Parashat Beha’alotcha

In the Middle School, we spent hours discussing how lunch and recess would work once it was too cold to be outside, whether or not we should we use lockers, how we would ever keep kids six feet apart in the hallways, where to put the Zoom cameras, how to optimize learning happening both in-person and remotely, whether we should we stagger dismissal times to avoid cross-grade mixing, if that was even possible, and on and on and on. The list of topics to address seemed endless and that was just one division, let alone the conversations taking place across the other divisions and the Medical Advisory Committee. 

Yet, as much as we planned and discussed how to make school happen this year, ultimately we all knew that we couldn’t anticipate every challenge and plan for every possible scenario. Rather, we would have to make adjustments mid-flight and hope for the best. It was a year that required trust, faith, generosity of heart and spirit, grit, and determination by every member of this community. 

When we read the first pesukim (verses) of this week’s parashah, Beha’alotcha, with this backdrop in mind, a story emerges from the midrash that captures the essence of this year. The opening lines outline the lighting of the menorah in the Mishkan by Aaron. Additionally, we are reminded of how the menorah was constructed:

וְזֶה מַעֲשֵׂה הַמְּנֹרָה מִקְשָׁה זָהָב עַד־יְרֵכָהּ עַד־פִּרְחָהּ מִקְשָׁה הִוא כַּמַּרְאֶה אֲשֶׁר הֶרְאָה ה’ אֶת־מֹשֶׁה כֵּן עָשָׂה אֶת־הַמְּנֹרָה׃ 

“Now this is how the lampstand was made: it was a hammered work of gold, hammered from base to petal. According to the pattern that God had shown Moses, so was the lampstand made.”

The menorah according to the verse was hammered out of a solid piece of gold, in a pattern shown by God to Moshe. However, according to the midrash, Moshe struggled terribly with its construction. The midrash picks up on the word “מִקְשָׁה,” which in this context means “hammered,” but shares the same root with the word “קשׁה,” which means difficult. The midrash explains that “Moshe became weary” and “when he struggled, The Holy One Who is Blessed said to Moshe: take a talent of gold and throw it in the fire and take it out, and it will be formed on its own . . . he would strike it with a hammer and it would be made on its own.”

וְזֶה מַעֲשֵׂה הַמְּנֹרָה מִקְשָׁה זָהָב, כְּלוֹמַר מַה קָּשָׁה הִיא לַעֲשׂוֹת, שֶׁהַרְבֵּה יָגַע בָּהּ משֶׁה, כֵּיוָן שֶׁנִּתְקַשָּׁה אָמַר לוֹ הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לְמשֶׁה, טֹל כִּכַּר זָהָב וְהַשְּׁלִיכוֹ לָאוּר וְהוֹצִיאֵהוּ וְהִיא מֵעַצְמָהּ נַעֲשֵׂית…מַכֶּה בַּפַּטִישׁ וּמֵעַצְמָהּ נַעֲשֵׂית

The menorah was made in a partnership with God, forged by fire and miracle and hammered too. It wasn’t clear what the menorah should or would look like even with divine instruction — Moshe just couldn’t fully visualize it. He tried time and time again to construct it, but its intricacies, the smaller nuances of its design were too difficult to grasp, so God tells him to toss the golden block in the fire. The gold emerges from the fire ready to be hammered through divine printing. 

Ten months ago we couldn’t fully visualize this year either. We couldn’t possibly answer every question and account for what would be the course of action in every scenario — let alone know how the course of the pandemic would unfold. Rather, there was a magical synthesis of hammering and miraculous forging, both necessary to persevere through the unknown. The menorah was fashioned out of a solid block of gold. Slowly it emerged as the gold was hammered away, eventually revealing the menorah in all its grandeur.

As we honk our horns to congratulate those who hammered away at Leffell for 20 years and honor the gifted wisdom, thoughtfulness, and time of the Medical Advisory Committee, we also have witnessed this magical fusion, revealing a year we could never have imagined, but together was fashioned. 

Shabbat Shalom.