Chapter 21

[1-2] And these are the laws that you shall set before them. If you buy a Jewish bondman: The Torah defines two categories of bondmen: non-Jewish and Jewish; different laws apply to each category. This verse, which discusses the Jewish bondman, is addressed in the singular—as if directly to Moses. As we will explain in our comments on the following verse, the laws of slavery allegorically reflect varying degrees of servitude to God. The laws applying to the non-Jewish bondman are not discussed at this time, for, as we will explain presently, every person can attain that level of servitude to God on his own. For the greater, more spiritual levels, however, Moses' assistance is required. Thus, God tells Moses:

These are the laws you shall set before them…: "Set these guidelines before the Jewish people; make these spiritual levels accessible to them. Moreover, ensure that they actually attain these levels; make them a part of them."1 As a result of this help from Moses, it becomes possible for every Jew to—

…buy a Jewish bondman: to attain (the degree of spiritual servitude personified by) the Jewish bondman.2

[2] If you buy a Jewish bondman: The case of a Jew who is sold by the court as a bondman in order to repay what he stole is quite rare and it reflects negatively on the Jewish people, focusing on the sinners among them. It is nevertheless chosen to open the Torah's presentation of civil law.

One could argue that such a Jew is not important; after all, he succumbed to the materialistic desires of his body, rather than following the calling of his soul. Why bother with him? Therefore, the Torah begins by dealing specifically with this type of person and immediately informs us that even this sinner must be treated with respect and compassion. Regardless of a Jew's spiritual state, he is still one of God's chosen people.

This compassionate approach to justice, exemplified in the Torah's treatment of the bondman, is the very heart of the Jewish civil law system, whose thrust is the refinement and elevation of the physical and material day-to-day life of a Jew. The case study of a bondman, therefore, is a fitting introduction to the ensuing legal discussions.3

Another reason the subject of bondmen was chosen to begin this portion is because of its spiritual significance. We are all expected to serve God with total devotion. There are three levels of this devotion to God, corresponding allegorically to the three types of bondmen:

The Non-Jewish Bondman

Although the sages advise against it on humanitarian grounds, it is theoretically permissible to have a non-Jewish bondman do work that has no apparent purpose. Thus, even though this was probably rarely if ever done, the fact that it is permissible in theory indicates that this level of bondage is one in which the bondman does not necessarily feel any personal satisfaction in his work. Such a bondman would understandably prefer to indulge his natural propensity for permissiveness and irresponsibility rather than submit to a life of service to someone else. He works either out of resignation to his stature or due to fear of punishment, but not because he expects any emotional satisfaction.4

This type of service is similar to our relationship with God before we have developed any enthusiasm for our Divine mission. Our a priori animal nature still has the upper hand and our emotional focus is still on the fulfillment of our material needs and desires. We may perform our religious duties perfectly, but that is merely the result of our reticence to sin. Alternatively, we may indeed succumb to sin, but we struggle against our evil inclination and attempt to mend our ways. In either case, our submission is merely the result of God's will having been imposed upon us, or, worse, no more than our fear of physical or spiritual punishment. Our actions are technically correct, but void of any positive emotional involvement.

At this level, we study Torah coldly and for ulterior motives: for the sake of knowing how to behave (and thus avoid punishment), for the enjoyment provided by the intellectual stimulation, for employment purposes, or even in order to find fault in another's behavior. Similarly, we fulfill God's commandments, but we do them either by rote, to avoid punishment, or for personal aggrandizement.

The Jewish Bondman

In contrast, it is forbidden by law to force a Jewish bondman into meaningless labor. Therefore, this type of bondman reaps satisfaction through his labor, and consequently harbors positive feeling for it, even toiling enthusiastically.

However, servant work may generally be divided into two types: the ongoing, routine work necessary for the upkeep of the master's household and the more delicate, refined work involved in preparing the household's meals. The Jewish bondman's work is the former; he works around the house, not in the kitchen.

Spiritually, the Jewish bondman personifies the stage in which we find meaning and enjoyment in our Divine mission because we realize that it is in fact the best way of satisfying our animal desires. We have learned that the joys of serving God are incomparably more sublime than the transient joys of material life and that the pain of living an ungodly life is greater than any other pain we may fear. We have channeled all of our faculties in the proper directions.

Although this is a major step in the right direction, we have still not fundamentally transformed ourselves. We are still bound by the self-centered limitations of our nature; we are simply using that nature to serve God. Our emotions are involved, but we have not yet sublimated them to God altogether.

In contrast to life at the level of the "non-Jewish bondman," we study the Torah for a noble purpose: to be connected with God. Nonetheless, we strive to be connected to God for our own benefit rather for the sake of God or the Torah. The same is true of how we fulfill the commandments: we fulfill them in order to draw God's infinite light into our soul. We recognize that God is the source of life and that the way to connect to Him is through His commandments; therefore we comply with His will.

The Jewish Bondwoman

The highest level of service is that of the Jewish bondwoman. She plays a central and vital role in the master's household: she prepares the food and is thus responsible for the health, enjoyment, and social welfare of the family. Under certain circumstances, the Jewish bondwoman can actually marry into the household.

Spiritually, this is the stage where we are no longer limited by our egocentric nature, for we have risen above it. We no longer focus solely on our own good; we feel part of God and His agenda becomes ours.

At this level, we study the Torah for its own sake. We have become so connected with the Torah that we have become one with it, so there is no dichotomy between the student and the subject. Similarly, we fulfill the commandments because that is who we are rather than for any benefits that may result.

The Torah begins its legal code with the case of the Jewish bondman because, once the Torah has been given, the opportunity exists for us to orient our emotions toward Godliness. Then, as we mature spiritually, we can advance to the level of the Jewish bondwoman and identify with God totally.5

[2] He shall serve for six years, and in the seventh he shall go free: Allegorically, the six years allude to the six millennia between the creation of the world and the messianic era. During the first six millennia, we must struggle with the imperfections of the world and work to improve and perfect it. But in the seventh millennia, "he shall go free," for there will no longer be any need for work.6

The bondman's release in the seventh year is dependent his having worked during the preceding six years. The knowledge that his labor will ultimately bring him to freedom makes it easier for him to work; the promise of liberty inspires him to work with joy and vigor.

