Parashat Pekudei: The First Jewish Accountant

If you were to take a poll of the most common ‘Jewish’ professions, I think we’d all agree that Accountancy would probably be up there in the prestigious company of Medicine and Law.

I have lost count (pun intended) of the number of my peers who entered this noble profession.  In fact, when I meet new members of ‘the tribe’ and ask them what they do, invariably they look at me knowingly and mention the ‘A’ word, followed by the usual, “It’s not the most exciting work but….”

The terms ‘Jewish’ and ‘Accountant’ are therefore not uncommon bedfellows.

One of my favourite accountancy jokes is:

How did the IDF win the Six-Day War?

They called up all the accountants, put them in the front line and then charged the Arabs.

If you’re wondering who one of the first Jewish (or in those days, ‘Israelite’) accountants was, he can be found in this week’s Parasha of Pekudei.

Let’s set the scene.

Last week, we read in precise detail about the collection and intricate production of all the materials required to build the Mishkan/Tabernacle.

Our Parashah begins by stating:

These are the accounts (‘Pekudei’) of the Tabernacle, the Tabernacle of testimony recorded at Moshe’s command by the Levites under Itamar, son of Aharon the Priest.  Betzalel, son of Uri, son of Hur, from the tribe of Yehuda, made everything that the Lord had commanded Moshe.  He was assisted by Oholiov, son of Achisamach, from the tribe of Dan.  An engraver, designer and embroiderer in sky-blue, purple and scarlet wool and fine linen. 
(Shemot 38.21-24)

This is followed by a meticulous record of the amount of gold, silver and bronze (according to Rabbi Sacks’ translation in the Koren Magerman Tanach. Other commentators translate ‘Nechoshet’ as copper or brass) used to make items such as the sockets, hooks, bronze mesh and utensils that were used with the altar, even down to the tent pegs.  The description extends to over fifty pesukim(verses) and includes every single material donated and how it was utilized to create the structure, artifacts and vessels associated with the Tabernacle.

The question we can ask is, why?

On first reading, it appears that the Torah is providing an exhaustive and repetitive narrative.  One which we’ve already read about in previous Parashiot.

What are we being taught and how is this connected to our interest in accountancy?

As usual, our first port of call is Rashi who comments that the word ‘pekudei’ (accounts) indicates an official reckoning of the Mishkan's resources.

He notes that Moshe provided a detailed report to ensure that there was no suspicion of misuse.  As the world’s first auditor, he outsourced the work to his nephew, whose accounting services are recorded in the Parasha.

However, this act of accounting was not merely procedural.

Not at all.

Moshe wanted to ensure that he, as leader of the Bnei Yisrael, was beyond reproach.  After all, he had been the Project Manager of a gargantuan endeavour.  In the process, he had collected extremely valuable materials such as gold, silver, bronze and wool from the people.  Would anyone have noticed if a gold bar or two had gone ‘missing’, perhaps set aside for Moshe’s retirement fund?

Rashi reminds us that even the most revered leader, such as Moshe, had to operate beyond reproach and, in the process, embody integrity and build trust.  After all, the Mishkan, as the dwelling place of Gd's presence, required its construction to be rooted not just in holiness but also honesty.

By engaging Itamar, Moshe ensured that there could be no question as to his integrity and that the construction and subsequent utilization of the Mishkan would be rooted in purity, from the moment the process began.

Rabbi Sacks ztl often emphasized that Judaism is not just a religion of personal spirituality but a framework for building an ethical society.  In order to create a moral and just society, one has to ensure that accountability is enshrined as a cornerstone in its construction.

The meticulous record-keeping of the Mishkan reminds us that holiness is found not only in the grand vision but in the integrity of the smallest details.  In this sense, Moshe's account mirrors the role of an accountant (and his case, an auditor).  In providing this narrative, it was not simply a case of just tallying numbers but, at the same time, ensuring that trust was maintained between the leadership and the people.  This resulted in the preservation of relationships and the instillation of a house in which Gd would dwell amongst the people.

This harks back to the very first command that Gd instructed Moshe regarding the construction of the Mishkan in Parashat Terumah (25.8)

They shall make me a sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst.

We, the Jewish people, have always marched to the beat of a different drum and engrained the ethics that we learnt in the Torah at the heart of our faith.  From educating our children and giving Tzedaka, to refusing to lose our faith in Gd when we couldn’t even work out how to survive – our moral compass tells us the right way to behave.  Accountability is hardwired into our DNA and, if you don’t believe me, just think back to how you felt during the High Holiday season.

Itamar, the first Jewish accountant, and his uncle, teach us how important it is to be accountable and how, inside each of us, is the remnant of the purity that flowed through the Mishkan.  At Sinai, Gd said:

“A kingdom of priests and a holy nation you shall be to me.”

It seems that we are all ‘accountants’ and this goes some way to explaining why this might qualify as being ‘most Jewish of professions’ and Jewish mothers around the world can justifiably kvell!

Shavuah Tov and Chodesh Tov.

Parashat Vayakhel: Fitting into the Frame

 

Please raise your hand if you know who Nathan Hope is.

Let me give you a clue as to his importance in 21^st century popular culture.

Known as ‘Hopey’, he posted the above photograph of his bruised lip accompanied by the following description on an Australian Science forum in 2002.  The topic revolved around dissolvable stitches.

