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Total Inner Withdrawal By Rabbi Johnny Solomon Beyond the inauguration of the Mishkan, Parshat Shmini also describes the sudden death of Aharon’s two sons. Yet notwithstanding this incredible loss, Aharon is instructed not to adopt the classic mourning rituals of growing his hair or tearing his clothes. As Rav Soloveitchik explains in his essay ‘Catharsis’, ‘Aharon belonged to no one, not even to himself… Therefore he was not even free to give himself over to the grief precipitated by the loss of his two sons.’ Of course, this was an incredibly tough ask of Aharon during such a difficult moment in his life. Yet the point which Rav Soloveitchik is making here is that there are times when we all need to practically or emotionally restrain ourselves for the sake of adhering to religious rules. As he writes: ‘Once man enters the service of God, be it as high-priest, be it as an ordinary humble person… he is subject to the divine call for total inner withdrawal. Here the halacha intervenes frequently in the most intimate and personal phases of our lives and makes demands upon us which often impress the uninitiated as overly rigid and formal.’ Overall, what this means is that keeping halacha can be hard and that the observance of halacha can often require significant self-sacrifice. This is why, as we are told in Brachot 32b, so many of the core foundations of Jewish living - such as Torah study, good deeds, prayer and even earning a livelihood - require chizuk (encouragement), because even those already committed to Jewish practice can sometimes find things hard. As you may know, I provide online spiritual coaching and halachic consultation services as #theVirtualRabbi exclusively through WebYeshiva, and many of the sessions I have with clients touch on topics such as this. To find out more, and to book a free discovery call, visit https://webyeshiva.org/about-virtual-rabbi/

Restoring Structure and Happiness

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin In what way is reading about the Mishkan’s inventory and construction relevant to us today? How do we gain any kind of education or inspiration from the details, especially when, in our parsha, they’re merely a repetition of the past few sections? While there are many latent messages contained within these passages, we’ll focus on the name of our parsha, Pekudei, which literally translates into “inventory items.” The word introduces a list of all the raw materials that were collected for the construction of the Mishkan. As we’ll see, this word is one of the most elastic words in the Hebrew language, having so many different meanings depending upon context. Let’s look at all the different meanings of the root of this word, which is “פקד”. The first time it’s used in the Torah, it means “to remember,” as in (Gen. 21:1) “וַיקֹוָק פָּקַד אֶת־שָׂרָה” “Hashem remembered Sarah” after years of barrenness, and blessed her with a child. The second time the word appears, in the context of the Yoseph story, it’s conjugated to mean “appoint” or “command,” as in (Gen. 39:4) “וַיַּפְקִדֵהוּ עַל־בֵּיתוֹ” – “Potiphar appointed Yoseph in charge of his household.” This is how it’s used in modern Hebrew today as well, in that a “מְפַקֵד” is a commanding officer in the IDF. When the word is conjugated in noun form, it means “assurance” or “collateral,” as in when Yoseph collected food during the years of plenty to act as an assurance (pikadon) for the years of famine (Gen. 41:36): “וְהָיָה הָאֹכֶל לְפִקָּדוֹן לָאָרֶץ לְשֶׁבַע שְׁנֵי הָרָעָב”, or when the Torah discusses a person who has a collateral item (pikadon) in his possession from a debtor (Lev. 5:21): “וְכִחֵשׁ בַּעֲמִיתוֹ בְּפִקָּדוֹן”. It also means “to compensate,” either with a reward or a punishment, as in (Ex. 20:5) “פֹּקֵד עֲוֹן אָבֹת עַל־בָּנִים” – “Hashem compensates the sin of the fathers unto the children.” It can also refer to something lost or missing, as in (Num. 31:49) “וְלֹא־נִפְקַד מִמֶּנּוּ אִישׁ:” – “No man was lost from our army.” The most common usage of the verb translates as “counting,” as in (Ex. 30:12) “כִּי תִשָּׂא אֶת־רֹאשׁ בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל לִפְקֻדֵיהֶם” - “When you lift up the heads of the Bnei Israel for counting.” The word appears this way multiple times throughout Sefer Bamidbar. Indeed, Bamidbar has so many counts of the Jewish men of each tribe, described as “פקודים” (pekudim), that the book is also called “חומש הפקודים”, the Book of Counts (see TB Yoma 70a), or, as we commonly refer to it in English, the Book of Numbers. This seems to be how it’s used in our Parsha, Pekudei, where the Torah itemizes all the things that were donated. But how do we connect all these other meanings of “פקד”? What does “remembering” have to do with “counting,” “appointing,” or “compensating”? Plus: why are the mitzvot of Hashem called by the very same word as our Parsha (Ps. 19:9): “פִּקּוּדֵי יְקֹוָק יְשָׁרִים מְשַׂמְּחֵי־לֵב” – “The ‘pekudim’ of Hashem are upright,” and why in that verse are the mitzvot described as making the heart happy?

