a leg, but no more.

The rebbe was then asked why he had told the horsemen and choir to continue with their performance while his beloved son lay injured.

He responded, “Why don’t you ask me an even better question: why did I ask the horsemen and the choir to perform on a simple weekday in the first place?”

The rebbe explained: "Today was meant to be a harsh day for my son. I saw a grave accusation against him in the heavenly court. The prosecution was very powerful, and I could see only one way out: joy sweetens the attribute of severity. So I therefore called upon the choir to sing, and asked the riders to gladden everyone with their antics.

"The joy thus created tempered the strict decree against my son, but a small portion of the decree remained. That is why he fell off his horse and hurt his leg. However, the continued revelry lessened even this residual decree. G‑d willing, Nochum will recover in the very near future."1

FOOTNOTES

1.Otzar Sipurei Chabad, vol. 16, p. 55, quoting Reshimot Devarim by Rabbi Yehuda Chitrik.

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WOMEN

When My Son’s Stutter Became a Blessing
Five to ten minutes of stopping what I am doing and refocusing. Five to ten minutes a day of sitting or walking and listening, really listening. Five to ten minutes a day of connecting. How sweet, how nice! Is the stutter a problem, or is it a gift? by Elana Mizrahi

“Wow, one more thing on my plate. One more thing to think about and to schedule into a really crowded day.” These are some of my thoughts as I walk the busy streets of Geulah, a neighborhood in Jerusalem, on my way to a speech therapist with my son. I glance over at him. I adore him so much. “G‑d willing, this will be good, and this therapist will be a good shaliach [messenger],” I think. We are alone, just the two of us, walking. How sweet!

For three months, my son, who has a slight stutter, and I have met weekly with a speech therapist, who gives us techniques and tools to help him articulate more fluently. In addition to the weekly meetings, ourOne more thing on my plate! speech therapist gives us homework assignments, and from the very first meeting told me, “Now you have a new job. I’m training you as a speech clinician.” Every day, and preferably twice a day, I have to converse for five to 10 minutes with my son. And, of course, we are to try to use the tools that will help him speak more clearly and slowly.

Five to 10 minutes of stopping what I am doing and refocusing. Five to 10 minutes a day of sitting or walking and listening, really listening. Five to 10 minutes a day of connecting. How sweet, how nice! Is the stutter a problem, or is it a gift?

Another child, so full of energy and life. He bounces off the walls, hanging, swinging—boom, bang, crash! Every day. I’m exhausted just looking at him. He is a charmer, and I love him. But then I notice I am just a bit too excited for the moment when he is finally sound asleep, and our home is suddenly so peaceful. I seek advice, and it turns out that this child is very sensory. I am given a homework assignment for this child: Every 15 to 20 minutes, I should try to stop whatever it is that I am doing and hug him, swing him around, jump him up and down, and give him gum to chew. Can I do it? Stop what I am doing and just hug or twirl my son?

It’s 7:15 a.m., and I am in the midst of making lunches and getting everyone dressed. I turn around and see my little ball of energy. I put the sandwich down and grab his hands, and we start to dance and laugh. I grab the baby, and another child joins in. We’re jumping and dancing, and I say to myself, “How sweet!”

This sensory thing, this challenge—without it, would I ever just stop and hug, or twirl and dance? How sweet, how nice! What a gift from G‑d!

Now, it’s not that I don’t sit and have conversations with my children. It’s not that I don’t listen to them or spend quality time with them. And it’s not that I don’t touch and hug and play with them. Really, I do. But it could be that a day is so busy, that life gets so hectic, that hours go by and ... I don’t. So, G‑d sent me a little gift,G‑d gave me a gift wrapped up and packaged into a parcel called “therapy” or “necessity.”

There is a special mitzvahto say at least 100 blessings a day.1 This mitzvah is based on the verse in the Torah “And now, Israel, what (mah) does the L‑rd your G‑d ask of you? But to fear the L‑rd your G‑d, to walk in His ways and to love Him, and serve the L‑rd your G‑d with all of your heart and with all of your soul.”2

The Talmud explains that the word “what” (mah) can be read as me’ah, meaning 100.

Why is there an obligation to recite 100 blessings, when do we say them, and how would they help us come to love G‑d?

The word yehudi (Jew) is derived from the word l’hodot, “to appreciate” or “to give thanks.” Throughout the day, there are a million opportunities to appreciate and give thanks. We use the bathroom, and there is a blessing afterwards in praise of the One who created our bodies with such awesome wisdom. Before and after eating or drinking, there is a blessing. We recite blessings in our daily prayers asking for wisdom, redemption, health, livelihood and peace—to name a few. We bless and we praise a hundred times throughout the day.

