Mixing with This World While Washing Your Hands of It

In an unusual passage, the Talmud reports that King Solomon instituted the laws concerning the Eruv (i.e., “mixing of the realms”) through which one is allowed to carry objects from one domain to another on Shabbat, which would otherwise be forbidden.[1] The Talmud goes on to say that on another occasion King Solomon instituted the ritual washing of the hands. Both decrees were received with Divine favor and a heavenly voice issued forth and proclaimed, “My son, if your heart is wise, Mine will be glad…”[2]

The great Chassidic Sage, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, wondered what great wisdom lies hidden within these laws, such that the Heavenly Master was moved to joyfully approve of them in such a public manner. In his typically profound way, the Kotzker Rebbe explained that both laws demonstrate that a Jew must be both involved (“mixed”) in the world and simultaneously separated enough “to wash one’s hands of it.”

This observation is all the more remarkable since King Solomon was known for being deeply involved in the world (e.g., he negotiated international trade agreements and peace treaties, organized public works projects, adjudicated legal cases, etc.) and tasted all of its pleasures. Nevertheless, he maintained, according to the Kotzker Rebbe, a certain distance from the world so that he could detach from it when necessary.

To eat, to drink, to be fully involved, and yet to remain somehow disconnected from the world is indeed a great challenge, and to accomplish this feat requires great wisdom.

When looking into the construction of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, built in the days of Moshe, we find another expression of the same idea. As is well known, the Israelites constructed the Tabernacle in the desert, and afterwards brought it into the land of Israel to become the center of their Divine worship. Once they entered the land, the Jews ceased to live in a world of constant, open miracles, but suddenly found themselves obligated to build for themselves a society that would be both political and deeply religious.

This too, was quite a challenge. A successful spiritual culture requires more than just the bare essentials. To foster religious fervor, the Jewish people needed some beauty and refinement (e.g., art and music), which are to some degree, necessary to nourish the religious being. Taken too far, though, luxuries can easily become an impediment to holiness, particularly when they are seen as goals in themselves. As such, a society needs them, but must simultaneously work to keep them connected to the Infinite.

When carefully observing the human condition, we can divide our needs into three categories:

• Essential – for example, food, clothing, and shelter which are the elementary requirements for human existence.
• Useful – anything that makes life easier, but without which we could still survive (e.g., roads, bridges, tools, and other forms of technology).
• Ornamental – arts that have no practical value but which elevate the quality of our lives, and make the human experience more pleasant.

At all three levels, fulfilling these needs can be part of religious enrichment. However, taken past the point of moderation, each has the potential for great social evils – over-indulgence, envy, class struggle, corruption, etc.

When looking into the plans for the Tabernacle’s construction, we see that all three categories were represented. Some items were absolutely essential to the Tabernacle, such as the outer shell (shelter). Other elements (e.g., the ramp leading up to the altar) functioned solely to make the priests’ jobs easier. Certain fineries were also added that had no apparent practical value whatsoever, but greatly enhanced the beauty of the Tabernacle and the religious experience of those who worshipped there (e.g., the ornate embroidery and vivid dyes).

Jewish tradition states that every category of creative work was represented in the Tabernacle. As such, any human activity that was not needed at any phase in building the Mishkan does not have the status of “work” (melacha) in Judaism.

When we put all these pieces together, a very clear message starts to emerge. Before the Jews began building their political state, they first built a place of worship that required them to employ every manner of craftsmanship and labor that they would ever use in the construction of their nation. To make sure that they aligned their priorities correctly, and fully integrated the idea that nothing should ever become an object of over-indulgence, the Jewish people gave their initial bursts of creativity and labor to God. And so they dedicated their thoughts and talents – which would soon be used in the establishment of their new homeland – to Divine service.

As the people toiled to make the Tabernacle and all its accessories, the vestments and various articles, they remained constantly aware of God and their mission as members of a holy nation. Later, when they used these same skills in their mundane day-to-day lives, they recalled that the very first time they involved themselves in such work, it was for purely spiritual-religious purposes. As such they were able to maintain an elevated state of consciousness while involved in their daily occupations.[3] Via this ingenious training program, the Jewish people were able to mix with worldly affairs and at the same time, knew how to artfully “wash their hands of it.” This ability to stay mentally focused on spiritual matters, while physically engaging with the world, is the wisdom the Kotzker Rebbe recognized in King Solomon’s dual decrees – the mixing of the realms and the washing of the hands.

Notes

[1] Eruvin 21b.

[2] See Mishlei 23:15.

[3] This highly original observation is mentioned by Rabbi Yisachar Yakovson in Iyunim BeParashiyoth HaTorah, Sinai Publishing House, Tel Aviv, 1977, Parashat Tetzaveh, in the name of Moses Mendelsohn. Obviously many other symbolic, ethical and philosophical reasons have been given for the tabernacle and all its items.