‘Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped ofer [sic] and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps.  I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip.  And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie.'

Hopey, non-plussed by the subsequent notoriety that was heaped upon him, was thereafter (incorrectly, as it turned out) credited as the originator of the ubiquitous term that he himself disavowed in a later interview:

‘It was not a word I coined.  It’s something that was just common slang at the time, used to describe a picture of yourself.  Fairly simple.’

Once it had entered the Oxford English Dictionary in 2013, it became ‘official’ (and was even named the ‘word of the year’) and now, everyone from royalty to politicians to Hollywood ‘A Listers’ are unable to avoid the attraction and necessary addition of the ‘selfie’ to their social media profiles.

We are also in on the act too – after all, who amongst us has not joined in the obligatory ‘selfie’ pose?  I am as guilty as the next Rabbi!

So, poor Nathan Hope has a lot to answer for.  Irrespective of whether he was responsible for popularising the term and by extension the concept of taking ‘selfies’, he will always be credited for releasing this photographic genie from its bottle.

I have many wonderful memories of my mother.  When I think about her, the image (if you’ll excuse the pun) that comes to mind is of her always taking photographs.  Wherever we went and with whomever we met, she asked us to pose for a photo.  She didn’t confine her interests solely to the still image and I have reels and reels of films that she shot over the years recording her life from childhood to old age.

I suspect that my grandfather might have been responsible for her interest as he too loved taking photos and films, many of which I still have.

Before the ‘age of the selfie’, we enjoyed getting together and asking someone else to take the shot.  It brought us, as a small family unit, close in proximity with all the awkwardness that revolves around people bunching up to fit inside a camera frame.  But it was part of the ritual.  That we didn’t know how the picture would turn out before we developed it added to the mystery and excitement of the moment.

In short, taking photographs seemed to be more of a family event.  Something that quite literally brought us together without needing to worry about how to angle the shot to avoid ruining it with the presence of the forearm taking the picture.

Rabbi Sacks ztl in one of his final books (‘Judaism’s Life Changing Ideas’, 2020, p113) quotes an article from The Telegraph (15^th December 2017) which describes a new medical condition called ‘selfitis’.  He writes that the ‘term was coined as a joke in 2014 to describe people who feel compelled to keep taking selfies and posting them on social media.  Three years later, researchers in Nottingham and India had produced evidence the condition really exists.  “Typical ‘selfitis sufferers’,” they say, “are ‘attention seekers’, often lacking in self-confidence and hoping to boost their social standing.”

How many of us (and Rabbi Sacks explores this idea) opt for ‘self-help’ books or consult similar websites to deal with our inner demons?  How many of us avoid talking to others because we think we can sort our problems out ‘by ourselves’?  How many feel that we need to boost our ‘social standing’ by posting selfies on Facebook instead of meeting up with our friends and spending quality time together?  If we take a photo during the evening, all the better but it is not reason why we decided to convene in the first place.  If we think about it, how much time do we spend by ourselves at the expense of spending it with others?  Our images whizz around the world at the touch of a mouse click whilst we interact with family and friends whose presence fits to the dimensions of a smart phone or if we are at home, a 21” screen.

Parashat Vayakhel is a case in point.  Moshe was spending a great deal of time up there on the mountain with Hashem, leaving a psychologically fragmented nation at its foot revelling in the worship of a golden calf.  Without recourse to seeking his sage advice, they opted for the ‘self-help guide’ to making a god, and we know how disastrous the results were!

Although there were no camera phones in the desert, I guarantee that had there been, our ancestors would have posted millions of selfies to populate their FaceBible or Instadesert profiles!  It took Moshe to come down with all the ensuing events to bring them to their senses.

Gd saw that the best way to bring them back together as a nation and a Kehilla/Community was to initiate a building project which encompassed the magnitude of constructing the Mishkan/Tabernacle.  Moshe, the set designer, director of photography and producer, set about arranging this and, as a result, the Children of Israel stepped up to the Biblical plate.

In tandem, Moshe told them to down their tools and spend twenty-five hours in a state of being ‘unplugged’ as it were.  Celebrating Shabbat, not as singular individuals but as a Kahal/community.  Something that we have continued to do week in and week out for over three thousand, three hundred years.

There are certain prayers that we are allowed to recite on our own which I’ll refer to as ‘Our Selfie’ Tefillot and each of these is valid as way of communicating with The Almighty.  However, it is the tefillot/prayers that we say together (such as Barachu and the Kedusha) as a community that bring us squarely into His divine camera frame.  Where we metaphorically squeeze into Gd’s picture and wait for him to take the photograph and beam with pride at the result.

In the very first Parasha, Gd tells Adam that it is not good for man to be alone which he remedies by creating a partner to accompany him.  Although our kehillot are made up of individuals, it is our strength as a community which defines us.  The motto ‘e pluribus unum’ – ‘out of the many, one’ applies to our nation.  We, the Jewish people, are one global community made up of many different individuals.

The image that Hopey shared all those years ago may have launched a billion non-descript selfies but the photos that will last forever are those we hold in our hearts, of the times we stood uncomfortably trying to fit into the frame, surrounded by our loved ones.

These non-selfies really matter, aren’t they?

Shavuah Tov