Preparing to wander in the wilderness for 40 years, the Israelites know that they must provide not only for their physical requirements in the desert, but for their spiritual needs as well. This week's Torah portion continues the discussion of the building of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle), the portable site of worship that our ancestors carried with them throughout their wanderings.
Of the furnishings of the Mishkan, none has received more attention than the Menorah, the seven-branched, golden candlestick used to illumine the Holy of Holies during the endless desert nights. Our Torah portion opens with the instructions for maintaining that light. The Israelites are told "to bring...clear oil of beaten olives for lighting, for kindling lamps regularly."
Recalling that the Mishkan was to be a place where God could dwell, the Menorah looks suspiciously like a night-light for God! But why would the Creator of the Universe, the source of the light of the sun, moon, and stars, need to keep the home lights burning? Why would God need our light?
The ancient rabbis were sensitive to this same question. In fact, they put the question directly into God's mouth. In Midrash Sh'mot Rabbah, God says that the light is "not that I need them but in order that you [the Jews] may give light to Me as I give light to you." God's need for a love relation with the people Israel produces this divine willingness to invent ways for Israel to show its love for God.
The rabbis compare this to a blind man who was accompanied home by one who could see. After the blind man gets home, the sighted one asks his fellow to light a lamp for him "so that you will no longer be obligated to me for having accompanied you along the way." The rabbis tell us that the sighted man represents the Holy One, who guides us throughout our lives, and the blind man represents the Jewish People. In response to God guiding us, we also shine a light on God's wisdom and caring in the world.
How, in a day when there is neither Mishkan nor Temple, how do we shine a light back on God. How, in gratitude for God's guidance in our lives, do we establish a pure burning brightness that reflects credit to God?
The Midrash continues: "Just see how the words of the Torah give forth light to those who study them.... Those who study Torah give forth light wherever they may be. It is like standing in the dark with a lamp in hand; when you see a stone, you don't stumble, nor do you fall into a gutter because you have a lamp in hand.... God said, 'Let My lamp be in your hand and your lamp in My hand.' What is the lamp of God? The Torah.
In our day, then, the lamp of God is the rich teachings of the Torah. God shines that light into the world, illumining the pitfalls and stumbling-blocks along the way. Through the guidance and discipline of the mitzvot, God offers us a path of sanity, profundity, and morality.
Yet the Torah remains merely a book, its instructions mere words, if we don't translate them into living deeds. It is in our hands to take the teachings of the Torah and of later rabbinic insight and to let them shine through our example. We shine a light back to God when we live by God's commandments. In the words of the psalmist, "In Your light we are bathed in light."
As the Book of Proverbs observes, "the mitzvah is a lamp, and the teaching is a light." By living our lives in accord with the commandments, we fashion a light so bright that it can shine into the deepest recesses of the human heart, lighting the way back from the precipice of egotism, hedonism, or habit.
It isn't enough merely to build the Menorah. Each of us must bring to it our own supply of clear, pure oil. It isn't enough to own the Torah, nor even to read it regularly. Each of us must implement its teachings, demonstrating its teachings in deeds to the four corners of our lives.
In that way, we allow God's light to shine on us, so that we--in turn--can shine our light on God.
Shabbat Shalom!