At this point in our history, the knowledge that we stand so close to the end of the sixth millennium should imbue our labor with the joyous anticipation of the impending redemption.7

[6] His master shall then pierce his ear with an awl: The person in question is a thief, who not only committed the crime but also subsequently squandered the money, leaving nothing with which to repay the person he robbed. Yet, God does not exempt even such a scoundrel from his obligation to abide by the Torah's laws. He, too, was present at Mount Sinai, and was indelibly affected by hearing God's voice. Precisely because of this fact, he is held accountable for any later disobedience, and therefore, despite the fact that it is normally forbidden to injure or harm to another Jew, the court is instructed to pierce this person's ear.8

[10] Food, clothing, or conjugal rights: These are the husband's three basic obligations to his wife.

According to the Midrash,9 God Himself allegorically fulfills all the precepts that He commanded the Jewish people. The relationship between God and the Jewish people is compared to that between husband and wife.10 Therefore, God has "obligated" Himself to always provide the Jewish people with all of their needs.11

In spiritual terms, our one "need" is Divine consciousness, the awareness that allows us to lead spiritual lives. In this context, food, clothing, and conjugal rights are three different levels of Divine consciousness that God provides us with:

"Food" connotes spiritual consciousness that can be "digested," i.e., grasped. This is the level of Divine consciousness wherein we are conscious of God's presence within reality. This awareness helps us relate to all aspects of life as opportunities to connect to God. Such consciousness is only possible when God "lowers" Himself to be truly within the reach of human comprehension.

"Clothing" does not sustain us, it only protects us. Although, like food, it is also tailored to us, we nonetheless wear it outside ourselves. Clothing therefore connotes higher levels of spiritual consciousness that we can conceive of intellectually but can grasp in only the most general terms. When we become aware of the existence of these spiritual levels, this awareness can indeed "protect" us from the invasion of negativity. Nonetheless, our awareness of these levels is too abstract to enhance the way we relate to the world in any concrete form. Thus it remains beyond, or "outside" of us. At this level, too, God has "lowered" Himself, albeit to a lesser degree than with "food."

The highest of the three levels of consciousness is "conjugal rights," reflecting a true union with the essence of God. This level is one of pure Divine recognition, which is only possible because of God's great love for us.12

In this allegorical context, the Torah is the marriage contract between God and Israel. Just as the three above-mentioned obligations are written into the marriage contract between husband and wife, so, too, the Torah reflects these three categories:

"Food"—that which can be fully digested—refers to the revealed aspects of Torah. These aspects can be fully grasped by human intellect and become completely integrated into our being.

"Clothing" refers to the esoteric, hidden parts of Torah. These can be analyzed, and do indeed affect the learner. However, because they are spiritual and abstract in nature, they are never fully assimilated, and remain essentially beyond our grasp.

"Conjugal rights," the third and deepest level, is the most intimate dimension of the Torah, which requires special preparation and refinement in order to be approached. This level of the Torah leads to the pinnacle of connectedness with God.13

[12-13] He who strikes a man so that he dies must be put to death. If, however, he did not lie in wait, but God caused it to happen to him, then I shall provide you a place to which he shall flee: Metaphorically, committing a sin is a form of murder; in both cases the soul is ripped away from its spiritual source of life. In the case of a sin, the "slain" party is the person's own soul.

Inasmuch as the Jewish people are intrinsically connected to God, it is totally "unnatural" for a Jew to sin. The fact that we do sin is as a result of a sudden, fleeting spirit of folly, which convinces us that our connection to God will not suffer as a result of improper behavior. Therefore, God considers the "murder" unintentional, and provides us with a "city of refuge" where we may repent and escape punishment. This "city of refuge" is the study of the Torah and the prayers we recite with a sincere and repentant heart.

One of the court's obligations was to ensure that there were wide and well-paved roads leading to the cities of refuge, with clear signposts along the way.14 This teaches us that it is not enough to take refuge in our own "city of refuge"; it is our responsibility and privilege to also help others reach their "city of refuge" through our own exemplary behavior and helpful advice. When we help others, God helps us reach our own "city of refuge" as well.

This is alluded to in the wording of this verse. The verse begins in the third person ("to happen to him"), and then switches to the second person ("I shall provide you").15 When we notice a fault in a friend and see what is "happening to him," we must steer him toward the path to repentance—to the city of refuge. Upon seeing this, God declares, "I shall provide for you"—"I will ensure that you, too, benefit as a result."16

Alternatively, this whole verse may be applied to one individual. As mentioned, our Divine soul is naturally incapable of sinning; only when our human/animal soul prevails can it can cause us to sin. This phenomenon is referred to in this verse in the third person—"happening to him"—since it is not a reflection of our true, Divine self.

Nonetheless, the Divine soul is tarnished by the sin as well. Therefore God tells us, "I shall provide for you a place," I will enable you to rectify this wrongdoing through repentance, and as a result "he shall flee"—you will positively affect the animal soul, too.17

[19] Provide for his complete cure: According to the sages, it is from this verse that we know that God gave doctors permission to heal the sick and injured.18 Without express permission from God, we might think: "God made him ill. What right have we to attempt to cure him?"19

Since God has given doctors permission to heal us, we should seek their help when we are ill, and take care to follow all their instructions.20 However, we must also remember that God only gave doctors permission to heal. When a doctor gives the patient a pessimistic prognosis, we should neither lose heart nor succumb to his negative attitude, for the doctor is neither empowered nor permitted to discourage us.21

As we said, this verse implies that a doctor is permitted to practice, but the sages derived from another verse22 that there are situations where a doctor is obligated to practice. Just as we are obligated to return someone's lost object, so are we obligated to "restore" his life to him, i.e., save his life whenever possible. This obligates a doctor to intervene in any life-threatening situation where he is capable of contributing to the patient's recovery.23

Just as there are bodily illnesses, there are also spiritual illnesses.24 And just as bodily illnesses can affect a person in differing degrees of severity, so can spiritual illnesses. There are situations where the patient is in "mortal danger"—i.e., his apathy has begun to affect his actual fulfillment of the Torah and its commandments. Such a malady directly attacks the person's flow of spiritual vitality. There are also spiritual illnesses that are not "life-threatening"; they merely indicate that the "patient's" spiritual health is weak.25 The rules pertaining to a "doctor"—anyone who is capable of lending a hand—are applicable in this case, as well. There are situations where it is merely permissible and praiseworthy to offer spiritual assistance to another. But when people are in danger, assistance is mandatory and not just praiseworthy. If someone's fulfillment of God's commandments is in question and we can help, we are absolutely obligated to offer our assistance, not allowing our personal aspirations for perfection to get in the way.26

[24] An eye…for an eye: When we resolve to use a specific limb or faculty of our mind or body only for holy purposes, we "sanctify" that limb or faculty and make it a vehicle for Divinity. For example, when we resolve not to look at things we are not supposed to look at and to use our eyes only for holy purposes, our eyes serve vicariously as God's "eyes."

