On Means and Ends, Rules and Models (Column 119)[1]

With God's help

The work of constructing the Tabernacle is highly detailed and meticulous, and the Torah devotes four entire portions to it. Against this backdrop, the question becomes sharper: why did they not do everything in a more efficient way, which presumably would have enabled Moses to arrive easily and efficiently at the precise structure?

Between the Tabernacle and Its Vessels

After describing the structure of the vessels, the Torah concludes with the verse (Exodus 25:40):

And see, and make according to their pattern, which you are being shown on the mountain.

The Talmud in Menachot 29a derives from here:

It was taught in a baraita: Rabbi Yosei son of Rabbi Yehuda says: A fiery ark, a fiery table, and a fiery menorah descended from heaven, and Moses saw them and made their counterparts, as it is said: “And see, and make according to their pattern, which you are being shown on the mountain.”

Rabbi Yosei son of Rabbi Yehuda infers from this verse that the Holy One, blessed be He, built a model of fire of the Tabernacle's vessels (the ark, table, and menorah) so that Moses could copy it and build them accurately (although from his wording it appears that the model was shown to Moses on Mount Sinai and did not accompany him to the construction site. Presumably the Holy One, blessed be He, relied on Moses' memory).

Why was it necessary to show Moses a model rather than suffice with verbal instructions? The Torah Temimah here brings the following about this:

In the Talmud it is stated in the name of the school of Rabbi Yishmael that Moses had difficulty with the making of the menorah, until the Holy One, blessed be He, showed him its form with a finger; and it derives this there from the beginning of Parashat Beha'alotekha: “And this is the workmanship of the menorah.” The expression “and this” indicates pointing with a finger, as has been explained in many places [see what I wrote at the end of Parashat Bo on the verse “because of this the Lord did for me”]. Apparently this is also Rabbi Yosei son of Rabbi Yehuda’s view regarding the ark and the table, because their details are numerous. He derives it from the verse before us, which comes at the end of the section dealing with these matters, except that he does not hold that He showed them with a finger; rather, that they descended from heaven and he made their counterparts, etc.

He links Rabbi Yosei son of Rabbi Yehuda's statement to that of Rabbi Yishmael. He explains that the need to build the model was due to the complexity of the vessels (and that is why Moses found it difficult).

Later, the Talmud there objects:

But if so, then regarding “And you shall erect the Tabernacle according to its ordinance, which you were shown on the mountain,” would you say the same there as well? Here it is written “according to its ordinance,” whereas there it is written “according to their pattern.”

What is the meaning of this question? Rashi there explains:

Would you say the same here as well—that a fiery Tabernacle descended from heaven? This is a rhetorical question.

The Talmud is puzzled because this would imply that a model also descended from heaven for the Tabernacle. It answers that with regard to the Tabernacle, no, because concerning the ark, menorah, and table the Torah writes "according to their pattern" ("according to their pattern"), whereas regarding the Tabernacle it writes "according to its ordinance" ("according to its ordinance"). That is, the instructions regarding the Tabernacle were given verbally and not by means of a model of fire displaying its form.

In the Torah Temimah there, later on, he wonders about Rashi's words:

And I do not know what is more surprising here than the ark, the table, and the menorah, about which he says that they descended from heaven. In truth, it is stated in the midrashim that the Holy One, blessed be He, showed him in a fiery form the entire pattern of the Tabernacle, and they derive this from the verse at the beginning of the section: “According to all that I show you.”

And indeed it is not clear why the Talmud is unwilling to accept that the instructions for the Tabernacle also descended in the form of a model of fire. The Torah Temimah there in fact offers another explanation:

Therefore, were it not for Rashi’s explanation, one might have said that the intent of the question is: Why does Rabbi Yosei not also count the Tabernacle? And it answers: There it says “according to its ordinance,” implying that only its laws were told to him, but not its pattern. Consider this carefully.

The question was why Rabbi Yosei son of Rabbi Yehuda does not count the Tabernacle as well. But he too agrees that, in the final analysis, unlike the vessels, with regard to the Tabernacle no model built of fire descended from heaven. Therefore the difficulty concerning the difference between it and the vessels remains in force even according to this interpretation.

Introduction: On Means and Ends

There are cases in which a goal is set before us, while in fact the one who sets it intends that we go through the path toward it. The goal is really the means, and the means are the true goal (see also in Column 13). I will give two examples of such confusion.

There is a well-known question in game theory: how can we ensure that two children divide a piece of cake into two equal parts? The answer is that one of them should divide the cake and the second should choose first. Why does this work? The first, who divides the cake, calculates how he can end up with the larger piece, and the conclusion is that he must divide it into two completely equal parts (for if one piece is larger, the second child will choose it).

Is this really a satisfactory solution to the problem? Clearly not. This mathematical solution will indeed bring us to an exact division of the cake between the children, but that is not really the point. We do not care that the cake be divided equally between them. Our true goal is to educate them so that they understand that they ought to share equally. The goal is not the division of the cake but character formation that will lead to equal division. The equal division is at most an indication that the children are well educated. If we take the path suggested by game theory, we will reach the opposite result. We will encourage the children's egoism, since each is motivated to look after himself in the coldest way possible so that he gets as much of the cake as he can. If, instead, we were to let each of them take half for himself, and if he took a larger portion we would rebuke him and educate him, we would better achieve our educational goal (albeit at the cost of an unequal division of the cake).

