Photo Credit: 123rf.com
“You shall make a Menorah of pure gold …” (Shemos 25:31)
We learn that Moshe Rabbeinu was unable to construct the menorah, even though Hashem showed him three times how to do it. At that point, Hashem instructed Moshe to throw the gold into the fire, as Rashi explains, and the menorah would be formed on its own.
The structure of the menorah was not any more complex than any of the other creations of the Mishkan. What difficulty did Moshe encounter?
The Chofetz Chaim cites the commentaries, including Malbim, that all the vessels of the Mishkan alluded to lofty spiritual concepts. For example, the aron alluded to an elevated level of wisdom, such as one that could only be attained through prophecy; the shulchan and the lechem hapanim represented the physical needs, including sustenance, of the Jewish people; and the mizbei’ach epitomized the connection between the Jewish nation and Hashem. The menorah was the ner tamid, the eternal light of our people, alluding to the eternity of the Jewish nation.
According to the Zohar, Hashem commanded the angels to make a menorah in the Heavens, positioned to face the menorah in the Mishkan/Bais HaMikdash. When the Kohen would light the menorah in the lower world, the menorah in the heavens was lit simultaneously, lighting up the lives of the Jewish people. But Moshe Rabbeinu saw through prophecy that the Jewish nation would endure long periods of darkness and exile, when Jews in various lands would brutally and cruelly be killed al Kiddush Hashem, to the extent that they would despair of hope for redemption.
That was the point when Moshe asked Hashem how he could make the menorah, a shining light for the Jewish nation, when he sees that in the future there will be periods in time when the Jewish people will be bloodied, consumed by fire, and enveloped in columns of smoke.
Hashem’s response to Moshe was that he should throw the gold into the fire and the menorah would be made by itself. This was to demonstrate to Moshe that it was specifically during those periods of destruction and desolation, when there seemed to be no light or hope for the Jewish nation, that the redemption would develop and shoot forth. The redemption would not emerge with the kindness of the nations, as we say in the afternoon prayer of Tisha B’Av, “For with fire You, Hashem, have consumed her, and with fire You will rebuild her.” When the nations of the world attack the Jewish people like a belligerent lion, we light the menorah of Torah, so that Hashem will shine the light of His menorah and bring the redemption.
Rav Bergman related the following account which took place about thirty years ago.
“An elderly man entered one of the shuls in Brooklyn about fifteen minutes before Shacharis. I observed his intense concentration and devotion as he prepared to daven. He recited the brachos, davened with deep kavanah, and it was apparent that he was truly communicating directly with G-d. The only thing missing was tefillin.
“After davening I went over to him and said, ‘I see that you are not American. What is your name? Where are your from?’
“He answered, ‘My name is Zusha, and I am from Russia. I came to America and I began to daven in this shul.’
“‘Maybe you would like to borrow my tefillin?’ I asked him.
“‘No, thank you.’ he said. ‘I don’t wear other people’s tefillin. They are very expensive, and I am afraid I may damage them.’
“The next day he returned and davened again without tefillin.
“I went to one of the big shtiblech in the neighborhood, and told the congregants there about this special elderly Yid, who had no tefillin and was reluctant to borrow someone else’s. ‘Can we make a collection,’ I pleaded, ‘to buy him a pair of tefillin?’ Immediately everyone eagerly partnered in this great mitzvah and we soon had enough money to buy an outstanding pair of tefillin.
“The next day, Tuesday, when R’ Zusha walked in at 6:15 in the morning, I walked over to him and said, ‘Please, R’ Zusha, I have a pair of tefillin for you.’
“Zusha turned to me and said, ‘I told you that I am afraid to wear someone else’s tefillin.’
“‘They do not belong to anyone else,’ I explained. ‘These tefillin are yours. This is your welcome present from the kehillos in Brooklyn, who bought you this beautiful pair of tefillin.
“He was so moved, he cried like a young boy. His prayers now crowned with tefillin, were like one’s prayers at Ne’ilah. He cried the entire davening. After Shacharis, I asked him, ‘What is your story? When is the last time you put on tefillin?’
“In a choked voice, he answered, ‘Sixty years ago.’
“‘Sixty years ago?’ I asked incredulously. ‘I saw that you put on your tefillin like an older person who has been wearing tefillin his whole life, not like someone who is putting on tefillin for the first time.’
“‘What do you think? he retorted. ‘That I didn’t put on tefilllin? Not one day passed that I didn’t put on tefillin when you’re supposed to!’
“‘But you told me you don’t have tefillin,’ I said.
“‘That is correct,’ said Zusha. ‘But I wore tefillin.’
“I was completely confused. Zusha then continued, ‘My father was a G-d-fearing man in the old days in Russia under the iron fist of the Communists. Whoever was caught going to bais medrash or the mikvah would disappear, surely sent to Siberia never to be seen again. The Russians were intent on eradicating any trace of Yiddishkeit. But my father did not give up. For my bar mitzvah he bought me a beautiful pair of tefillin from a well-known sofer. We went up to the attic, made sure all the shades on the windows were drawn, and my father, with tears in his eyes, helped me put on my tefillin.
“‘Within ten minutes three thugs from the KGB knocked on the door. Someone had talked. The men forcefully grabbed the tefillin off my head, and took away my father. For sixty years I have not had my tefillin; for sixty years I have not had my father.’”