This explains why someone who harms another person has to pay depreciation, pain, incapacitation, medical fees, and embarrassment—more than just the objective damages he caused. We assume that the victim might have indeed sanctified the limb that was harmed and that the assailant therefore damaged not only the victim's limb, but, so to speak, God's limb as well.27

[28-29, 35-36] If an ox gores… if it was an ox that had gored on previous occasions: Because it is not natural for an animal to willfully cause harm, its owner is not fully liable for the damage it causes. If, however, it has repeated its aggressive behavior three times, the owner must assume it to be harmful and he is from now on culpable for his animal's actions.

There are two ways in which such an animal can revert to its former, natural status. First, if it is presented with the same circumstances that prompted it formerly to attack and yet does not attack, it demonstrates that it has been cured of its wild tendencies. Second, when an animal is sold or gifted, its slate is wiped clean. It loses any previous status of presumed aggression because the transfer of ownership changes its nature.28

The "animal" within each of us is our materialistically-minded animal soul. This animal must be carefully guarded, for if left to its own devices it can cause great harm.

Although this aspect of our personality is drawn towards material pursuits, its nature is benign and not pernicious. It is unnatural for the animal soul to be drawn towards forbidden desires, so when this happens, it is considered an unforeseeable event. However, if a person repeatedly succumbs to specific forbidden temptations, he becomes the owner of an aggressive animal, for the improprieties have become a part of his nature.

Generally, an exhaustive process is required to rid the animal soul of this acquired nature. The person must struggle greatly with his failings until he overcomes his evil tendencies. He can only be sure that he has succeeded in doing this after he proves capable of withstanding the very same temptations in similar circumstances.

However, there is a more direct way of overcoming these problems: through a "change of ownership." If the person chooses to totally immerse himself in a "new world," in holy matters, his previous bad habits automatically fall to the wayside. By changing his entire self he truly becomes a "different person" and does not have to struggle through the arduous, step-by-step process of change.29

[33] If a person uncovers a pit, or digs a pit and does not cover it: There are two types of obstructions included in this category of damages: a pit that is at least ten handbreadths deep and a barrier or other hindrance at least ten handbreadths high.30

Every person innately possesses both of these qualities: the ability to receive (a pit) and the ability to give (a protrusion). The depth or height of each is ten handbreadths. The influences that we absorb or impart permeate or express all ten faculties of the soul.

These qualities may be used to great benefit. Without proper supervision, however, they may become destructive. Good or bad, the choices we make are meaningful and all-pervading. If we choose to receive and transmit indiscriminately, we will become a danger to society. But if we choose to accept only positive influences and spread only positivity throughout our surroundings, we become a source of blessing.31

[34] He is not liable, however, for damages suffered by people or utensils the animal may be carrying when it falls: Among the laws set forth in the Torah, the laws of damages are the most comprehensible. This part of the Torah seems to be based purely on human logic. However, God provides us with several reminders that Torah is the Divine will. This law is one such reminder: Logically, there would seem to be no reason to differentiate between the damages inflicted by the same pit. Even so, the owner is only liable for certain damages and not for others.

This demonstrates that even the civil aspects of the Torah are not merely a logical system; they are God's will, which is by definition beyond our ability to comprehend completely.32

Chapter 22

[1] He takes the risk of mortal combat: Although the way of Torah is that of peace and harmony,33 there are times, such as the case described in this verse, when the Torah advocates violence. One might imagine that violence must be avoided at all cost, that if God wants a person to live to a ripe old age, no midnight intruder will interfere with His plan. This verse tells us otherwise: we must take the life of one who threatens our own. The Torah demands that we employ natural measures to ensure our safety, that we create the means for the fulfillment of the verse: "Behold the Guardian of Israel neither sleeps nor slumbers."34 Such an attitude prevents bloodshed on both sides: knowing that his foe will respond strongly to provocation, the enemy will not attack in the first place.35

[5] If a fire breaks out and spreads: Even if someone lights a fire in his own domain and the fire somehow spreads to someone else's property, the first individual is liable for the damage. In the Talmud, lighting a fire is compared to drawing the bow of an arrow: regardless of where the arrow lands, the perpetrator is liable for its damage.36 In other words, the act of igniting a fire, like drawing a bow, "includes" in it any future consequence, since once the arrow is out of the archer's hands it cannot be retrieved.37

Generally, this logic holds true only in the human sphere. It can never be said of God that something is out of His hands; He can always reverse the fires and arrows that threaten to harm us. However, when God promises to do something good, that event must come to pass. A prophet's prediction of good things must come true.38 In this sense, God is similar to man: once the promise of goodness is "out of His hands" it cannot be rescinded.

Knowing that God's promise for good "includes" the ultimate outcome gives us the inspiration to endure the darkness of these last days of exile. The future redemption, in its highest form, already exists; it is only concealed. When we recognize that the confusion and obstacles we encounter are mere illusions that obscure the truth, God will remove them, and we will be able to perceive the light of redemption.39

If a fire breaks out and spreads through thorns, so that it consumes stacked or standing grain or a field: The evil inclination is proficient in his craft, at first enticing his victim to take small, innocuous steps, but ultimately luring him into the gravest of sins. Initially, he even allows his victim to continue serving God faithfully, if only without focus. Indeed, when the fire of lust breaks out, it appears harmless and unsuspicious, merely scorching the thorns. But all too soon it becomes tragically uncontrollable and consumes the entire stock.40

[6-14] The four consignees: In this section, the Torah describes four types of consignees:

The unpaid consignee (22:6-7). An unpaid consignee is not held accountable for theft of the object entrusted to his care. He is, however, accountable for damage or theft caused by his negligence.

The paid consignee (22:9-12). A paid consignee is held accountable for theft. However, he is not held responsible for occurrences beyond his control. For example, if an animal in his care of dies or is carried off in a raid, he is not held responsible.

The borrower (22:13). A borrower is liable even for occurrences beyond his control, e.g., the death of an animal he borrows.

There is an essential difference between the accountability of the first two types of consignees and that of the borrower. The duty of the first two types of consignee is to watch over the owner's object and return it to him intact. Their responsibility stems from their commitment to guard the object. (The extent to which they are required to watch it depends on whether or not they are paid). Hence, they are not responsible for occurrences beyond their control, since the quality of their care has no effect on whether such occurrences will happen or not.