An objective with immediate results

Here’s a working definition of the root that will tie all the different meanings – remember, appoint, assurance, compensate, and counting – together: When the Torah wishes to describe someone focusing their attention on something or someone, with the objective of doing something productive immediately afterwards as a result of that focus, this is when the verb “פקד” is used. When it was time for Sarah to have a child, Hashem was “פקד” Sarah, meaning He focused His attention upon her for the sake of granting her a child. The Malbim explains that this is the difference between the verbs “זכר” and “פקד”: “זכר” means I haven’t forgotten you. But “פקד” means that in addition to just remembering you, my memory is causing me to take immediate action as a result of that remembrance. This is why the language that Hashem employed when announcing that He was imminently bringing the redemption from Egypt was (Ex. 3:16): “פָּקֹד פָּקַדְתִּי אֶתְכֶם” When Potiphar appointed Yoseph, or when Moshe asked for a leader to be appointed to replace him (Num. 27:16), the Torah uses the verb “פקד” to describe how they focused their attention on an individual to perform a certain task. A “פקדון” is an object that a creditor can focus upon as a source of collecting a debt in the event that the debtor defaults on the loan. When Hashem seeks to compensate a person for their deeds, He is “פוקד”, that is, He focuses His attention on their sins so that He can take the damage caused by those sins and place them upon the life of the sinner in the form of punishment. “פקד” is used when counting a person or thing with the objective of using that number for some purpose. When Hashem told Moshe in the desert to count the Jewish men over 20 years of age, it was in order to know how to organize the Jewish army that would be shortly invading Canaan. As the Malbim explains, this is the difference between the verbs “ספר” and “פקד”: They both mean to count, but “פקד” means to count for the purpose of doing something with that knowledge of how many you have. And ultimately, this is how it is used at the beginning of our parsha, to describe the inventory of all the materials donated, which was important to know in order to use those materials in the construction of the Mishkan.

Pekudim = "mitzvot"

How is this all relevant? Sometimes, Torah text has multiple meanings. Pekudei doesn’t just mean a “count,” but also “commandments,” as in the verse from Psalms, above. As the Sfas Emes writes, a deeper reading of this opening verse tells us that the pekudim, that is, the Divine commandments, are what bring about the “mishkan,” the indwelling of the Divine Presence within each and every one of us. Based on our definition, why are the Torah’s mitzvot called “pekudim”? Because they draw our attention to a particular action and spur us to make that action a part of our lives. I may instinctively sense that I should give charity, but when the Torah commands me to give charity, my attention is all the more focused on that activity. I may instinctively know that I need to unplug and take time off from the world, but the Torah commands (“פוקד”) and legislates that practice of Sabbath so that I have a greater sense of satisfaction that I’ve rested properly.

