The one who offered his offering on the first day was Nachshon the son of Aminadav, of the tribe of Judah. And his offering was: One silver dish, weighing 130 shekels. One silver bowl of 70 shekels... On the second day offered Nethanel the son of Tzuar, of the tribe of Issachar. And his offering was: One silver dish, weighing 130 shekels. One silver bowl of 70 shekels... (7:12-23)
The Torah is very mincing with words: many a complex chapter of Torah law is derived from a choice of context, a turn of language, even an extra letter. Yet in our Parshah, the Torah seemingly "squanders" dozens of verses by itemizing the gifts brought by the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel on the occasion of the inauguration of the Sanctuary. Each tribe brought its offering on a different day, but the gifts they each brought were identical in every respect, down to the weight of the silver plate and the age of the five lambs. Nevertheless, the Torah recounts each tribe's gift separately, repeating the 35-item list twelve times in succession.
The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 13 & 14) implies that while the twelve tribes made identical offerings, each experienced the event in a different manner. Each of the 35 items in the offering symbolized something—a personality or event in Jewish history, or a concept in Jewish faith or practice—but to each tribe, they symbolized different things, relating to that tribe's role. For the twelve tribes represent the various vocations amongst the people of Israel—Judah produced Israel's kings, leaders and legislators; Issachar its scholars; Zebulun its seafarers and merchants, and so on. All conform to the same Divinely ordained guidelines, all order their lives by the same Torah; yet each flavors the very same deeds with his individual nature and approach.
Often, we tend to see a tension between conformity and creativity, between tradition and innovation. On the one hand, we recognize the bedrock of absolutes upon which a meaningful existence must rest, the time-tested truths which transcend cultures and generations; on the other, we are faced with the powerful drive to create, to personalize, to grow and soar with our individualized talents and tools.
Our daily prayers, for example, follow the basic text instituted by the prophets and sages of the Great Assembly more than 2,400 years ago; as such, their content and wording optimally express the manner in which man relates to G‑d. Yet how is the individual in man to be satisfied with a common formula for every person?
Is monotony the price we must pay for perfection? Does creativity compromise truth? Not so, say the 72 "repetitious" verses in our Parshah. An entire nation, including individuals of every conceivable character and calling, can do the very same deed, down to every last detail, and still imbue them with their uniquely personal input. Even as they relate to the ultimate common denominator of their bond with G‑d, they each bring to the experience the richness of their own creative souls.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
And when Moses would enter the Sanctuary to speak with [G‑d], he would hear the voice speaking to him from above the cover of the Ark of Testimony... and it spoke to him (7:89)
One might think that this (the fact that only Moses heard the voice of G‑d) was because the voice was low. So the verse stresses that it was the voice — the same voice that spoke to him at Sinai. But when it reached the doorway it stopped, and did not extend outside of the Sanctuary.
(Rashi)
A basic tenet of the Jewish faith is that man has been granted the freedom to choose between good and evil, between adherence to his divinely ordained mission in life and rebellion against, or even denial of, his Creator. As Maimonides writes, "Were G‑d to decree that a person be righteous or wicked, of if there were to exist something in the essence of a person's nature which would compel him toward a specific path, a specific conviction, a specific character trait or a specific deed...how could G‑d command us through the prophets 'do this' and 'do not do this'...? What place would the entire Torah have? And by what measure of justice would G‑d punish the wicked and reward the righteous...?''
This is the deeper significance of the "short stop" made by the divine voice at the doorway of the Sanctuary. At Sinai, the words "I Am G‑d your G‑d" resounded throughout the universe, permeating every creature and creation. At that moment, there was no possibility of doubt in G‑d's reality or of nonconformity to His will. But then the world fell silent, and the voice retreated to hover over the "Ark of Testimony" that contains G‑d's Torah and to confine itself to the four walls of the Sanctuary that houses it.
The volume was not lowered---the voice is no less infinite and omnipotent than it was at Sinai. One who enters the Sanctuary hears a voice that penetrates and permeates all, a voice that knows no bounds or equivocations. But one can choose to remain outside of the domain of Torah, to deny himself the knowledge and the way of life in which G‑d makes Himself heard. One can choose to remain outside, in the field of G‑d's self-imposed silence.
It is this choice that creates the challenge of life, making our every moral victory a true and significant achievement.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Speak to Aaron and say to him: "When you raise light in the lamps..." (Numbers 8:2)
Aaron did not bring an offering (for the Sanctuary's dedication — see previous Parshah) with the other princes of the tribes, and so he thought: Woe is me! Perhaps it is on my account that G‑d does not accept the tribe of Levi? G‑d therefore said to Moses: "Go and say to Aaron: Fear not, you have in store for you an honor greater than this... The offerings shall remain in force only as long as the Temple stands, but the lamps shall always give light..."
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
Were not the lamps of the menorah also extinguished with the destruction of the Holy Temple? But this alludes to the Chanukah lights, which were instituted in the time of the Second Temple by the Hashmoneans, descendents of Aaron, and which did not cease.
(Nachmanides)
When you raise light in the lamps... toward the face of the menorah (8:2)
It is written, "Nor does darkness obscure for You; the night shines as the day, darkness is as light" (Psalms 139:12). Yet to us He says: "When you raise light in the lamps"!