In contrast, the intention of the borrower is not to guard the object but to use it. Because he has been given the right to use the object without paying for it, it is considered his to the extent that he is responsible for all eventualities.41 (The exception to this is if it dies or breaks in the course of the work for which it was borrowed.)

The hirer (22:14). Of a hirer, the Torah says: "the loss is covered by its rental price." Which type of "loss" is covered by the rental price? According to the Talmudic sage Rabbi Yehudah, the hirer is compared to an unpaid consignee and is therefore exempt in the case of theft. Rabbi Yehudah does not consider the hirer's access to the object as payment for watching the object, since he pays for that access; his responsibility to guard the object goes unpaid. According to Rabbi Yehudah's colleague, Rabbi Meir (whose view is accepted as law), the hirer is liable for theft but exempt from loss through uncontrollable occurrences. According to Rabbi Meir, the hirer is essentially a borrower: since the object is in his hands for his own benefit, he should be held responsible for all eventualities, just as is the borrower. However, because the hirer pays for use of the object, he is not culpable for cases of uncontrollable occurrences (but remains responsible for theft). The hirer can be seen as a hybrid of borrower and paid consignee: the nature of his accountability is like that of the borrower, while his actual responsibilities are identical to those of the paid consignee.42

Spiritually, we are all consignees. God has entrusted us with charges: our Divine soul, our fellow Jews, our fellow human beings, and the world at large. On our worst days we are borrowers. We use and enjoy the pleasures of our soul, our fellows, and our world without reciprocating. At times we do better: we are hirers. We recognize that true physical and spiritual pleasures can only be experienced when we give; we give in order to receive. Then there are days when we make the leap and leave the world of hirer and borrower, the world of the self, and advance to the level of the paid consignee. It is no longer about us, about the pleasures we will enjoy as our reward; we are caretakers, not seeking to use God's gifts for our purposes but to assist Him in His purposes. Perhaps, as paid consignees, we are not beyond looking forward to the reward, but at least that is not our focus.

On our best days—and ultimately all our days will be such—we are unpaid consignees. We are oblivious to physical and spiritual rewards; we are the person who, in Maimonides' words,43 "serves God out of love…not because of anything in the world…not to inherit the good, but rather one who does the truth because it is the truth…."44

[8] In every case of dishonesty: Spiritually, God has entrusted each of us with a charge: the Divine soul.45 It is our responsibility to ensure that the soul remain protected and unsullied, that it return to heaven better off than it was before its descent into the body. At times, however, we are unfaithful to the soul's Owner and abuse His charge. The causes for our delinquency are spelled out in this verse:

Whether it involves an ox, a donkey, a sheep: these are the various challenges that our animal soul poses to our Divine soul. The self-centeredness of the goring ox that tramples upon everything in its path, the frigidity of the donkey, and the follower mentality of the sheep—all these conspire to confuse the Divine soul until it is convinced that—

"This is it": In an absolute sense, the demonstrative pronoun "this" can rightfully refer only to something that is exactly what it appears to be. However, everything other than God is not what it appears to be. Things appear to exist on their own, but really owe their existence to God. Since only God's reality is intrinsic, we can only rightly say, "this" of God—just as the Israelites did when, after walking through the sea, they said, "This is my God!"

On a more profound level, the word "this" really only applies to something that exists at all times and in all places, so whenever we want and wherever we are we can point to it and say "this." Again, only God satisfies this criterion. Everything else is an "it," the third person, somebody or something that is not intrinsically here. Thus, the word "it" applies to everything that is not God. When we begin to confuse "it" with "this," when we begin to ascribe intrinsic existence and value to anything other than God, we have been dishonest with our soul. How can we rectify this error?

The party whom the judges find guilty shall make double restitution to his fellowman. Paying double means also harnessing the powers of the animal soul—the brute force of the ox, the donkey's ability to carry heavy loads for the long trek, the sheep's compliant nature—towards the service of the Creator.46

This is it: The sages derive the law of "partial admission" from the phrase "this is it," which can be translated as "only this"—meaning that the defendant admits that he owes "only this" but not all that he is being sued for. If A claims that B owes him 100 dollars, and B says he owes only 50, B is required to swear in court that he does not owe the other 50. In the case described here, the consignee claims that a portion of the goods entrusted to him was stolen. The Torah then says that he must appear in court and swear that he is telling the truth. The reason he has to swear is that since he did not already voluntarily return or pay what he admits he owes, he has become slightly suspect.

Spiritually, there are a few ways in which we sometimes claim in "partial admission." When we have been remiss in fulfilling our Divine mission, the prosecuting angel can claim that we are wholly at fault and that we deserve either to be punished or to be allowed to slide into further transgression, compounding our guilt.

We admit to the accusation, but only partially. In self-defense, we first say that our indiscretions did not involve our entire being. The deepest place in our hearts never rebelled against God; only the outer manifestations of our consciousness veered from the path. Secondly, we were never entirely remiss, since, as the Talmud attests, "even the most wicked of Israel are filled with commandments like a pomegranate [is filled with seeds]."47 Therefore, we do not deserve full punishment; we are willing to repent, but only for what we actually did.

In order for the heavenly court to accept our counterclaim, the Torah requires us to take an oath. But in fact, we took this oath long ago, for God administers an oath to every Divine soul, as it is about to enter the body at birth, to be righteous. That oath acts as a reservoir of spiritual strength the soul can draw upon precisely such situations of "partial guilt."48

Normally, God provides our "good inclination" with just enough spiritual energy to enable us to resist the machinations of our "evil inclination." The scales are equally balanced, and we are therefore always free to choose between good and evil. Ideally, clear thinking would make us opt to choose good every time. But the evil inclination is cunning and sometimes catches us with our defenses down, convincing us that no harm will be done if we are a little lax. When we succumb, we need extra strength to admit our guilt, get back on track, and keep from sliding further. We are able to counter the accusations of the prosecuting angel by virtue of this oath; this extra power at our disposal enables us to confidently assure the heavenly court that we will repent of our wrongdoing and keep ourselves from backsliding.

But this is a serious commitment, and if we misuse the extra powers God has given us, we could eventually incriminate ourselves even more seriously. Therefore, it is best to avoid "taking the oath" whenever possible, just as the Torah enjoins us to avoid taking oaths in actual civil cases because of the seriousness of invoking God's Name.

