Where Was The Guardian Angel? – Mishpatim 5785

Parashat Mishpatim occupies a central place within God’s epic revelation to the Israelites at Mount Sinai. It opens with Sefer HaBrit, the Book of the Covenant, outlining the mitzvot that the Israelites will be expected to uphold. Their agreement is captured by an enthusiastic, two word response, na’aseh v’nishma, “We will do and we will listen.”

Among God’s commitments to the Israelites is a promise to send what is, in effect, a guardian angel to protect them.

I am sending a messenger before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have made ready. Pay heed to him and obey him. Do not defy him, for he will not pardon your offenses, since My Name is in him; but if you obey him and do all that I say, I will be an enemy to your enemies and a foe to your foes.

Exodus 23:20-22

This angel will be a guide, a judge, as well as a protector and a champion for the Jewish people. Who is this angel? Many of our midrashim and commentators try to answer this question. One explanation in particular stands out to me. After citing several interpretations offered by others, Nachmanides, the 13th century Spanish Rabbi, shares his own. “The true understanding is that this angel whom they are promised is the mal’akh hago’el – ‘the redeeming angel’ of Genesis 48:16, who has God’s name ‘in him’…”

Nachmanides draws our attention to a particularly special moment.  Jacob is nearing the end of his life. He calls Joseph to his side, along with his grandsons, Ephraim and Menashe. Blessing, them, Jacob invokes the angel who has been with him, protecting him throughout his life.

Ha’mal’akh hago’el oti mi’kol ra—
The angel who has redeemed me from all harm—
Bless the lads.
In them may my name be recalled,
And the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac,
And may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth.

Genesis 48:16

As Nachmanides develops the idea, he explains that this Redeeming Angel is in fact not an angel at all, but rather the aspect of God that watches over and governs the physical world in which we live.

Jacob, despite a life filled with adversity and danger, experiences God’s protection and blessing. This is what he wishes for his grandchildren. And this is what God invokes at Mount Sinai, promising to watch over the Jewish people through the adversity and danger that they will face in the generations to follow, up to and including our own.

This is what I was thinking of this week, as we witnessed the bodies of Ariel and Kfir Bibas returned to their families. With their bright red hair, Ariel and Kfir, just 4 years old and 9 months old when they were taken hostage by Hamas on October 7, 2023, became the symbolic faces of the entire war.

On the morning of October 7, Yarden and Shiri Bibas, with their two sons, Ariel and Kfir, hid as Hamas terrorists stormed through their Kibbutz, Nir Oz.  In an attempt to draw the terrorists away from his family, Yarden left the safe room and was captured. A little while later, Shiri and her children were also taken and brought, alive, into the Gaza Strip. Photographs of a terrified and bleeding mother and her crying children showed them alive in Khan Younis later that day. Shiri’s parents, Margit and Yossi Silberman, who also lived in Kibbutz Nir Oz, were among the more than 1,200 Israelis who were brutally murdered.

Since December 2023, Hamas claimed that Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir were killed by an Israeli attack. The IDF never confirmed what happened to them, and the family refused to give up hope until their bodies were returned home.

According to the terms of the current cease fire, Yarden was released on February 1, after nearly 500 days.  At the time of his release, he did not know that his wife and children had been murdered.

We now have a better idea about what they suffered. On Thursday of this week, as part of the terms of the cease fire, the bodies of Shiri, Ariel ,and Kfir were to be released, along with that of 83 year old Oded Lifshitz. In a cruel spectacle, similar to the Hamas propaganda that accompanied the previous releases, coffins were brought up on stage with celebratory music, taunting photographs and messages in Arabic, Hebrew, and English. This prompted widespread condemnation. Even the Chair of the UN Human Rights Commission condemned Hamas’ actions. “The parading of bodies in the manner seen this morning is abhorrent and cruel, and flies in the face of international law.”

As the coffins passed from Hamas to the Red Cross to the IDF, Israelis lined the streets and the squares of the nation in tears. The process of mourning, more than 500 days later, could finally begin. 

But the horrors were not over. Israeli forensic teams confirmed the identities of Ariel and Kfir, along with Oded Lifshitz. Physical evidence revealed that the children had been murdered by bare hands in cold blood in November 2023.The fourth body, it turned out, was not Shiri’s. As I was preparing my drash, Hamas had just released another body which they claimed was Shiri’s.

What are we supposed to feel at this moment? Anger, rage, sadness, grief, relief – so many swirling, conflicting emotions.

The Torah’s promise of mal’akh go’el – a Guardian Angel, rings hollow at a time like this.  Where was the Guardian angel while innocent children, Ariel and Kfir, were brutally taken, imprisoned and murdered?

I imagine the Israelites at the base of Mount Sinai may have had similar questions.  How many children were cruelly cast into the Nile by Pharaoh and his decree? Where was God when that was happening? Can they really count on God to protect them now?