Letting Hashem into our lives

This is why King David said that the “pekudei Hashem” cause one to rejoice. We all know that there are things we would do in our lives even without a Torah. But the Torah provides us a manual, a structured set of protocols, that gives each of us the confidence and peace of mind that we’re doing something worthwhile with our lives. What greater happiness is there in life than knowing that Hashem is happy with your actions and you are living your life according to His dictates? The Midrash teaches that the reason why Bnei Israel first believed Moshe when he told them that he was sent by God was specifically because he used the term “פָּקֹד פָּקַדְתִּי֙”, “I have surely remembered you.” The Jews in Egypt had a tradition that had been passed down to them all the way from Yaakov Avinu, who passed it down to Yoseph, who further passed it down to Serach bat Asher, who was alive at the time. “Any redeemer who uses this language is authentic,” she announced. What was significant about this term? It implies that the purpose of becoming the Chosen People is so that we may assume a structured lifestyle that is the most liberating of all, a life of “pekudim.” The Kotzker used to ask: “Where is God? Anywhere you let Him in.” Let’s all bring the Mishkan, God’s Divinity, into our lives. We do that when we structure our lives with His pekudim. May we experience that joy in this new month of simcha, Adar 2, and may it usher the final Redemption, bb”a.

Moderation and the Half-Shekel

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin We have gone through a national tragedy, but the war seems to be abating. Should we be optimistic about the future, or have we gone from the frying pan into the fire? In reality, it’s both. In our constant evolution and forward motion toward a utopian future, life is still fraught with pitfalls, so that for every two steps forward, it seems we’re taking at least one step backwards. This is the nature of our existence, and it’s actually reflected in the Half-Shekel tradition that we will read about this Shabbat. When the Torah commands Bnei Israel to participate in the building of the Mishkan, the ultimate representation of communal participation, it mandates that each person must donate exactly one half Shekel of silver (30:15). “הֶעָשִׁיר לֹא־יַרְבֶּה וְהַדַּל לֹא יַמְעִיט מִמַּחֲצִית הַשָּׁקֶל” – “The wealthy may not add, nor may the poor subtract” from this prescribed amount. Surely, there are other donations that an individual can donate at their own economic level. What is the lesson of the Half-Shekel?

Defining “wealthy” and “poor”

Rabbi Yaakov Lainer (d. 1878) suggests that we expand the definition of “wealthy” and “poor”. These terms don’t just refer to one’s bank account, but rather to one’s sense of spiritual and emotional wellbeing. The “wealthy” person is someone who is endowed with a healthy amount of confidence and ego. They’re happy with the trajectory of their life and they are optimistic about a glorious future ahead. They feel connected to God and the Torah, and they have a true joie de vivre. The “poor” person is someone who is given to depression and pessimism about their own condition and about the future. They feel broken inside, distant from G-d, and they’re not sure whether anything can go right for them. Obviously, there are pitfalls in both of these emotional states. But the Torah is commanding each of us, whether we’re more of the optimistic type of person, or the more pessimistic type of person, that we can’t overdo it. “The wealthy may not add, nor may the poor subtract.” The “wealthy” have to contain their pride and glory. Just because you feel good about yourself doesn’t mean that you should start posting on social media how amazing your life is. Live your good life humbly, and enjoy it with gratitude and modesty. Conversely, the “poor” have to be careful that they don’t allow their pessimism to cause them to fall into the abyss of utter despair and nihilism. Yes, maybe there are things that aren’t great right now, but tomorrow is another day, and realize that there is hope for the future.

Entering the "Pardes"

In Tractate Chagigah we learn about the four great sages who entered the “Pardes,” which is alternately translated as either mystical ascension to a spiritual dimension, or deep philosophical speculation. Three out of the four sages were adversely affected by this endeavor. According to a number of commentaries, the four sages represent four personality types. Particular attention is given by the Talmud to Ben Zoma, whose personality type emphasized the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom. Because Ben Zoma applied logic to every situation, when he entered into a realm that transcended human comprehension, he couldn’t handle it, and went insane. The Talmud (TB Chagigah 14b-15a) states that at some stage, Ben Zoma was asked the following two questions: (1) Is it permitted to neuter a dog? Is the biblical prohibition to castrate animals only for those creatures that may be used for the Altar, or does it include all animals, including the lowly scavenger dog? (2) May a woman who is pregnant, but who physiologically also presents as a virgin, marry the Kohen Gadol (the High Priest, who can only marry a virgin)? The Talmud presents the possibility of a woman who never consorted with a man, but who could have been artificially inseminated. Is such a woman sufficiently “virgin” to marry the Kohen Gadol?

