I have just returned hours ago from a six-day whirlwind trip to Eretz Yisroel, having spent most of that time attending the marvelous Agudath Israel Yarchei Kallah program together with my son Zecharya.
The learning was great, the shiurim spectacular, and the camaraderie uplifting.
On a very personal level though, over the course of my trip I was confounded by four striking contrasts.
Each day, my son and I merited to daven k'vasikin at the Kosel. Being at the center of the universe, especially in the quiet of dawn, enveloped in prayer with all the various minyanim joining in unison to recite the silent Amidah at the precise moment of sunrise, arouses within anyone with an open heart, a deep yearning for the return of the Divine Presence and the entire Jewish people to the Makom HaMikdash — Temple Mount, and the end of our long galus.
While far away from home and immersed in that longing, our Shul was finally demolishing the social hall next door to make way for the new and exciting construction to expand our Mikdash Me'at — Miniature Temple.
This contrast of hoping for the redemption with the reality of our entrenchment in galus, aroused some inner frustration.
Every morning I arose with the intention of reciting the entire portion of Korbanos at this most propitious spot — the very site of the Akeidah with all its connotations yet was only able to squeeze it in once. Yet, it was only this morning when I returned to Newark airport at 6 a.m., with a sufficient gap between my plane's arrival and scheduled return by train to Penn Station three hours later, that I was finally able to say Korbanos at the pace I had hoped to at the site of the holy Mikdash. How ironic.
On the second day of the Yarchei Kallah a major demonstration took place in front of the Supreme Court. It was initiated by 'leftists' who fear the infiltration of religion into their daily lives considering the newly elected right-wing government and its legislative agenda, which is more sympathetic to tradition and the needs of the significant religious population of the state.
That morning the cab ride from my lodgings through the center of town, that was normally a fifteen-minute ride tops, took triple the amount of time — as well as the fare, due to tens of thousands amassing protestors. After wending through numerous police detours, and back alleys — as only Israeli taxi drivers know how, we arrived at the location of the Yarchei Kallah housed at the Ramada Renaissance hotel, directly opposite and in open view of the Supreme Court and the angry protestors. While the tempers of hot politics were aflame, over five-hundred visitors from overseas were joining together, far removed from their businesses and families — and the fiery polemic, and basking in the joy of Torah. How poignant.
Sadly, our enthused arrival on Erev Shabbos was doused by a country in anguish and mourning. Once again, a terrorist sadistically rammed and killed three holy innocent souls — two angelic young brothers and a young newlywed aspiring Torah scholar, leaving the father of the two boys in critical condition on life support. One brother dying and being buried before and the other expiring on Shabbos and was buried on Motzei Shabbos. Yet, the serenity and sweet sounds of Shabbos reigned and wafted through this holiest of days of the week, somehow immune to the tragedy. How mystifying.
Behold! I send an angel before you to protect you on the way, and to bring you to the מקום — place that הכנתי — I have made ready. (שמות כג כ)
Although it is not clear which angel this is referring to, and at what exact point in history it is to appear and lead them, nevertheless the description of the angel taking them 'to the place I have made ready' is perplexing.
The verse seems to be indicating that the angel will lead them against their enemies as they conquer the land. If that be the case then the word הכינותי, usually implies a state of completed preparation, yet the land was not yet fully conquered. Rashi explains 'in its simple meaning' that the word can alternately imply 'that I designated' for a purpose even before it is yet fully 'ready'.
Rashi offers a 'midrashic' interpretation based on the more literal intimation of the word indicating full preparedness. It is referring specifically to מקום — place, a word most often used to describe the Temple itself, but not the earthly Temple — which was not yet 'prepared', but the בית המקדש של מעלה — The Temple upon high. In Rashi's own words, "This is one of the verses that state that 'the heavenly Temple is directly opposite the earthly Temple.'"
There are two other places where Rashi quotes this notion.
In the Shirah we say, מכון לשבתך — the foundation of your dwelling place, that you, G-d, have made. (שם טו יז)
Rashi explains this verse as teaching that the Temple below is directly opposite the Temple above, which you made.
Rashi seems to be intentionally reversing the order, describing the one below being connected to the one above, not as portrayed in our portion equating the heavenly with its counterpart down below.
The only other verse where Rashi quotes this idea is when Yitzchok, according to Rashi's interpretation, finds himself already in Charan and realizes he overstepped Mount Moriah — the — place where his forefathers had prayed — decides to return and when he gets as far as Beis-el, Mount Moriah uproots itself and 'meets' him there. Yaakov marvels over being at 'gate of heaven', with Rashi adding how this reveals once again, that Heavenly Temple is directed exactly towards the earthly Temple.
This last instance mirrors the quotation in our portion, in emphasizing the Heavenly being linked to the earthly one — the more elevated one.
The Holy Reb Yehoshua Of Belz, the second Rebbe of Belz, makes a fascinating assertion to resolve the dilemma. When the Jewish nation are worthy by deed and action, achieving their deserved exalted status in the promised land, then of course our Temple will stand opposite the one on high. But when there will be dark times due to the challenges of exile, we will be forced to establish our outposts of Torah and prayer dispersed throughout the world, G-d promises us that he will move His heavenly abode and bring His Presence to us. The episode of Yaakov where the Mount Moriah uprooted to Yaakov's location, the Rebbe suggests — in accordance with the simple reading of the text — landed while he was still in Charan, outside the land. This served as a portent for future generations that if we commit to an inspired life outside the realm of the holy land, G-d will bring His presence to us. This then explains the heavenly abode corresponding to our miniature places of devotion down on earth, even amidst the darkness of galus.
Until the Moshiach comes, we can merit to bring the great light of the Divine, no matter where we find ourselves, if we strive for His sake.
We must devotedly, despite frustration, create heavenly abodes upon earth. We may recite the korbanos with fervor no matter the distance from Mount Moriah, for its holiness is uprooted into our very own backyard.
Until our unfortunate brethren and sisters — who grew up for the most part in a vacuum, cut off from the influences of Torah and pure Jewish tradition, finally 'get it', we must feel privileged and motivated to create the infectious inspiration they so desperately need, by living enthused by a life Torah.
The Paley family has been promoting, literally to the world, the need to see the Divine even amidst what may seem like the deepest grief, because in a world of absolute devotion and faith in G-d's goodness and love for His beloved children, there is never complaint nor anger, only inspired acceptance of His will.
There are no contrasts, no conflicts, only equal expressions of the will of G-d, who will bring His presence to our door if we remain steadfast in our commitment despite the dark clouds of the challenges of galus that may block our perception of His absolute kindness.
One of the speakers at the Yarchei Kallah, Reb Binyomin Finkel, quoted in the name of the Kotzker which coincided with his Yahrzeit, the first day of the event.
If one claims one still has time, it is already too late. If one feels it is already too late, one must realize, it is never too late!
The time is now! Hashem awaits our dedication to perceiving His presence. The day we achieve that we will merit to enter Mount Moriah, aligning the earthly abode with His one above, speedily in our days!
באהבה,
צבי יהודה טייכמאן