And what do these blessings do? They connect us. We are required to bless because G‑d wants to us to converse with Him! He’s listening, and He wants us to talk. He wants us to stop every so often throughout our busy day and hug Him, twirl with Him, dance with Him. How sweet! What a gift!

FOOTNOTES

1.Talmud, Menachot 43b.

2.Deuteronomy 10:11.

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Why I Ended Things With My Date
I notice a man begging in the shadowed netherworld, sitting low down on his blanket stoop. My date strides past, without hesitation. by Rachel Glass

We walk timidly. Then with confidence. Our conversation gains pace. My reserve starts to beat a retreat, and his guard begins to drop. Our talk moves from the straightforward to the obscure, shifting from the concrete to the esoteric. Then, without warning, it happens, pitching me into dangerous waters. In the streetlights, I notice a man begging in the shadowed netherworld, sitting low down on his blanket stoop. The face looks up at us, hopeful, the mouth mutters something beseechingly. My date strides past,My date strides past, without hesitation without hesitation. I sense my pulse quicken as he continues to talk to me about the beauty of the Second Holy Temple.

And then the self-talk starts. He didn’t see the man. He is focused on what he is talking about. But small voices inside me begin to gain force. Tiny figures join together in my head and begin to murmur. The Second Holy Temple?! What about seeing other people’s pain! I shake my head to silence them. Don’t jump to conclusions, I tell them with some intensity. The buzz lowers. I tune back in to our conversation.

He is so earnest, so knowledgeable, I notice admiringly. I am pleased I am able to quiet the doubts. We wait to cross the road, the red light giving us cause to pause as a unit on the street corner. United in a common goal, I breathe, relieved. We move forward together on the instruction of a small green man. Absurdly, I imagine I see the green man take a threatening step towards my companion, two angry lines creasing his emerald forehead. I shake my head to clear it. I nearly laugh out loud. I feel lighter. Closer.

But then it happens again. We pass not one, not two, but three gray-clad figures who plead with us softly for a penny. Once more, without missing a beat, he walks on with a peaceful lack of awareness. I exhale and my eyes water. I see the people in my head clustering around each other, their disappointment clear. They band together, almost mob-like. Ask him! they demand in unison, some brandishing fists. Uncover his flaws! Strip away the illusion! They gain force. I’ll ask him, but only to give him a chance, to hear his side, I concede.

And so I do. I ask about why he did not stop, why he did not consider the plight of the people we had passed. He tells me, eloquently. Charity begins at home. Who knows where the money really goes—drugs, alcohol. He does not want to feed their addictions, this is not really helping them. I listen, but I don’t hear. I understand, but I do not want to comprehend. I give him counter arguments. I am not sure if I say them out loud or whether they take form only in my head. What of compassion? Cultivating sensitivity? Becoming a more merciful person? Not ignoring others’ plight? The seed of disappointment mushrooms within me, distancing me from him. In my head, it’s over.

Two months later, I walk down a different street, on a new date. This time the talk meanders through tales of our past, gently picking up speed. I begin to tense as I notice the streetlights illuminating a silhouette, hand poised to ask us for help. I remember the other encounter. I see the figures in my head taking position. I am a pace ahead before I realize that he has stopped. I turn back and almost miss the exchange of a coin and the dip of the head, a ghost of a smile. We walk on as if nothing had occurred to break the rhythm.

I am silenced. The people in my head seem unsure of how to react. They shrug, and only one stage whisper can be heard in the silence. He’s trying to make a good impression! But the others glare at him. He is shouted down.

We walk on down the street, heavy with sounds and suddenly bright with lights. I do not immediately notice the mother and son propping their cardboard sign against their legs. Again, like sleight of hand, he dispenses a coin with a shadow of a smile, without missing his turn in our conversation. I begin to glow in the light of his good nature.

But the voices give no rest. Their hum of dissent gets louder. He gives indiscriminately, he has no standards! Where are his values? Does he know what habits he might be encouraging? He is doing a disservice to this city, to humanity! Shoulders squared, faces set, the figures line up as if to embark on a military foray. Ask him! Confront him! they mandate.

I agree, for their arguments have begun to take root, and I too want to hear him justify himself. I bring it up. I express curiosity. I wonder if he can explain. He does. He tells me about the need to breed sensitivity, to show compassion. He tells me that where the money goes is not of his concern, he does not want to pass judgement, it is not his place. I respond, devil’s advocate taking hold of me. I mention charity beginning at home, I champion the cause of helping people help themselves. He goes quiet. In his head, it is over.He has no standards!

