The Symbol of the Jewish People

This article was constructed with the help of either writings, lectures or shiurim of  Rabbi’s  Chaim Shmuelevitz z”tl, Pinchas Winston, Eliyahu ben Chaim,  Asher Hurzberg, Binny Friedman, Dovid Green and Dr. Steven Fine

“Shalom” – are we ever going to have peace with the nations of the world, or for that matter, ourselves? It seems very remote; perhaps when Hillary Clinton grows a beard or Donald Trump realizes that he is serving the country and not the country is serving him. Incredibly, even our national identity is being hidden from us. One of the signature symbols of the Jewish nation is the Menorah. We, the Jewish people, have an illustrious and historic past. Miraculously we’ve persevered through thousands of years of persecution and pogroms … just ask your Abba, your Sabbath and Savta, and they’ll tell you firsthand what troubles they’ve encountered. Nonetheless, we can hold our head up high with pride. We have kept our traditions, our culture our commitment to Torah and G-d, well at least some of us, while our past enemies vanished with no trace. However because of the many attacks and invasions over the years against us, of which there have been a few, we have lost many of the physical treasures which symbolizes and stamps our commitment to G-d.

In every battles and the invasion, the enemy, whomever they were at the time, always managed to take booty, especially, sacred objects which G-d commanded us to use for him. At times, it’s quite embarrassing, the Gentile nations know better than us how valuable they were. There is a famous story of the discovery of the golden Menorah by the Romans:

The Romans were afraid to enter the Kodesh HaKokoshim – the holy of holies – after conquering our holy Temple. They knew who ever enters there and is not worthy dies. So they said “Whoever will volunteer to enter can take whatever he wants for himself!” The rebellious Jew, Yosef Mishteh said defiantly “I will.” He proceeded to take out the beautiful golden menorah only for it to be taken away by the Romans. “This is too beautiful for a Jewish commoner. This should be given to the Emperor instead. We’ll let you go in again and take out whatever you want.” However this time he refused. “I will not desecrate my G-d a second time,” he said. Even after they threatened death he still refused. They executed him.

Aside from the many atrocities that the Romans committed against the Jewish people, one was the desecration of sacred Temple property. The very symbol of this is not in Israel, but in Rome: the Arch of Titus. Like most triumphal arches this one celebrates a victory of war, and in this case, Rome’s crushing of the Jewish revolt that resulted in the destruction of the Temple.

Inside the arch is a bas-relief sculpture showing the Roman army carrying the spoils of war down through the streets of Rome. The most notable item is a large menorah being carried down the Via Scara, and it is believed that the actual menorah is stashed in the secret tomb of Alric the Goth at the bottom of the Busento River.

What is history and what is myth? What is true and what is legend? These are questions that arise from time to time and specifically apply to the whereabouts of the Menorah.

Reporting on his 1996 meeting with Pope John Paul II, Israel’s Minister of Religious Affairs Shimon Shetreet said, according to the Jerusalem Post, that “he had asked for Vatican cooperation in locating the gold menorah from the Second Temple that was brought to Rome by Titus in 70 C.E.” Shetreet claimed that recent research at the University of Florence indicated the Menorah might be among the hidden treasures in the Vatican’s storerooms. “I don’t say it’s there for sure,” he said, “but I asked the Pope to help in the search as a goodwill gesture in recognition of the improved relations between Catholics and Jews.” Witnesses to this conversation “tell that a tense silence hovered over the room after Shetreet’s request was heard.” There was research done on Shetreet’s reference at the University of Florence, but no that was contacted there had ever heard of it.

This story has repeated itself a number of times since. One of the two chief rabbis of Israel, on their historic visit to the Vatican in 2004, asked about the Menorah, as did the President of Israel, Moshe Katzav, on another occasion. This is the official statement from the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs via email: The requests by Shetreet, the president, and the chief rabbis reflect the long-held belief that the Catholic Church, as the inheritor of Rome, took possession of the empire’s booty-as documented by the Arch of Titus. It is thus assumed that, among other treasures looted from the Jewish people, the Temple menorah is stashed away someplace in the storerooms of the Vatican

These requests of the Church are a fascinating extension of the Jewish hope that the Temple Menorah taken by Titus would be returned “home.” The legends of the Menorah at the Vatican have considerable currency. In one version, a certain American rabbi entered the Vatican and saw the Menorah. In another version, it was an Israeli Moroccan rabbi known as “Rabbi Pinto” who saw it. In a third version, when the former Chief Rabbi of Israel, Isaac Herzog, went to rescue Jewish children in Europe, he visited Pope Pius XII (1939-1958) at the Vatican. According to this story, the Pope showed Rabbi Herzog the Menorah, but refused to return it.

