‘Rolled Gold’  Parashat Pekudei – HaChodesh 5785

The plans for the Tabernacle (Mishkan) had been submitted and approved. Now the building process could begin, led by Betzalel, a consummate artisan. After completing the Mishkan and its utensils, the artisans turn their attention to the priestly garments (bigdei kehuna). Most of these garments were made of fabric that contained gold [Shemot 39:2]: “[Betzalel] made the ephod of gold, blue, purple, and crimson wool, and twisted fine linen.” Like the blue, purple, and crimson wool, the gold also took the form of threads. In the next verse, the Torah reveals how this thread was made [Shemot 39:3]: “They hammered out the sheets of gold and cut threads [from them] to work [the gold] into the blue wool, into the purple wool, into the crimson wool, and into the fine linen, the work of a master weaver”. The Ramban[1] is surprised that the Torah describes the method in which the gold thread was made. He comments[2], “In all the sacred work that was performed in the Mishkan, Scripture did not add an explanation as to the method of execution, except for here… Perhaps Scripture relates here how the thread was made… for the artisans were greatly astonished to be told that the gold could be spun and twined as is done with wool or linen, as no-one had ever heard of such a thing until that day.” To fully understand the explanation of the Ramban, we must take a deep dive into the craft of making thread out of gold.

There are two ways of making gold thread: via beating or via drawing.

• For the Beating Method, you begin with gold bullion, a bar or an ingot, typically 22-24 karat for maximum purity. Artisans might alloy it with silver or copper for strength[3], dropping the purity level to 18 karat. Using mallets or rollers, the gold is hammered into ultra-thin foil, called gold leaf, with a thickness of only about 25 microns – about a third the thickness of a human hair. The foil is then sliced into narrow strips, about a millimeter wide, with precision blades. Gold is too soft and brittle[4] to use solo, so those strips are wrapped around a core. In the priestly garments, the core consisted of the “blue, purple, and crimson wool, and twisted fine linen”. Artisans wind the gold tightly, spiraling it like a candy cane stripe. This makes the thread flexible and sewable.
• For the Drawing Method, the gold is melted and rolled into a thin sheet and drawn into a fine wire, with a diameter of about a tenth of a millimeter. The wire is drawn through a series of dies, tiny tapered holes starting at 2 millimeters going down to 0.02 millimeters. To achieve this thickness, fifty passes or more are required through progressively tinier holes. The wire is then flattened into strips and wrapped around the core.

Each of these methods has its advantages and disadvantages. For instance, dies churn out uniform wire – every strand is the same – whereas the hand-cut edges of beaten foil vary in appearance. On the other hand, drawn wire is duller than beaten gold. It is also stiffer, making embroidery more difficult. Each of these methods is ancient. Gold wire shows up in jewelery from the Old Kingdom of Egypt, about 4500 years ago. Beaten gold thread is even older: Gold leaf beaten ultra-thin was found in royal graves in ancient Sumer, some cut into proto-threads. These threads are about a thousand years older than the first drawn wire threads.

We now have sufficient information to revisit the Ramban. The Ramban vividly describes the novelty of making gold thread – “for no-one ever heard of doing such a thing until that day”. Doing some biblical math, it can be shown that the Mishkan was built between Tishrei 2448 and Adar II 2449, corresponding to the years 1313 – 1312 BCE. This is about a millennium after the Beating Method was first seen and two thousand years after the Drawing Method. Where is the novelty here? Opening the aperture wider, we can ask a more generic question: Why is the Beating Method preferable over the Drawing Method? Was it because of its enhanced sheen or, perhaps, its increased flexibility?

It is here that we diverge from the Ramban’s explanation. In an earlier essay[5], we described how the Torah, in its discussion of the lighting of the candelabrum (menorah), says [Bemidbar 8:4], “This was the structure of the menorah”. Rashi[6], quoting from the Talmud in Tractate Menachot [29a], explains that Moshe was “having difficulties” with the menorah so G-d showed him with His own finger a menorah of fire to help him out. Nice, but when we build the 3^rd Holy Temple (Beit Hamikdash), speedily in our days, we will need a menorah. How will we build it? Will we wait until G-d shows us a menorah of fire? What we will do is look in the Rambam in the 3^rd Chapter of “Hilchot Beit Habechira”, where he describes the laws of the menorah. Regarding its structure, the Rambam says, “It is fully described in the Torah”. The instructions are straightforward. Just read the manual. But if we are supposed to be able to understand the instructions as they are written, why couldn’t Moshe?