The middle path

Ben Zoma responded that (1) you may not neuter a dog, and (2) a Kohen Gadol is permitted to marry the pregnant virgin. Rav Lainer explains that the reason why these two questions were posed to Ben Zoma was out of a concern that perhaps his personality was the cause behind his failure in the Pardes. Ben Zoma’s genius may have also meant that he was given to extremes, and that he always pushed harder, even when it was unsafe. When one is spiritually lofty, one might assume that they need to go to an even higher spiritual extreme. That is, perhaps the Kohen Gadol, who is of the highest spiritual echelon within Jewish society, must always assume the extra measure of holiness because of his already lofty level. To that, Ben Zoma responded, no: The Torah only limits him to a virgin, but says nothing about her pregnancy status. As long as she has not been intimate with a man, don’t add extra holiness requirements to the Torah’s prescription. Conversely, when one is on the lowest rung of social or spiritual standing, you might think that it’s alright to “kick ‘em while they’re down” and lower them even further. Perhaps a lowly dog may be further demoted by castration. To that, Ben Zoma responded, no: There are limits to how low one can permit themselves to go. Ultimately, we can never allow ourselves to be too holy or too profane. We can never overindulge in happiness or depression. No extreme is healthy. Instead, be the “Half Shekel.” Follow the middle path and moderate between both extremes. This is especially vital when participating in communal activities, as a true communal leader must maneuver all the different personalities that emerge in the public sphere by staying the middle path. Only by practicing equanimity can we all succeed together.

This, too, shall pass

Returning to our present day, this message is as pertinent as ever. There’s a lovely story that has crept into Jewish folklore: King Solomon asked Benaiah, his wisest servant, to perform a seemingly impossible task: to find something that did not exist. He requested a magic ring — one that, if a sad man wore it, he would become happy and if a happy man wore it, he would become sad. Benaiah was perplexed as to how to find such a ring, until an old jeweler took a golden ring and inscribed on it, “Gam ze ya’avor,” which means, “This, too, shall pass.” When you are feeling down and suffocated by life’s challenges, remember that, “This, too, shall pass.” And when you’re riding high and life is glorious, humbly look at your ring and remember, “This, too, shall pass.” That phrase was never more important to reinforce than over these past two years of closures and illnesses. But it’s also important for us to remember the message during a time when we are emerging from dark times and life seems to be getting better. What awaits our world next? Be optimistic, but also realize that life is so fleeting, so it’s best to live in the present, since no one knows what tomorrow will bring. Parshat Shekalim is the first of the four special Torah readings that we always read this time of year, when the weather is beginning to change and the celebrations of joy and redemption are approaching on our calendar. We’d do well to remember that as we plan our celebrations over this new wonderful chapter in our lives and the life of society, that we remember to be the “Half-Shekel,” not too confident, but not too humble, either. I notice that in some Orthodox circles, celebrations involve significant indulgence and ostentatious celebration. Perhaps we should “lay low” even after it’s safe to gather socially. By all means let’s celebrate; but let’s do so without forgetting the valuable message of the Half-Shekel. In the meantime, let’s pray for our world and a swift peace throughout the world. May we see the day when every day is a full Shekel with the coming Redemption, bb”a.