To what may the matter be compared? To the case of a king who had a friend. The king said to him: "I want you to know that I shall dine with you. Go then and make preparations for me." His friend went and prepared a common couch, a common candelabra, and a common table. When the king arrived there came with him ministers who encompassed him on this side and that, and a golden candlestick preceded him. His friend, seeing all this pomp, felt ashamed and put away all that he had prepared for him, as it was all common. Said the king to him: "Did I not tell you that I would dine with you? Why did you not prepare anything for me?" His friend answered him: "Seeing all the pomp that accompanied you, I felt ashamed, and put away all that I had prepared for you, because they were common utensils." "By your life!" said the king to him, "I shall discard all the utensils that I have brought, and for love of you I shall use none but yours!" So in our case. The Holy One, blessed be He, is all light; as it says, "And the light dwells with Him" (Daniel 2:22). Yet He said to Israel: "Prepare for Me a candelabra and lamps."
(Midrash Rabbah)
When a person builds a house, he makes the windows narrow on the outside and wider on the inside, so that the light from the outside should optimally illuminate the interior. But when King Solomon built the Holy Temple in Jerusalem he made the windows narrow within and wide without, so that its light should emanate to the outside and illuminate the world.
(Midrash Rabbah)
This is to teach us that the lamplighter must hold the flame to the wick until a flame arises of its own accord.
(Rashi)
The spiritual significance of the mitzvah of lighting the menorah is that one should be a "lamplighter" who ignites that latent potential within "the soul of man, a lamp of G‑d" (Proverbs 20:27).
Here, too, the endeavor must be to kindle the lamp "so that a flame arises of its own accord." In teaching and influencing one's fellow, the objective should be to establish him or her as a self-sufficient luminary: to assist in developing his talents and abilities so that his lamp independently glows and, in turn, kindles the potential in others.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
When you raise light in the lamps (8:2)
When the Kohen came to kindle the menorah's lamps each afternoon in the Holy Temple, he found them fully prepared for lighting: earlier in the day, the lamps had been cleaned and filled with oil, and fresh wicks had been inserted. All he had to do was bring near the flame he carried, so that its proximity to the waiting lamp would unleash the potential for illumination which the lamp already holds.
Therein lies an important lesson to the spiritual lamplighter: do not think that you are achieving anything that your fellow could not, in truth, achieve on his own; do not think that you are giving him something he does not already possess. The soul of your fellow is a ready lamp, filled with the purest oil and equipped with all that is required to convert its fuel into a blazing flame. It only lacks the proximity of another lamp to ignite it. If your own soul is alight, its contact with another's soul will awaken its potential for light, so that it may illuminate its surroundings and kindle other souls, in turn.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Imagine standing in the Sanctuary, before the holy menorah, and to be capable of actually lighting the lamps — to place the wicks in position, and to fill the lamps without spilling the oil on the floor! This was truly an exceptional achievement on the part of Aaron.
(Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Barditchev)
And this was the work of the menorah: it was hammered [of a single piece of] gold (8:4)
We find that Moses experienced more difficulty in understanding the construction of the menorah than he did in that of all the other vessels of the Sanctuary. So G‑d said to him: Take a talent of gold, cast it into the furnace and take it out again, and the menorah will assume shape of its own accord. Thus the verse says (Exodus 25:31): "Its cups, its knobs, and its flowers, shall come out of it"...
Moses smote [the piece of gold] with a hammer and the menorah took shape of its own accord. For this reason it says, "of hammered work it shall be made" (tei'aseh) — implying that it shall be made of its own accord.
(Midrash Rabbah)
The menorah represents the people of Israel — G‑ds "light unto the nations." Its many components attest to the fact that the Jewish nation is comprised of different tribes and includes individuals from all walks of life.
But even as the menorah's form expresses the diversity within Israel, there are two laws which point to the menorahs integrity. One law concerns the making of the menorah, and the second law, the manner of its lighting.
An artifact of the menorah's complexity is usually fashioned by first molding each of its parts on their and then welding them together. The menorah, however, was hammered out of a single piece of gold, originating as a single object and remaining a single object through the various stages of its construction to the finished product.
This represents the fact that while there are nations that are a coalition of variant groups, each formed by its own ancestry and experience but welded together by common interest and habitat, this is not the case with the Jewish people: all souls of Israel are of a single essence, and their division into distinct individuals is merely their investment into different bodies and physical lives.
The second law is that although the menorah sheds its light with seven lamps, they must all be turned toward the central stem, in keeping with G‑d's instruction to Aaron that "the seven lamps shall give light toward the face of the menorah." This expresses the truth that although the soul of Israel shines not with a single light, but by means of a seven-lamp menorah representing the various prototypes of human character (the seven sefirot), at the same time, all lamps of the menorah face the body from which they extend, emphasizing their singular origin and their singular goal.
In other words: we all come from the same place, and we are all oriented toward the same goal. The differences are only in order to better express our Source and to more completely achieve our goal. Which makes them not differences, but the ultimate expression of oneness.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
And this was the work of the menorah... from its shaft, to its flowers (8:4)
The menorah also represents the Torah, the source of Divine light in the world. This is alluded to in the menorah's design, which is detailed in the 25th chapter of Exodus. The Menorah had seven branches, eleven knobs, nine flowers, twenty-two goblets and was seventeen hand-breadths in height. These numbers represent the five books of the Written Torah: the first verse in the book of Genesis has seven words, the first verse of Exodus has 11 words, the first verse of Leviticus has nine words, the first verse of Numbers has 17 words, and the first verse of Deuteronomy—22 words.
(Divrei Noam)