In civil cases, when the defendant states that he did not pay back the part of the claim he admits due to extenuating circumstances, he is exempt from taking the oath and is acquitted after he pays what he admits he owes. For example, he can claim that he could not liquidate his assets to pay his debt since the market was such that he would have suffered a loss on these assets.

Spiritually, we can make a similar claim of extenuating circumstances. Our spiritual "assets" are the time, talents, and other resources God grants us to fulfill our Divine mission. The more we are consumed with our mission, the more we want to capitalize on these assets and use them to their fullest. If we indeed succeed in doing so, we can claim that settling accounts with the prosecuting angel—taking detailed stock of our performance in order to know exactly how much repentance is required of us—would have been a waste of precious time that could have better been used to progress in our Divine mission. The loss of opportunities and momentum could never have been fully recovered. True, the Torah prescribes certain times for stocktaking, such as before going to sleep at night, or during the month of Elul. But who has time for more than this if we are consummately busy fulfilling our Divine purpose?49

If this, indeed, is our claim, and the heavenly court sees that we are indeed living our lives accordingly, we are acquitted without having to "take the oath." We are clearly in no danger of further backsliding and we will repair any damage due to our negligence.50

We are often "partial admitters" in a more subtle sense, as well. God "lends" us sustenance, talents, and capability. In certain aspects of our lives we admit that we need God, that without Him we are lost. Nevertheless, for the most part we imagine that we are self-sufficient, that we have acquired all we possess on our own. Thus, after we discharge our basic religious duties and give God what we owe Him, we feel as though the rest of our time and other resources are now ours to use as we please.

Of course, the truth is just the opposite; we have acquired whatever we possess only by virtue of the gifts God has given us. Therefore, we owe God everything and there are no autonomous areas in our lives.

However, taking an "oath" allows us to lay claim to partial ownership of our lives. The more we invoke the birth-oath to be righteous and draw upon our inner reservoir of Divine power and consciousness, the more resources God places at our disposal. Confident that we will use His bounty for the proper purposes, He willingly entrusts us with more.51

[24] When you lend: The sages have repeatedly pointed out the immense reward for providing a loan to a fellow in need. Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi said that when we give an interest-free loan to a fellow Jew wholeheartedly and without ulterior motives, or when we lovingly do a favor to a fellow Jew, fulfilling the Torah's command to "love your fellow as yourself," the gates of the heavenly chambers open before us.52

As he was growing up, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch had many questions, which he would pose to his grandfather, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi. Even after the latter passed away and Rabbi Menachem Mendel himself became rebbe, he continued to receive guidance from his grandfather in the form of weekly mystical visions. One particular week, Rabbi Shneur Zalman did not appear to him. The questions accumulated and Rabbi Menachem Mendel was distraught.

One morning, as Rabbi Menachem Mendel was on his way to the synagogue for the morning prayers, he was approached by a simple and honest Jew named Reb Mordechai Elya, who asked him for a loan. Rabbi Menachem Mendel promised to provide the money as soon as he finished the morning prayers, and continued on to the synagogue. Once there, he realized he had erred in not providing the loan immediately. He turned around, went home, took with him a small sum of money, and went to the market in search of Reb Mordechai Elya. The market was filled with villagers, their wagons and wares, but the great Rebbe persisted in his search until he found Reb Mordechai Elya and handed him the money. He then returned to the synagogue. As he donned his prayer shawl, he was greeted by the radiant face of his grandfather hovering before him.

On another occasion, Rabbi Menachem Mendel noticed something extraordinary about his chasid, Reb Yisroel, a storekeeper in Polotzk. "What have you been up to?" he asked. Reb Yisroel explained, "The last time I was here, you said that our forefather Abraham, because of his abundant acts of kindness, had taken over the job of God's attribute of supernal kindness. I was so taken with these words that, although I am in no need of money, I went to my fellow shopkeeper, Nachman, and took out a loan. I wanted to grant him the privilege of doing an act of kindness. Now, all the shopkeepers are taking out loans from each other." The Rebbe later told his son that he saw a pillar of light of God's attribute of supernal kindness upon the face of the shopkeeper from Polotzk.53

The greatest lender of all is God Himself: He lends each of us our soul and its accompanying powers, with which to fulfill the mission of bringing holiness to the world.54 We may thus read this verse as applying to God Himself, as follows:

When You lend money to My people: Besides lending us our soul and its powers, we can "induce" God to lend us additional "money" by lending to a fellow in need. God rewards us for this good deed by providing us with additional resources to use in our Divine mission.

You shall not act towards him like a creditor: We repay our loan to God by living our lives in a way that gratifies Him and by eventually returning our soul to Him unmarred. But, being human, we are at times negligent in repaying God's loan. Nonetheless, here again, we can "induce" Him not to press us. When we overlook what others owe us, God overlooks what we owe Him.55

Nor may You charge him interest: There is a loophole to the law against taking interest, known as "the transaction permit" (heter iska). Basically, the lender becomes a partner in the venture of the borrower and is thereby allowed to gain from the loan. Evidently, God lends us sustenance and potential by means of this "transaction permit," since He recoups more than His original investment. God benefits from our fulfillment of the Torah and its commandments, which we perform with the powers He lends us.56

[25] If you take your fellowman's garment as a pledge: It is a commandment to lend money even if the borrower owns possessions that he can theoretically sell. The Torah does not allow us to argue, "Why should I lend him money? Let him sell his possessions." The commandment to lend money, unlike the commandment to give charity, is intended to benefit not only the poor but also the rich.

At times, we may be reluctant to lend money to someone who is not poor. If so, we should consider the possibility that in a previous lifetime, the present roles may have been reversed: we may have been the beneficiary of a loan or some other kind deed from the person presently requesting a loan from us; this is our opportunity to repay his good deed.57

[30] You shall not eat flesh torn by beasts in the field: The sages state that the seemingly extraneous words "in the field" allude to the law that any meat that is deemed to have left its proper place (its "home," and is instead "in the field") may not be eaten. This includes the limb of an animal fetus that was extended out of the womb before its mother was slaughtered, as well as flesh from a sacrifice that was taken outside of the boundaries within which the Torah requires it to be eaten.58

Allegorically, this law refers to exile. In exile, we are like fish out of water—we are "in the field," outside our proper home. This "field" is dangerous, fraught with threatening "beasts"—the many spiritual pitfalls that can ensnare us if we are not properly cautious.