One Chosen People is Enough

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Imagine an alternate universe where instead of there being one Chosen People, one nation who received the Torah in the Middle East 3300 years ago, there were actually two nations who received the Torah: One, the Jews who stood at Mount Sinai, and two, a group of Olmecs, an ancient civilization from Mesoamerica in the western hemisphere, who also experienced a revelation around the same time. Both peoples received the Torah, but one nation lived in the East, and the other in the West. The Jews were given Israel as their Promised Land, and the Olmecs were given Mexico as their Promised Land. What are the repercussions of this alternate history? Would knowing that there is another Chosen People on the other side of the world affect my ability as a Jew to serve God? Furthermore, over the course of centuries, Judaism spreads and eventually influences the creation of Christianity and Islam. What religions on the western hemisphere would crop up as a result of the Olmecs and their Torah? These questions may sound silly and pointless, until we look at a verse from our parsha. After the sin of the Golden Calf, Moshe prayed to Hashem to not only spare the Jews, but also to grant additional favors. One such favor was that instead of God sending an intermediary angel to guide the Jews through the desert into Eretz Israel, God would lead them directly. Moshe’s petition was (33:16): וּבַמֶּה יִוָּדַע אֵפוֹא כִּי־מָצָאתִי חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ אֲנִי וְעַמֶּךָ הֲלוֹא בְּלֶכְתְּךָ עִמָּנוּ וְנִפְלִינוּ אֲנִי וְעַמְּךָ מִכָּל־הָעָם אֲשֶׁר עַל־פְּנֵי הָאֲדָמָה For how shall it be known that both I and Your people have gained Your favor unless You go with us, so that we may be distinguished, both I and Your nation, from every nation on the face of the earth?

Different from all other nations

Moshe’s interest wasn’t just to have God closer to the people. He argued that this close contact would be how the rest of the world would recognize that the Jewish people were “distinguished” from every other nation of the world. Why was it important to Moshe that the world should recognize that the Jews were different from everyone else? What’s even more shocking is the Midrashic commentary cited by Rashi. Not only was Moshe asking for God’s direct Divine presence to travel with the Jews, he also was asking God: Promise that You will never allow Your Divine Presence to rest on any other nation! Up until that time, prophets appeared to the other nations and offered Divine messages. Because of Moshe’s petition, all prophecies from the other nations ceased. Why would Moshe ask for such a thing? What’s wrong with there being another nation that is communicated to by God? Shouldn’t we want the whole world to have a relationship with Hashem? Are we so proprietary and selfish as to want to deprive the world of a closeness to their Maker? The Chatam Sofer (R. Moshe Sofer, d. 1839) addressed why Moshe wanted only the Jewish people to have prophecy, and why this request was related to the Golden Calf sin. Before the sin, Moshe would have been fine if God had chosen another nation to also receive the Torah. But now that the Jews sinned, Moshe was worried that if there would be another nation receiving the Torah, they might become God’s favorite nation. Maybe the Olmecs in Mexico would do a better job fulfilling the Torah’s edicts, and would never build a Golden Calf. This possibility caused Moshe great concern; he didn’t mind if other people had the Torah, but he didn’t want to make his people look bad by comparison to any other Torah-commanded nation.

Flawed but inherently holy

I have difficulty with this explanation. Who’s “team” was Moshe playing on: God’s team, or Israel’s team? Certainly, Moshe was an Israelite, but his devotion to Hashem should have trumped his loyalty to his own family. If, indeed, the Jews, this “stiff-necked people,” had character flaws that made them prone to sin, and if, indeed, there could be found another nation who did not possess this propensity towards idolatry and sin, then wouldn’t Moshe have wanted God’s Torah to be entrusted to such a superior people?! Why force God’s hand to deprive the Olmecs the opportunity of fulfilling the Torah completely, even if it meant outshining the Jews? I suggest, therefore, that Moshe’s intention was deeper. Moshe understood the history of his people. He knew that the Jews had descended from exemplary patriarchs and matriarchs who passed down a legacy of morality and kindness. He knew the centuries-long enslavement in Egypt, which further primed this nation of morally superior people with the requisite humility to submit themselves to Divine authority. He reasoned: If, even after centuries of conditioning and superior genetics, the Jews are still prone to sin, imagine what would happen to a nation that did not have the great biblical patriarchs and matriarchs as their ancestors! Imagine the Olmecs being given a Torah; if the Jews failed so miserably despite their inherent greatness, then certainly the Olmecs would only distort and disobey God’s Torah in a worse way! This would invariably result in God’s anger being kindled even further, and would also result in an even greater Chillul Hashem – desecration of God’s name – than the sin of the Golden Calf! The Olmec Golden Calf, reasoned Moshe, would be even bigger and more flagrantly oppositional to Hashem’s will than the Jewish one.