This is a case in which the goal set before the children (or really before the parents) is that the cake be divided equally, when in fact that is only a means. The true goal is the children's education and character formation, and that we did not achieve. The reversal between goal and means causes us to miss the true goal, that is, to achieve the means at the expense of the goal. Equal division is the functional goal (in practice the actions are done in order to achieve it), but essentially it is the means, and the path toward it is the goal.

A second example is the dispute regarding penitents and the perfectly righteous (Sanhedrin 99a):

And Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba said in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan: All the prophets prophesied only regarding penitents, but as for the completely righteous, “No eye has seen, O God, besides You.” And this disagrees with Rabbi Abbahu, for Rabbi Abbahu said in the name of Rav: In the place where penitents stand, the completely righteous do not stand, as it is said: “Peace, peace, to the far and to the near”—first the far, and then the near. What is “far”? Far at first. And what is “near”? Near at first and now as well. But Rabbi Yoḥanan said: “To the far” means one who is far from transgression; “the near” means one who was near to transgression and has now distanced himself from it.

Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba holds that the perfectly righteous person is preferable to the penitent, but Rabbi Abbahu holds that the penitent is preferable. It is hard to speak here of a halakhic ruling, since this is not a matter of Jewish law. But medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) tend to cite Rabbi Abbahu. Be that as it may, Rabbi Abbahu's view, whether it is normative or not, requires explanation. Repentance, even when done in the most complete way, can at most bring the sinner to the level of a perfectly righteous person. How, then, can one say that the penitent is preferable to the perfectly righteous person?

We are forced to conclude that the point of repentance is not only to reach the level of the perfectly righteous. The path of repentance itself, the one that leads to a state of righteousness, has independent importance. The complete penitent becomes perfectly righteous, but in addition he has also repented, and that is his advantage over the righteous person. Once again we see that although the goal of repentance is to reach a state of righteousness, that is only the functional goal. Essentially, the act of repenting, which ostensibly is only a means, has importance in its own right. It too is actually a goal.[2]

Building the Tabernacle

The Tabernacle is no less complex than the vessels, and so the difficulty raised by the author of the Torah Temimah is indeed entirely justified. Why, then, did they not also send down a model of it made of fire to ensure perfect execution? Apparently the Holy One, blessed be He, wanted Moses to build the Tabernacle on the basis of his own understanding (in light of the verbal instructions) and not merely copy from a ready-made model. The vessels have a functional purpose, each for the service to which it is assigned. Therefore what is required there is perfect construction, and the best way to achieve that is to present Moses with a completed model. But the Tabernacle, apparently, is meant also for the sake of its very construction and not only for the functions it fulfills.[3] Therefore there the Holy One, blessed be He, prefers to give verbal instructions and not to send down a completed model. He wants the Tabernacle to be built through human creativity and not as a copy of a divine model. In fact, the Tabernacle is a goal set before Moses, but from an essential perspective it is only a means. The goal is the building, and it must be done by him and from his own understanding.

This may perhaps explain the rabbinic exposition on the verse (Exodus 25:8):

And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them.

In Avot de-Rabbi Natan, chapter 11, they expound this as follows:

It was taught in a baraita: Rabbi Tarfon says: Great is labor, for even the Holy One, blessed be He, did not cause His Presence to rest upon Israel until they performed labor, as it is said: “And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them.”.

And the Torah Temimah there wonders what connection this verse has to the importance of labor. But in light of what we have said, one may suggest that the intent is not labor in general but the labor of the Tabernacle. There is importance in performing the labor of the Tabernacle ourselves, and not only in the product of that labor. The goal (the Tabernacle) was set before us, but in fact the significance lies in the path to it, in the construction.

And indeed the labors of the Tabernacle are the source for the prohibitions of labor on the Sabbath, and on the Sabbath the forbidden labors are creative labors. Therefore it is reasonable to interpret that this creative act too is a goal in itself, and not only its product.

An Exegetical Note

In verse 9 there the Torah writes:

According to all that I show you—the pattern of the Tabernacle and the pattern of all its vessels—so shall you make it.

At first glance, the same expression is used here regarding the Tabernacle and its vessels. The Holy One, blessed be He, showed Moses all of these, and this seemingly contradicts the Talmudic exposition in Menachot that we cited above. Perhaps this is a dispute between passages,[4] but perhaps the repetition here of the word "pattern" twice indicates that this was not done in the same way: the vessels descended as a completed model and the Tabernacle as verbal instructions (although the term "pattern" is difficult to interpret in that way).