Moreover, the very fact that we are in exile, away from God's loving embrace, renders us "torn by the beasts of the field." No matter how great our spiritual attainments may be during exile, we can never be truly whole, vital, or free until after the messianic redemption.59

Chapter 23

[1] You shall not accept a false report. You shall not join forces with a wicked person to be a corrupt witness: The Ba'al Shem Tov connected the two halves of this verse as follows:

Every soul is granted its particular, individual strength as it is dispatched to this world. Of course, we all have our shortcomings, too, but our particular, individual strength—the arena in which we truly shine—normally compensates for them.

However, if two witnesses testify that we have betrayed our mission, this unique asset is taken away from us. Therefore, the Torah warns us: "Do not listen to slander. If you do, your incrimination of your fellow will join forces with that of your evil inclination, and you will thus rob your fellow of his special Divine strength."60

[2] You shall follow a majority: Peace, or unanimity, implies the existence of initially conflicting opinions that are subsequently reconciled. This idea is expressed in the traditional Jewish greeting, "Shalom aleichem (peace unto you)." Even though the word aleichem ("unto you") is in the plural, we use this same expression even when greeting an individual. For when two people meet there is polarity, the possibility of conflict, since every person thinks and feels differently. In this context, Shalom aleichem means "let peace infuse our plurality."

The traditional response, "Aleichem shalom," goes one step further: In the expression Shalom aleichem, peace precedes polarity, implying a peace imposed upon the two parties. In contrast, Aleichem shalom connotes a peace that emerges from the differences.

This dynamic is demonstrated in the law of majority rule. There are three ways of conceptualizing what happens when the opinion of the majority overrides that of the minority:

  • although the minority opinion has legal significance, we nevertheless rule according to the majority since they outweigh the minority;
  • the minority opinion is nullified by the majority and is ignored;
  • the minority unites with the majority, and it is as if the minority also ruled as the majority.

Inasmuch as the court must speak as one voice, we conceive of majority rule in the third way. Practically, however, there are two ways the minority can unite with the majority:

  • the minority remains unconvinced, but nonetheless defers to the opinion of the majority, knowing that this is what the Torah requires;
  • the minority, seeing that they are the minority and being aware that the majority's opinion will become Torah law, reconsiders and delves into the matter until they become convinced of the majority opinion.

The second scenario is the ideal. The Torah's endorsement of the majority opinion induces the minority to join the majority. This is a true expression of peace,61 where dissimilar factions with diverse perspectives reach a unanimous decision.62

[5] When you see the donkey of someone you hate crouching under its load, would you refrain from helping it?! Rather, you must help the person: The Ba'al Shem Tov interpreted this verse allegorically as follows:63

When you see: When you closely examine and observe—

The donkey: i.e., your material body,64 you will see that it is—

Someone you hate: i.e., your enemy. You will also see that it is—

Crouching under its load: i.e., shifting uncomfortably and complaining beneath the burden of the Torah and the commandments that God has placed upon it.

Would you refrain from helping it?! Do you think that you should refrain from helping your body acclimate itself to its task? Do you intend to break its opposition by weakening it through fasts and punishments? No! This is not the way of the Torah.

Rather you must help him: You must strengthen the body both physically and spiritually, and ensure that it, too, participates in Divine service.

The body considers the Torah and its commandments to be a burden. Despite the fact that they are clearly its load, i.e., intended for the body's own spiritual and physical benefit, it nevertheless rebels. Since, for most of us, the body's voice is louder than the soul's, we tend to view the Torah as an oppressive burden. All this means, however, is that we have not yet integrated the Torah into our lives. When we realize that the Torah and its commandments are truly the very source of life itself, we can be successful and comfortable with our task.65

The Ba'al Shem Tov was not the first to teach that the Torah stresses the importance of taking care of one's health.66 However, people had gradually come to believe that bodily health is a worthy pursuit only as long as we never misuse the body's urges for sinful purposes. If we sin, people felt, it is proper to "break" the body's power over us by subjecting it to voluntary suffering, as a form of penance. The Ba'al Shem Tov's innovation was that even if the body has sinned, both body and soul are better off if they are utilized in spiritual harmony for holy purposes, rather than being paired against one another. By using the body for holy purposes, it becomes possible to break its influence over us just as effectively as by subjecting it to suffering—if not more so.67

A CLOSER LOOK

[13] To make all 'active' commandments prohibitions as well: This point is significant because it allows active commandments to override prohibitions.68 For example, the Torah both forbids us to wear garments made out of a mixture of wool and linen and, at the same time, commands the High Priest to wear such a garment. Once the active commandment to wear the garment also becomes a prohibition (not to not wear it), this specific prohibition can override the prohibition against wearing such garments in general.69

Nonetheless, this does not mean that a person who neglects to perform an active commandment becomes liable for punishment with lashes, as in the case of someone who transgresses a prohibition.70

[14] A pilgrim festival: The pilgrim festivals mark the three significant milestones in the agricultural cycle: Pesach occurs when the produce begins to ripen, Shavuot when the wheat is harvested, and Sukot at the end of the season, when all of the produce is gathered in from the fields.71

Allegorically, the Jewish people are God's "produce."72 Just as one sows grain in the hope of reaping a much greater return, God "plants" souls in the physical world in order for them to accomplish much more than they can in their native spiritual abode.

When we plant a seed,73 it does not begin to grow immediately. Growth can begin only once the outer, protective coating of the seed rots. Once the original seed per se no longer exists, the new growth is not restricted by the limitations of the original form of the seed.

The same is true of human growth: ego is its greatest hindrance. Only when we overcome and negate the ego can the soul reach its full potential.74

[15] The Festival of Matzos: In the Torah, this festival is usually referred to as "the Festival of Matzos." In common usage, however, we almost always call it "Passover." According to the Chasidic sage Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, the two names reflect two differing perspectives on the holiday.

God wishes to stress the greatness of the Jewish people. The Torah therefore focuses on the matzos. The Jews had no choice but to bake matzah since they left Egypt in such haste that there wasn't enough time for their dough to rise. Every mention of matzos, therefore, highlights the strong faith of the Jewish people at that time and their unconditional willingness to follow God wherever He directed them.

The Jews, on the other hand, relate to the holiday as an opportunity to praise God and thank Him. Their name for the holiday is Passover (Pesach), a constant reminder of God's great miracles, in particular when He skipped over (pasach) the Jewish houses and brought His plagues only upon the Egyptians.75

[16] The Festival of the Ingathering: As mentioned,76 the agricultural motif of the festivals is reflected allegorically in the life of the soul. The theme of Sukot is "ingathering"—taking disparate entities and uniting them. No matter how different we as individuals may be, when we sit in the same sukah,77 we fulfill this commandment equally and together. Similarly, the commandment of holding the four plants78 on this holiday signifies the unity between the different types of people these plants represent.

