Parshas Terumah 5786
- Torah Tavlin
- Feb 21
- 3 min read
ועשית מנרת זהב טהור מקשה תיעשה המנורה וכו' וראה ועשה בתבניתם אשר אתה מראה בהר ... (כה-לא,מ)
Among all the keilim of the Mishkan, the menorah stands out as uniquely challenging. The Torah describes it in intricate detail - cups, knobs, flowers, branches - yet Chazal tell us that Moshe Rabbeinu struggled to understand how it was supposed to look. The description was so complex that even he could not visualize it from words alone. What did Hashem do? He showed it to him. Rashi explains: “Moshe found the menorah difficult, so Hashem showed him a menorah of fire.” When something is important, clarity is not optional. Words can be misunderstood. Instructions can be misinterpreted. Even the most sincere person can get it wrong. The menorah teaches us that holiness often depends on clarity. The Mishkan wasn’t a place where “close enough” would do. Miscommunication can turn a simple conversation into chaos.
When a middle-aged American fulfilled his long-held dream of moving to Israel, he imagined a new life in a place he had always felt drawn to. He was an earnest man in his late sixties, the kind who approached every challenge with a mixture of determination and mild confusion. Hebrew, in particular, was a mountain he struggled to climb. He had taken a few classes, memorized a few verbs, but to say that he had “mastered” the language would be a sore overstatement.
He took a job in a company and began to settle down but things did not go exactly as planned. After he was unexpectedly laid off along with several colleagues, he decided to apply for a short-term loan in order to stabilize his finances. He rehearsed what he wanted to say on the bus ride to the bank, convinced he had mastered the necessary vocabulary. The words felt foreign in his mouth, but as an optimistic, good-natured American, he trusted himself. What could go wrong?
Walking into the nearest branch, he approached the counter where a young clerk greeted him with a polite smile. The American smiled, cleared his throat and delivered his opening line with the solemnity of a man announcing a major life event. "אני הולך להיפטר", he declared. The clerk froze. Her eyes widened with alarm usually reserved for medical emergencies. She was processing the fact that this gentle, grandfatherly man had just calmly informed her that he was about to pass away. Not only that, he seemed remarkably composed about it. She swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.
Before she could gather her thoughts, however, the man pressed on. "אז אני צריך לסדר לויה", he added.
The clerk’s face drained of color. She whispered something inaudibly that sounded like a prayer. The man, still unaware of the linguistic catastrophe unfolding, wondered why she looked so distressed. He assumed she was simply moved by his situation. Israelis were known for their warmth, after all. She excused herself and hurried to her supervisor, whispering urgently. The supervisor, a kindly woman who spoke excellent English and maintained a great deal of experience with immigrant mishaps, approached the middle-aged man with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“Sir,” she said gently, “is everything okay? Are you sick? Do you need to sit? A drink of water, perhaps?”
The man continued to smile, happy to hear another person speaking his language. First, he repeated his words in Hebrew and then provided an explanation in English, relieved to finally be understood.
“I told the nice lady teller that I was laid off from my job, and I need to discuss taking out a loan.”
The supervisor blinked. Then she laughed, a warm, rolling laugh that filled the room. She explained the misunderstanding in Hebrew to the clerk, who let out a shaky exhale of relief. The supervisor then turned back to the American. “You told her you were about to die,” she said, still smiling, “and that you needed to arrange your funeral.”
The man’s eyes widened. “I said what?” She repeated the phrases, clarifying the difference between להיפטר (to pass away) and להיות מפוטר (to be fired), and between לוויה (funeral) and הלוואה (loan). His face turned a shade of red and then he laughed too because really, what else could he do? A few misplaced syllables almost turned a routine errand into a near-death announcement. It was, in its own way, the most memorable loan consultation the man would ever have. (Fascinating Insights by Rav Y. Alt)