A long time passes before I notice the irony. I see the steps of what appears to be an intricate dance, positioning myself and repositioning myself in relation to the other. I think long and hard and I wonder why. A natural tendency to represent the underdog? A need to feel that the other person will accept me, even when I do not agree? A symbol of the fact that I see the two sides of a situation and I want its complexity, or perhaps my own, to be represented? I have not yet found the answer, but I am strikingly aware of the paradox.

I have also begun to notice something else. There are times when I pass people soliciting on the street without a second glance. And there are times when I reach out with a coin, to brighten their eyes. Interesting. I wonder what the figures in my head would say about that. But for now, I keep my mind’s eye firmly shut. For I want to make sense of this myself, without the tumult of other voices making themselves heard.

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LIFESTYLE

Savory Cheesy Red Pepper & Corn Filled Hamantaschen by Miriam Szokovski
Purim is less than a month away, so I've been thinking a lot abouthamantaschen. This is not a traditional recipe, but a fun and delicious one nonetheless. I've used puff pastry for the dough, and filled them with two mixtures—one that is corn based, and the other is made using red peppers. Both are dairy.

These are not folded like regular hamantaschen, because I found that the puff pastry opened up during the baking when I tried that. Instead I've used two separate triangular pieces per hamantasch, as you'll see below:

Make sure to egg them well before baking. This helps the puff pastry stick together, and also gives them that beautiful shininess.

Ingredients:
20 squares of puff pastry (4x4 inches each)
1 egg
optional: mustard
Red Pepper Filling:
1 onion, diced
2 red peppers, diced
1/3 cup ricotta cheese
1/3 cup mozzarella cheese
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. kosher salt
Sauté the onion in the oil and salt until golden. Add the red peppers and cook until soft. Let the mixture come to room temperature, then mix in the ricotta and mozzarella. Set aside.
Corn Filling:
3 corn cobs
1/3 cup ricotta cheese
1/3 cup mozzarella cheese
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
Place the corn in a pot and cover with cold water. Place the pot (cover on) on the stove and bring to a boil. Once the water boils, cook for another minute, then remove. Cut the corn off the cob and let it cool. Then mix in the cheeses and salt and set aside.
To Assemble:
Cut each puff pastry square in half diagonally.
Cut a triangular smaller triangular hole in half of the pieces.
Place a couple of tablespoons of the filling on the base triangle and cover with the "window" triangle.
Use a fork to press down the edges, making sure they are sealed well.
Beat the egg and brush over the top of the puff pastry. Place the triangles on a baking sheet lined with the parchment paper.
Bake on 400°F for 25-30 minutes.
Yields: 20 hamantaschen

What's the most different hamantasch you've ever made? Let us know in the comments.

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Art: Gathering to Build the Tabernacle by Yoram Raanan

Moses called the whole community of the children of Israel to assemble, and he said to them: "These are the things that the Lord commanded to make. Six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have sanctity, a day of complete rest to the Lord…” And Moses spoke to the entire community of the children of Israel, saying…”Take from yourselves an offering for the Lord; every generous hearted person shall bring.” (Exodus 35:1-4)

The Torah portion Vayakhel begins with Moses assembling the Israelites after coming down the mountain (on the day after Yom Kippur) to instruct them concerning the building of the mishkan (Tabernacle). It is interesting that Moses prefaced these very detailed instructions with the commandment to keep the Sabbath. The observance of the Shabbat is considered an atonement for the sin of the Golden Calf and brings the people back to a place of unity.

In this abstract rendition the people that gather are all different sizes, shapes and colors and yet are connected. As they move to a plateau of many candles, symbolizing Shabbat, the people themselves are lit up and look like candles. The contrasting earth tones mixed with the celestial blues enhance the feeling of unification of heaven and earth. Our sages say that it is only after the people were united again by keeping Shabbat, that each individual could bring a donation to the Tabernacle.

The larger figures in the upper background suggest these two different aspects of the gathering. On the one hand they reflect the generations of people who have enjoyed the lights of Shabbat and the centrality of Shabbat in Jewish history. On the other hand these figures suggest the people who came to bring their offerings for the building of the Holy Tabernacle.

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JEWISH NEWS

Thousands of CTeens Celebrate Jewish Unity in Times Square
Photo Gallery: They packed Times Square for a Havdalah ceremony and a concert as part of a three day Shabbaton weekend in New York. by Chabad.org Staff

(Photo: Bentzi Sasson/CTeen.com)
More than 2,000 Jewish teenagers from CTeen (Chabad Teen Network) chapters around the world filled Times Square in New York City after the conclusion of Shabbat for a Havdalah ceremony and concert. The event was part of a three-day program that included Shabbat services, meals and Torah study in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., as well as a visit to the Ohel in Queens, N.Y., the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe—RabbiMenachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory.

(Photo: Mendel Benhamou/CTeen.com)