Our goal is to implement this unity, and ensure that all of God's "produce"—every one of His children—are included, for our Father is happy only when His children are on good terms.79

Furthermore, during the High Holy Days preceding Sukot, we typically make many resolutions. Everyone is involved in prayer and repentance and resolves to turn over a new leaf. On Sukot, the seeds of all these resolutions that we "sowed" must be "gathered in." All of the different emotions—the majesty of Rosh Hashanah, the awe of Yom Kippur, etc.—must be drawn together and implemented in a practical way. Since the inner feelings of the soul become revealed and attain their true fulfillment on Sukot, Sukot is the most joyful of the holidays.80

[19] You shall not eat a young animal cooked in its mother's milk: Milk and meat are the only foods that the Torah permits us to eat separately but forbids us to eat when they are cooked together. But the Torah not only forbids eating the cooked mixture; it also forbids cooking meat and milk together—since this may lead to eating the mixture. Deriving any other benefit from such a mixture is also forbidden.

This demonstrates to what extreme the Torah forbids cruelty towards animals. The precautions the Torah takes to prevent causing suffering to an animal demonstrate how much care we must take to avoid causing suffering to a fellow human being.81

A CLOSER LOOK

[23] The Amorites, the Hittites…: Only six of the seven nations are mentioned here. In this passage, God informs the people that they would eventually sin and thus forfeit the privilege of being led by His presence directly, instead being led by an emissary. Nonetheless, God assures them that this emissary will succeed in driving out the resident nations of Canaan. Since the Girgashites fled on their own,82 there is therefore no need to mention them in this context.83

[25] You shall serve God, your God: Surely God does not need or benefit from our service the way an earthly master needs the service of his servants.

Rather, God is telling us here to spiritually refine ourselves until the Name Havayah, which signifies God as He transcends the limitations of nature, takes the place of the Name Elokim, which signifies God as He is manifest within the laws of nature. In other words, God wants us to refine ourselves until the supernatural becomes natural for us. It becomes our "second nature"; we naturally view and interpret everything in the context of God's reality and His all-encompassing providence.84

I will remove illness from your midst: At Marah, God promised us, "I will bring none of the sicknesses that I brought on Egypt upon you,"85 meaning that no one would get sick in the first place. Why, then, does He promise us here that He will heal us whenever we do get sick?

These two verses refer to two types of sickness: those that appear to be natural and those that are so unnatural that they are obviously acts of God. Regarding unnatural sicknesses, where His involvement is evident, God says, "I will bring none of these upon you" in the first place. Regarding natural sicknesses, which we expect to occur when we do not take care of ourselves properly, God says, "I will remove these from you" once they occur.

There are also two types of spiritual sicknesses: Succumbing to a lust for something the Torah prohibits affects the soul adversely, hampering its ability to function in full spiritual health. This is a "natural" result of wrongdoing, which we more or less expect to ensue from forbidden indulgence. But repeatedly overindulging lusts for things the Torah permits also impairs the healthy functioning of the soul. This is an "unnatural" effect, which we do not necessarily expect, since, after all, these indulgences are permitted.

Nonetheless, if we are sufficiently dedicated and devoted to God, He will cure us of the ill effects of both types of temporary spiritual lapses.86

[26] No woman in your land will miscarry or be barren: The spiritual parallel of miscarriage and infertility is when the Divine consciousness of our mind does not penetrate our emotions, when our heart either fails to give birth to love and awe or these are only very short-lived. This stillbirth of emotions is caused by approaching our Divine mission with selfish motives. First we focus on our satisfaction in knowing that we are serving God. This leads to selectivity: we begin to focus only on the aspects of our Divine calling that we find appealing—and soon, less and less becomes appealing.

The antidote to all this is, as the verse continues, "I will fill the number of your days." We should recall that our days on earth are numbered; we have been given a specific amount of time and specific talents and opportunities with which to fulfill our purpose in life. If we use these gifts for purposes other than fulfilling our unique mission—even good purposes—we thereby betray our Divine charge. When, because of this realization, we are driven to fulfill our purpose on earth, we become so involved in spreading light that we have no time to pause and wonder where we stand on the ladder of spiritual attainments. We become oblivious to our own spiritual status. And then, God indeed "fills the number of our days"—He takes those days in which we did not fulfill our purpose and makes them pure and complete.

The self-orientation that leads to spiritual stillbirth is alluded to in the word for "your land," which can be read, "your desire."87 In this context, the verse reads, "There will be no miscarriage or barrenness caused by focusing on your own will if you contemplate the number of your days and allow Me to fill them."

The Talmud88 tells the story of the great Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai who, in his final moments, cried and said, "I do not know which way they will take me." He was worried that he might not be deserving of Heaven. Throughout his life, he did not allow himself the luxury of assessing his accomplishments, for he focused his every moment on the service of God. He left pondering of his inner self for his final moments on his deathbed.89

[29] I will not drive them out in a single year, lest the land become desolate and the wild animals outnumber you: The Canaanite nations posed a great danger to the Israelites; so great, in fact, that the Jews were commanded not to allow even one of them to remain alive. Nonetheless, God prolonged their survival at least for the amount of time it would take until the Jews could properly settle the land. Although God could have provided protection against the wild animals through miraculous means, he chose to allow these nations to live. As long as a human being serves any purpose to society at all, slight though it may be, his survival is ensured despite all the strong arguments that can be brought against him. It was only when they ceased being productive that God took into account the dangers that they posed and allowed the Jews to be vanquish them.90

[30] Little by little will I drive them out before you: This "strategy" is a lesson for us in our spiritual battles, as well. In our struggle to banish our spiritual enemies from within, patience is indeed the greatest virtue. Tackling all our obstacles at once will almost certainly end in failure; the methodical and gradual line of attack has much greater hope for success. We must begin with the easier steps, banishing first the most obvious forms of evil, and only then advance to more subtle struggles.

Similarly, we should first attempt to avoid whatever is bad before striving for perfection in doing all that is good.91 First, we must subdue our animal soul; only after this should we begin boosting our Godly soul to the spiritual pinnacles it aspires to. Such is the method of attack in all battles of the spirit: through advancing little by little, we can indeed "conquer the land."92

Chapter 24

[4] And built an Altar: On all the preceding days, Moses ascended Mt. Sinai to confer with God. On this day, the final day before the giving of the Torah,93 he instead built an Altar and conducted sacrificial offerings.