It is frustrating how these valuable and symbolic treasures of our heritage have vanished. And there they wait, hidden from the eyes of all mankind, until the time that Heaven deems fit to reveal them once again.

It is interesting to note that although the commandment is the lighting of the menorah in our holy Temple, we find the obligation stretching further demanding the preparation of the wicks. The format in which the Torah presents us with this mitzvah is not a commandment to light the menorah, but rather an obligation to bring oil, in order that the wicks might one day be lit in the Mishkan. In other words the preparation is part of the commandment. Incredibly, Maimonides (Sefer HaMitzvoth; Aseh (positive commandment) 25) actually defines this mitzvah as: “La’aroch Nerot ba’Mikdash.” “To set up wicks (candles) in the Temple.” (And in his Hilchot Temidin 3:10-12, he clearly views setting up the candles and lighting them as essentially the same mitzvah).

Normally there is a separation between the mitzvah itself, and the preparation for the mitzvah. If one is obligated to eat matzah on Passover, the baking process is not part of the biblical obligation; it is simply the vehicle through which we make ready to fulfill this mitzvah. So why is this mitzvah, (the lighting of the menorah) different? Indeed, the Torah here does not even mention the menorah itself?

In regards to Moshe, there is something very unique, as well as highly unusual, in the topic of the menorah and the Tabernacle activity, where we find (parshat Tetzaveh)) Moshe’s name omitted completely. This is the only portion (since his birth in the portion of Exodus) where Moshe’s name does not appear.

The Midrash suggests that in the sin of the Golden calf (32:33), Moshe says to G-d: “Me’cheini Na’ Mi’Sifrechah”, “Erase me from your book.” In other words, if I cannot achieve forgiveness for the Jewish people, then I don’t want to be in the Torah. And, despite the fact that Hashem does indeed forgive us, nonetheless part of Moshe’s declaration came to pass, and thus, Moshe’s name is, indeed, not mentioned in one parsha pertaining to the Temple work.

Even more intriguing is the fact that the Pri Tzaddik explains that Moshe’s soul was actually the re-incarnation of Noach, and that the word “Mecheini” (“erase me”) are the same letters as the phrase “Mei Noach” “the floodwaters of Noach”, which is how the book of Chronicles refers to the flood, implying that on some level the tragedy of the flood was Noach’s responsibility. Unlike Abraham’s attempt to save Sedom, Noach seems to have made no effort to save the world and avert the destruction of the flood.

Moshe, however, saves the Jewish people literally putting his own name on the line rather than ‘allow’ G-d to destroy His people. On a mystical level, if you will, Moshe ‘fixes’ the error that came into the world in the time of Noach and achieves what is known as ‘Tikkun’ or a ‘repair in the world’ for Noach’s soul.

So what does all this have to do with our portion and the mitzvah of the menorah?

Firstly we have to explore the importance of what the menorah enumerates. We read in our parashah that Yitzchak brought his new wife, Rivka, into the tent of his mother Sarah. Rashi z”l writes, “He brought her into the tent and she became exactly like his mother Sarah.” He explains that several miracles that used to occur while Sarah was living began to occur again, one of them being that the Shabbat candles burned from one Shabbat eve to the next.

Our Sages teach us that light is associated with peace, because light allows man to differentiate between things. Peace exists when proper boundaries exist, which is possible only when there is light. In the dark, everything is jumbled, and there is no differentiation and therefore no peace. This is why morning is called “boker”-because the morning light permits “bikkur” / inspection, which leads to differentiation. On Shabbat there is peace because man refrains from work and rests.

Perhaps the significance of Sarah and Rivka’s Shabbat candles burning all week is that these Matriarchs distinguished themselves by their ability to differentiate where their husbands did not-in Sarah’s case, recognizing that Yishmael was a bad influence on Yitzchak; in Rivka’s case, recognizing that Yaakov, not Esav, deserved to receive Yitzchak’s blessing

The morning is a time of optimism. Awaking from the semi-death of sleep, the light and warmth of day promises rebirth, renewal, and success. If one is sensitive enough, he can feel it that which is absent from darkness. Usually one’s illness is more apparent at night. One cannot read Chumash at night (Torah sh’bchtav), only the Oral Torah. The reason is Written Torah is black and white and a Jew can’t get around it. However the Sages come and qualify the laws. Sure one cannot eat chametz on Pesach and has to relinquish ownership, but one can make a contract and sell what in his home without physically removing it, The Sages put the measure of mercy into the laws.