The key is in understanding what Moshe’s problem was with the menorah. Moshe understood how it was constructed. He passed that on to Betzalel, who built the menorah. Moshe’s concern was not in the physical structure of the menorah, but in its inner meaning. When the Talmud says that Moshe “struggled with” something, it means that he struggled to understand its purpose. For example, one of the other things that G-d had to show Moshe “with His finger” was the half-shekel coin with which the Jewish People were to be counted. The Maharsha[7] explains that Moshe had difficulty in understanding how a coin worth so little could have such great spiritual value. What was his difficulty with the menorah? I suggest his problem stemmed from an inherent contrast in the physical structure of the menorah. On one hand, the menorah was sculpted out of one piece of gold. On the other hand, it was then divided into seven lights. And when G-d tells Aaron how to light the menorah, He instructs [Bemidbar 8:2]: “When you kindle the lamps, towards the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps cast light.” Rashi explains that the burning wicks were to be turned towards the central stem of the menorah. The wicks on the right were turned to the left and wicks on the left were turned to the right. All the lights were focused on one spot, on the centre light. Well, if the menorah begins with one light and ends with one light, why not do away with the other lights?

Light represents our connection with G-d. As it is written in Parables [43:23], “A mitzvah is like a candle and the Torah like light”. The Seforno[8] teaches that the lights on the right side of the menorah represent those who pursue spiritual matters, and the lights on the left side represent those who pursue temporal activities.  Together, the six outer lamps represent the entire Jewish People while the central light represents G-d. In order for G-d’s light to shine into our world, the light from the entire nation had to shine towards G-d and towards each other. Only when we turn towards each other in unity and solidarity can G-d’s Presence and His light reach us. When G-d showed Moshe a menorah of fire, He was showing Moshe that it is not the candles of the menorah that are important. Rather, it is the menorah itself that gives off light by unifying all of its separate components. Its origin was in one piece of gold, which was divided into seven candles, and whose light fused back into one.

The parallels with the menorah and the gold threads in the priestly garments are striking. If gold thread is so beautiful, why not just use gold leaf in the priestly garments[9]? The reason is the same reason that the menorah has seven lights. The gold thread, as with the menorah, begins as one piece of gold. That piece of gold, as with the menorah, is moulded and cut into pieces. These pieces, as with the menorah, are then reassembled as part of one organic object. The priestly garments go one step further: The gold thread is woven together with other threads before being woven back into the garment. In the menorah, the lights are a metaphor for how “we must turn towards each other in unity and solidarity”. In the priestly garments, this metaphor is extended: The gold threads are a metaphor for how we must not only turn to each other, but we must cling tightly to each other in unity and solidarity.

That earlier essay concluded with words by Rabbi – now Rabbi Emeritus – Bruce Dollin. His words are even more true now than they were then: “Among Jews, there are different practices, different movements from the right to the left. Too often, however, instead of celebrating our diversity and learning from each other, that is to say, turning one’s light towards the other so everyone becomes ‘enlightened’, instead of that, all too often, we seclude ourselves and close ourselves off from anyone who might disagree with us. There is anger and distrust and hatred. We keep the light to ourselves and hence the world becomes full of darkness.  If we could only turn towards one another, teach one another, learn from one another and tolerate and respect those who see things differently than we do, even things that we care deeply about, then light is shared and the world becomes enlightened and then G-d can dwell among us.”

—

Ari Sacher, Moreshet, 5785

Please daven for a Refu’a Shelema for Shlomo ben Esther, Sheindel Devorah bat Rina, Esther Sharon bat Chana Raizel, and Meir ben Drora.

[1] Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, known by his acronym “Ramban”, lived in Spain and Israel in the 13^th century.

[2] The Ramban’s explanation is replicated nearly verbatim by Rabbeinu Bahya and my Rabbi Jacob Reggio. I have come across no alternate answer to the Ramban’s question in any other commentary.

[3] This was not an option in the Mishkan, as the Torah specifies that pure gold must be used.

[4] “Soft” and “brittle” are  two traits that seem at odds but make sense when you understand gold’s properties

[5] Teruma 5762

[6] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, known by his acronym “Rashi,” was the most eminent of the medieval commentators. He lived in northern France in the 11^th century.

[7] Rabbi Samuel Edeles, better known by his acronym “Maharsha”, lived in Poland and the Ukraine at the turn of the 17^th century.

[8] Rabbi Ovadia ben Jacob Seforno, known as “The Seforno”, lived in Italy at the turn of the 16^th century.

[9] Gold leaf cannot make clothing by itself. It is too frail and too stiff. But as a coating, it is stunning.