Are there words that can adequately express what we are feeling?

There have been a lot of statements put out over the last two days expressinga lot of emotions. Several of them cited passages from our holy texts, in particular the Book of Psalms, to capture what we might want to say to God right now. From Psalm 91, which is traditionally recited while accompanying a body to its final resting place. It expresses faith in God’s justice and protection. 

For He will order His angels
to guard you wherever you go.

Psalm 91:11

Words that may ring hollow in this moment. Next is from Psalm 94, which we recite as the daily Psalm for Wednesday. It is a demand for an absent God of justice to take vengeance against those who commit evil.

God of retribution, LORD,
God of retribution, appear! 
Rise up, judge of the earth,
give the arrogant their deserts! 
How long shall the wicked, O LORD,
how long shall the wicked exult,

Psalm 94;1-3

A Psalm that does not appear in our regular liturgy is Psalm 83. Its words feel terribly fitting.

O God, do not be silent;
do not hold aloof;
do not be quiet, O God! 
For Your enemies rage,
Your foes assert themselves.
They plot craftily against Your people,
take counsel against Your treasured ones. 
They say, “Let us wipe them out as a nation;
Israel’s name will be mentioned no more.” 
Unanimous in their counsel
they have made an alliance against You— 
…May they be frustrated and terrified,
disgraced and doomed forever.

Psalm 83:2-6, 18

And finally, Psalm 147, which we recite every day of the year during Pesukei D’zimra. These words of comfort are perhaps what we need most of all. 

God heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.

Psalm 147:3 

May God grant comfort to the Bibas family, the whole House of Israel, and all who suffer in the world. May God heal those broken in body and spirit. May God restore to their families all of our hostages, and bring home the bodies of those who have been murdered so that their families can begin to mourn.

The Women’s Mirrors – Vayakhel 5776

In this morning’s Torah portion, we read of the Israelites’ building of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, along with all of its furnishings and the special clothing of the Priests.  This is one of two parashiyot that describe this.  And, this is after God has communicated all of these instructions to Moses on Mt. Sinai over the course of two previous parashiyot.  That the Torah takes so much time to describe the details not once, but two separate times is an indication of the important role of the mishkan in ancient Israelite religion.  The mishkan, the portable Temple that the Israelites carried with them for forty years in the wilderness, symbolically represents the permanent Temple that stood in Jerusalem for nearly one thousand years and served as the center of Jewish religious life.

Once the mishkan, and later the Temple, was put into service, there were very specific regulations about who could enter its precincts, as well as how close to the innermost chamber one could go.  Only the kohanim, the priests, could enter the inner sancta, and only the High Priest could enter the Holy of Holies, and just once a year.  Common Israelite males were allowed inside up to a certain point from which they could watch some of the rituals, but the furthest into the interior that women were allowed did not even provide a few of the priestly service.

It was believed that if a person transgressed the furthest boundary permitted to him or her, that person risked being struck down by heavenly fire.  This included, by the way, a priest who entered while not in a state of ritual purity.

With such rigid, restrictive access to the Temple, it is somewhat surprising that the construction of the mishkan was so democratic.  The Torah regularly emphasizes the involvement of all of the Israelites.  They brought voluntary donations of precious metals, stones, cloth, leather, and wood.  A half shekel tax was required of every Israelite male.  Most significantly, everyone was given the opportunity to be involved in the craftsmanship.  It was a meritocracy.  Whoever had the skills in weaving, building, metalwork, etc., was invited to participate, regardless of tribe, pedigree, or gender.

What stands out in particular are the numerous mentions of women’s contributions to the mishkan.  Over and over, the Torah makes sure to tell us about women’s involvement in the construction of the mishkan.  And not simply general statements.  We know about specific contributions that they made.

Because the texts that we have inherited reflect more patriarchal times, whenever the Torah does say something about a woman, either individually or as a class, we ought to pay close attention.  Sometimes, stories involving women are more fully developed.  On other occasions, we find oblique references which might hint at a more complete oral tradition that has been lost to us.

Towards the end of Parashat Vayakhel, we read about the kiyor nechoshet.  The bronze laver, or washing fountain.

וַיַּעַשׂ אֵת הַכִּיּוֹר נְחשֶׁת וְאֵת כַּנּוֹ נְחֹשֶׁת בְּמַרְאֹת הַצֹּבְאֹת אֲשֶׁר צָבְאוּ פֶּתַח אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד.

“He made the laver of bronze and its stand of bronze from the mirrors of the women who flocked to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.”  (Exodus 38:8)

The fountain was used by the priests to ritually wash their hands and feet before entering the holy precincts and performing the rituals.  For some reason, the Torah wants us to take note that the metal used for constructing this laver came from melted down women’s mirrors.  In ancient times, a hand mirror was made out of a highly polished piece of bronze or other metal and was quite valuable.  Glass was not available.