Us or them

This was Moshe’s appeal to Hashem: Keep us as the sole Chosen People. I know my own people’s flaws, despite our coming from excellent pedigree. I can guarantee that when we sin, we won’t descend so low as to be completely beyond redemption. But if your Divine Presence rests upon another nation, they might debase your Torah in a way far worse than us. Over the course of the centuries, other religions that mutate from Judaism will emerge. These religions will accomplish much good, but they will also wreak some level of havoc throughout the world. If you allow the Olmecs to have the Torah, their religion will also be distorted and repackaged by others over time. Their distortions will be far more harmful to the world than anything perpetrated by the outgrowths of Judaism. This may explain why Moshe twice inserted himself by saying, “אֲנִי וְעַמֶּךָ” – “both I and Your people,” when requesting this distinction. At first glance, it seems egotistical for Moshe to put himself before the nation, yet we know that Moshe was exceedingly humble. He was conveying that he had as much confidence in his people as he had in himself. He knew that he, as a member of the Jewish family, was up to the task to be the giver of the Torah, and all he asked was that Hashem have the same confidence in Bnei Israel that He had in Moshe. We look at what is happening throughout the world today, especially in parts of the world that have acquired their Abrahamic religious values – or lack thereof – from the Jewish Bible. We also note the current chaotic democracy that exists in Israel today, and the unresolved problems from before October 7. It’s easy to criticize what is happening in Israel from afar; but as has been noted for decades, the world is eager to criticize Israel. Moshe’s plea to God teaches that we are still the best hope for the future of decency and humanity in the world. Let’s do our best to live the best version of our lives using the mitzvot and values of the Torah. We will thereby strengthen Moshe’s argument on behalf of our people, and will succeed in ushering the Redemption, bb”a.

The Spice of Life Makes Life Worth Living

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin The Torah ends our parsha with the commandment to make the golden Mizbach Ketoret, the Incense Altar. Many commentaries ask why this utensil’s instruction is deferred until the very end of Parshat Tetzaveh, long after all the other utensils had been specified in Parshat Terumah. It seems that the Incense Altar was not the same as the other utensils, which were integral to Temple service. Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno suggests that all of the other Temple services and their respective utensils – the lighting of the Menorah, the offering of the sacrifices, the baking of the show-bread –were all necessary in order to create a repository for the Shechinah, allowing Hashem to rest His Divine presence within our people. But the Ketoret (incense) offering was not meant to bring the Shechinah. Rather, once the Shechinah was brought down by the other requisite Temple services, it was only fitting to offer incense as a show of respect to Hashem whose Presence was manifest in this holy place. In the same vein, Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk demonstrates from the Talmud that the incense’s offering was not as reliant upon the specific altar utensil. For all other services, if the utensil was missing or deficient, the service could not be performed. For example, if the sacrificial altar was broken or missing a piece, all sacrifices could no longer be brought until the altar was repaired. But in the absence of an Incense Altar, incense could still be brought. This, too, indicates that there’s something different about the Ketoret service.

The menorah and incense

But this only begs the question: Why is the Menorah lighting, for example, so vital an ingredient to bringing Hashem’s presence among us, whereas the Ketoret offering was not? Why is it treated with less formality and strict protocol than the other services? Furthermore, the Torah says (30:-7-8) that the incense of the Mishkan must be offered twice daily, once in the morning, and once in the evening. But the Torah makes this statement in an unusual context, pointing out that the incense must be offered in concert with the work done with the Menorah. In the morning, the Kohen must offer the incense in the middle of his work in cleaning out the burnt out wicks of the Menorah. In the evening, the Kohen must offer the incense immediately before the lighting of the Menorah. Why does the Torah connect the burning of the incense with the lighting of the Menorah? Although the entire Temple service is quite foreign to us, we can find deep meaning about the human condition in these arcane practices. The lighting of the Menorah represents and stimulates the sense of sight, whereas the burning of the Ketoret represents and stimulates the sense of smell. In this context, Maimonides suggests that the reason for burning incense in the Temple is to remove any offensive odor that one might encounter when entering the Mishkan with all of its freshly slaughtered animals on a hot day. The incense would alleviate the overpowering smell and would provide instead a positive olfactory experience.