And Yet, Achieving the Goal

We can now go one step further and claim even more: even if the goal is indeed the Tabernacle itself and not only the process of building, we will still achieve it better if we do not place an exact model before the builder. There is a drawback to an exact model, because it obligates us to cling to it and not exercise creativity. And what will we do when we encounter some obstacle? The screw does not go in, the board is a bit short, the hides run out, and so on. Precisely when the desired goal is very complex, it is preferable to avoid imposing an exact model. Such a model is not implementable, for there will always be mishaps that will not allow us to make it exactly in its likeness. By contrast, if we leave the structure to the builder's creativity, we will get a more complete product.

"Philosophy in Action"

Once I met at the home of a mutual friend for a fascinating conversation with Doron Avital, who had been commander of Sayeret Matkal and a Knesset member on behalf of Kadima (today he is director of the National Library). Avital completed a doctorate in philosophy at Columbia University in the United States, and following that he wrote a book called Philosophy in Action. The book tries to present a military doctrine, and a broader one as well, shaped in light of Wittgenstein's philosophy. In our meeting we discussed various criticisms I had of the book, but I warmly recommend it. It is a very interesting and thought-provoking book.

One of Avital's claims in his book is that in complex operations it is not right, and in fact impossible, to give overly rigid instructions. For example, he said that in preparation for military operations he insisted that the model built for training not be exact. He insisted that they not place department-store mannequins in it but rather human-shaped cardboard targets (as on firing ranges). The model and the preparations should be schematic and not precise, because in the field there are always changes. It never looks as it did in training, and the commanders and fighters must be ready to improvise and respond to those changes.

The conclusion is that when we have a complex goal, it is not right to prepare for it by means of an exact model but rather by means of more schematic instructions that leave a degree of freedom to those carrying it out.

Back to the Tabernacle and Its Vessels

The conclusion is that precisely because the Tabernacle was more complex than the ark, the menorah, and the table, it would not have been right to instruct its construction by means of a model, but rather by means of verbal instructions that leave degrees of freedom to those carrying it out. Not only because there is value in the construction itself, but also in order to achieve better results in the final product.

Implication: Rules in Jewish Law and the Talmud[5]

It seems to me that this is also the reason that the Talmud and Jewish law in general do not like rigid rules. We are all familiar with the phenomenon of exceptions in Jewish law to the rules. For example, there are positive commandments that are time-bound in which women are obligated, or disputes between Abaye and Rava in which we rule like Abaye outside Ya'al Kegam, or disputes in which we do not follow the majority, as well as rulings like Beit Shammai against Beit Hillel, and so on. Some of the commentators raise difficulties and offer various intricate explanations, apparently assuming that these rules are rigid and binding. But in fact this is a natural and self-evident phenomenon. Rules never really work, and in practice there is always a need to depart and deviate from them. Therefore, even if rules are presented in Jewish law and in the Talmud, there is no expectation, and it is not even right, to cling to them with excessive piety.

The associative mode of thought, which relies on cases and examples (in the world of law this is called casuistic thinking, that is, reliance on cases – not on rules) rather than on rules, may seem too vague and too elastic, but in the end, because life is complicated, it leads us to the goal in a better, truer, and even more precise way. One who applies rigid rules with excessive devotion will usually depart from common sense and make mistakes. Thus, for example, when teaching a language it is not right to cling to rules. They are intended for beginners who are learning the language in an ulpan. A native speaker who learns it at home and practices it in the society in which he grows up will speak much better. Usually the 'errors' that an ulpan graduate identifies in him are not his errors but those of the diagnostician himself, who takes the rules he learned in the ulpan far too seriously.[6] Try writing a poem by means of a collection of language rules learned in an ulpan.

Jewish law, like life itself, is a complex phenomenon, and as such it requires sufficiently flexible and elastic handling to be able to cope with it. Rigidity and adherence to rules will in such cases lead to mistakes and even to ruin.

[1] This column was written following remarks I made in synagogue this Sabbath (Parashat Terumah).

[2] This may perhaps be one possible explanation for the outlook that leads to the statement I will sin and repent ("I will sin and repent"). A person thinks that in this way he will also attain the level of the penitent, and that is beyond the perfectly righteous. Hence he develops an ideology of sinning and repenting rather than remaining all the time in a state of righteousness.

[3] There may perhaps be room to relate this to the well-known dispute between Maimonides and Nachmanides as to whether the Tabernacle has importance in itself (for the indwelling of the divine presence) or whether it is merely a "house of service," that is, a means to the vessels and the service performed with them. See about this here (in the article on Parashat Terumah). Perhaps this is also connected to the dispute between Moses and Bezalel as to whether the Tabernacle should be erected before the vessels or after them.

[4] Seemingly this is a dispute about facts, and it is commonly accepted that there are no disputes about facts. To that I would say that this "commonly accepted" principle seems absurd on its face. There are quite a few disputes about facts, and there is no principled problem with that. Beyond that, it is also likely that Rabbi Yosei son of Rabbi Yehuda is not really trying to make a historical claim about what happened at Sinai. He is trying to say something principled, perhaps what I explained above regarding means and ends.

[5] Here I am only mentioning this topic, and I have discussed it in several other places. It seems to me that here, for example, one can find things I have said about it. See also in Column 93.

[6] Of course, there are also cases of errors among native speakers.