In other words, immediately prior to the giving of the Torah, Moses focused on its goal: to infuse the physical realm with transcendent holiness. The sacrificial ritual clearly demonstrates this goal, transforming stone and cattle into objects of holiness.94

[7] We will learn: These words literally mean, "and we will listen," implying the endeavor to comprehend that which "we will do." The sages95 highlight the virtue of giving precedence to faithful acceptance, submission, and loyalty over comprehension. This was the prerequisite for the giving of the Torah and remains the prerequisite for every aspect of Torah observance and study.

Thus, integrity is intrinsic to Judaism. In other fields of wisdom, theory can be detached from practice. (For example, it is told that when Aristotle was once caught in an immoral act, he excused himself by saying, "Right now, I'm not Aristotle!"96 Similarly, there are doctors who condemn bad health habits they themselves indulge in.) Not so in Judaism: implementation is an integral ingredient of wisdom—and even a prerequisite to it. Nowadays, just as when the Torah was first given, we can access our supra-rational connection with God only through supra-rational submission to the Torah's teachings.

Yet the Jew's commitment did not stop there. They vowed not only to "do" but to "listen," to strive to comprehend as well. If our connection does not involve our mind or heart, we have made it an experience of the soul alone. If, however, we are able to perceive what we believe97 and love what we accept; to recognize the ceaseless dependence of all creation on its Creator; to discern and cherish His providence; and to treasure the significance and purpose of His directives, our commitment will have embraced our entire psyche, from our most sublime contemplations to our most passionate attractions.

Still, the underlying premise is that the path of Judaism must be paved with submission and loyalty. This, however, poses an enigma: The Jewish people witnessed firsthand the many miracles God performed for them and beheld His unveiled presence, inspiring them to exuberantly burst into song at the Sea of Reeds. How, then, can we say that they put loyalty before comprehension in declaring, "we will do and we will hear"? Clearly, they comprehended God's existence and providence quite well.

The answer is that the Torah's vision of selfless loyalty does not necessarily imply naiveté. The Torah urges us to perceive, understand, and appreciate, God's will, but still fulfill it out of selfless loyalty. The ultimate devotee is one who has already seen and understood, been excited and inspired, but whose commitment to God is not qualified by these experiences and still serves Him with utterly selfless devotion.

So, although their comprehension preceded their declaration of loyalty, they sincerely proclaimed, "we will do and we will hear," expressing their unconditional acceptance of the Torah, irrespective of their comprehension and motivation. This profound conviction has no roots in reason, for reason will never require it nor agree to it. Rather, it expresses the intrinsic connection of the soul with God.98

[8] Moses took the blood: In fact, sprinkling the animal's blood on the people achieved a fuller union between the two parties to the covenant than having them both pass between halves of an animal would have. After passing through two halves of an animal, these two halves remain distinct halves; but when the blood was sprinkled on the people, both types of blood mingled and fused into one entity.

This fact expresses the superiority of this covenant over the Covenant between the Parts that God made with Abraham. Prior to the Giving of the Torah, the most a created being could achieve was to become God's "chariot," a vehicle for Him to reveal Himself and promulgate Divine consciousness throughout the world. The patriarchs indeed achieved this sublime height of spirituality. But even though a chariot is entirely at the disposal of its rider, it still remains a separate entity from him.

Once the Torah was given, however, it became possible to unite with God completely. This was alluded to by the fact that the covenant preceding the Giving of the Torah was effected through blood: this unity with God became "part of our blood," the essential, defining element of Jewish identity.99

[10-11] They had a vision of the God of Israel. Beneath His feet…. God did not raise His hand against the nobles of the Israelites…they gazed upon the Divine: Literally, these last words read: "they gazed upon Elokim."

Allegorically, this means that God did not let them behold "His hand," i.e., His Divine power in full revelation; He only allowed them to see His power as revealed in creation, via the contracting process of the Name Elokim. Thus, instead of His "hand," they only saw what happens "beneath His feet," so to speak.

Moses, in contrast, experienced the Name Havayah at the Giving of the Torah, as is written:100 "Moses alone shall then draw near to God."101

[17] The glory of God was like a consuming fire at the mountaintop: At the Giving of the Torah, "the whole of Mount Sinai was in smoke because God had descended upon it in fire."102 During the forty days, however, the mountain was only covered with a much calmer cloud of smoke.

Smoke is the product of matter disintegrating through fire: the coarser the material, the thicker the smoke produced. Before the Giving of the Torah, the world was still spiritually "coarse," so when God revealed Himself, the world's coarse resistance to His "fire" produced overwhelming smoke. After the Giving of the Torah, however, the fire at the mountaintop was facing a finer and less resistant world, producing a finer form of "smoke"—a cloud.103

[18] Moses entered the cloud: In order to receive the Torah from God, Moses had to traverse the cloud of smoke, which was produced by the action of the Divine fire on the dirt and rocks atop the mountain. Inasmuch as the purpose of the Torah is to refine and elevate the world—even its lowest elements, such as inanimate dirt and rocks—Moses had to actually enter the cloud produced by the effect of Divinity on inanimate matter.

The lesson for us here is that we must be willing to descend into even the lowest aspects of reality in order to sanctify and purify them, and make them into God's home. It is not sufficient to descend into the aspects of reality that remind us of the animal or vegetable kingdom (in that they evince some life); even aspects of reality that seem devoid of Divine life must be taught to know God.

Nonetheless, "God made a path for Moses in this cloud so his face and clothing would not become soiled by passing through it." There is indeed danger of being soiled by contending with the gross materialism of reality. But as long as we remain true to the Moses within us and the Moses of our generation, God will protect us and enable us to emerge unscathed from the encounter. In fact, material reality has no independent existence; its true Divinity is merely concealed from us in order to allow us free choice. Once we choose to focus on God's purpose in creating the material world, the façade falls away and we segue into the next parashah, in which all reality becomes a sanctuary, a holy place wherein God says104 "I will dwell in their midst."105

Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights: In the spiritual realm to which Moses ascended while he was on the mountain, time is compressed such that a day there is equal to a year in our world. In essence, then, Moses was with God for the equivalent of forty years. According to the sages, forty years is the time it takes for a student to fully absorb his master's teachings.106 This is why Moses had to remain on the mountain for forty days.107