“And it was evening (first) and (then) it was morning; one day.”

Figuratively speaking, night represents pain and suffering. Day represents light and salvation.” For the righteous, day follows the evening. The path of the good may start out dark and painful, but in the end, it is bright, shiny and pleasant. For the evil, their path begins pleasant, but it ends with darkness and suffering. This is also the reason why the Sabbath comes on the seventh day of the week. It teaches us that there is a reward in the end for our pain and difficulties which we endure initially by taking the path of the good. (Imrei Shefer)

Moshe’s greatest attribute was his ability to recognize that he was really only a vessel for something much greater than himself. The Torah describes Moshe as the greatest Anav, the most humble person that ever lived. More than anything else Moshe was able to get out of his own way.

How often do we get so wrapped up in ourselves, and so caught up in making sure we get what we want, and what we need, that we forget that it isn’t and never was supposed to be about us; we are merely the vessel for something much greater, for the entire world.

Can I be the earth others walk on? Can I get in touch with the very real notion that I am meant to be a vehicle for light? Being a vehicle for G-d, being able to see myself merely as the wick for the flame….

Moshe was so in touch with the reality of what he was a vessel for that he was able to demonstrate that without the Jewish people, there was no longer a point to his existence.

In a time when rulers and monarchs were acting as gods, and assuming that the people existed to serve them, Moshe was teaching the world that it is not the people who serve the leader, but the leader who is meant to be a vessel to serve the people, and indeed the world.

And that is what this week’s portion, and particularly this mitzvah is all about. It is about connecting to real purpose, and valuing the vehicle for achieving that purpose.

Just like Moshe, the Menorah was only the vehicle for bringing light into the world. So often we are so dazzled by the Menorahs in this world, we forget they only have value if they are vehicles for light. Our mission as a people in the end is simply to bring light into the world.

Yet, this mitzvah is given to Aaron and his sons before they are actually invested with the mantle of the Priesthood. (See 27:21, and 28:1)

Apparently, the mitzvah of lighting the menorah was given to Aaron irrespective of his position as a Kohen, a priest. In the end, the priesthood was Aaron’s role, but the lighting of the menorah reflected who Aaron really was, and what he was all about.

In fact, it explains why it is Aaron fulfilling this mitzvah, and not Moshe. Shouldn’t it have been Moshe’s job to light the Menorah, especially as it was Moshe who brought the Torah to the world?

The answer is, Moshe was meant to bring the Torah down to earth, but it was Aaron’s mission to spread it to the world. And the reason Aaron was such an appropriate vehicle for doing this was because the attribute that epitomized Aaron was shalom; peace. In Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) Aaron is described as the Ohev Shalom and the Rodef Shalom: the lover and pursuer of peace. The idea of being a vehicle for bringing G-d in to the world is all about peace.

In fact, the word Shalom itself is one of the names of G-d (hence the tradition that we do not say Shalom in the bathroom…). Through peace, Shalom, we succeed not only in bringing G-d into the world, but also in spreading G-d to the rest of the world.

There is an interesting connection between this mitzvah and the concept of Shalom.

The Talmud (Shabbat 21a) draws an equation between the kindling of lights in the Beit HaMikdash (the Temple), and the candles we light in our homes every Friday afternoon, ushering in Shabbat.

The Talmud explains (23b) that (at least according to Rashi), the essence of the Shabbat candles is that they bring Shalom Bayit; they bring peace into the home. Ultimately, suggests Rashi, there cannot be true peace in a place without light. The explanation given there is that if a person is stumbling in the darkness, he is not at peace. (And indeed, if people are moving around in the darkness, they will inevitably bang into each other and create discord between themselves.)

But perhaps there is a different way of looking at this idea. Ultimately, it is my ability to see and be at one with everyone, (Shalom which is based on the root Shalem, or whole) which is what peace is all about.

Shabbat begins with the lighting of candles, because Shabbat reminds us what this world is really all about, and what it is supposed to be: all about light. And if the Mikdash is a sanctuary in space, whose essence is related to light, Shabbat is a sanctuary in time whose essence is also light. (Thus, unless one specifies otherwise, the lighting of the candles automatically ushers in the Shabbat.)

May G-d bless us soon, to become, as a people the vehicle for light we are meant to be, and create together a world of light and shalom, truly whole all of us together.

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