Why this detail?  To further confuse matters, when Moses received instructions for how to build the fountain back in chapter 30, there was no indication of the source of the metal.  That detail appears only here.  We are left with questions.  Why was the fountain made out of these melted down mirrors?  Why are the women described in this unusual way:

הַצֹּבְאֹת אֲשֶׁר צָבְאוּ פֶּתַח אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד

– depending on the translation “the women who flocked / performed tasks / gathered together at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting?”  This expression appears here and in only one other place in the Bible.

The contemporary Bible scholar Nahum Sarna claims that these were women who “performed menial work” and that they were “at the bottom of the occupational and social scale.”  The Torah goes out of its way to record their donation of these personal items because they “displayed unselfish generosity and sacrificial devotion.” (JPS Bible Commentary, Exodus, p. 230)  Even the lowliest women gave up their most precious possessions to build the mishkan.

The thirteenth century Spanish commentator Ramban offers an explanation of the p’shat, the plain sense meaning, of the verse.  The women were so eager to participate in the building of the mishkan that they voluntary offered a very valuable, personal belonging.  The word tzov’ot is used because the women assembled like an army with their mirrors.  Tzava means army or host.  Tzov’ot conveys a sense of enthusiasm and excitement.  They rushed, like soldiers assembling for a muster.

The commentator Ibn Ezra offers a sober explanation.  (*You might not like this.)  The way of women, he says, is make themselves appear pretty by looking at their faces in metal or glass mirrors in order to arrange the hats on their heads.  There were some Israelite women who abandoned the vanities of the world, giving up their mirrors which they no longer needed.  They would come every day to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting to pray and hear the words of the mitzvot.

In a slight variation, the commentator Hizkuni says that the women assembled there daily to hear the praises and singing of the kohanim and leviim.  Another commentator, Sforno, claims that they came to hear the words of the Living God.

All three of these explanations set up a dichotomy between concern with female attention to physical appearance, on the one hand, and piety, on the other.

Rashi cites a midrash that offers a more colorful explanation.  When the Israelite women showed up with all of their mirrors, Moses was disgusted.  These objects that women use to adorn themselves serve the purposes of the yetzer hara, the evil inclination.  Moses wants to reject the gift.  But the Holy One sees something different.  God says to Moses: Accept them.  These mirrors are more precious to me than anything else!  When the Israelites were in Egypt, the men would be off working in the fields, too exhausted to even come home after work.  So their wives would bring food and drink out to them in the fields and feed them.  And they would bring their mirrors.  They would entice their men, looking together at their reflections and exclaiming, “look how much prettier I am than you.”  And they would awaken their husbands’ desires.  That is how the Israelite population flourished in Egypt.

The Torah describes the mirrors with the words b’marot hatzov’ot.  The Israelite women used these mirrors to create a host – an army – of children in Egypt.  The Talmud cites this midrash as one of several supports for the claim that the redemption of the Israelites from slavery took place due to the righteousness of women.

Why were these mirrors used specifically to make the bronze fountain?  Rashi explain that the fountain played a central role in subduing a jealous husband and restoring peace to the home.  The ritual of the sotah, the suspected adulteress, involved the use of water drawn from the bronze fountain.  A woman whose husband suspected her of cheating with another man would drink the water in order to prove her innocence.

In contrast to Ibn Ezra and the others, Rashi’s explanation integrates sexuality with pious intent.  In the midrash, Moses acts like a prude, but God sees something holy and life-affirming in these mirrors.

Yet all of these explanations reflect the age-old stereotype that women are vain and focused on their looks and must use their sexuality to succeed.  For Ibn Ezra and the others, it is a rejection of the mirror, a denial of their sexuality, that leads to piety.  For Rashi, it is the wives’ embrace of sexual desire during a particularly dark and depressing time in our history that prompts God’s praise.  For all of them, the fountain made from the women’s mirrors is the primary item in the Temple that restores the relationship between husband and wife when she is suspected of sexual impropriety.

Because our traditional texts so rarely describe women’s experiences, we must try to celebrate them where they occur, even though they may reflect a patriarchal worldview.  As society has become more egalitarian over the past two centuries, we have tried to include women in traditionally male aspects of religious life.  Perhaps we ought to consider seeing men in light of women’s traditional roles as well.

Even today, in 2016, in Northern California, we still fall into traditional patterns of gender stereotypes in so many ways.

I like the idea of God rebuking Moses, almost playfully, for his negative reaction to the women’s mirrors.  There is a wisdom and a piety expressed in the ability to integrate the physical with the spiritual.  It is the women who are aware of this.  It is Moses, and by extension the men, who are in the dark.  It seems that God wants to bring us into the light.