Marking the conclusion of Sefer Shemot and the inauguration of the Mishkan on the 1st of Nissan.1
Parashat Hachodesh ("Machar Chodesh"), Rosh Chodesh Nissan,2 and the start of spring.3
Pesikta Rabbati, Parasha 5, Shir Hashirim Rabbah 3:1
It is written: "Even the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you," and here it is written: "and the glory of God filled the tabernacle." Yehoshua of Sachnin said in the name of R. Levy: To what is this similar? To an open cave on the seashore. The sea will rage, and the cave will be filled, but the sea is not diminished. Similarly, although it is written "and the glory of God filled the tabernacle," those in the heavens and those on earth were not lacking.4
Shemot Rabbah 45:3
We find that it is written "And God spoke to Moshe," "And God said to Moshe," and also, "Moshe said to God," "Moshe spoke to God" – A parable for this might be a cave on the seashore. The sea rose, and filled the cave; the sea did not move away; rather, from here on in, the sea would give to the cave, and the cave to the sea.5
Note: a good darshan (exegetic) is more than a well-read scholar with depth of thought; a good darshan is also soulful, is in touch with the world around him, and understands human nature. He has a keen eye for nature and is touched by its magic; he takes the time to stop and internalize, to cherish the moment, and to be filled with awe. Anyone who travels along the shore in Israel, particularly by Habonim beach or Rosh Hanikra, is familiar with the beautiful view of a raging sea that fills the stone inlets and crevices. When the waves subside, the water returns to the sea. It's hard for anyone to ignore that magical effect; but it takes a good, soulful darshan to connect this natural phenomenon with lofty concepts such as the descent of God's divine spirit to earth, thus going back and forth between nature and the Beit Midrash. It is this feature that makes the midrash, especially midrashic literature written in Israel, so beautiful and relevant to our generation, particularly to those who live in Israel.
It is written: "Even the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you," and here it is written: "and the glory of God filled the tabernacle." Yehoshua of Sachnin said in the name of R. Levy: To what is this similar? To an open cave on the seashore. The sea will rage, and the cave will be filled, but the sea is not diminished. Similarly, although it is written "and the glory of God filled the tabernacle," those in the heavens and those on earth were not lacking.
This midrash from Shir Hashirim Rabbah addresses the problem of the shechina's descent to earth, which is referred to in Kabbalah as tzimtzum ('contraction'): how is it possible for infinity to fit itself into a finite world? How can divinity be brought down to earth? "There were three things Moshe heard that made him recoil; the first was when he was told: Let them make a Temple so I can dwell in their midst" (Pesikta DeRav Kahana 2). Making a Temple may seem possible, but how can God dwell in our midst? Man may identify with the need to create a Temple in which he can reflect on the infinite; but how can the infinite descend to earth and dwell within a finite construct?6
The darshan is not a philosopher; he presents the question with all its depth and answers it through a parable. He says: look around you, go to the seashore, the meeting point between heaven and earth. Pay attention to the meeting point of the sea and the sharp stone inlets in Habonim beach, or the caves of Rosh Hanikra. Look at the sea and the cave. See how deceiving nature can be: the cave almost appears as an independent source of water, but it is not; the water comes from the sea, and the sea lacks nothing. Infinity minus one (or even one million) remains infinite. There is more to tzimtzum than this parable, but the parable provides some direction. Herein lies the beauty and power of the midrash.7
We find that it is written "And God spoke to Moshe," "And God said to Moshe," and also, "Moshe said to God," "Moshe spoke to God" – A parable for this might be a cave on the seashore. The sea rose, and filled the cave; the sea did not move away; rather, from here on in, the sea would give to the cave, and the cave to the sea.
The second midrash brought here, from Shemot Rabbah, takes a significant leap by pointing to the mutuality between the sea and the cave: "from here on in, the sea would give to the cave, and the cave to the sea." In order to understand this midrash we need to consider the second dialogue between Moshe and God after the sin of the Golden Calf, in Ex. 33. In the first exchange, God tells Moshe "Go down for your people have acted perversely," and Moshe pleads: "Turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people." Moshe successfully persuades God to hold back from destroying the nation, at least temporarily. The second dialogue is about long term ramifications: what happens in the wake of the great disaster of the Golden Calf? How do we move forward from here? God suggests one way; Moshe argues for another. The argument between them is real and harsh; they argue about the role of the angel-messenger, about the ability to see God, about the uniqueness of Am Yisrael, and more. The darshan's sharp eye pays attention not only to the content of the dialogue, but also to its form and framing: "And God spoke to Moshe," "And God said to Moshe," and also, "Moshe said to God," "Moshe spoke to God." The darshan wants us to notice that this is a dialogue that is presented as though taking place between two equals. This is not similar to the divine revelation of "I am Hashem your God" at Sinai, which culminates in fire and smoke, thunder and lightning; this is a conversation between Moshe and God.
The darshan envisions the sea and the cave, and ponders that perhaps the movement of the water between the cave and the sea is not one-directional as it may have appeared at first glance, and that perhaps the cave too has something to say. According to the parable, the initial inspiration comes from above: "the sea rose and the cave was filled" hints to the one-directionality of the revelation at Sinai: "God spoke … saying." At Sinai, the nation has no ability to respond. But after the great revelation, there is a window enabling dialogue. While the infinity of the divine is unharmed by the descent of the shechina, from here on in the human voice is part of the conversation: "Moshe said to God," "Moshe spoke to God." Once the water has reached the cave, the relationship is reciprocal, and the sea now relies on the cave – it is its 'poison and passion.'8 "From here on in the sea would give to the cave, and the cave to the sea" – this is a description of reciprocity. The water now belongs to the cave as much as it belongs to the sea. This reciprocity connects with the idea that the Torah is "not in the heavens," (Deut. 30:12) which is later expressed by the Rabbis in such statements as God stating "my children have won me over" (Bava Metziah 59b) or various sources that either equate the judgment in the heavens to that on earth, or even go so far as to given precedence to human judgment over divine judgment, and prefer human logic over the absoluteness of the divine Torah.9
A good darshan can connect the height of intellectualism with the simplicity of nature's beauty. But the messages of a good midrash can be lost unless one is a good reader, who can see beyond the overt messages of the midrash and seek the hidden messages embedded therein. This hidden layer is the midrashic creation itself, which has the power to create and invent. The midrash itself is the cave that received the water and returns it to the sea of Jewish thought and philosophy. But there is another layer beyond that: the reader is another "cave" which returns what he has received from the darshan and the sea of Jewish texts. Without the reader, the creation, the midrash, and the text have no real existence.
חזק חזק ונתחזק
Shabbat Shalom, Chodesh Tov, and wishing you a happy, pleasant spring!
Mehalkei Hamayim