The role of smell in our lives

Which sense is more impactful and necessary for human survival – the sense of smell or the sense of sight? One of the side-effects of the Covid virus was the temporary loss of smell and taste. Can you imagine if, instead of taking away one’s sense of smell, the virus took away one’s sight? There would have been absolute pandemonium and utter terror at the prospect of going blind, even temporarily. But lose your smell and taste for a few days? Not so terrible. But we shouldn’t be quick to dispense with the importance of the Ketoret and the sense of smell. Note the role it plays in multiple stories in the Torah. It is the offering that Nadav and Avihu brought into the Holy of Holies, thinking that this would be most pleasing to Hashem (Lev. 10:1-2). It is also the offering that Korach’s 250 elders brought in their censer pans, thinking that Hashem would choose them over Moshe, only to discover that their offering brought about their destruction (Num. 16:35). The Ketoret was also used by Aharon to stay a plague in Parshat Korach (17:11-13). What is this quality of the Ketoret that makes it attractive as an offering, and why does it have this ability to stay a plague?

A beneficial relationship or not?

Consider that it may very well be that the less vital role of the Ketoret – and its accompanying sense of smell –is the very thing that makes it so desirable and special. All of the korbanot that are offered to Hashem on the main altar – animal flesh, flour offerings, and libations – have nutritive qualities that represents the concept of “feeding” the Almighty His due, in the hopes that He will reciprocate and feed us that which is vital for our existence: parnassah, health, etc. (in the same way that the sense of sight is vital to our existence). But the truly righteous person is inspired to serve G-d NOT because he or she wishes to garner some benefit from the Almighty. Rather, he or she wishes to show honor and homage to their Creator without the expectation of anything in return. The greatest gratification is not doing something which garners things in return, but rather knowing that you have made a difference in the larger scheme and that your Creator loves you because of it. The Ketoret represents specifically that ingredient in life that is NOT vital to our survival, but nevertheless makes life worth living. This is what sweet-smelling fragrances achieve as well. We can certainly survive without fragrance, but what a bland and tasteless life it would be without our olfactory senses intact. This is why Nadav and Avihu felt that the Ketoret was the appropriate offering for an extemporaneous show of their love to Hashem. It wasn’t in order to curry favor for any of their needs, but rather to show their love and desire to achieve ultimate closeness as the inherent gratification for their offering.

Ketoret and a 'higher' place

This is also the key to the Ketoret’ ability to stay a plague. The fragrance of incense represents the higher sense of quality of life. One who takes time to smell the roses is not just surviving, but is living in the moment. It is that high sense of living that wards off the Angel of Death and allows a person to survive a plague. It is also the reason why, immediately after Shabbos when our “neshamah yeteirah” (added soul) leaves us, we revive ourselves with incense, demonstrating that despite Shabbos’ departure, we will still find life purpose in the days ahead. We are all “surviving” in the midst of war, a war that is taking a great toll on so many. We look forward to a time when we no longer be in survival mode, but rather living with the added “fragrances” of life. Indeed, it is still possible to live in the moment even during difficult times. Our goal should be to find the daily pleasures of life even amidst the pain. Finally, in describing the Messiah, Isaiah says that he will be imbued with the unique ability to see people for whom they really are. The navi thus says that instead of judging people with his eyes and ears as one would normally, the Messiah will (Is. 11:3) “וַהֲרִיח֖וֹ בְּיִרְאַ֣ת יְקֹוָ֑ק” – “smell out the fear of G-d” within people. The Ibn Ezra explains that the sense of smell is uncanny in its truthful detection: “Sometimes the sense of hearing errs in that it might hear something that’s not really there. The sense of sight might also mistake something stationary as moving. Only the sense of smell never misperceives.” As we continue to rebuild our people from the ashes of tragedy, we will continue to regain our sense of smell. I encourage you to smell the roses and resume living your life to the fullest. Let’s imbibe the sweet fragrance of the Ketoret together in the days to come. Let’s see the Temple service once again, together in Yerhushalayim, bb”a.